#and more that i wish their body language was better understood by more people

[triptychofvoids]

hey doc, do you have any fun facts about doves that you'd be willing to share?

not so much a Fun Fact, but i frequently see people misunderstanding dove mating behaviors. when a dove is rapidly flicking/twitching its wings that is a mating behavior. i see a lot of dove owners interpret this body language as merely being happy and then continuing to over pet and misunderstand their birds. granted, doves rarely (if ever) exhibit aggressive or harmful behaviors because of sexual frustration like parrots might for example, but it is sometimes upsetting to see people interpret a doves sexual excitement as nothing more than 'im happy please pet me' instead of what it actually is... and then spread that misinformation around. if there is one thing i would love, it would be for people to research dove body language and behaviors! i think they are very good to know and i wish more people knew about them!

[rayesgenesis]

protector — b.f

who? ben florian x daughter of tiana and naveen! reader

summary: you and ben get tired of hiding your relationship

warnings: there might be some spelling mistakes or things like that, english is my third language soo yeah also there’s like one swear word

a/n: i was supposed to post a whole other oneshot but i couldn’t tie it all together to save my life— ANYWAYY reminder that my requests are OPEN 😭 this is just an oldie that’s been sitting in my other acc’s drafts for a while

wc: 2k-ish

you and ben had been successfully dating in secret for a little over four months now, with little people knowing about you two. of course, belle sniffed you both out. turns out, she’s an expert in body language too, amongst other things. when it came to telling adam though, her mouth was sealed shut— per her son’s wish. he didn’t feel like telling his dad just yet.

your boyfriend made sure to make his intentions clear with you from the start. his only desire was to be with you, whatever form that took. needless to say, it didn’t take much convincing for him to agree to keep your relationship a secret.

and you would have to squeeze it out of him— he would never admit it to you — but the idea pained him at times. he didn’t really like secrets. especially when it came to you, how could he keep you a secret?

still, sneaking around was fun. at least for you it was. the secret handholding, the foot nudges under tables, the secret makeout sessions in secret spots.. feelings of being limited on time aside, you liked it. though, after a while, it started to feel like you focused more on convincing yourself that stolen moments tasted better. and as time went on, ben noticed how you kept finding ways to make your situation enjoyable.

as if it was perfectly sustainable in the long run. as if you were forcing yourself to.

ben, on the other hand, found that it got old quick. he wanted the world to know that you were his, and he, yours. he kept going for your sake, but ben couldn’t wait to show you off any chance he’d get. in his opinion, you deserved nothing less. remind him why you had to keep it a secret again?

i mean sure, when you suggested that the two of you should date in secret, you mentioned how you were scared of your parents’ disapproval. not because they wouldn’t like him, who wouldn’t, but because they were cautious about bringing attention to their kingdom.

your parents and grandparents were careful to not ruff anyone’s feathers. a quality that naveen slowly acquired with age, even though there was always the occasional mishap. it was something that his parents lectured you about multiple times, not that you needed it. you understood how hard it was already, being one of the most recently established royal houses in auradon. they had enough drama when your daddy was prince.

if anything, you couldn’t blame ben for not being understanding about this. except now, even you had to admit that it got old. you would’ve told everyone all about the two of you by now, if it wasn’t for you lying to your parents for the past two months.

because yes, you and ben spent most of your summer together almost secretly. it was definitely hard to explain to your parents how come you went from basically being a homebody to going off to all types of places every other day, but they didn’t do much complaining in the end. you were almost eighteen, it was time you had some off-duty fun. either way they trusted you.

key word, trust.

somehow you blinked and summer was already over, which was the most freedom you had felt in months. as if you had finally gotten your head out of the water after so much time spent under it. while being careful, you both had found a way to enjoy yourselves. you could breathe again. guess you hadn’t even noticed how exhausting it felt to keep the secret up.

when the school year started though, you felt that the 'going back to normal' process was harder on you than you had expected. you started feeling suffocated all over again except you really felt it now that the excitement from sneaking around had gone over.

this probably would’ve been easier if you were with a guy that you liked half as much, you often thought. but this is ben we’re talking about. he constantly fulfilled every expectation you had and more. besides, he was so nice about the whole secret thing. you were pretty sure the boy would fold backwards if you asked him to.

it goes without saying that the opportunities for you and ben to hangout outside of school became rare, so you jumped on any and every excuse to spend some time together. hence the three lunchbreaks you had, this week, in the peaceful haven that was his office. which, looking back on it, might be a bit excessive — given what each of your schedules allowed. at least it helped the two of you keep your hands off of eachother in public.

either way, your time with ben was limited, and you were going to make the most of it.

for this third lunchdate, your boyfriend managed to get meals prepared for the both of you, instead of the burgers you were starting to get used to. it was a sweet gesture which you appreciated and you made sure to tell him all throughout your time together.

when you both had finished eating what was on your plates, you helped him clean around and place the plates back on the cart they came in. laid back, you were perched on the edge of the desk watching ben clean the last plate remaining, with a slight smile on your face.

after ben came back from washing his hands, he made his way over to you.

"come here, i feel like i haven't seen you in forever." he murmured, his voice a low whine. his arms snaked around your waist, as a way to bring you closer. you chuckled.

"ben, we just spent a whole hour together." you looked up at him, amused. your hands found their way on his shoulders. that boy didn’t have a serious bone in his body, you thought.

"not enough." he groaned, tightening his arms around your waist. you started to make some space in between your legs for him to stand in. then, you noticed ben becoming serious. his breathing slowed down. he felt like he was slowly boiling up inside and yet, could blow over any minute now.

"look," he began, all the while tracing small circles on your sides. he was anxious about having this conversation with you. "i’ve had a really hard time hiding us lately", he admitted.

you took a deep breath and your eyebrows slightly shot up. ben took it as a sign to continue.

"what if we stopped hiding? i’m tired of avoiding everyone's questions and trying to come up with excuses to spend more time with you." he looked in between your eyes. "i want to be able to call you my girlfriend in front of everyone. and to kiss you whenever i want, without having to hide away in here." his eyes were fixed on you, observing your facial features.

you sighed and suddenly you couldn’t look ben in the eye. you had been thinking about it a lot lately and the fact that he had to bring it up, told you something needed to change. problem was, you were torn between finally giving in or keeping up with the lie still which, clearly made you miserable. the more you thought about it, the more your chest tightened. you took another deep breath and closed your eyes, your head a bit more lowered.

"i’m tired of it too, believe me ben. now more than ever." you chuckled lightly but there was a strain to your voice, a sign that you had indeed been suffering as well. "but my parents…" your voice came out as a whine, not that you meant it to.

was it your parents? or rather the fact that you got caught up in a lie you can’t seem to get out of? because now you had to tell them the truth about why you were having so much fun all summer. and that was terrifying. besides, you could already hear them: it’s that auradon kid that got you lying to us like that? with beast’s son? sweetie, why? she’s not seeing him again- you’re not seeing him again. tell him whatever you got going on stops now.

they could force you to stop seeing him. they wouldn’t do that. they wouldn’t, right? after a prolonged lie like that, it’s the only way your mind could imagine how they’d react.

ben cut you off in your internal spiral, "i know, i know." he was well aware of how you felt about your parent’s reaction. but still, he couldn’t help but feel like you shouldn’t give up so easily. you had to try. because for him, this was torture.

the brunette searched for your gaze and when he found he had no success, he took a deep breath of his own. his hand came to rest on your forearm and he gently began to trace small circles on it with his tumb. "but, don’t you think it’s time?"

with this, you lifted your head up to look at him. you had to admit that he was right. it wasn’t fair to him and the situation was clearly taking a toll on you too. clearly, not telling your parents about dating ben wasn’t worth the trouble you went through anymore.

what cut through the silence was the piercing sound of the bell. you groaned, and both of your hands left your boyfriend’s shoulders to cover up your face as you thought about how stupid all of it was. it’s not like you were doing anything wrong. fuck all of this.

you let out a dry laugh, out of frustration, and ben looked at you with some surprise. it was sudden.

"ughhh", you shook your head still in your hands, "this is- you’re right. it is time, i don’t know what took me so long to realize that." ben removed your hands from your face to hold them in his. you looked in his eyes, a vibrant oak color. like one that would’ve been left in the sun for a minute too long. a smile spread across his face.

"hey," he added softly, "i’m right here with you. i know, it’s scary but we’ll get through this. together." he squeezed your hands, as a way to back up what he was saying. "we’ll talk to them together and, i’ll be here to defend us with you. you don’t have to worry."

you snorted softly. "you don’t need to protect me"

"i want to." he stated positively.

a soft smile appeared on your own face. you found it cute how ben got protective over you. turns out, he wasn’t much different from your parents. the thought made you smile. all of a sudden in a hurry, you picked up your bag and lunged for the door in a couple swift movements without telling him. you needed a break from the seriousness this conversation brought. besides, ben was starting to get used to your antics.

you were already out the door and in the hallway when ben held you back by the wrist.

"hey," he giggled as he closed his office’s door, "where do you think you’re going?" he was surprised at how quickly you ran out of his office.

"you didn’t hear the bell ring? we’re going to be late for first period, ben." ben chuckled again. you acted oblivious on purpose and he could tell.

"no i know, but you could at least kiss me goodbye." his hand slowly slid up your arm as he got closer.

"not in the hallway, people could walk by-"

"i don’t care" ben simply replied before he brought your lips to his. you initially gasped then relaxed into the kiss, and ben kept a hand over your curls to bring you closer, and another on your waist.

he barely even checked to see if there was anyone around you this time. your chest warmed up all over again when you thought about it later on.

a/n #2: i forgot who wanted to be tagged when this came out i’m sorry 🫣

[peakyswritings]

Heart, Body and Soul || Tommy Shelby x OC

PART VII

Summary: after failing to propose to Agnese, Tommy is given an ultimatum. But the events of the previous night only complicate things further, and Tommy and Nina are forced to have a conversation they can’t escape. Meanwhile, Pietro has something to ask his sister.

Warnings: mentions of arranged marriage, slow-burn, small age-gap (Tommy’s 30, Nina is in her early 20s), time-typical misogyny, references to past attempted assault, no proofreading, English is not my first language. This is set between season 1 and 2.

A/N: the wait has been awfully long, and I’m sorry for that! I’m trying to find the way to be more constant with my updates🤍

PREVIOUS PART

SERIES MASTERLIST

Gif credits

Dividers credits

One week.

They had given him one more week of time to propose to Agnese, or else the deal would be off.

He would be lying if he said that he didn’t expect it, though. He was playing with fire, and he knew it. When he had decided to go for lunch at Agnese’s house the previous day, he had indirectly made it clear that he’d finally propose. And that was the intention, at first. But he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. Under the expectant eyes of Agnese’s family, Tommy couldn’t find it in himself to pull the ring out of his pocket and ask that fateful question. Why was it so damn difficult?

That wasn’t how things were meant to go. He was supposed to go to Italy, court whatever woman they preferred, and get on with it. He’d stop the war, he’d help the Ferrantes in their own war with Sabini, and everyone would be happy. He would keep his head, and the Ferrantes would keep their place on top of the racing business - alongside with him. He thought he had considered all the obstacles that could possibly get in his way, and yet there was one he would’ve never taken into account. That obstacle had a name and a face. A quite pretty face, too.

He was fucked. He was utterly, inexorably fucked. After last night, he was sure of that. The worst thing was - he had been truthful when he had said that he didn’t regret it. Because he didn’t, not even a bit. It felt like all the choices he had ever made had brought him to that moment, to that kiss, to having her in his arms, to be enveloped by her warmth. And God, did he feel cold when she walked away.

He just wished Polly were there. She would know what to do. She’d yell at him, probably, maybe even slap him. But she’d help him. She was half of him, and understood him so much more than he understood himself. He hadn’t imagined it would be so hard to even function without her being by his side. However, he knew better than to write to her, because he was well aware that the letter would pass through other hands first. Those people trusted him no more than he trusted them.

After lunch, Tommy took advantage of the fact that Nina was washing the dishes on her own to approach her. He had the impression she had been actively ignoring him, averting his gaze and leaving every time he tried to get close to her, avoiding the conversation they couldn’t really escape. Leaning against the counter, he allowed himself a moment to look at her. Her eyebrows were furrowed in that frown that had now become so familiar to him, and that he had grown to find rather cute. A rebellious lock had escaped her braid, falling in front of her face, and he had to restrain himself from giving in to the temptation to reach his hand out and fix it.

“We should talk about what happened,” he eventually murmured, making sure to keep his voice low.

Nina’s posture stiffened, but her face didn’t betray any sort of emotion. “What are you talking about?” She asked, keeping on scrubbing a plate without sparing him a single glance.

He blinked, opening his mouth to say something, but words failed him at her question. Out of all the things she could’ve said, that one he didn’t expect. Collecting himself, he spoke again. “Yesterday night.”

“I don’t recall anything happening yesterday night.”

Her words caused his eyebrows to shot up, and he couldn’t hold back a scoff. “Are you serious?”

“I’m always serious.”

“Nina, we need to discuss-”

“You want me to discuss something I don’t recall?” She quickly interrupted him, not even giving him the chance to finish his sentence.

The muscles in his jaw clenched, and it took him more than a moment to shake off the annoyance. He couldn’t believe she was seriously doing that. It wasn’t just her words that managed to get under Tommy’s skin, but her completely indifferent attitude, and the way she was treating him as if she was doing him a favour just by giving him her attention. They had gotten so close he had forgotten how aggravating she could be. “You can pretend all you want, sweetheart. It won’t make what happened any less real.”

“Sweetheart.”

“But if that’s what you wanna do, then fine,” he continued, his tone switching to the one he reserved for business. Apparently, that was the game she wanted to play. But he was a good player, too, and he wouldn’t let her see how much her indifference stung. With a swift motion, he took ahold of his pocket watch, clearing his throat. “It’s late,” he changed the subject, with the air of a man whose time had been wasted long enough. “I have a meeting with your father.”

“Then go.”

Finally, Nina looked at him, eyes glaring with a silent threat to leave her alone. There was something else in her gaze, though, something he couldn’t quite read. It was frustrating, not being able to read her. He could usually tell about people, yet she stayed a mystery. It didn’t matter how much time they spent together, there was always something that eluded him, a missing piece that prevented him from getting the whole picture. For a short while, they just stared at each other in silence, and Tommy was hit by the foolish need to feel her close again. It was as if the more Nina pushed him away, the more he felt himself drawn to her. It was overwhelming. So overwhelming that he had to immediately leave the room before he did something that would put the both of them in an awful position. He hated the way Nina’s mere presence was enough to make him lose any sort of power he had over his emotions, melting into dust the control he had worked to hard to achieve. He couldn’t afford to lose that control, not when there was so much at stake.

Fucking hell.

As soon as Tommy left the room, Nina exhaled, letting out the breath she had been holding under his stare. Why was it so hard for her to keep him at a distance? Why did it pain her to treat him as if she didn’t care about him in the slightest? Why did she care about him?

It was messed up. Absurd. She couldn’t get the events of the previous night out of her head. The scent of his aftershave, the taste of whiskey and cigarettes on his tongue, the tender firmness of his rough hands. Just thinking about it made her knees go weak again. No one had ever kissed her like he did, looked at her like he did, made her feel the things he had made her feel. She had never even thought it possible, and now there she was, replaying it in her mind again and again, craving way more than the mere memory.

It had been a mistake, a terrible mistake.

“Nina, can you come here for a second?” Pietro’s voice resounded in the kitchen, snapping her out of her thoughts.

Her cheeks heated as she felt as if she had been caught doing something she wasn���t supposed to do. She hid it by staying with her back on him, under the impression that her betrayal was written on her face, and that just by looking at her he’d be able to tell what she had done. She put the last plate in the cabinet before drying her hands with a rug. “What?”

“Sit.”

When she turned around, her brother was sitting at the table, waiting for her to join him. Although he had spoken in his usual authoritative tone, there was something strange in his demeanour, a hint of uneasiness that breached through his facade of unwavering composure. Furrowing her brows, Nina took a seat in front of him, waiting for him to speak. The silence seemed to stretch into an eternity as Pietro clasped his hands on the table, visibly pondering his next words.

“I know about Stefano.”

The blood froze in her veins as her brother uttered those words, her heart thumping in her chest at implication that he might know what Stefano had attempted. She gulped, her throat feeling suddenly dry. “What?”

“Dad told me he wants to marry you.”

Nina had to hold back a sigh of relief at his statement. She had no idea how he would react, if he’d keep her secret or tell their father about it, if he’d help her or blame her. Because even though in her heart she knew she hadn’t done anything wrong, she didn’t have the certainty that her family would think the same. Then his words sunk in, and it didn’t take long for her worry to turn into disturbance, her blood boiling at the sensation of having her strings being pulled, again.

“You want to convince me?” She asked with an undertone of accusation in her voice.

“I want to know what you want,” he said carefully, testing the waters. After a brief pause, which served to ascertain that his sister would listen to him and not verbally attack him before he could say another word, he started again, this time more firmly. “Nina, the balance between our families might shift at any given moment. A marriage between the two of you would avert any prospect of war,” he pragmatically explained, causing Nina’s expression to harden. But it didn’t take long for his mask to slip, and his features softened with understanding. “But that means nothing if you don’t want to marry him.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Then you won’t have to,” he leaned forward, and Nina could read the glimpse of a promise shining in his gaze. “I’ll make sure of it.”

Her brother’s calmness, along with the assurance in his voice, managed to partially quieten the storm going on in her mind. But it still wasn’t enough to make her feel safe. She shook her head, leaning back in her chair with her arms crossed. He couldn’t really make that promise, after all. And as much as she deluded herself to have a say in what would happen in her future, Nina knew that if things went down she wouldn’t really have a choice. “It’s decided, in dad’s head. He said the choice’s up to me, but we both know that it’s not.”

She despised the undertone of resignation in her voice. She had never voiced that thought, she had never even allowed herself to indulge in it up until that point, but she knew that was just another addition to the pile of problems she’d have to face, sooner of later.

Pietro didn’t seem to intend to let the matter go. He leaned with his arms on the table, his dark eyes stubbornly looking for Nina’s gaze. “Do you trust me?”

That question was enough to make Nina falter. Did she trust him?

She used to, up until before the war. Blindly. They were so close she would’ve trusted him with her life. He was the one who convinced her father to let her finish school, he was the one who took the blame - and the punishment - for her wrongdoings when they were children, he was the one she turned to when she had a problem. Then he left for war, and never came back. But his eyes were telling her that he would be by her side no matter what, that he would always have her back. And she wondered - what if she told him? What if she opened up and and shared with him the burden she had carried on her shoulders for too many years? Maybe he would protect her. Because fragments of the boy she grew up with were still scattered somewhere deep inside him, and that boy would do anything to keep her safe.

“Pietro, I…” she hesitated, shifting in her seat. “I need to tell you something.”

“What?” He frowned.

“I…”

He’ll blame you.

That thought poisoned Nina’s mind, stopping the words from coming out of her mouth. He wouldn’t protect her, he’d blame her. He’d tell their father, and he’d blame her too. Because if Stefano had gotten so obsessed with her, chances were she had done something to accommodate that kind of behaviour.

No one could protect her. No one would protect her. She only had herself.

“What, Nina?” Pietro’s impatient voice brought her back to her senses, and the weight of his stare was suddenly too much to bear. Gathering her emotions back under her control, she shook her head, brushing the matter off with the a gesture of her hand.

“Nevermind. It’s not important.”

Standing outside the door of Tommy’s bedroom, Nina nervously fidgeted with her fingers, debating whether to knock or chicken out and go back to her room. Or maybe she could wait for him in the kitchen. Maybe he’d join her, like every night.

No, he wouldn’t join her. Not after the way she had treated him. She had been childish, and insufferable. But truth was - she didn’t want to have that conversation, because talking about it meant admitting that something had, indeed, happened. That she had betrayed her cousin, her family. Herself. And she felt like a terrible person. However, Tommy was right. Pretending wouldn’t take back what was done, and her problems wouldn’t solve themselves. If she wanted to make things easier for herself, she should start somewhere. So in a fit of determination, she had left her bedroom and crossed the corridor, knowing that she needed to act before the urge to take back control of her life faded. It was safe to say she already regretted it, though. Finally, she mustered up the courage and delicately knocked on the door, her heart racing in her chest. There was some noise, then the door opened, and she was met with Tommy’s surprised expression.

“Can I come in?” She shyly asked, suddenly aware that showing up at his door in the middle of the night was probably a bit too bold, even for her. After recovering from his astonishment, Tommy moved to the side, allowing her to walk inside the room.

She hadn’t entered that room since before his arrival. It was somehow curious, to see how he had made himself at home. It was just like she expected it to be. Tidy, clean, and it smelled like his expensive cologne. For some reason, the belongings placed around it made him seem more human. The shoes paired on the floor next to the closet, the clothes for the next day neatly folded on a chair, the cigarette case placed on the bedside table, next to a flask. She would bet his gun was in the first drawer.

“How did the meeting with my father go?” She stalled, asking the first thing that came to her mind while she thought about how to start the actual conversation.

Tommy apparently wasn’t in the mood for small talk, though, because he completely ignored her question. Instead, his piercing gaze followed her as she took a few steps around the room, a mixture of bewilderment and annoyance on his face. It was clear to Nina that he was thoroughly fed up with her bullshit, and she couldn’t really blame him. As much as she hated to admit he was in the right, she was aware she was treading on thin ice. A heavy silence fell into the room, and Nina felt a faint sense of agitation starting to creep up on her. It wasn’t just the weight of Tommy’s glare on her that made her feel uncomfortable, but the feeling of general awkwardness that felt so unnatural between them now. Then a hint of doubt crossed his features, as if he had been suddenly struck by some realisation.

“Why are you here, Nina?” He squinted his eyes, taking a few steps in her direction. “Information? Is your family sending you?”

Nina felt like the rug had been pulled from under her feet. She opened her mouth to say something, but no sound came out of it as she was too shocked to put a whole sentence together. “What?” She eventually said under her breath.

“You know, I’ve been thinking,” Tommy went on, walking until he stopped right in front of her. “And I’ve been wondering why your family hasn’t had my head yet for not proposing. Are you hiding something?”

“What would I be hiding?”

“You tell me. Why did you get near me, eh?”

“Fuck you,” she spat out. His accusation felt like a harsh slap to her face. How dared he say something like that after how close she had let him? After she had opened up to him about things she had never even admitted to herself? After she had let him see her?

Tommy regretted his words as soon as they left his mouth. The hint of hurt behind the anger on Nina’s face made his stomach clench, and he cursed himself for how cruel he had been. Whatever it was that they had built over the last month couldn’t be some kind of farce, a trap set to act behind his back. It was too real, too sincere. And Nina wasn’t Grace.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured after a moment of hesitation. “I didn’t mean it.”

“But you said it.”

Tommy looked away from her, as the pain in her eyes only added to the gnawing guilt eating at him. Guilt. It was something he hadn’t felt in a long while. He had become kind of numb to it, he often pushed it back without second thought, not allowing himself to dwell on things he could’ve done differently and things he shouldn’t have said. In his line work, guilt was a weakness, and a dangerous one. It had become way too easy to say, do and take whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted it, no matter how many people got hurt in the process. Yet there it was, that strange, niggling feeling, stinging him like an annoying splinter.

Shaking off the mixture of anger and hurt, Nina took a few steps back, concluding that it was time to stop dancing around the subject. The sooner they had that conversation, the sooner things would go back to normal. Straightening her back, she took on a facade of fake confidence, hoping it wouldn’t crumble as soon as Tommy’s eyes would be on her again. “What happened…” she started, drawing his attention back on her. “Was a mistake. We’ve…” she paused, carefully choosing what to say next. “…acted impulsively. It was a moment of weakness, nothing more.”

Tommy fixed his gaze on the wall behind her, pondering her words. “Right,” he nodded, returning his eyes to her. “It didn’t mean anything,” he confirmed, but something in his expression was telling her that he was only saying that to see her reaction, silently daring her to agree with him and keep on denying the existence of what was right in front of them.

“So we’re clear.”

“We’re clear,” he repeated.

The silence of things left unsaid echoed in Tommy’s bedroom, but neither of them dared to break it, for they knew that once they took that step, there would be no going back. It had been just a kiss. They had cleared things out. Everything was normal again.

Nina took a look around the room, hoping that focusing on the small details would take her mind off that awful tension. It worked, to some extent, because her attention was soon grabbed by the only item that seemed to be out of place: the peaky cap lying on his bed. With slow, measured steps she made her way towards it, unable to hold back her interest.

“What I’ve said before,” Tommy’s deep voice resounded behind her. “I didn’t mean it. I know I said it, but I didn’t mean it. I need you to know.”

“It’s fine,” she said absentmindedly, observing how the razor blades sewn in it glistened in the dim light. “You know, they say it’s bad luck to put a hat on the bed,” she murmured.

“Do you believe it?” He asked with an undertone of skepticism in his voice, almost certain that Nina wasn’t the superstitious type.

“No,” she turned to face him with a half-grin, confirming his suspicions.

As if naturally drawn to the peculiarity of that choice of weapon, Nina looked back at the cap, but this time she couldn’t restrain herself from reaching her hand out to it. She wavered for a second, but then the curiosity took the best of her, and she grabbed it to take a better look at it. The crown of a King. She couldn’t help but wonder how many faces those razor blades had cut, how many eyes they had blinded, guided by the same hand that had handled her with such gentleness. She couldn’t picture Tommy losing his calm. He had a charm, a magnetism that clashed with his reputation, and he was so composed in the way he carried himself that it felt almost impossible to believe he was as ruthless as everyone said. And a shiver ran down her spine as she realised how little she actually knew him.

But it wasn’t fear. She hadn’t been scared of him the first time she had met him and she wasn’t scared now.

“Why do you keep them if you have guns?” She asked, handing it back to him. Although she didn’t believe that stuff, the thought of putting his hat on the bed didn’t sit well with her.

“We’re called the Peaky Blinders for a reason, sweetheart,” he explained, earning a glare from Nina as he brought back the pet name that had bothered her so much earlier that day. “And it’s a good backup if they take away your weapon.”

With a nod of her head, Nina quietly agreed with him. It did make sense. “I guess you can never be too safe.”

He uncovered the central blade, exposing it to the light. “My sister and my aunt always have one of these smuggled under the sole of their shoe.” Tommy paused for a few seconds, as if thinking about something, then he took ahold of the razor blade and ripped it off the cap. “Here,” he said, handing it to her. “Keep it.”

His unexpected gesture made Nina falter, but then she carefully grabbed the blade. The sensation of the cold metal between her fingers gave her an odd feeling of security, and she asked herself how something so small could cause so much damage. When she raised her gaze on Tommy, he was already looking at her, his blue irises deep with an emotion she couldn’t really define, but that disarmed her nonetheless. They were so close she could perceive the warmth radiating off his body, and she had no idea how that had happened. She could feel him, solid and secure, and the only thing she could think about was having his hands on her again, his arms enveloping her, his whole body pressed against hers.

Tommy wasn’t immune to that proximity either, and the urge of closing the distance between them was getting bigger and bigger. Her lips, her eyes, her scent, everything was calling him, and it took all the self-restraint he was capable of not to give in to the temptation. Why did she have to look at him like that?

Inhaling sharply, Nina took a step back, leaving a cold, painful emptiness in the spot she had previously filled. “It’s late,” she whispered, rubbing her arms in a soothing manner. “Goodnight.”

Without waiting for an answer, she turned around, starting to walk away. Driven by the unreasonable need to have her with him just for a little while more, Tommy moved to reach out to her, but his body froze in place as reason struck him like a blow. It was pointless. They were nothing, they would always be nothing.

So he let her leave.

NEXT PART

Heart, Body and Soul tag list: @zablife @queenofshinigamis @raincoffeeandfandoms / @justrainandcoffee @call-sign-shark @kmc1989 @babayaga67 @kmhappybunny240 @diorrfairy @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @gaslysainz @brummiereader @loverhymeswith @fairypitou @prettywhenicry4 @mysticalbouquetwolf-posts @woofgocows @girlwith-thepearlearring @goblinjnr @outlanderuniverse @citylights31 @neonpurplestars89-blog @outlanderuniverse @red-riding-wood @evita-shelby

Tag list: @iamngoclinh08 @lilywinchesterlove @fandom-puff @capitanostella @caelys @lucillethings @peakyxtommy @queenofkings1212 @lyarr24 @kmc1989 @call-sign-shark @jomarch-wannabe @ce1iat @red-riding-wood @optimisticsandwichgladiator

Tommy Shelby tag list: @50svibes

[jewish-vents]

I have changed and I can tell it's not for the better. My Africana Studies professor says Jewish people aren't indigenous to Israel and looks me in the eyes, waiting for me to say something? I will look right back and make unbroken eye contact silently until he looks away. The head of the linguistics program mentions 'colonizer languages' and looks at me? I will reply that English is not the indigenous language of this language, Blackfoot is, and meet her eyes the entire time. My math professor glowers at me when I wear a Magen David? I will look right back at her with the same blank, emotionless expression I wear when dealing with the rest of these people. I keep looking and they break before I do. They always look away. They never know what to do with someone who isn't intimidated by them.

When I was 5, a 12 year old whose parents were Neo Nazis tried to drown me. I locked my limbs around him and hauled him down with me. I understood instinctively then, without words, what I know now: I am not weaker than someone just because they're older than me. I am strong. If you want to take me down, I'll bring you down with me. I've been taking jiujitsu for three years and I own a gun with a concealed carry permit. And yet I don't need that to beat any of these people, I just need eye contact and cold recitation of the facts. I can outlast any of them. I have survived a murder attempt. I have survived nearly dying of internal bleeding. I have hauled myself down three flights of stairs with only 43% of the blood left in my body because my dorm didn't have a working elevator and my RA couldn't be bothered to call an ambulance for me.

I am not afraid of academics who think they can call me out in class. I know what it feels like to drown and have my lungs feel like they're on fire and still be able to fight back. I am not afraid of encampment babies who get much more well-behaved every time I pull out my phone to film them and who can only do things in groups. If they want to kill me, they're going to have to do better than everyone else who tried, and if their murder attempts are half as inept as their 'activism', I'm safe.

I can feel myself becoming the kind of man I always swore I'd never be, cold and distant and unloving. And I know it can't mean anything good for my mental health long-term. I also know that if I don't approach things from the point of view that I have survived worse and I can beat everyone here in a game of survival if I have to, this will turn into anxiety, and that anxiety would be overwhelming.

This is forcing me to become my father. This is turning me into the same kind of person that growing up in deeply antisemitic times in Serbia turned him into. "You're either American/Serbian or you're Jewish", "your [Israeli] government", "your country [Israel]", we're on trial for a place we've never been to and we're foreigners in our own homelands. No wonder he became so icy and hard to get a rise out of. He had to. It was that or become too anxious to function.

I don't like what this is doing to me. I like what I'm realizing about my dad's life by proxy even less. Is it the mentality I find myself in I don't like, or is it the bitter irony that after a lifetime of wishing I understood him, now I do, and it's awful?

.

[desiresloki]

soft!billy hargrove because I got nothing better to do and I know we all need some fluffy, yucky stuff. ( I'm a sucker for those. zzz ) This is also for mi plus size girlies out there ( if you squint), me being one <3 slight enemies to lovers because WHY NOT. This is heavily inspired by robbers by the 1975. English is not my native language but I'm willing to learn, so give it to me. give me criticism and a lil mental stability. Thank you for reading !! ( Am I the only one that thinks the 1975 suits soft!billy so well? ) THIS IS A DRABBLE BTW <333 ( part two )

trigger warnings : uhh... mentioned Neil. I think that's all. Also!! this wasn't proof read, I just trust google docs.

Robbers

She had a pretty face. Billy thought when he rolled his hips into her, thrusting with such vigour. He studied her face at that moment, he listened to her gasps, he saw how glossy her eyes had gotten. At times like this, Billy would chase his own pleasure, but he didn’t. He caressed her body, the curves she hated, he touched with love seeping from his fingertips that made her look up at him with the same gentleness. The kisses he gave upon her face and lips, fierce with need and an unspoken confession, leaving her breathless. She understood them, from his eyes, from the way he held her as his thrusts were painfully slow, suffocating, yet deeply nectarous. She looked pretty like this, beneath him with her hair splayed out messily on the pillow. Her nails dug into his forearm, and her melodic moans filled his ears. He wanted - needed more, thus he re-positioned his hip to hit her sweet spot. The gasp she let out made him groan, burying his face into her neck.

“Is this how much you hate me, doll?” he sighed delightfully, kissing her neck softly which was the opposite of his brutal thrusts. His thrust, rough and deep. It was agonisingly pleasurable. She begged him, unsure for what. He filled her perfectly, up to the point that his tip was bruising her cervix deliciously. She couldn't speak. She was a mess, the strong headed girl he first met was gone. Replaced by a teary - eyed girl that had a light in her eyes, one he has never seen before nor understood. “So much, bee. You ruin me,” She cried, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, pulling him impossibly closer. He did, he did ruin her. A selfish part of him wants to keep it that way, to keep her. He was too damaged to be loved by a pretty thing like her, but he wanted it. He wanted all of it. 

“But you don’t want me to stop,” He grunted, nearing his climax and so was she. She shut her eyes, shaking her head. Before she could say anything, he pressed his lips against her with brutal passion then he felt all of it. The hatred from the first day they met at the canteen and to the day he found her crying at her porch in the early morning. “No… don’t want you to stop,” she mumbled against his tears stained lips, her toes curled and her back arch, pressing her body against his and her eyes shut tight as her orgasm washed over her. He groaned and rested his forehead against her, his necklace dangling above her neck, it took him two more thrust before spilling his seed into her. 

A whimper escaped her mouth when she felt full of him, sweats collected on their forehead and his hair was a mess of blond curls that fell to her temple. This felt ordinary, like two people who disliked each other were supposed to be in this mess. Tangled in motel sheets, covered in sweat and breathless. It was complete silence at first, they were kissing each other as though it was their last. It might be their last. That's what she thought.

He didn't leave. He spent the night listening to her god awful snoring, he wished to silence them but at the same time he basked in them for he didn't know how long he has before she puts up that frustrating wall again. Where she hides behind a façade. He sees her now, and she's got a face that was rare to see. Peaceful, pretty and terrifying. Terrified because of how it made him feel deep down. She was like the beach back in California, warm, bright, and ataractic. Surprisingly, she smelt like the ocean. Salty, soft and a tinge of sweetness, but that was from her hair. The more he admired her, the more he knew he should leave. Go back to Neil, and leave her be. 

He didn't listen to his head. He had always been a stubborn fella after all. So he pulled her closer, legs tangled, and slumber took over him, unbeknownst to him that she was woken up the moment his cold hand pulled her waist. Her breath shuddered, but she didn't retaliate against him this time. She let it be. Perhaps, things would be different.

[iluvapplesxh]

hi! i don’t know if you are still taking requests but if you do, can you please write a reneé x reader where basically the reader is struggling with an ed? this would help me so much, thank you 🫶🏻

『Pretty Sad Eyes』

❀ pair: reneé rapp x fem!reader

✰ summary: All you wanted was to like yourself. To look at yourself and not feel that awful hate towards your own body. The body you were supposed to love and adore, right? Well there's another thing you failed in.

✯ warnings: eating disorder, self-harm, kind of suicidal thoughts (?), please do not read if you feel like any of this could trigger you. !ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE!

✒ a/n: I swear I spend so much time picking out a song, and I would bet money ppl don't give a rat's ass lol.

Hot, salty  tears burned your eyes which bore into the mirror in front of you.  You swallowed the saliva gathering in your mouth with a painful difficulty. You took slow steps back from the mirror and soon sat on the bed behind you when the back of your legs bumped into them. You held your head in your hands, face against your palms as you tried desperately to settle your thoughts, but it seemed they were relentless. 

God, you wished you could just stop thinking like this. Stop yourself from thinking about having a better body every time you see your own reflection in something. But it wasn’t that easy. You realized a long time ago that even if you did have a different body, you would still find flaws in it without fault. So ultimately, your brain was the problem.

Your body was tired, the constant change of slipping in and out of the stages of ‘it’s my body, who cares what anyone thinks?’ and ‘I wish I would like myself more’ making it exhausted in a way no words could explain. You wanted to claw at your skin until something would change. Anything.

PLEASE.

You used to plead to whatever God there was out there to make it stop. To make it all come to an end because you couldn’t live like this anymore. You didn’t want to. You hated yourself so bad and no one understood.

“Oh, don’t be dramatic, you look fine”

“Are you serious? Come on, you can’t joke about stuff like that-

Some people actually suffer”

You did, too. You suffered every day from the endless dark thoughts of your mind which you couldn’t seem to escape no matter how fast you ran away from them, they always caught up to you until you were pushed to your knees, crying  and pleading with them to go, to leave because you couldn’t live your life like this.

Always in constant fear of people thinking; “Ugh, look at her. Bet she walks into the plus size aisle in a few secs” or something among the lines. You never really dared to give what other people thought much thought, just that it was something awful and if you could hear it you’d cry. Because that was the only thing you could do, cry and cry as your fridge soon was left empty and your kitchen was only filled with any food when Reneé was over.

Oh, Reneé.

The reason for your existence.  Your rock. Your everything and yet you could never get yourself to tell her about your struggles. You knew they would probably hurt her more than they did you and you never wanted that. No, you loved her too much for that. 

Was she growing suspicious about how fast your weight dropped? Of course, but you’d just told her you have a great gym coach. Obviously she didn't believe it, but decided not to push. And maybe if she did it wouldn’t have gotten to be as bad as it is. Maybe then you wouldn’t have those, seemingly unhealing lines littering your forearms which you’ve caused in those moments where all you could think about is looking better, feeling better. Maybe if you cut enough times you would shrink and magically look better.

Come on now

Don’t be a fool.

You obviously can’t lose weight from cutting yourself.

But it felt like it, you ate less and less and you cut more and more until the pain wasn’t anything sort of pain anymore, just sweet sweet relief where you didn’t feel like shit.

Your head lifted from your hands when you heard a seemingly hurried number of knocks on your door. You wiped your eyes and stood, walking over to and opening the door. Your tired eyes met concerned blue ones and you didn’t know how to feel.

“Babygirl?” Reneé spoke after a couple moments of stillness, her hands clenching and unclenching by her sides as her eyes raked over your slumped figure.

You slowly stepped aside for her to come in, when she did you closed the bedroom door and crossed your arms, biting your lower lip to stifle a hiss when the sleeves of your hoodie brushed roughly against your only couple hours old cuts. Reneé didn’t stand far away from you, expression soft.

“Talk to me, baby” Her voice pleaded, her hands reaching out to you but stopping midway as if afraid to touch you.  “Please, I know you’re not okay. I’m not blind” She shook her head.

Your brows furrowed and your gaze fell to the floor, swallowing around the forming lump in your throat. “I- can’t” Your words were barely above anything but a whisper when you spoke and Reneé puffed out a sigh. 

“Yes, yes, you can” 

Your eyes stayed on the floor and your arms fell to your sides. You kept quiet until your girlfriend spoke again. “Tell me. I’m here. I’m listening and I can make it all better” Although her tone held promises, you couldn’t bring yourself to speak. Her hands finally reached you and placed themselves on your upper arms, her heart sinking to the pit of her stomach when she felt the unusually thinner limb.

Your eyes lifted to look at the expression on her face. One of realisation. You expected your heart to start beating faster, for it to jump in your throat out of fear but no, you were calm. Like you didn’t even care.

“No…” Reneé breathed out, shaking her head.

Your jaw clenched  and your eyes met hers, her chest tightening at the look of sheer nothingness in yours. Her hands left your arms in an instant and grabbed your face. “Baby-” She began saying in a warning tone but her voice broke. 

“I’m sorry” You finally spoke but it was as if you didn't mean it. Why the fuck did you not care? You should, so then why are you acting like this.

“Why? Why, you’re so- so perfect” She almost cried out.

That comment. You knew what she meant, and that it was with all the good intentions in the world but it only seemed to make you angry. “You-... you don’t get to just say that!”  Your words confused her but you didn’t let her speak again. “You don’t get to just tell me that and expect everything to be fine! For me to be fine! I’m not!” Angry and sad tears flooded your eyes. “I’m so fucking tired and-...” 

Reneé shushed you gently, pulling you against her body while her arms wrapped around your body. “I know. I know, baby” And she really did know that you were right, she just simply tried to believe otherwise. “I’m sorry. M’sorry” She whispered into your hair and swallowed when your own arms finally wrapped around her torso. 

“I’ll help. I promise” Her voice broke and tears slipped from her eyes before she closed them, her body shaking in sync with yours as you sobbed against her shoulder. “God, I love you so much” She cried, not wanting the realisation of the situation sink in. The fact that you very possibly could have been slowly dying and she didn’t even know. She held you tighter than ever, more words of comfort slipping from her trembling lips.

You felt the smallest sense of relief wash over you at the feeling of being in Reneé’s arms. You felt hope. Like you could finally let go of all those thoughts and the scale and the blade. She was your guardian angel, only she showed up a little later than either of you would’ve wanted.

But she was here now, and she knew. 

She would do anything to not to have to look into those oh so pretty but just as sad eyes again.

✒ a/n: one more this weekend because I found the time i actually had so many things to do but i did this so enjoy! i guess.

also!

this is very much a safe place for everyone with these kind of 'problems' and please, please, please talk to me. anon or not, I just want you to be okay <3

REQUESTS OPEN ♡

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

lost in the lights, m | pjm

pairing(s): jimin x reader

summary: Sometimes it is better to feel alive. Park Jimin doesn't want to be in love. He just wants to feel like he is in love, in the dream instead of at a loss. It's going to be a good night.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; complex emotions of two not-lovers having sex; smut (fem reader, slight D/s, choking, handjob, edging, dirty talk, m-receiving oral, penetrative sex); non-idol!BTS - friends-with-benefits; Jimin's POV

yup, inspired by 'like crazy' by jimin

--

A longing sigh.

“I wish someone would fall in love with me.”

A bored response.

“Lots of people will fall in love with you. If you let them.”

He turned his head. Her fingers encircled his jaw, not yet touching. Hard gaze, but honest.

“You won’t fall in love with me.”

One of her eyebrows raised.

“Is that really on me?”

It wasn’t. He sighed again, not so longing this time. Dreamy, falling.

“You touch me like you’re in love with me.”

Her fingertips hovered, then finally settled, stroking his hair down to his ear. He shivered, closing his eyes. Pretending a little.

“You must love someone very much,” he murmured, feeling her thumb graze over his lower lip, sending shivers all over his body. “When you touch me, you probably imagine I’m them.” He didn’t mind. He was glad for it. The feeling was real, even if the source wasn’t him.

“I don’t love anyone, Jimin,” she replied flatly, continuing to touch him like she loved him. Her other hand was on his shoulder now, caressing.

Park Jimin opened his eyes a little.

It didn’t matter much, in this low light and room covered in shadows.

He looked up at her, and she looked back, unafraid, close to his face already. The memory of her familiar kiss lingered on his lips even though it hadn’t happened yet. Tonight, anyway. She stopped, letting him have the moment. She knew how to read him. Was it only him or lots of people? Jimin liked to pretend it was just him, even though the answer was probably the opposite.

She whispered gently, warm breath on his lips.

“No one will fall in love with you as long as you’re in my bed.”

He didn’t bother to hide his emotions. He wasn’t good at it, and he didn’t want to.

“That’s okay,” he whispered back and he meant it.

There was a little bit of pity in her gaze, some I-don’t-care, and a pensiveness he had been trying to avoid. She was astute. But, then again, he didn’t come here to hide. He came to be discovered.

And to be numb.

“Someone out there is dying to love you,” she murmured, dancing kisses on the edges of his lips, making his breath hitch and his body tremble. “But you don’t want to love them, do you?”

Not right now, no.

He wondered if she was being truthful about what she said before, because her kiss was a whirlwind of tension and lust, so instant that he felt it all over. Inside, in sudden boiling blood. Outside, all over his skin in a wave of goosebumps, his hand twitching and reaching up, gripping her hip and his lids fluttering, roughly thrust into a dream that felt real.

So real.

It helped that she was unbuttoning his shirt with fervor, dragging a nail down his sternum, making him moan at the prickling sensation. This kind of thing was delicate. If it was half-hearted, it felt dishonest. Dirty. Unfulfilling. But it never was when it was with her. She understood. She accepted, him and his flaws. That was a strange feeling. He almost hoped that she would fall in love with him, but he knew that she wouldn’t because there was no chance of him feeling the same way.

He would have, a long time ago, if he could.

She deserved it, putting up with him all the time and taking away his loneliness.

Her fingers tangled in his hair. Pulled his head back roughly, and then it was hot tongue on his throat, dripping saliva. Possessive. Pressing her lips to his pulse and he felt his heart beating, thud-thud-thud, his body aching for more, lips and teeth andthen it was hands gripping his waist, fingernails digging into his back.

Moving up.

She traced his spine, outlining his moon tattoos.

Didn’t have to look.

Memorized the details of his body.

That touched him somehow. Almost made him cry as she kissed his chest, the tears stinging the edges of his vision, but he pushed them away, letting himself feel the touches instead. Soft. Delicate. Insistent, with unmistakable power, and he lost himself in it, in the flashes of light behind his closed eyelids, his own shaking gasps ringing in his ears.

She chuckled darkly, amused at his submissiveness.

“Ah, so it’s like that tonight?”

She could read him so well.

He wondered why she kept giving this to him. She didn’t have to. Could pretend to be a shitty lay and he would never come back. She didn’t have to sink her nails into his shoulder blades and leave lines of pain, causing him to groan wantonly and then cut off his air in deep, hungry kisses, tongue invading his mouth, pinning his torso to hers, hard nipples rubbing against his chest that was still tingling from her kisses. She didn’t have to, but she did, and he wondered why.

She gave it to him, this spotlight, and let him thrive.

Jimin found it as mysterious as it was beautiful.

He loved this noncommittal light, and he felt he should be ashamed about it, but he wasn’t, especially when she rocked her clothed mound into his erection, soft thighs squeezing him. Maybe this was all he could handle. Maybe he wasn’t ready for the real thing. Maybe the last time he loved had burned him harder than he thought.

Maybe he just wanted to feel the feeling of what it was like to be loved.

The roughness softened, her sweet breath drifting into his throat. A fingertip tracing the crescent moon at the nape of his neck, other hand on his cheek. Lips-to-lips, lust drunk.

It wasn’t him, but it felt like it was him when she touched him.

He clutched her sheets, whimpering, and her eyes opened with his, just a little, letting their gazes connect. No lies here. He melted in the heat within those dark orbs, shadowed by lashes.

She must love someone very much.

Or did.

She broke the kiss.

The moment hovered, weighing down the seconds.

“Jimin, you’re beautiful.”

He felt his cheeks warm, and she smirked, amused at his reaction. Wasn’t so much the words as it was the way she said it. Genuine and with desire. Why couldn’t this be like every other time where he was delusional and loved someone just because they cared about him? Why couldn’t he mistake sex for love and spin himself a fairytale with rose-tinted glasses? Life truly was cruel and unfair for showing him love he couldn’t have and making him aware that he didn’t reciprocate.

Emotions on ice.

The corner of her lips ticked higher.

Her head tilted, her lovely hair cascading over her shoulder.

“Stay with me,” she breathed, pushing him down on the bed.

He inhaled sharply as her hand wrapped around his neck and the other slid under the elastic waistband, fingertips gliding across taut skin, moaning as her grip tightened simultaneously. So calm below, slow strokes and restricted by his boxer briefs. Piercing above, choking him while she watched his face with a small, fond smile, as if she wasn’t cruelly edging him while making him lightheaded.

It was unbearable so he yanked his underwear down, cheeks burning, then whining as her hand fully gripped his hard length, rubbing her thumb at the base of the leaking head, smearing pre-cum as she jacked him off.

Didn’t even look down.

Kept watching his face as his back arched, hips bucking, his breathless moans stinging the ceiling.

He asked her once to date him. She flat-out rejected him. To his surprise, he hadn’t been disappointed. Or, rather, he was disappointed that he wasn’t disappointed. She had elaborated without him asking. I’m not an idiot. You have no intention of loving me. You just want to be in love. And she wasn’t wrong. He knew. She knew that he knew. She had smiled at him, in that knowing way of hers, and he admitted that he just didn’t want to be alone.

Okay.

Almost. So close, building up the tension in tight, encompassing strokes, on the edge of true orgasm, and he was begging between thin breath, strong fingertips pressing into the sides of his neck, lightheadedness taking away his eloquence, pleas melding with moans. Couldn’t cum unless it was faster. Steady, thrumming pleasure mixing with the high of erotic asphyxiation but not enough. She tilted her head, indicating that she heard, but still smiling so tenderly, torturing him with kindness and he pressed the crown of his head to the pillows, half-insane from this edging.

You won’t be alone when you’re with me.

“You wanna cum?” she purred, sugary sweet. “All over your legs? How dirty. But you want me to see how dirty you are, don’t you, Jimin?”

Just a little faster, just a little bit more force, and he was losing it, in her words and in his head, heat pooling, core tightening, gasping, couldn’t talk, couldn’t cry out, holding his breath, choking out please, please, I c-can’t.

Her smile became a little smirk, eyes glittering like lights.

“Yeah, you can. Here, I’ll even let you.”

High so high, fuck, she was so good, why was she so good at handjobs, his eyes rolling back, wildfire racing in his veins, delicious friction burning him alive, his lips parting, somewhere between a gurgle and a moan, mind blank, vision flashing white like cameras going off all around him, and he was there, white-hot, knuckles straining from gripping the sheets, hips buckling and feeling his release in waves, hot strings splattering onto the inside of his thighs, dripping down her hand and onto his balls, probably pooling onto the sheets, the strong, heavy scent of cum piercing his inhale, gasping as she let him go.

The rush.

Thundering, immediate, alarming, sending another wave of electric ecstasy that punched the air out of his lungs. He moaned, weak and lightheaded, body collapsing onto the mattress as the tension snapped, sweat breaking out, his hair all over his face. Lines of black clouding his hazy vision, and then he felt it, wet tongue on skin, trickling pleasure stinging his veins.

He looked down.

She was staring at him, grinning, licking the cum off his tense, hard thighs. Graceful hands poised on his hips. Framing them like art. One of them had wet knuckles. Clean of his orgasm, glossy with remaining saliva.

Her name slipping from his lips.

She circled her tongue around his semi-hard cock, quirking an eyebrow.

“P… Please…”

He lost himself in the lights in her eyes.

So bright and so warm.

She smiled and it made his heart flutter, but not in the right way.

“Let me have a taste.”

She swallowed him and the bad feelings disappeared, flattened by hot and heavy lust that suddenly blanketed over it all. Wet, tight, all around, powerful tongue curling along the length and he swelled at the touch, along for the ride and the high, gasping as her grip on him tightened, hands holding down his hips, soft lips gliding against hardness, and it was hard to remember what the ache in his heart was about, just couldn’t remember amongst all this dreamlike bliss, delicious pressure around the base of the swollen, twitching head of his throbbing cock, so good, feels so g-good, was that him, it sounded so far away and so needy, looking down and those glimmering eyes smiled at him in the low light, the head hitting the back of her throat.

He saw stars, moaning as he clawed at the sheets.

Her hand slid up, running her nails along his tense abs, causing him to squirm and whine, intoxicated by the juxtaposition of sensation. Pain alighting the pleasure, lost in her eyes, out of his mind, blindly following this pace. Again and again filling that tight, wet hole, her throat constricting him, and there was a kind of desperation in the lights within her eyes, a want so strong it bled into him, that carnal craving needing to be satisfied.

Her eyes slipped closed, focused on getting him off.

He closed his eyes too.

Dreaming.

He could feel it.

Almost.

And then it spilled out with a choked groan, his eyes snapping open and his hips involuntarily thrusting up, shooting streams of thick cum down that tight throat. She pressed her lips to the base, swallowing sharply, glaring at him, but all he could do was whimper and flinch, sensitivity rippling through the high and amplifying it, oh fuck, the masochistic shame inflaming his core.

She grabbed his hips and shoved them back down, sucking hard.

He couldn’t say out loud how fucking good it felt, but his wet, lewd moan was enough, his hand finding the back of her head and pushing it down, torturing himself more. That tongue obliged, wrapping around him, rubbing the oversensitive head into the roof of her mouth, just like that, y-yes, don’t stop, p-please, sparks flitting up his bones, this ride reaching new heights, wanting it, needing it, craving it like crazy.

The moment suspended.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Her hand on his hip.

Fingertips resting on his lower ribs, her body between his open legs.

Falling.

He

almost

believed.

Her hand flexed, ready to rise, nearly shattering it all.

His free hand shot down and pinned her touch to him, forcing them to stay in this dream.

Those hands embraced him.

He didn’t tell anyone about these nights. No one would understand. They would tell him he was foolish, that it was pointless, that he needed to be saved, but he didn’t want to be saved, there was a point, and if he was a fool then he was a happy fool, slipping into sweet bliss while others in his position were devoured by their tears. Wasting time. No, not him.

She cradled his head with her graceful fingers and kissed him, deeply, forcing him to taste himself.

He did so greedily.

No one understood.

Those hands crowned his jaw, turning him into royalty, appointed by passion.

She understood.

Those eyes full of stars even in the shadows of their faces and Jimin lost himself in the lights.

He understood that she knew love at such a deep level that even he, not the intended recipient, was moved. It made him jealous and appreciative at the same time. Hungry, too, wanting to feel it more, more.

His hands framed her back, staring into her eyes as they kissed, hazy and drunk on a feeling.

She smiled into his lips.

“You’re not alone when you’re with me.”

No, he wasn’t but he wasn’t all there either.

He smiled back.

“Tonight’s a good night.”

Before their bodies joined, he reached down, dipping his fingers into the viscous honey. Tasting it. Moaned despite himself, closing his eyes, the sweet-sour taste spreading over his tongue. The condom wrapper fell from his hand, torn open and empty now. Thighs against his chest, sinking his fingers into the softness, sinking in. Whispering curses under his breath, fuck, so tight but so slick, easy but feeling the pulse of those slick walls as clearly as he felt his own heartbeat. Gasping. She chuckled but he ignored it, running his fingers up and down her legs. Memorizing the shape, the feel, the realness of it all.

Tension in those muscles.

“Jimin.”

Reluctantly, he opened his eyes.

She was smiling at him, so fondly, and pushing her breasts together, squeezing her hard nipples between her fingers.

He sucked in a breath.

“Stop.”

He didn’t want her to stop, not really, but his cock was throbbing dangerously and her pussy was clenching around him, hugging all around. A warm wet sleeve, complete with a borderline aggravating smirk.

“Make me.”

This was part of the dream too.

He gritted his teeth and leaned down, palms flat on the mattress.

“I will,” he breathed, airy and sharp.

Normally he would be a little kinder, a little more forgiving, but here he was not his normal self. Here he was unafraid and strong and driven by desire, hard, rough, putting all of his power into it. He watched the pleasure ripple over her features, lashes fluttering, needing a beat to catch her breath. Still stubbornly toying with her breasts and creating those teasing mewls, driving him a little more insane, so he kept it steady. Deliberate, strong thrusts, ruthless in the slowness. Building it. Her hands slipped, reaching back to clutch the pillows. Not playing anymore, just lost in the rhythm with him, hips matching hips, and he hit deeper, crotch sticky with sweetness. Bodies vibrating from the sensations, not just smacking hips but also in roaring blood, in airless lungs, in flashing lights under closed eyelids, nerves electric, muscles tense, moans melding. Rise and fall, rise and fall.

The high nearing.

Faster, chasing it together.

Sex clinging to their skin, and he could smell it, pungent and heady.

He had to bite his lip to hold back. Grind his molars and make it last, had to make the last forever, prolonging this beat between bodies, delaying the end, spinning, so good, breathless, wispy purr, that’s it, give it to me, give me your all, and he was losing this battle, wet, tight, hot, his head falling back.

Couldn’t take it anymore.

Exhale.

All at once, a rush and a crash, thrusting deeply and having the breath knocked out of his lungs, succumbing to the swarm of pleasure with every twitch and jerk, spilling into the condom, reckless, but he was relived to hear her breathing catch and feel the spasms close in around him. Hips rocking, thin moan under him, and Jimin opened his eyes to her back arched, fistfuls of pillows between white knuckles, head pushed back so far that all he could see was a mess of hair and an open mouth.

His name drifting out, like smoke swirling around him in a dimly lit nightclub.

He closed his eyes.

“Jimin…”

He almost believed that maybe he could let someone fall in love with him, if only to hear his name said out loud like that, with such fondness. Maybe. A dream almost real.

Almost.

Maybe he just needed to hear it one more time.

ah. alone again. what’s the point?

--

masterpost

[generallysapphic]

caught your attention +18 (shuri x reader)

youve noticed it before— the lingering stares, the intense firm grip she uses with you, how close she is to you, how frequently you are with her, how she looks at people when they stare at you. you hadn’t put two and two together until an incident that made you come to terms with just how much you mean to the queen.

possessive shuri my love <3 i’m all for slight power imbalances in relationships especially that in the fucking black panther whewww. she too fine and i know she’s crazy , okay!

warnings : possessive shuri x unaware reader, name calling, slight bullying, some violence (not towards the reader), maybe a little toxic shuri, overstim, crying, squirting, strap on sex, multiple orgasms, praise kink, shy reader, pet names, spoiling, soft dom! shuri, sub! reader, possessive sex, semi public sex, public teasing, groping, slight breeding kink, masturbation.

translation: molo ekuseni, sthandwa : good morning my love

DT: @verachii @rxcently @vlkyriesverse @inmyheadimobsessed besties love you

tag list! @sokkasbae255 @bubshri @tuesdaylovesu @msplayas @barkbarkbo @becauseimswagman1 @ayayyayayayfrogs @dejaonline @widowmakker @yamsthoughts @letitias-fav @heartsforjojo @itsmaniii @taiiunknown @randomhoex @wakanda-forever-andotherfandoms @crispynightmaremagazine @blackhottie25 @lunax0654 @chidinma @shinsousliya @chocoflagcutii @idkkyndal @zayswriting @pastel-lipstick-bunnnii @kamorsstuff @saintwrld @theluminouslight @msudaku @unique-hiraethh @zhanylai @liv444me @awarm-sundaynight @fetchyourlife @supahst4r @lifewitquinn @mama-2001 @shuri-my-love

enjoyyy, rmb to reblog and leave replies!!

you couldnt put your finger on it, but something was up with the queen.

shuri had been acting strange around you, holding your gaze, and looking deeply into your eyes. she was always on the verge of saying something, but then holding back and hiding behind a laugh. she would touch you often, holding your hand when you walked by her side, holding your waist if you got too close to her equipment and moving you very easily, she would lay her head on your shoulder when she got tired, place your leg over hers when you sat together, it was all the time, anywhere you both went.

and you accompanied her a lot.

you didn’t know why, you were just a scientist trying to serve your country the best way possible, but shuri took you everywhere with her, day trips to the market, nightly walks around the palace, to the lab just to talk, her office where she showed you new improvements to the black panther suit before she showed anyone else. and don’t be mistaken, working beside shuri had been a blessing so you never found these touches anything but a sign of her respect and appreciation for you, but they got more frequent, more… needy.

she would be so close so often, holding you and telling you secrets in the night like you were her most trusted confidant. and maybe you were, you had decided. besides riri, no one was on the level shuri was when it pertained to science and technology like you. you both understood the language better than most and when you had won the contest to work beside her, she whispered to you on the grand stage, “i knew it’d be you,”

you remember that day so fondly— the shudder that went through your body, how much you wished you couldve pulled away to find some release but the day wasn’t over; and neither was shuri. she was next to you the whole day, whispering and joking with you, holding you too close for comfort. the pictures that came out that night looked as if you were two were two steps away from pawing and fucking each other every moment.

but you steadied yourself, no way. there’s no way the queen of wakanda wanted you. not that you were bad but it’s just so unseemly, unprecedented. she could have any woman in wakanda, so a shy scientist who happened to know about ionic diffusion isn’t her likely soulmate, let alone someone she wanted.

but it still excited you, the thought that the queen of wakanda touches you, she whispers in your ear like she didn’t want anyone else to know, that someone that powerful and strong may have gotten weak in the knees because of you. it always had you under your sheets, sighing softly and trying to keep your voice down, your kimoyo beads shaking in your wrist with the added pressure on your clit.

you moaned softly, mind full of shuri— so strong and resilient, so kind and beautiful, it was such a lovely combination. you added more pressure, whimpering lowly, thinking of your last interaction with her in the lab.

during a late night the queen comes up behind you as you worked with tweezers in your hand, moving another molecule on the diagram on the lab table. shuri sighs, “you work so well with your hands, you know?” she says lowly, almost right at your ear and watching you carefully. your knees get weak, Bast, why did she say it like that? so sultry and captivating, you bite your lip and nod, “thank you, my queen, i learned from the best,” you whisper back and she smirks a bit.

she moves her hands against yours, her tattooed skin covering your gloves, “it’s too low,” she says, moving your tweezers up and you nod, listening and watching her hands move slowly against yours. “if you held your position, the whole thing would corrupt in on itself. so much time and work would go to waste if we let that happen, hmm?”

you let out a shaking breath and nod, moving it with your other hand in tandem with hers and then setting your tweezers down. the molecules light up a bright green color, your sequence was complete. you sigh out a breath of relief and turn to shuri and smile, “thank you,” you say sweetly and you see her lick her lips, holding eye contact with yours. “of course, princess,” the nickname leaving her lips as it’s done many times before.

shuri’s insistence on calling you ‘princess’ has you gasping. she had adopted the name quickly, whispering it in your ear and asking for ‘her princess’ over the kimoyo beads whenever she could. you toss your head back, feeling your thighs flex a bit as your clit pulses under your fingers. you let out a sigh, Bast, what would shuri think of you right now? her princess doing something so sinful as this, and the thought of getting caught has you moaning and moving your fingers faster and you feel it as you replay shuris voice in your head, “princess,” over and over and over again loops until—

“haaaa— shuri—!” it’s a long drawn out whisper of her name that causes you to cum, your body twitching and you whimper out as you feel your pussy pulse around nothing. you whimper once it over, body settling and mind still reeling. you lay back and exhale deeply, trying to steady yourself, before the guilt creeps back into your veins.

Bast, what would shuri think of you? she’d probably be so disappointed in you, how easy it was to throw you off with just a couple of simple of touches over the course of some weeks. you were so weak for her and she’d see it immediately.

you sigh and throw the covers from over you and decide to get some work done. the sun was peaking through your blinds and you check the time, barely 10 am. shuri always wanted you awake before 9 am but over the weekend she was more lenient about it. you opened your blinds and walked to your bathroom, washing your hands and turning on the shower.

you sighed again, trying to keep your thoughts together before you feel your kimoyo beads go off on your wrist,

shuri : good morning, princess, would you care to accompany me on a walk to the market? i need some things.

you blush, the text itself giving you butterflies. even early in the morning she’s thinking of you, using that silly nickname. you sigh and respond, of course, i can get ready now if you’d like.

causal, simple, you decided, undressing and stepping in the shower. she responds just as fast, i would, thank you, i’ll be in the lab.

you wash up quickly, not wanting to keep your queen waiting.

shuri’s in a simple tracksuit and shades once you meet her in the lab. you wear a pleated skirt and small top with some shoes, prepared to walk for a bit, as you know how long shuri’s market trips often last.

“good morning, did you sleep well?” she says, extending her hand and you take it, face hot and skin tingling, “yes, i did, thank you,” you say back and she smiles, tilting her head for you to follow, and of course you do.

she walks so close to you, your hand still in hers. you walk towards the markets and she holds a normal conversation with you like she always does and you have to keep your brain from melting to comprehend what she’s saying. “did you want to join me for dinner tonight?” she says to you lowly, now that the dora milaje are around.

you blink a couple of times, youve gotten dinner together before but so rarely did she ask you over the weekend. your mind wonders what could she have planned? does she have something planned? no, no she doesn’t see you that way, stop it— “y/n? are you alright?” she asks and she tilts your head towards hers with a soft grip of your chin and you gasp a bit. shuri holds your gaze, “what’s wrong?” she whispers again and you watch her lick her lips, and you stutter, “nothing.. nothing, i’m sorry i’m — im not fully awake, my queen, i’m.. im fine,” you say and she sighs. she strokes your cheek, “i told you, you can call me my name, princess. can you?”

and you want to fall over, your knees are weak and you feel it in your stomach, you lick your lips and sigh again, “yes. sorry, shuri,” and it comes out all breathless, like she’s taken the wind all out of your lungs (and she has) and she smiles, dropping her hand and walking with you once more. you exhales, that, you thought. it was that, that eye contact, the whispering, the touches, the way she says your name, it has to mean something. you want it to, at least.

shuri walks ahead of you to the first shop you reach, always asking if you wanted anything. you always shake your head no, insisting that the queen shouldn’t spend money on you and she always retorts, “i’d love to give you whatever you want,” in that hushed tone like she doesn’t want anyone to hear.

she has her hand around your waist all day, keeping you close and holding your hand. whenever she wants you to try something she feeds it to you, even going as far as wiping your mouth if it spills. and it’s nothing new; she’s done this whenever you two go on market dates — fuck, not dates but market trips, and it’s always so intense, her proximity so often. she laughs at nearly everything you say and it makes you smile.

“how about this one?” shuri suggest, the fifth necklace shes held to you at this shop alone. you’ve already got four bags in your hands already, and you sigh out a laugh, shaking your head, “no my queen, oh, shuri, no thank you, i have enough from our last trip.” and you did, she had bought you five necklaces you had been eyeing, not even knowing she was looking at you.

shuri sighs again, “how can you be my princess if you won’t let me spoil you?” she says it so casually and sets the piece down, your stomach flipping and your head spinning. her princess, there it was again, and you sigh as she grabs another. “this one, then, hmm?” and it’s gorgeous, you tilt your head at it, somewhat interested. it’s a long, silver chain with a gorgeous heart crest shaped ornament at the end. you smile, it is very lovely.

“excellent choice,” says the curator at the booth, you blinking a couple of times after you had forgotten he was there. “that pendant is a symbol of everlasting love and partnership,” shuri hands it back to him once he gestures towards her and he uses a small tool to pry it open, reveling an even smaller pendant inside, two rings interlocking with the other. you gasp a bit, looking fondly at it. “it’s lovely,” you sigh out and shuri nods to agree with you, “we’ll take it,”

you look at her, “shuri, it’s lovely but you don’t have to—” you start, but she holds up her hand to silence you, “it’s fine, sthandwa, i want to, alright?” and you nod, that obviously being the end of the conversation. the curator boxes up the necklace neatly, handing it to your queen with a gracious thank you, before nodding to you and walking off.

you stir, “you really didn’t have to,” you gnaw at your lip saying it, and she laughs a bit, sliding the box in one of her pockets then immediately putting her hand back in yours, “i know. i don’t ‘have’ to do anything, but i wanted to. can you accept that? that i want to spoil you?” she whispers it and you smile, your stomach fluttering at her words. “yes, i can it’s just—”

but you can’t get the rest out, there’s some commotion up ahead, right before the palace and shuri looks away from you to see what’s wrong. someone’s fighting, you can see it, upset and rambling about something and shuri frowns and looks back at you, “stay here,” and you nod as she taps twice on her necklace and her suit comes on top of her clothes, mask forming but you can hear her tell the dora “keep her safe,” before she walks into the crowd. some people begin running away, the panther easily putting an end to the reckless harm the person is causing.

you watch shuri fight, mesmerized, before aneka comes to your side, “come princess, the queen requested you be taken away from all this madness,” and you nod, following her and picking up your bags. you make it to safety quickly, aneka’s spear ready and waiting as she looks around to double check.

“aneka, what’s going on?” you whisper, looking with her, and she sighs. “it’s another riot, has the queen not told you?” and you shake your head, surprised. “a riot? whatever for?” and aneka blinks and purses her lips, “if shuri didn’t tell you, i won’t either,” and you frown at her, crossing your arms a bit, “if i’m supposedly this princess as shuri and you keep saying, why won’t anyone tell me anything! i demand to know,” you say back, frustrated that something so much as a riot could go down in your own city and you not be aware.

aneka sighs again, looking at your eyes and exhaling. “that’s just it, it’s you. you’re causing all this commotion, princess.” your eyebrows raise, me? you think. who could be fighting over me? you’re about to speak again but shuri finds you both, breathing hard and collecting herself, “are you alright?” she asks you and you alone, like aneka isn’t standing right there. you see her wounds first and your brain shifts into a panic, “yes, i’m fine, but you— you’re hurt,” you say softly, walking towards her and wanting to help.

shuri stifles a laugh and puts her hand up, “i’m fine. let’s go back home,” and you nod, looking at aneka who nods towards you and you follow them both, feeling more confused than ever.

it keeps you up that night, that there are riots seemingly over you. it just doesn’t make sense, you think pacing around your bathroom as you ready yourself for your dinner with shuri.

tonight, you nod in the mirror, tonight i’ll ask her. and she’ll have no choice but to tell me.

you walk out after adjusting your necklace once more, fixing your earrings and checking your dress. dinners with shuri always entailed the most romantic outfits and settings you could think of so you kept up with the tradition it seemed, wearing heels and shaving a bit like you might get something.

you sigh once you reach the main room, hearing the fireplace crinkling from the outside of the doors. she’s already there, you think to yourself, and push the doors open. and you were right, shuri was leaning against the table, dinner already set, wearing a shapely suit with the most dangerous v-neck in the world. she smiles at you once she looks up from her beads, coming up to you, “you look lovely, princess,” and the nickname makes you shudder but you try to keep it down, nodding and moving past her towards the table. you didn’t take her hand and you tried to miss the hurt she had on her face once you reach your seat, which she naturally pulls out for you.

“are you okay?” shuri says leaning down once you’re sat and you turn away, mock looking at the fire but it’s mostly because she’s too close again and she smells so lovely— “yes, i’m fine. tired, is all,”

and shuri sits from across you, sighing, “yes our date got cut short today, didn’t it? i’m sorry, sithandwa, we can go out again tomorrow,” and she sounds sincere, like she knows today upset you and that she knows you were looking forward to going out with her, like she knows you hated that it was cut short. you heart races, but you try to keep calm, “i was going to ask,” you start, picking at the dinner on your plate to avoid her gaze. “what was that riot about anyways?”

you look up once the question leaves your mouth and shuri’s holding your gaze, smirking a bit, “why, what did aneka tell you?” she says, softly, encouraging you to continue but it feels dangerous, and you don’t know where to go from here. you stammer, revealing yourself, “she— she hadn’t said anything, really. which is why— mainly why i was confused because even she didn’t know, is all,” and you feel small under her gaze and shuri chuckles a bit, before standing and making her way over to you.

shuri leans against your side of the table, tilting your head up to look at her once more. “did she say they were about you, love?” and you blink and try to look away, but she keeps your head still, continuing, “because if she did, she wasn’t lying. those riots— they are about you, every single one of them,” and your eyebrows lower, more confused than ever and before you can even say anything shuri cuts you off again, “but you’re safe, if that’s what you’re worried about. i wouldn’t let anything bad happen to you, my love,” she says it like a promise.

you shudder at her tone, flexing your legs together to hide your arousal and control yourself, “why— what did i do?”

shuri smiles, “you got my attention.” and she says it like it’s the simplest thing in the world.

you blink a couple of times, trying to understand her and shuri sees the visible confusion on your face and laughs a bit, “my love, don’t tell me you didn’t know that?” and you shake your head, honest and spinning, what feels like, and shuri sucks her teeth a bit before finishing, “you won that contest, yes? to work beside me for a week, come up with new textiles and live here for a moment. y/n, you’ve been here for three months, almost. you didn’t think that was just an accident, did you?” she’s talking to you but your body is still floating, shuri wanted you, and she has for a while it seems, long enough for your entire country to notice before you did.

“and all those touches, all the times i kept beside you and whispered to you, did you think i was doing that to be friendly?” you lick your lips, shrugging, still speechless, it did mean something, she was doing it on purpose— “and i even call you princess. i thought that’d be the biggest clue in the world! but it seems you need me to be more explicit, right?” and you gasp a bit, Bast, how explicit was she planning on getting, you thought, trying to keep your legs closed and your soul intact with all this new information.

shuri calls you back to earth softly and you blink up at her again, “do you want me to say it then? since you haven’t know all this time, do you want me to tell you how badly i need you?” you swallow and stammer but shuri pays you no mind, leaning down to your eye level and she keeps going, “i can. i can tell you whatever you want. i need you, y/n. more than i have ever needed anyone else. and when you won that contest, i swore to myself i’d make you mine, that you were already mine. because you are, aren’t you love?”

you whimper closing your eyes, letting her words sink into your body, “you always have been, haven’t you? i know you felt it too— every time i touched you, i know you knew deep down, it meant more,” shuri whispers at you like you two aren’t already alone, like she doesn’t have your full attention yet and she does, Bast, you can’t think of anything but her, and you can hear her smile, “can you say it, princess? that you’re mine?”

it doesn’t take you long to gasp out, “yes, yes. i— i’m yours, shuri, all yours and i always have been,” finally opening your eyes again and she’s smiling down at you, stroking your cheek. “good girl,” she praises and you feel the floodgates open in your underwear, not even bothering to hide it anymore. she leans down and kisses your forehead, you lean up, wanting much more but shuri pulls away all too fast, moving away from you to sit back down.

you blink at her, missing her intoxicating touch, “i thought.. shuri,” you whisper and she looks at you, folding her napkin over her lap, settling to eat, “you’re not going to..” her eyebrow arches, and she gets it, smiling a bit. “oh, no love, i’ll fuck you good in bed, not here. i’ve wanted you in my bed for a while now anyways. can you be patient for me?” and you stir at her boldness, how explicit she is, but nod nonetheless, picking up your fork with shaking hands and letting your body cool down.

she wanted you. she wanted you, shuri wanted you, she wanted you so bad you already belonged to her before you even knew it, your mind is reeling as you try to eat, shuri keeping a normal conversation with you that you can’t comprehend, “i think we should go out tomorrow, do the rest of our shopping, yeah?” and you stir in the seat, the dampness of your underwear becoming uncomfortable. you nod, eating your salad quietly and shuri laughs.

“don’t tell me you’re that distracted, love. i barely said anything,” you gape at her, that was barely?! you sigh out, “well it was a lot for me,” you say, honestly. she cocks her head at you, “really? i’ll have to keep that in mind, do you want me to slow down then?”

no, yes, your mind wonders and shuri keeps talking, “because i can be a lot more explicit than that, of course. but if you don’t like it, let me know,” and you shake your head, “no, i like it! i — i don’t hate it, i just— it’s a lot,” you reiterate and shuri laughs again, “understood, are you finished eating then?” shuri’s looking at your plate, salad picked apart and few vegetables left. you nod as does she and stands, walking over to you and giving you no attention, grabbing your plate instead and handing it off to a small window.

she beckons you over to her at the doors, and you rush up, nearly tripping over yourself and following her, she holds your hand, keeping you close as your thoughts rampage through your head, queen shuri is taking you to bed, to her bed, to hold you down and keep you there, for who knows how long, Bast, she’s never going to let you go—

and suddenly you’re at your door, blinking. “we’re not—” and shuri smiles, “we are, just get your stuff, can you love?” and you nod, craving her approval and appreciation and she nods, you walk in your room grabbing all that you could think you needed for the night— your bonnet, a set of pajamas, your notepad that you took everywhere, some socks.

once you had everything you walked with shuri to her bedroom, a room you hadn’t been too acquired with but you were dying to know more. to be surrounded by the queen all in all had your knees weak, shuri noticing and smiling at you, “is it that exciting?” and you nod shyly, and her doors open.

it’s a lovely room, one entirely fit for a queen, as the saying goes. her bed has a beautiful duvet, white sheets just brushing the floor and so many soft pillows. you sigh and think about how good of a sleep you’ll get here every night, how good shuri will make love to you there every night. it makes your face heat up, all the implications conjuring in your mind before shuri comes up behind you, wrapping her arms around you waist once your stuff is settled, “you alright?” she whispers and you nod, feeling her breath on your neck and it makes you shudder.

she smiles and kisses the back of your neck, “go lay down for me love, i’ll be right back,” and you nod again, breathless and compliant, following her damn near blindly. you separate, already missing her touch and you do as she says, settling on the bed and taking your heels off and removing your jewelry, opting to keep the necklace she had gotten you today on.

she comes back with a small bag, smiling, “you look so beautiful, my love, like you were meant to be there.” and her words hit you deep in your core, as they often do and you let out a breath, nodding. “thank you,” is all you can really say and she chuckles a bit, “you have already told me i can be a lot, so if it gets too much, just say ‘peach’ alright? i’ll stop regardless,” you smile a bit, “why peach?” and shuri shrugs, coming towards you and leaning down, faces not even two seconds apart.

you want to lean forward, close the space between the thing you had been craving for so long and shuri just smirks at you, “you’re mine, right, sithandwa?” and you sigh out a breathily, “yes,” and she leans forward the second it leaves your mouth, finally connecting your lips with hers and it takes you aback, moaning softly into her mouth.

Bast, it’s incredible, kissing shuri has got to be the most addictive thing in the world. the way she moves against you, the way her hands hold you steady, her lips are soft and sweet, and she opens yours with a gentle push of her tongue and even her tongue feels like silk, smooth and working against yours like she knows what you want before you even say it.

she tastes like fruit, you think, mind hazing over and body moving on its own. shuri leans you both back until your head hits the pillows and shuri is completely over you now, moving her legs against yours until her knee is right at your pussy, she pulls away sighing and you let out a gasp of air, not even realizing how long you had been kissing and how much it had an effect on you. you feel her knee move against you, the dampening you felt earlier turning into an entire flood and shuri feels it, too. you try to close your legs as you gasp, embarrassed, but shuri shushes you, “no, no, let me see,” she whispers lowly against your neck, and you moan, feeling her suck and bite there. your legs fall open nearly on command holding on to her forearms as her hands work against your breasts and fondle you out of your dress.

you gasp once your nipples hit the cold air and shuri pulls away to look at you, curls frenzied and mouth still wet. she smiles, “look at you, so beautiful, aren’t you?” you turn you head away at the praise and she chuckles again, taking your nipple in her mouth as she toys with the other one, moving her teeth against the sensitive skin. you whine, moving your hands against the sheets for some grounding. Bast, she was barely touching you and you felt like every part of your body was on fire, just from her kiss alone.

and shuri all too suddenly stops, pulling away and calling your name. you whine in sincere disappointment, dazed and foggy, “sthandwa, look at me,” and you do, eyes glazed over. “i intend to make you mine in this bed, alright? i am very serious about that safe word, because i don’t plan on letting you leave,” you nearly moan aloud at her words, squeezing your legs around hers and you nod, “yes, yes, i understand, shuri, please— i want to be yours, touch me,” you beg and shuri smiles again, that deep affectionate smile and takes off her own shirt, before moving down to your dress and slipping it off you with ease.

you lay in your underwear, on the queen’s sheets, naked and wet beyond your own comprehension and shuri looks at you like you’ve hung every star in the sky. she smooths over your legs sighing, kissing your skin and keeping your legs apart with a firm grip, some of her panther strength preceding her. she reaches your underwear and you sigh out a breathily moan, pushing your heat towards her face. she kisses around the skin of your underwear and you whine, “please.. i— i need you, please shuri,” it’s all you can beg, your mind spinning.

shuri nods, lifting your thighs up and pulling your underwear off and, finally finally, you feel your pussy under the exposed air, sighing as shuri looks at you and she sighs, rubbing up your thighs right near your lips. “all mine, right, sthandwa?” and you nod, pushing yourself towards her, begging for some stimulation. “yes, yes, all yours please—” you beg sweetly and she sighs again, leaning down and kissing your lips. you moan out breathily, as shuri adds more pressure, sucking at your clit and keeping your thighs apart, her hands flexing against your flesh.

she brings her fingers to your entrance, coaxing them inside you with ease. you whine at the feeling, her mouth on your clit and her fingers moving on top of your g-spot, and it causes you to toss your head back, mind spinning as your hands sink into the sheets. you moan out breathlessly, calls of shuri’s name falling off your lips. she licks all over you, what feels like her entire mouth swallowing your pussy as her fingers work. she adds pressure to your stomach with her other hand, and you jerk, twisting your body against her and moaning lowly, trying to take all that she gave.

you gasp once you feel it, the low buzzing in your core that has your legs shaking, “oh—! shuri, shuri, my love, i’m cumming, please…! i’m—!” and shuri pays you no mind, enthralled with your pussy and continuing her assault, fingers moving faster inside you and you can hear yourself in her tongue. your thighs clench as you moan, your orgasm flowing all the way inside you, your clit swelling under her tongue and your entrance fluttering around her fingers as you cum. you let out a breathless moan once you’re done, moving yourself away from her mouth slightly to stop the stimulation once you’re done.

shuri finally pulls away breathless and mouth nearly dripping, and you whine, legs twitching and head still spinning as you try to recover from your orgasm. shuri comes to you face, capturing your mouth with no regard how messy hers is and kisses you sweetly, making you taste yourself. you moan softly, wrapping your arms around her and she sighs. “you’re so perfect, nkosazana, so perfect,” she emphasizes against your lips and you nod, high on her words alone. shuri smiles a bit, pulling away and grabbing the black bag she had set aside, pulling out her strap and harness, and you exhales softly at the view of it.

shuri settles you with a touch of her hand against your thigh. “my love, are you okay with this?” she asks and you nod before she even finishes, leaning up a bit and watching her as she puts it on. she smiles, albeit shyly, and captures your mouth again, mostly to keep your eyes off her. you smile against her mouth, she gets shy, you concluded as she leans you back down against the bed, grabbing the lube and coaxing it over herself.

she works her fingers inside you with the other hand, moving them against your g-spot once more and you pull away from her mouth and moan, grabbing the sheets once more and shuri comes to your ear, whispering, “that’s it, love, let it out for me, let me hear you,” and you moan lowly, closing your eyes and leaning back again, letting her work inside you once more before you grow impatient, whining against her mouth once you’re connected again, “shuri, please, make me yours, i’m ready,” you whine and she blinks at you, surprised by your words but she groans and nods, rushing into place with a “of course,” softly leaving her lips.

she adjusts herself right in front of your pussy, leaning down and taking a portion of your thigh in her hands to hold you open. shuri enters you slowly, the strap stretching you open and pushing against you. you curse, head falling right against the pillows as she pushes into slowly, your eyes squeezing shut and you groan as you grab the sheets. shuri’s dick felt incredible, rigged on both sides and long enough to feel like it was in your stomach, stretching you and holding you open.

shuri’s is breathing deeply, trying to let you adjust, but the sight of your pussy full of her has her sighing and biting at her lips, “my love,” she says all too seriously to get your attention, “tell me i can move,”

and you sigh and nod, seeing the desperation on her face. she leans down and kisses you briefly as a thank you, before moving one hand to grab the headboard, the other hand still on your hip. she pulls out and pushes back in with force, taking the air from your lungs and you gasp, back arching and sheets ripping from under your hands, “oh, shuri—!”

and it’s all she needs.

shuri fucks against you, deep and slow, moving all the way inside you as your clit brushes against her abdomen. your eyes rolls back as she settles right on your g-spot, thrusting and unrelenting inside you. you let out breathless moans as your tits shake against your chest, the sound of slapping of skin echoing in your ears. shuri moans in tandem with her thrusts, “fuck, you sound so good, my love,” she whispers right in your ear and your back arches, wanting to be closer to her and she gets the hint, wrapping her arms around you waist and picking you up, pulling you into a different position entirely, thrusting up against you, now in her lap and shaking.

“shuri, shuri, shuri—!” you slur out against her, holding on to her shoulders for near dear life, her thrusts growing harder and harder. she moves you around so that your face is against her, continuing her thrusts, whispering, “you’re all mine, arent you, nkosazana?” and you nod deliriously, drunk on her dick and so close to cumming again, but shuri doesn’t let up, “say it, love, tell me,”

you gasp out, her speed unrelenting, and you feel like your crying, “i— oh, gods, i’m yours! shuri, i’m yours, i’m all yours— please, please don’t stop, i’m SO CLOSE—!” and shuri sighs out, “please, cum for me my love, show me how good i make you feel, love,” and it’s so much; her words piercing your skull, her hands gripping at your ass and her dick, stirring you up and causing you to lose all your senses, only filled with shuri, shuri, shuri—

your pussy pulses once more, sucking in more of shuri’s dick as your orgasm pulls on your body and you moan, scratching at her shoulders and she moans with you, “that’s it, that’s it, love, cum for me,” and it’s everything you need to push you over, crying out once your pussy finally releases, squirting subtly against her strap and twitching against her as your whole body shakes. you sigh once it’s over, falling into her entirely as she stops her thrusts, rubbing your back as you calm down, whining and quivering.

shuri chuckles a bit, leaning you up and kissing you, laying you back down and pulling out slowly, faintly you can hear your pussy as she leaves you. you sigh out when she pulls away, “thank you, my love. do you think we can go again?” and you sigh, licking your lips and nodding, and shuri kisses all over your face, thanking you before she’s moving you once more, flipping you over until you’re on your stomach, pussy leaking and presenting for her.

she smiles behind you, kissing your back and whispering against you, “your pussy is twitching baby, are you okay?” she teases and slides her fingers against your lips, adding slight pressure to your clit. you let out a gasp and keep your weight on your forearms, moaning and nodding, “yes, yes, please shuri, i’m okay, please..!” and shuri agrees, lining up inside you once more and entering you slowly, still being kind enough to let you adjust.

you moan out lowly, mouth hanging and eyes rolling shut, the new angle shuri has you in makes you gasp, feeling her deeper. she kisses your back as a precursor to thrusting, harshly slapping against your skin and making you claw at the sheets. you moan, “oh, shuri—baby! unnffhhhh, right, haaa right there—!” your whole body moving with her thrusts. and shuri doesn’t let up, her whole body moving with yours, her hand coming around and rubbing against your clit while the other holds your hip against hers.

it feels like she doesn’t want you to go anywhere and the thought of the queen herself, keeping you still and marking you with her claws makes your head spin, moans changing in pitch, your orgasm already approaching. shuri whispers, “are you gonna cum?” and you nod, breathless mouth hanging open, moaning unapologetically now, feeling your whole body squeezing against her. she leans forward towards your ear, clit still in her palm and thrusts still so deep. “you’re all mine, y/n,” she whispers lowly and you nod and agree, you don’t think you could go to anyone else who made you feel the way shuri did.

she had completely ruined you.

“say it, baby, one more time for me,” she whispers again and you moan out, “i’m yours, i’m all yours, please, please baby, let me cum, please i’m so close, i’m yours!” and shuri sighs in your ear, “good girl, nkosazana, cum for me, give it to me, baby,” and you whine, some tears spilling from your eyes, thanking her as your orgasm washes over you again, your body twitching once more. shuri doesn’t stop this time, still thrusting and fucking you through it and rubbing your clit in tandem, you moan, high pitched and overstimulated, moving away from shuri and her strap slips out. you fall to the bed, sighing and whining, trying to collect yourself.

shuri leans down and kisses your back, rubbing your butt to calm you down and you twitch away from her sighing out, “p-peach, peach,” and she comes to you face immediately, holding you and kissing your mouth and cheeks, checking in. “you alright, sthandwa?” and she sounds concerned, like she wants to make sure she didn’t hurt you in some way. you nod, holding onto her upper body for dear life, whispering, “i— i just needed a break…” you sigh out and shuri smiles, pulling you up into her lap and she holds you, rubbing up and down your sides and kissing you slowly.

“good?” she whispers to you once you’ve calmed down and you nod, sighing, and her hand finds your clit once more, and you moan out, gasping, holding onto her shoulders again. this more personal it feels, you think, moaning softly as shuri bites at your lips and keeps you close in her lap, just rubbing your clit in small circles. “you’re so gorgeous, my love. and so is your pussy, you respond to me so well,” she whispers right into your mouth and you whine, tossing your head back, legs twitching at the praise.

your mind is complete mush, “all for you, shuri, all yours,” you whimper back knows it’s exactly what she wants to hear. and you can feel her reaction with your closed eyes, she leans forward and captures your mouth again, sucking on your bottom lip and adding more pressure to your bud, and you cry out, feeling a wave of your orgasm crash over you once more. she talks you through, “that’s it, go ahead love, cum for me,” again and again, and it’s just as intense as the first time she’s talked you through an orgasm. you fall into her after it’s done, twitching and whining, now completely spent and shuri sighs, pulling you into her arms totally now, laying you down as you settle on her chest. you whimper out as you relax, pussy still twitching.

shuri shushes you, “it’s alright, love, we’re done now, calm down,” and she whispers it and you nod, moving against her more comfortably and you sigh. you finally blink and look at her, brain high on dopamine and smile out a “thank you,” and shuri smiles, “trust me it was my pleasure,” and shes definitely telling the truth.

you close your eyes as sleep overcomes you, shuri kissing you all the way there, much like she has the whole night.

shuri fucks you again when you wake up that morning.

it’s still the weekend, so shuri doesn’t have anywhere to be. she wakes you up with kisses against your skin, rubbing into your thighs and stirring against you. “molo ekuseni, sthandwa,” she says lowly, her xhosa sounding more sexier in the morning. you sigh once you feel her fingers find you clit under the covers, softly adding pressure against it.

you twitch against her, but shuri doesn’t let up, kissing your cheeks and opening your legs with her other hand. you let out a breathily moan, completely giving into her, and she praises you for it, “that’s it love, let me feel you,” and she whispers it in your ear, and you huff, head tilting back, and eyes closing.

you breathe through your nose deeply, your pussy still overstimulated from the night before and your orgasm comes quickly. you whimper, “i’m— im cumming shuri, oh, please—” and she nods, acknowledging you and adding more pressure, circling your thighs as encouragement. you whine out a long drawn moan, your pussy squeezing around nothing and your clit pulses. shuri smiles against your cheek as you cum, thanking you softly and kissing your neck.

your legs are twitching when she asks you, “you’re mine, right, my love?” and you nod, dazed and not even awake, leaning towards her to kiss her.

she fucks you again in her office. she was nearly groping and pawing at you during the meeting they held this morning, her hands on your ass at all times, she keeps you close and whispers to you, sliding her hand through your lab coat and reaching towards your panties. every time you try to sway her away she’ll whisper lowly, “isn’t this pussy mine? cant i have you wherever i want?” and her boldness makes me you give in, dragging her into her office.

shuri opens up your lab coat like she’s starving for you, like she hadn’t had you last night or the morning of. shes already strapped and ready to go, so she fingers you open for a bit before thrusting inside and holding you still on her desk.

you have to keep your voice down, holding a hand against your mouth, as you don’t want the other scientists to hear you. shuri takes full advantage of this, whispering lowly in your ear, “they already know you’re my princess, love. no use in hiding it now,”

but she doesn’t mean it, you know she doesn’t mean it, you whimper and shake your head, moving your hand a bit, “only— only for you, shuri, just for you—!” and you toss your head back, exposing your neck as your nail dig into the wood of the table. shuri smiles, leaning down to capture your mouth, “that’s right, nkosazana, all mine,” and her thrust grow more impatient, obviously eager to have you cum.

you whine against her, biting your lip until it bleeds as you’re cumming again, maybe the fourth time this morning alone. you whimper as your pussy twitches around shuri’s dick, you know she can feel it and she groans too, sighing in your neck and thrusts coming to a halt.

you sigh and fall on the desk, tits out and lab coat ruined. your skirt is pulled up, and there’s no telling what your makeup looks like. you feel your pussy twitch once shuri pulls out of you and she sighs, taking a step back to look at you, smiling. “it looks like i’ve completely ruined you, my love,”

and you sigh and smile because, yes, you think, you have.

i want to personally thank LANDLORD by evann mcintosh for getting me through this piece, if you don’t listen to evann you’re weird go listen to their music right NOW!! (you’re not weird that was a joke, but their stuff is so good!!)

anyways i hope you guys enjoyed this took a lot bruh i’m tired lol, love your shuri okay bye

remember to reblog and leave replies!!! mwah mwah 🤭

[loge2718]

Guilty as Sin? 💙

Thrawn x Reader - A song fic!

Song: Guilty as Sin? - Taylor Swift

Summary: Moving to Lothal for a promising job that was given by the Empire was a bold move for you. Here in Lothal, you felt lonely. Until a certain Grand Admiral came into the picture. You wanted something more than casual. But, does he want it to? 

Tags & Warnings: No smut, just mentions of sex, slight angst at the end

A/N: I didn’t specify the reader’s gender here but, since this is purely a self-indulgence fanfiction and the art that I made for is also purely self-indulging, I imagined the reader here is female.

Word count: 1.6K

Y'all... I have not written any (fan)fiction in such a long time, so, apologies in advance... I'd be posting the video and the art that I made for this fic in a different post, in case you don't like the fanfic and just would like to reblog the art you can find it here (X)

Out of all the people in this planet, out of all the people in this outer-rim, out of all the people in this galaxy. You are in a situationship with him.

That ran through your thought as he traced his finger around your upper thigh. It feels like he was writing something, that you were not so sure. Perhaps something in his language?

What if he's written 'mine' on my upper thigh Only in my mind?

He is, of course, the alien that rose through the ranks of the Imperial Navy like it was nothing. The Grand Admiral. Mitth'raw'nuruodo from the Unknown Region. Or as he lay beside you, cuddling you in a desperate embrace… Just Thrawn. You wish you could stay in this moment forever, this will be the death of you.

One slip and falling back into the hedge maze Oh what a way to die

-💙💙💙-

Thrawn, the man you met in an art gallery here at Lothal. You arrived at Lothal just a few months prior, still adapting to your new job, new surroundings. Your family and friends are all the way in the mid-rim. You moved here because the Empire promised you a better paying job. However, with that decision, it left you stranded in Lothal, alone. In a way, you both are similar. 

There you were sitting in front of a painting by a local artist hundreds of years ago. So focused on the painting, taking in every detail. Subconsciously, you started to zoned out with everything that was going on with your mind.

Moving away… Moving away has been difficult for you, you were born and raised in your homeplanet, you even got your full education there. The empire promised you a decent job with a good amount of money, but the catch was, the job was located in the outer-rim in a planet called Lothal. So far, the promise has been kept. Though, it did not hide the fact that you were lonely, very lonely.

"Do you like the painting?"

A smooth voice snapped you out of your trance. Yes. You did like the painting, it is relatable, you said. However, you continued, describing the one of the paintings that you were fond of from your home world. The one you often visit in the gallery, with family, friends and even ex-lovers.

"Interesting take" He said

"How about you, what do you think about it?" 

And with that, one thing led to the other. First, it was just a simple introduction, Thrawn, he introduced himself and so did you. Then, the conversation went on for hours, and a couple different places… One of them was your newly owned bed. To say that he was amazing in bed was an understatement.

He understood you. He understood your body, he listened to your body. His touch felt like a warm fireplace on a cold winter night. His kiss felt like Heaven for the longing sinners. Each movement of his felt like waves crashing in the sea, bringing you closer and closer to shore.

You felt like this could be a start of something, or just a one night stand. Nevertheless, that was an experience, a really good one indeed. Even so, you didn't know who he was. He was just another man you brought home that night. That being said, Thrawn. his name still echoed in your mind on some sleepless nights.

A few days later, at the grand opening of the Empire-owned factory where you were assigned as a project manager, he was there, accompanied by the Governor of Lothal. He was in his stunning white navy uniform. Ah so he works for the Imperial Navy, you contemplated. His uniform was also complemented with gold shoulder plates and… a Grand Admiral plaque. A Grand Admiral, you thought to yourself. Unbelievable, You have managed to sleep with him. One of the strongest, most influential and most adored people in the empire.

You must be… His voice came to a blur as he greeted you and introduced himself and you . That would not be the first time. Grand Admiral, it is nice to be acquainted with you, you replied. The days went on as usual, your higher up was luckily busy that day, so you were the one who was assigned to give the Grand Admiral a tour.

You were relieved at first, thinking that he would break the facade. However, that seems to be false. His voice stayed cold to you. He was really cold to you. As if you didn’t moan his name over and over a few nights ago. His demeanor was that of a stranger, even when you two were alone touring the freshly built factory. You understand that it is protocol, but it was torture. Before you knew it he departed, you thought that would be the last time you would ever see him.

Until it was not. 

Not long after you arrived home you were surprised with your doorbell ringing. Strange, you thought. You were not expecting a visitor nor are you familiar with your neighbors yet. One look at the door feed got you sprinting to your front door. There stood Thrawn. He stepped in, and without saying a word he passionately took your lips in a deep kiss. 

As the both of you broke the kiss, Nice to see you again… you said with a hint of sarcasm, but alas smiling. Then, he took your lips again. After all that, he carried you to bed. Surely the second time with him would not be as mind blowing as the first? No. You were wrong. It was, as a matter of fact, better.

"Thrawn, I thought I'll never see you again, especially after today…" you said while you were laying on his chest. 

He disagreed. He said he would love to continue seeing you, being with you. This arrangement was of course with an exception. Nobody else has to know that we are intimate. he emphasized. That statement was not a surprise for you. That's easy enough, a price to pay being in bed with the notable Grand Admiral. you thought.

I keep recalling things we never did

You reach for his lips in response and agreement to his words. You were right, this one night stand did turn into a friend with benefits type of situation. But did you really want that? Or did you hope for something more?

Messy top lip kiss

A month or two have passed since you two made that agreement. Other than your apartment, he had brought you to a few different places. Lothal's only 5-star hotel was one of them, the cabin he owns in the far corner of Lothal was the other and even his personal Lambda shuttle. This little meetup of yours got you excited every time you saw his flagship - the Chimaera above the capital. His ISD in the sky of Lothal meant that he would be meeting you soon.

How I long for our trysts

As it was your day off, your neighbors, the one you got close with, started to be suspicious and started to question you. Who is the Pantoran you kept seeing? She asked. Nobody, he is just a friend. You answered immediately. 

A friend would not have gifted you flowers. A friend would not kiss your forehead and lips before he left. A friend would not have fucked you so perfectly, so intimately. He would not have cared for you so gently too after sex. Yes. Just a friend. You repeated, reassuring yourself. You really wanted something more, did you?

Without ever touching his skin How can I be guilty as sin?

Later on that afternoon, as the Chimaera looms over the capital. He came to visit you. This time was different, this time he brought you flowers, not just any flowers that he often gave you. These were the flowers native to your homeplanet. He explained he had some work to do there, and might as well give these flowers to you, since he knows that they are dear to you. Thank you, Thrawn. you said as tears were forming in your eyes. You quickly ran inside and put them in a vase before jumping in Thrawn’s speeder. 

Then, as per usual, he took you out for dinner first, continued by walking you to his hotel suite that he rented for the night. That was before everything snowballed into the unholy amount of things you both did in that hotel room.

He sent me 'Downtown Lights' I hadn't heard it in a while

Out of all of the people in this entire universe, you are with him. Laying in bed with him, receiving tender kisses throughout your delicate body. His finger tracing every inch of your skin. Stay the night with me, Thrawn. You begged. He murmured something that wasn't basic. You did not understand him at all, but his body language said it all. 

He could not stay. 

He pulled you closer and murmured something else, kissed you on the forehead. Your peace was disturbed by a chime from his comm. The chime turns out to be an emergency call. Earlier to that he thought he could stay with you for at least another hour. However, that plan was cut short. He got up, tidied himself and in a blink of an eye, he is gone yet again.

Your thoughts came rushing through your head like a gust of wind, as tears started forming in your eyes. Could we ever be more than this? You sobbed softly to the empty room. From the kisses he gave you, to all the good times you both had, to flowers he gave you from your homeplanet. 

Could Thrawn and you be more than this?

Am I allowed to cry?

[leggerefiore]

Of Wishes and the Sun

cw: Volo is being a homewrecker and manipulative, long, established relationship with Cyrus, a little angsty at points, endings are WIP,

pairings: Cyrus/Reader, Volo/Reader

summary: You meet a strange man who claims that you look like someone he knows. His words strike too close to home after a conversation. Madness follows this meeting.

~

You felt lost in thought as you entered the temporary Galactic hideout on Pasio. That was a strange fellow that you had encountered… A claim that you looked like someone he knew remained in your mind. His words were spoken with confidence and clear knowledge. It was almost a bit too loud, as well, but he was certainly a character. The way his hand rested a hand on your shoulder and the expression in his eyes when he thought that you were not looking simply baffled you. You almost swore that he seemed infatuated.

But, what had stricken you to your core was his words…

“And what tickled my curiosity more strongly than anything were the mysteries to be found in legends, in history, in ruins. You see, I fancied that by unravelling these mysteries, I could find out how the world itself came to be… and with that knowledge, maybe even forge a new, better world!”

He smiled when he said those words, but when paired with his mentions of facing things unfair or painful. You felt a strange sense of familiarity with the language in your heart. Not one paired with a smile. One paired with adoring people in uniforms watching a single man give an emboldened speech.

“Because we are all so lacking, we fight, we maim… It is ugly. I hate the incompleteness. That we are all incomplete, I hate it with my entire body and being. The world should be complete. The world must change.”

You entered the deepest part of the hideout to see a familiar face. The blue-haired man typed away on his computer with little thought, likely thinking of ways to either accomplish his original goals or alternatives that would give the same result. Completeness. What did that even mean? You had tried to understand his ramblings many times, but you failed to grasp the concept entirely. Your understanding was his hatred of pain and dislike of aggression. He wanted to create a world where such things could not exist, but his blame laid solely upon spirit. Emotions were the issue to him. That blond man's scapegoat had yet to be understood by you.

Cyrus gazed up when you came to stand by his side. His expression clearly spoke the words he would have said. “… Can we talk?” You managed to get out finally. Nervousness had suddenly consumed your mind at the thought of telling him about that merchant. You needed to, however. Something in your mind told you that it was far from the last time you would see him. Cyrus wordlessly closed out of whatever he had been doing and nodded. You let out a shaky breath. Where to start with this?

You unconsciously reached out to grab one of his hands and squeeze it in your own. It was warm. Soft. Alive. “… A guy said I looked like someone he knew and then started a long conversation with me today,” you began, trying to think of how to lead into his words. The Galactic Boss's hand tightened its grip on your own. His expression shifted slightly.

“Are you attempting to make me 'jealous'?” he questioned, clearly unsure as to why you were telling him this. You shook your head. No, and that felt almost impossible at the best of times. Clearing your head, you debated how best to explain the odd feeling that the man had given you to Cyrus. There was a genuine worry in your mind that he may simply dismiss them as nothing more than pointless conjecture.

“No, nothing like that,” you pulled your hand away from his and took in a breath, “He just said something that made me think of you…” His expression shifted from the usual sternness it held. Perhaps he would be more inclined to hear you out now. “Something he said… Learning through history to create a new world…” You mumbled as you struggled to recall his exact wording. The rambling conversation felt mildly out of place. A heavy familiarity came from him. It was as if he knew you, despite it seeming impossible. The only person you thought even partially came to mind when you considered his appearance was Cynthia.

“… Did he, now?” Cyrus's gaze met your own with an oddly harsh look, “And he approached you specifically, stating that you were familiar?” A nod was your reply to the question. Something sceptical came across his face as his eyes closed. “He could be attempting to gain Palkia for his goals then, should that be his intention…” his hand fell onto a Master Ball on his desk. “You are likely somehow a part of his plan, whatever that may be. Please be on more alert.” His eyes closed. You wanted to be upset by his accusation, but that did seem logical. A plan to make a new world… That was also Cyrus's own, was it not? Who better to understand that mentality than him?

Though… You still were not convinced that was it. Something about Volo was different from Cyrus. Besides, why would he tell you about his plans when you so easily could tell people? No… You doubted that his intentions included taking Palkia. Swallowing, you felt something twist in your stomach. All of this felt much larger than you. It was almost the exact same feeling as when you had learnt of Cyrus's plans. Your hand clenched. There was not a chance that you were going to let that happen again.

“… Are you still focusing on completing spirit?” you decided to check something before you fully dedicated yourself to it. He nodded before finally returning to whatever he had been doing before you came in. You gave a quiet parting and headed back out of the hideout.

For a moment, you swore Cyrus seemed to wear a concerned gaze.

~

It had been harder to encounter Volo than you had originally thought. Pasio was large. Forests, mountains, deserts, caves — You swore that you had wandered through nearly every sight the island had to offer before you finally ended up in the ruins after a few days of fruitless searching. Sitting down on some debris, you began to debate why you were doing all this. It was a one-off comment by a complete stranger. Why did it make you more stressed than when your boyfriend had done the same thing and kept it from you? Maybe it was because Cyrus said things that simply did not align with your memories. His inability to recall the Distortion World was the oddest of them all. It had been the last place you had seen him until recently, after all.

It almost seemed as if he came from right before his actions on Spear Pillar. Hoopa did pull people from all over, but none of them had stricken you as stranger than him. Still, he recognised you. His words to you were the same as they had always been, while he clearly knew you as a lover. It hurt sometimes. The pain you felt after he refused to leave that impossible dimension. How he tossed away everything for a horrible solution to his problems. You sniffled a bit as tears burned your eyes. There was not a chance that you would allow something similar to happen again.

“My, don't you look glum?” a familiar voice called out to you, disrupting your train of thoughts. Volo appeared to have come right out of nowhere as he stood before you. A small, friendly smile was on his face. “Did something happen? Relationship troubles?” His questions were much too accurate. Not exactly troubles in the fighting sense, but something more complicated. Something that you were not entirely sure that you were ready to confront. You shook your head. It seemed that he remembered your reply about being in a relationship from your first meeting, however.

“… I was thinking about some things,” you simply told him, “I was looking for you, actually.” The blond appeared to perk up at your words. His smile grew wider, and his eyes closed. Seeing him again, his odd similarities to Cynthia only appeared more obvious. Was he a relative? It did not seem out of the realm of possibility. You offered a seat on the pillar under you. His heavy backpack was slipped off his shoulders as he joined you.

“Me?” he asked, “Ah, did you need to buy something?” You shook your head. There were more than enough stores on Pasio if you truly desired anything. “Then, how may I be at your service?” His grey eye met yours carefully. Something seemed to be brewing behind them. You wished that you could have a peek into his mind.

“… What did you mean by a new world?” pleasantries could be skipped, as you needed answers to calm your distraught mind. Volo was taken aback by your bold question. He blinked once or twice as he clearly debated it in his own head. You wondered if he was going to answer your question, truly.

“I meant a new world that is better than this one,” he replied, voice lower than before — quieter in volume. Your stomach twisted at his words. “… You seem distressed. Why is that?” His hand came to rest on his chin. You bit your tongue. How did you respond to that? A new, better world… Cyrus thought he was doing the same, but even Saturn was disillusioned with Cyrus's plans after learning what this supposed world would entail. You feared what Volo's ideals would be. Could it truly be any worse than a world without spirit?

“How would it be better?” you replied slowly, afraid to make him run off. Volo hummed to himself. His smile felt different when it spread across his face.

“Before I answer,” his hand grasped your shoulder firmly, “May I ask for why you seem so intrigued?” You froze. Replying truthfully to that would certainly make him leave. There was no way he would stay if you stated your intentions to sway him from that path. You averted your gaze to the dirt. Volo took note. “… You truly did not change,” his hand suddenly cupped your face as he seemed to force your attention back onto him, “Do you want the truth about your lover?”

You froze. He gave a chuckle. How could he have possibly known that? You had not mentioned anything about Cyrus to him outside of claiming to be in a relationship. His name had not even been said in that conversation, yet… His confidence in his words was undeniable. “… You suspect the truth already, do you not? That he is not the same man you loved.” You moved away from him in a panic. Shaking your head, you attempted to deny his words. That was impossible. Cyrus's oddities had to hold some other reason. Maybe he hit his in the Distortion World before Hoopa pulled him here, and that was why he was missing a gap in his memories.

“Ah, see?” Volo's tone became sympathetic, “This world is cruel.”

“You… You can't be sure!” you tried to argue back, terrified at how much sense his explanation made. Cyrus truly did seem frozen right as he summoned the legendary pokemon of Sinnoh... But, you wanted so desperately to believe that it was something else. You loved him all the same. It had to be him. Volo's expression became something soft.

“I am certain,” he sighed, “I would not lie to you. That 'Hoopa' has pulled quite a few people here from other worlds. It is simply unfortunate that Cyrus was one of them.” You felt completely tormented. Volo had so easily pressed your buttons. “… If it is any comfort, I am not of the time period, myself,” he offered. You took another look at him. Well, that should have been more obvious to you. Especially when he tried to offer you a pokeball made of an apricorn. “Will you be alright?”

You nodded as you forced your racing thoughts down. Okay. Fine. The Cyrus here on Pasio was not the same one as the one that you knew. But, it seemed that everyone else, including his own commanders, had accepted him just the same. He had never rejected you, either. Even if he was aware that he was in an alternate world, it seemed that his feelings for you remained no matter what. You could accept that. If anything, seeing how this one could have his perspective shifted from his decision to make a new world to completing spirit reinvigorated you. Your Cyrus could still be saved. You believed that truly.

“What time period are you from then?” you decided to ask. Anything to steer the topic away from something so sensitive. Volo thought on it for a moment.

“The… industrial period, I suppose, is what you modernly call it,” he responded, “Well, industrialisation had barely come to Hisui, but it was happening elsewhere.” You blinked. Hisui? That was… before it had even been given its modern name of Sinnoh. It was a bit startling how well he was able to conceal something like that. Suddenly, it was more obvious that Volo was capable of keeping many things close to his chest. Cyrus's warning to be more on alert likely should have been heeded. You decided to keep going, however.

After all, Volo seemed more than happy to answer any questions related to his time period.

~

The trek back to the hideout after your second conversation with Volo felt much less urgent. You had learnt many common historical information. Well, at least in relation to the Galaxy Team. The emblem for the organisation had been a bit startling, but you did recall that Cyrus's family had connections leading back to the original founding of Jubilife. Everything else about the Diamond Clan and Pearl Clan was interesting, but not exactly the most relevant. When asking about where Volo himself originated from, he simply said that he had always been in Hisui. You debated asking Cynthia about her family's origin the next time you saw her.

The mood was oddly tense as you entered the Galactic hideout. Grunts seemed to try to avoid you while Mars shot you a glare when you had passed her. It was far too easy to just assume that something had happened with an experiment and move along to Cyrus's office area. The boss himself was waiting for you as you opened the door. His arms here crossed, and he glared harshly. You shut the door.

“Where have you been?” he questioned with a serious tone. You were taken aback for a moment, not used to this sort of behaviour from Cyrus. Especially in relation to where you had gone out to. Usually, he preferred if you left since he often said that you distracted him unintentionally.

“I was exploring Pasio,” you replied, “I wanted to see more of the island.” His remarks about it being astonishing that the region was man-made… You hoped that it would sway whatever bad mood he was into something more manageable. Truthfully, you were not too attuned to handling his anger, but rather, his sadness. He seemed unmoved, however.

“I am aware that you were,” he replied, “… But for what reason? I asked you to be more careful.” Annoyance pounded at your brain. Why was he suddenly pretending to be so worried about you when he had rarely cared previously? “… You met with that man again,” he suddenly said, “I had a grunt trail you as a precautionary measure. The idea of you being used against me was one I would rather not face.”

First, offence ate at your heart that he had someone following you around Pasio, but you supposed it was not that irrational if he thought you were actually in danger. Though, you much would have preferred that he simply speak with you normally, but Cyrus was himself even if it was not your Cyrus. You sighed. Should you really even bother with any of this? The man you loved was still away in that far-off dimension and clearly did not care enough about you to return. The one in front of you would probably do the same thing eventually. What was the point of all this? It all felt useless. Completely useless.

“… Would you really care that much?” the words left you with little thought about the effect they might have. Cyrus tensed up. His eyes narrowed on you. “You are not the Cyrus of this world. You know that, right?” He went quiet and still. Tension was almost palpable in the air as you two sat in a wordless staring contest, wondering who would break it first. He seemed genuinely frozen by your words.

Cyrus walked around the desk to sit down in his chair. His elbows rested on the metallic surface as he seemed to let out something inside him. “Correct,” eventually, he broke the silence, “I am not. I was forced here by that Hoopa pokemon for some unknown reason.” You felt mortified that he had been aware this whole time. Something inside you wanted to curl up and die. Why had he not said anything prior? You felt hurt that it took an outsider to you both finally to force this conversation. Silence permeated again as you debated what to say. Words felt pointless at this point.

You sat in one of the chairs in the room and found yourself lost in thought. Your relationship with Cyrus was deeply important to you. There was not anything that you would not have done to get him back. Yet, when you finally did, it was not exactly him. When you left Pasio, he would likely not follow. It was a matter of how long until he was returned back to the world that he was pulled from. Placing your face in your hands, you could only debate the situation more and more. It felt like a cruel and twisted form of torture.

“… Beloved,” the endearment felt strange to hear after having gone so long without it, “I may not be the Cyrus of this world, but I do genuinely care for you.” He had moved over to you while you were lost in your own head. A hand moved to brush a few stray strands of hair out of your face. “This Volo... I have struggled to find information on him. The only remarkable thing about his is his resemblance to the Sinnohan champion…” his thumb stroked your cheek, “His intentions are unknown. Please, be careful.”

You nodded. His words… You desperately wanted to find comfort in them, but it felt as if you only would have him for so long. The idea of losing him for a second time felt like you had been burned by a Houndoom.

~

The following days were a mess.

Time moved slowly and quickly. Nothing seemed to make sense. Cyrus went back to his work but was making a noticeable effort to spend more time with you. It was nice; something that you had wanted, but… You felt terrified to get too close to him again. So, you took to trying to find a certain champion and speak to about your feelings. She had, after all, been there for you after everything. It was her kindness that gave you some small comfort in this mad world. The task should have been easy, yet it somehow proved impossible. With so many trainers around, you expected to hear something about her location. There had been nothing.

You sat at a café's veranda while thinking more. No one else was bothered by Cyrus being of an alternate world. Cynthia had been trying to aid him as if he were the one of your world all the same. Dawn and Lucas followed behind just the same. The Galactic commanders were unbothered, too. Why could you not be the same? He loved you. The words would rarely leave his mouth, but his ability to tolerate you being around during his vulnerable states remained all the same. But… Losing him. It would happen eventually. Lear would order the legendary to return those displaced, certainly. You hated the idea of that time coming.

The sound of a chair being pulled back took you out of your thoughts. A familiar face had taken a seat across from you. It was not the blonde that you had been looking for, certainly. Volo smiled at you playfully. His Togepi was out, too, sitting in his lap happily. Her gentle expression almost soothed your stressed mind. You sighed. Where had he come from this time?

“Stressed again?” he asked, “Let me help you! Togepi is great at calming people.” For some reason, you felt that there was more than just that to his actions. Still, you did feel a bit better. Apparently, the pokedex entries about it having a calming effect were true.

“So… If you're from the past,” you decided to ask something, “And you claimed that I looked like someone you knew… Was that my ancestor?” It made the most logical sense, you supposed. Who really knew? It could have been a completely disconnected person who just so happened to look like you. Volo shook his head.

“Ah… Not at all,” he explained with no details. It was frustrating. Had he used that simply as an opener to speak with you? Volo did not appear to be the flirty type, so you felt unsure. The words almost felt purposeful. Those two clan leaders had mistaken the Galactic commanders for people of the past, too, but you felt more inclined to believe that they had been ancestors. Volo himself was likely Cynthia's own… Which was an odd thought. Though, in the case he was… Perhaps he could help you with your complicated feelings.

“Hey, Volo,” you called out to him. His attention shifted entirely onto you from the nearby walking street. Passers-by were all over. Pasio was truly full of people. “… Can I ask you about something?” His expression was nothing but genuine cheerfulness. You did feel a bit more at ease. Any concerns that you might have had otherwise about the blond seemed to vanish. “I… I don't know how to feel about Cyrus any more,” you plainly spoke, “He's not the one I knew… And I'm scared that I'll lose him again at any point.”

“Ah…” Volo appeared to think on it for a moment, grabbing his chin. It was quite an odd thing to say to someone who was still an acquaintance at best and concerning at worst. “Well, that is a very real concern, I think,” he nodded, “What do you want to do about it?” That question was the exact one you did not want to face. Your heart raced. What did you want to do? Leave Cyrus? What options were there? Your mood shift was noticeable to Volo, who reached a hand out to hold your own resting on the table. His hand was much larger than your own and covered with callouses. “… You must truly care for him.” There was something lurking just beneath those words that you just missed in your distress.

You nodded. Volo's hand tightened around your own. It brought you back to reality. “Why not spend awhile away from him? It might allow you to make your decision easier,” he offered. You felt a bit uncertain of doing that. Sure, you had your own hotel room on Pasio from when you had originally come here, but you had been staying in the Galactic hideout with Cyrus for a while. Your eyes went to his hand. But… You definitely needed to clear your head.

“Maybe, I'll give that a try,” you replied, “Thank you for listening, Volo.”

He only smiled again.

~

The smell of the ocean was both a nostalgic and haunting scent to the blue-haired man. Waves lapped against the artificial shores of Pasio. He stood watching them. Everything had been oddly chaotic in his personal life lately. Did it truly matter that his origin was not in this world? You had apparently thought so. It was beyond his understanding. Even if he could acknowledge that you were not the same version of yourself from his world, you were clearly still something similar enough. When or if he would even be able to return to his own was impossible to ascertain. Besides, his bond with you was more than enough.

Even during the events with Darkrai, his foolish feelings led to him keeping you by his side. An isolated world of darkness with you in his arms simply felt close enough to his idea of perfection that he was happy to remain like that. Your sudden avoidance of him had brought out more unwanted feelings. Had he upset you in some way? Nothing came to his mind when he forced himself to consider his actions. You had come suddenly a few days ago and packed your things. The only words you had said to him were something about needing a break. He attempted to speak, but you had gone before the chance had been given.

A sigh left him as he took a step closer to the ocean. The port city he had grown up in… How many times had he stood on a beach like this? It was difficult to recall alongside many things during that period of his life. His hand clenched. He would speak to you soon. It was desperately needed. Things simply could not carry on as they were. Working had become impossible as the days grew larger in number.

“Oh? You seem lost in thought,” a voice called out to him. He turned his head to see a blond man with a familiar style to someone else that he knew. Cyrus stiffened. This appeared to be the 'Volo' that he had heard so much about. Someone who shared his intentions of making a new world. Could he have finally come to try to claim Palkia as he had expected. His hand went for Darkrai's pokeball, fully aware that he should not take this strange man lightly. “… I was going to say that you looked lonely,” his tone turned to something mocking.

“And?” Cyrus replied, voice suppressing whatever feelings wish to reveal themselves, “Is that truly any of your business?” There was little interest in dealing with him for any longer than necessary. He had only stepped out to get some fresh air and clear his mind. It was now having the complete opposite effect on him.

“They are quite lovely, are they not?” Volo suddenly said, gazing out at the moon, “You certainly left them in a state, though. How cruel of you.” Cyrus's eyes grew wide. “They were effortless to win over to me,” his hands readjusted the heavy pack on his back, “Just as they are now, too. They will be perfect at my side in a perfect world.”

Stepping away from him, Cyrus felt his stomach twist. What had this man done? Did he cause you to end up in the state that you were? He swallowed. Something told him that engaging him here would end badly. Turning his head, he let out a shaky breath. The beach was abandoned as he began his walk back to the hideout. A message was quickly sent to Saturn to order grunts to keep an eye on the blond. Cyrus felt as if he had a true rival for once in his life.

~

Volo stood on the beach in silence. Cyrus… Well, he certainly had his ancestor's expression down. The Captain of the Survey Corps would surely be happy to see her bloodline was going well. The waves washed around his boots as he stared at the night sky in wonder. So much could change in the world, yet the sky remained exactly the same. He felt oddly smug. How easy it was to place a wedge in what was an otherwise normal relationship. The merchant usually would not bother interfering in such a way.

But… It was you. Well, a version of yourself that had yet to end up in Hisui, but you nonetheless. You were so easy to approach. Volo had been genuinely surprised when you had mentioned a boyfriend, however. In Hisui, you had said he simply had abandoned you, yet here he was on Pasio. A different version of himself. Just like you were a different version of the you that he knew. But, in the end, you were still the same. He had lost you in Hisui after you learnt of his goals and what happened with Rei. Here, however, you had no clue of anything. It was so easy to just speak with you. When you asked about his time period, it delighted him to explain it to you.

It felt far too easy to use the certainty and fear related to the apparent temporary nature of Pasio to cause conflict with you and Cyrus. You had listened to him, too. Volo wanted to sigh. Soon, he would force Arceus out and subjugate it. Then, you both could be together in his new world. Just as you should be.

Volo felt disgusted at the thought of Cyrus holding you as he did. The more intimate the mental images became; the more upset Volo grew. He truly loved you. That was why he had helped you in Hisui. You had been just like him. Rejected by all the groups around the region. All alone and left to the mercy of nature. How could he not want to show you kindness and help you? Your company made things more pleasant as he investigated ruins and artefacts.

Why had you been so upset when he explained his plans to you? That question had haunted him ever since you had run from in Hisui. Now, of course, he understood. Cyrus. He had attempted something similar, yet more foolishly. Only using Dialga and Palkia to remake the world… Arceus simply would not allow that. Volo knew better.

He turned away from the beach.

Well, it was time to go see you again.

[gatitties]

Mute: O9. Grateful

O1. Flowers / O2. Friends! / O3. Study /O4. Ice-cream / O5. Sick / O6. Locked up /O7. Fight / O8. Friends? / O9. Grateful / 1O. Wishes

@chiyoso

Anyone would have felt offended or angry at such a statement, well, it was not your case. Although you hadn't been living with Tendou for years, you had also learned something when you talked to him, you had learned his body language just like he learned yours. You only had to look at him to tell that you would let him think for a few days, because his comment didn't feel real, it seemed more like something forced and it was. Tendou didn't want to cause you trouble, even though he didn't choose the best way to get you out of trouble, you didn't blame him. In a way you understand how he felt about the situation, you were like the opposite example of the redhead; while they helped you with everything, thinking you were someone fragile and sweet because of your disability, they saw him as someone terrifying, a weirdo who caused terror because of his astute intuition. However people didn't see how really tough you could be or how really fragile Tendou could be.

The days that you left him alone to think, you dedicated yourself to talking to the director to solve the problem with the boys who destroyed the garden. You collected the necessary evidence to blame them and they were expelled for fighting with the blocker, he only received a punishment from his coach for being banned for a week without club activities. Things calmed down remarkably the following days, but despite that you had some discomfort in your chest, you were in the boys' training as usual but Tendou seemed more distracted than usual, not to mention that when you tried to talk to him he ended the conversation quickly to run away from you, you felt as if he was avoiding you, you understood that he still thought that he should not be your friend so that they would not say bad things of you related to him.

"Are you going to come or are you going to stare into space?"

You blinked a few times to realize that Shirabu was standing next to you, you shook your head to clear it, you bowed apologetically receiving a sigh from the boy. You both walked to the gym without hurry, but you still felt that discomfort so you grabbed your cell phone to write a message.

«Do you think I should talk to Tendou?»

He looked at you with a raised eyebrow.

"Are you saying this because of his behavior?" you agreed "Yeah, surely it would be good for him to talk with you to clear things up."

You thanked with a small smile, making him roll his eyes. You went to the stands after greeting the team, as you always watch silently clapping from time to time to encourage them. You wanted to concentrate on seeing everyone get better but your eyes unconsciously went to the red hair.

They finally finished their session and now you were standing next to the door with your eyes closed, enjoying the tranquility until several laughs were heard inside the gym, curious you poked your head only to see Tendou entangled in a net. You looked at him for a few minutes, he was smiling while doing stupid things from one side to the other, his slanted eyes thanks to his smile seemed too cute, his expression, his lips, his hair, the way he moved everything seemed too cute.

«What am I thinking-»

"Are you okay?"

You felt the heat rise to your ears as you realized that Ushijima had probably seen how you admired his partner, so you shrunk in your spot nodding awkwardly.

"You should help him, he has to finish cleaning today."

He gave you a little push that was enough to get you in, you didn't even realize that everyone was gone except for the blocker, who was now struggling to disentangle himself. You shook your head seeing how he was constantly missing so you moved closer startling him.

«Need help?»

He sighed surrendered for you to start maneuvering, after a few long minutes in silence you managed to get him out of the net. You looked into each other's eyes for a few seconds but he looked away scratching the back of his neck.

"Thank you."

«It doesn't mat-»

"No, thank you for everything..." he looked at you again, with a smile, although a small emptiness shone in his eyes "thank you for not getting away from me."

You felt your heart oppress at the redhead's expression, you didn't think too much to go before him and squeeze him in your arms, burying your face in his chest with some shame for your recent actions and thoughts. His big hands wandered over your back with slight movements, somewhat trembling from nervousness, yet both of you enjoyed the sensation for a few long minutes.

Tendou knew that he could always count on your support and he was eternally grateful for that.

[chronically-ghosted]

a cute megalomaniac (recovery road - chapter i) series masterlist | AO3 Link | chapter ii

chapter rating: T (series: E)

word count: 6K

chapter summary: dieter's first day on set

chapter warnings/tags: mentions of rehab/addiction/withdrawal, language, no one gets along

a/n: My FC for Heidi is Sarah Goldberg and Timothy Olyphant as Mark (low hanging fruit, I know)

It’s getting hot inside the car. 

If he was going to sit this long in the fucking car, he should have left it running. Summers in LA are sneaky. Desert air is cold in the dark, but piercing in the day. He had purposefully parked in the shade, but it was still too much. He feels sweat break out across his hairline and he knows that won’t be a good look. He needs to look completely put together, completely at ease, relaxed. Unflinching. Unrufflable. Like he does tai chi every thirty minutes and can harmonize with the universe during rush hour traffic. 

He’s got to keep it together. 

But he can’t take his fucking palms down from his eyes. The heel of his hands dig into his eye sockets and for all the pressure it builds, it feels good. The pressure flushes out every other thought in his head and he needs to go into this clear-headed. If he fucks up again, it’s not just his ass on the line. 

He wants to believe things are going to be different this time. He wants to believe he’s going to be different. He’s worked his ass off to get here– sweated and shook and vomited into his own lap as the withdrawals tightened every muscle in his body– and now he just needs this one chance. Chloe – patient, perfect Chloe – was counting on him. If she said he could do it, he probably could. 

His left hand, fourth finger, twinges and that’s what brings his hands down from his face. He looks at the ring there. That gold beautiful ring. A promise made real. He swallows. 

Today, it’s a table read. Done it a thousand times. He’s actually early, for fuck’s sake. He glances down, triple checking he’s not wearing slippers or that mangy robe. Jeans. Black shirt. Easy. Chloe warned against the rings, but he’d sooner part with those than his right hand entirely. Sure he fucked up, sure he was a fuck up, but there were parts of Dieter Bravo that just had a right to exist. People wouldn’t recognize him without his rings. 

He did cave about the earring though. 

You’re almost thirty-six, darling. Nobody but rockstars can wear earrings at that age. 

When he went into rehab, he was thirty-three. He had lost two years of his life in that prison and he was not about to do it again. He had left his sobriety token at home, but he wished he had it now, just for something to squeeze, something to soothe his feverish palm. Again, Chloe had quietly nudged him: “do we need to get you a fidget spinner, baby?”

He wanted to joke, “that’s what the adderall is for,” but given that his doctor was forced to prescribe him something else for his ADHD after they found a dozen empty pill bottles under his bed, it probably wasn’t all that funny. 

He breathes, counting down just like the nice lady at the rehab center taught him to. 

Your self-destructive habits formed out of necessity. It’s time to reshape them. 

Today, it’s just a table read. He can do this.

He pops his sunglasses out of their holder on the console and slips them over his eyes. He takes one more glance out of the rearview mirror, half-expecting to be staring down the long lens of a TMZ reporter. He grabs the script from the passenger seat, curls it under his fingers— and still doesn’t move.

He likes this script. He likes the writer, seen their work in the past and it rocks. It’s good. It’s a good part. It’s actually better than good. It’s Oscar bait, the internet buzz says, and he has the lead part. An aging musician struggling to rebuild his life after a drug addiction ruined his band’s final tour. The scriptwriter didn’t actually say that he had Dieter in mind when he wrote the part, but Jesus– suffice it to say, he understood the material. 

The aging musician was going to help a young upstart find her way in the music scene. She joins the band. They flirt, they fuck, they fall in love, and everything is ruined by their own egos. End credits. Lights up. Oscar in his hand. 

He didn’t recognize the name of his co-star when his agent sent over the cast list. He honestly didn’t even ask about her. He had known the director, Heidi, for years, had worked with her in the past, and thought she had a real eye for scenecraft and a knack for finding that beating heart of a moment. He trusted her with casting the right part for his opposite, just as she had casted him. But it wasn’t even about his co-star– he was ready to dig in and see what the director could pull out of him. 

And fuck, if it worked for RDJ, then it could work for him. 

This had to work for him. He feels the pressure return behind his eyeballs. 

“Fuck it,” he hisses and nearly kicks the door open. The script curled up in his hand like a baseball bat, Dieter Bravo strolls across the hot parking lot to the studio sound stage and into the rest of his life.

He is used to being stared at. He is used to all eyes on him, but not like this. This feels too much like that last party when the cops showed up and found all of his illegal prescriptions. It makes him itch.

The empty stage is filled mostly with crew and staff, setting up lighting and testing the sound recording. They’re all busy, getting ready for next week to start filming, but they still have time to send him a worried glance. Because if he fucked up, they’d all be out of a job. They had enough courtesy to not actually whisper in front of him, but he knew exactly what they were saying just after he’s out of earshot:

“Oh, fuck, this is a Bravo flick? Shit, I gotta get another gig.”

“That asshole is here? Oh my God, this thing’ll be shut down in two weeks!”

“Fuck that guy and his stupid hair.”

Okay, that last one might have been projecting. He catches his own gaze in a pane of glass while he waits for the director’s assistant to return. His hair, despite his best attempts, would not lie flat, would not stay unrumpled. Another thing Chloe thought a man of his age should have a better grip on. 

He hasn’t seen another cast member and now he’s worried he got the time wrong and he’s missed it and he’s already started all of this off all wrong —

“Dieter! Oh my God, you’re here!”

Heidi, the director, beams at him so bright he actually feels himself go warm. She has her arms out open for him and he rushes to her, picks her up in his arms and twirls her. Her hair is back to her natural silvery blonde, cut short and kept out of her face with a tornado of bobby pins. He’s never seen her without her jean jacket, even at premieres. 

Early on in their careers, he found he had too much respect for her to try and sleep with her and they formed the closest thing he could call a healthy relationship over the years. She was like his sister, since his own didn’t seem like she’d ever pick up the phone again. 

It also helped that she was a raging lesbian, happily married, and wouldn’t go near his dick for all the money at Warner Brothers Studios. 

“Dieter, you look so fucking good, dude.” She pats his face and scrunches up her nose, those black headphones knocking around her neck. “Fuck, it’s been too long.”

“I know, Di, I know.” He always liked that their nicknames sounded alike. Dee and Di. A team. “How’s Lucy?”

“Pfft, you know her. Taken the kids up to Canada for the summer. Says the trees are more ‘real’ there,” she says, rolling her eyes. “I miss the little buggers, but shit, it’s nice to have a quiet house.”

He laughs, the knot in his chest easing. “Before school starts up again, you’ll have to come by the new place.”

“Oh, shit, that’s right. You just moved back into the neighborhood, didn’t you? I heard about that. You and, uh . . .”

He hides the blush in the tips of his ears with his hand, acting like he’s scratching an itch on the side of his head. “Yeah, Chloe and I are still together. Been married for a little over two years now.”

At that, Heidi’s bright green eyes snap open wide. She nearly launches herself at him to grab his hand, gawking at the only gold ring on his finger. “Shutthefuckup. You got married?! You asshole, why wasn’t I invited?”

He swallows past the hard knot in his throat. “It was a small thing. Could hardly call it a party.” 

Heidi, as she usually does, takes not a lick of his bullshit. “Uh huh. Well, shit, I guess we have to double date now.” 

“I’d like that.” He grins.

Her shock softens, and she punches his shoulder softly, her smile wide across her face. “You fuckin’ dork. I can’t believe you got married. Who knew Dieter Bravo would settle down?” 

He doesn’t know what to say to that, doesn’t know what’s going to come out of his mouth if he tries to answer, so he just shrugs. Her eyes linger on him for a second more, before looping her arm through his and leading him away from the stage. 

“So have you read the script?”

He nods eagerly. “Yep. The whole thing. Front to back. It’s fucking incredible, Heidi.” 

“Yes it is! There’s so much to work with. It’s a little hoity-toity for my taste in some places, but I think there’s a way to balance the shmaltz with genuine emotion, you know? It’s so raw and real, I know you can get to those places.”

“Yeah, like I haven’t already,” he jokes off-handedly. They’re standing in the big open bay, where the crew can wheel in giant cranes for lighting or special effects, when Heidi freezes. A frown is growing over her face as though realizing something for the first time. A wind blows in and he thinks he can smell the desert in it.

“Oh, fuck, Dee,” she murmurs, not even looking at him. “This script, the material . . . you just got out of fucking rehab, and—”

He shakes his head, a bit frantic. He’ll get on his hands and knees if that’s what it takes to keep him on this project. “Heidi, this is fine. I’m fine.”

He takes her by her shoulders and makes her look him in the eye. 

“I want this part. I want this part so fucking badly. I know I can do it too. I’m going to do this project and it’s going to blow your fucking socks off. You can count on me. I’m responsible now, I promise.”

At that, her green eyes soften. “Responsible and married? Who the fuck are you and what have you done with Dieter Bravo?”

Early on in their careers, she had been right by his side, doing line after line of coke off hookers and strippers. But then she grew up. If she can have a family and a beautiful wife, then why can’t he? 

“Dee, look,” she says softly and touches the hand around her shoulder. “I’m not worried about any of that. I always knew you were something special, if you could just get out of your own way.” She glances away, shame making her mouth tick. “But I should have checked in more. I knew you were still in rehab, even after those times I called. I should have stayed in touch. I’m sorry.”

Something about her pity was unbearable. “Don’t. Please. It’s in the past. It’s over and I want to move on. This time, it’s going to be different.”

Heidi nods, smiling. “For sure, dude. We’ll do this together.”

He can fucking breathe again. She sees this and takes him by the arm, letting him get his feet under him. The air is warm, and Heidi’s hand is firm against his forearm. 

“I know the email said to meet at the sound stage, but everyone’s working out here, so I just put us in the back of the studio. Much more quiet. C’mon, I think I saw Mark’s car up front.”

She leads him to the next building, chattering on and on about the composer they got. How the music is gonna fuck so hard, they’re even trying to convince the studio to let them record a full fake album for the movie — “if you don’t wanna sing, Dee, that’s totally fine but I am begging you to do at least some of the guitar,” — and the building door opens.

It’s a squat building, probably more offices than anything to do with production, but it’s where Heidi is taking him, and a man, much younger than he is, stumbles out of the doorway, giddily laughing over his shoulder. He looks to be a PA of some kind — wiry, a little strung out, probably with dreams of writing the next Citizen Kane someday — but he’s looking at something over his shoulder. 

Or rather at someone. 

A woman, barely that but with all the cosmic designs of one, steps out after him. Her white cowboy boots hug just below her knee, her smooth legs, rich with the sun, curl up into a men’s white collared shirt. She walks and only a flash of denim shorts peek out the shirt tails.

She isn’t laughing, but smirking. Knowing something this poor PA has no concept of. Her black aviators push her lush hair out of her face and her fingers glitter with silver jewelry. She’s smiling at the PA like a leopard seal smiles at lemmings. 

She chews something in the back of her teeth and then blows a bright pink bubble. The PA’s smile falls off his face, watching, wide-eyed, as the gum snaps in her mouth. 

Dieter immediately and, without question, dislikes her. Dislikes her so much, he can feel it burn in his chest.

Her wicked eyes slide from the PA, over his shoulder, and land squarely on Dieter. She blinks. Heidi walks up to her and shakes her hand. 

“Oh, hey, kiddo, you found the right place.” 

That sharp-toothed glint in her eye is gone as she eagerly chats up Heidi, and the PA might as well have disappeared off the face of the earth. 

Heidi waves Dieter over and it takes a full two seconds for him to remember how walking works. The sun is hot on his back. 

The woman — the girl — is looking him up and down, calculating and cool. As if she, unlike him, hasn’t quite made up her mind about what she thinks of him. 

Heidi waves a hand in between you two. She says your name and his mind suddenly locks onto it. He suddenly knows who you are before Heidi says it. He skimmed it on the cast list, barely memorable, at the time insignificant because he didn’t recognize it. Still doesn’t, but that name is embedded in his brain now, nailed down spikes and taken up residence. 

“This is your new co-star, Natalie Lorraine. The other lead. You two will be working very closely together for the next couple of months.”

You’ve stopped chewing gum. Either you’ve swallowed it or tightly packed it to the back of your gums, because there’s no slur, no crumpled edge to your words, when you extends your hand and says:

“Hi, Dieter. Nice to meet you.” 

Your hand is soft in his and your lotion reminds him of lilac. 

Today is just a fucking table read.

He tries to unclench his jaw when he says, “Nice to meet you too.” 

He’s on his third bottle of water and he’s eyeing the trashcan in the corner, wondering how many plastic bottles he could throw away before it looks weird. He’s got the script out in front of him on a long, white plastic table and a few people have stopped by to say hi. He had gotten up to stand and shake their hand, and several of them had blinked up at him, as if they had forgotten how tall he was when he wasn’t hunched over, fighting a hangover. Heidi was gathering the last of the castmates before the table read and had been gone for twenty minutes or so. Maybe — 

In the corner, she laughs, the sound brilliant and loud. In a world full of perfect, practiced laughs, hers is noticeable but not entirely bad, and a few people turn to look at her. She’s got a hand on Mark Bronson’s arm, clearly delighted at something he said, and he is obviously starstruck. 

Dieter actively fights the scowl on his face. He’s known Mark for a while. Good guy, little vices, always put in the work. Been married to the same waitress he met out in Oregon on a shoot a decade and a half ago, and never once stepped out. Dieter had been thrilled to see him, to catch up on old times, purposefully making a joke that referenced the one time they were on that old cop show together when they first got to Hollywood. “Nobody would really believe we’re gangsters, now, eh, Dee?” Mark had said with a grin. “Too fuckin’ old.” 

Mark had stayed and talked and that again eased the tension in his chest. If Mark actually hated his guts and that easy smile and loose handshake were fake, then the Oscar really should go to him.

But as more people filed in, he excuses himself to catch up with one of the directors of the art department and Dieter takes the opportunity to grab as many bottles as a reasonable person would from the cooler. He likes ice cold water. The colder, the better the burn. 

But here Mark sidles  up to that girl, laughing it up like they were old friends. Traitor, he muses glumly, and thumbs the white plastic cap. He’s thought about Googling her — who the fuck is this girl — but didn’t know how to justify it if someone caught him.

The back door to the room opens and Heidi steps in.

“Alright, five minutes. Take your final smoke breaks, your pee breaks, your whatever breaks. Hopefully not all at the same time, but I ain’t here to judge.” 

He keeps his eyes trained on the water bottle as bodies weave around him, chairs squeaking as they are pulled out and sat on. The atmosphere is relaxed, easy, everything he wanted. So why is he so fucking tightly wound?

“Thirsty?” 

It takes him a second to unstick his gaze from the bottle. He knows you’re talking to him. 

He glances up at your face from under his lashes. You aren’t exactly smiling at him, but there’s a light in your eyes that feels . . . playful. What a normal, innocent question. But when he doesn’t respond, you lean forward on your elbows, your rings interlocking on your fingers. Your gaze drops his and nudges the two empty plastic bottles around his script.

“And there’s two more full ones under your chair. So are you—”

“I like to keep hydrated,” he says, cutting you off. “It’s summer in LA and . . . uh, it’s hot.” 

“Uh huh,” you reply, slowly. “Can I have one? You know, since it’s hot.”

His mouth twitches — get off your perky ass and get one yourself — but then he’s liable to see your bare legs again. And he knows a comment like that would get him some stares, which would not be good. 

He swears you know all of this too by the way your eyes glitter at him, daring him. That’s the worst– he’s figured it out. You look at him from under your thick eyelashes like you want to play a championship round of Truth or Dare, but it would only ever be Dare. You want to see him dance on hot coals, eat a sword, kiss a snake. You want to watch him squirm and it’s so obvious, he clenches his jaw.

He swallows and bends down. He holds out the water bottle by the very end to you, but you somehow manage to brush your fingers up against his anyway. He doesn’t physically recoil but he feels like he needs to go wash his hands.

“Thank you,” you say as you unscrew the cap then drink heavily from the bottle. It’s halfway empty when you put it on the table. Your tongue laps up the water from your lip. 

He grunts as a response. You’re opening your mouth to bother him further when Heidi calls the start of the read. Dieter pulls his reading glasses out of his pocket and sees you’ve done the same. Silver, though, to his black, they’re perched on the edge of your nose, and you’re looking down at the script as if trying to divine lighting rods. You’re focused, the playful, tempting air gone, and there’s an intensity to your eyes that wasn’t there before. You look . . . almost normal. 

He slides his glasses on and looks back to his pages, the tips of his ears burning.

The table read goes well. 

Sort of. 

There’s a handful of scenes Heidi has picked out for the majority of the cast to read together. Mark does well as the manager who is trying to hold all the egos together but struggling with demons of his own. He’s funny when he needs to be, but serious enough to flip a line read that deepens his character. God, he’s so fucking talented, Dieter thinks as the table laughs at one of his character’s jokes. 

The other members of Dieter’s band in the movie are made up of three guys, two girls. They have a natural chemistry that makes it seem like they’ve been friends for years. Dieter makes a note to try and get to know them better as people off set to hopefully find his own rhythm with them. A few smile at him as he’s doing his own line reading and he feels good about it. 

Everything is fine and easy . . . until there are a few scenes specifically between him and you.

You’re putting too much emotion into it for just a table read and it’s making him uncomfortable. These things are just to get to know everyone, to see how the cast can play off each other, but you’re out here acting like there’s cameras ten feet back. Have you ever even been to a table read before? Shouldn’t you know this?

After you deliver a heartfelt monologue about feeling lonely in the world, he hears a few sniffles. The two girls of the band are red-eyed and Mark is intentionally stone-faced. Even Heidi looks affected. 

What the fuck is going on? Is he the only one not swayed by your bullshit? 

All of a sudden, you take his hand from across the table, your eyes pouring into his, and he’s caught off guard. 

“Tell me you understand,” you say, your voice wet with emotion. “Tell me you understand why you can’t ever leave me.”

He wets his lips and sits up straighter in his seat. He squeezes your hand, opening up the light in his eyes. Fine, two can play that fucking game.

“I’m no good for you, baby,” he croons. “There’s a million of me out there and only one of you.”

“But you’re the only one I want. The only one I need.” 

Fuck, you’re good. But he’s better. He turns your hand over, exposing your wrist to the cool air and thumbs your pulse gently. He smiles wistfully at you.

“What we want can kill us. I love you, darling, but that’s not enough.”

The room is silent.

He glances down and read the next stage action:

They meet in a passionate kiss.

His eyebrows raise and he glances back at you, halfway expecting you to throw yourself at him from across the table. 

But, no. Instead of looking at him with love in your eyes, you are fucking furious. Your mouth is pulled into a tight line, and he can see you mentally picture strangling him.

“Alright,” Heidi calls out, her voice gruff. “Alright, let’s move on. Page one-fifteen.” 

The room fills with the fluttering of paper and a few people sniff, rubbing their eyes.

You yank your wrist out of his grip but don’t move to turn the page. And neither does he. 

Oh, you’re mad that I did the exact same thing you were doing, but better? Sorry, hot tits, you have no idea who you’re fucking with. Welcome to the real world.

You look like you want to sink your fangs into him. You’re kind of cute with your nostrils flared, in that megalomaniac kind of way.

A woman to his right asks what page they’re starting on, and it forces him to break eye contact with you. He tells her and thumbs to the correct page himself, where Mark is having an argument with one of the guys in the band.

He glances up at you. Tension still lines your body but you aren’t looking at him anymore. In fact, you’re making a clear point not to. His chest soars. 

He is definitely counting that as a win.

He opens the back door to the studio lot and breathes in the evening air. Day one, knocked down and dragged out back. He feels so fucking good. 

After the reading, Mark came over and congratulated him again on getting the part. He makes sure Dieter has his number before saluting him and announcing he’s heading home for the night. The band is hanging out in the corner, but the talk dies down as he approaches. One of the guys looks positively horrified as he smiles and waves at them.

“You did a great job today,” he says to their half circle. He’s never seen anyone’s eyes so wide in their heads. “Have you all worked together before?”

“We’re an actual band and you’re really Dieter Bravo,” one of the girls blurts out. Her friend, presumably, elbows her and she blinks as though slapped. “I mean, we play real music. We’ve been on the radio a few times, but you’ve probably never heard of us . . .” She trails off, glancing helplessly at her friends to make her shut up.

The other young woman with hair so red it had to have been fake, rolls her eyes. “We’re The Sixers. We started out here in LA and we’ve been on the Strip a few times. Our agent said that it would be great publicity if we were in a movie.” 

“Oh, shit,” Dieter mutters, as surprised as they are, “The Sixers – yeah, I have heard of you before. I’m fucking old as hell, but I still listen to the radio.” 

“You’ll have to give us some acting pointers,” one of the other guys offers up, his hands in his jean pockets. He seems less obviously starstruck but still trying to play it cool. 

“Only if you help me to remember how to play the guitar,” Dieter grins. 

“You know how to play?” The first girl gawks.

He winks at her. “When everyone else around me is too drunk to notice I’m terrible.” 

They laugh, the girl’s face whiter than a sheet, and then the redhead introduces everyone. “That’s Nick, Cooper, and Samuel. Our resident ghost here is Marie, and I’m Roxie.”

He vaguely wonders which of those are stage names, but is absolutely sure that’s not Roxie’s real name. But she seems like the kind of person who’d like it that way. 

“You all are in good hands with Heidi,” he nods to where she’s chatting with Mark and the art director. “She’s a visionary and really knows her shit. You’re lucky you get to have her as your first director.” 

“Have you worked with her before?” Cooper, a guy with legitimate beatnik hair, asks. 

Dieter nods. “Several times, actually. She’s fantastic.” 

“Have you worked with her before?” Roxie asks as you walk across the room to pick up your purse. Dieter can feel that burn in his chest again as you bend over. He shakes his head. 

“Is she new to the scene? Is that why she can’t afford any pants?” Roxie mutters and both Cooper and Samuel chuckle. Marie glares at her. 

“I heard she was a child actress in the early 2000s,” Marie says as if trying to re-right the ship. “Was pretty successful, but then dropped off the face of the earth. Until now, I guess.”

“Maybe she went the Bella Thorne way of child actresses,” Nick murmurs, shamelessly watching your ass as you turn to speak with Heidi for a moment. 

Roxie snorts. “She’s not that slutty. No one is that slutty, to sleep with even the likes of you, Nicholas.”

“Oh, yeah, you’d like that, wouldn’t you –” 

Roxie slams a hand over his mouth. “I will junk-punch you so hard if you say what I think you’re going to say.” 

They’re like siblings, Dieter muses. Five very talented, outrageous siblings. 

“It was great to meet all of you,” he says and Marie’s eyes flutter back to him. “But I gotta split. We should all go out some time. Meet up outside of work.”

“Oh, I think we’d looove that,” Cooper sing-songs, his eyes on Marie. She flushes bright red and pinches his shoulder, while Samuel laughs. “Ow!”  

Despite himself, this could actually be a fun shoot. He waves but none of them really see it, having devolved into a squabble that makes him grin. 

You’re gone, he notices, and the art director has left too, but Heidi is sitting alone at the table, going over her notes. 

He slides into the seat next to her and she lifts her head, smiling.

“Hey, Dee, you fucking crushed it today. Everyone’s been coming up to me to say how impressed they are with you.” 

He huffs and rolls his eyes, leaning back in the chair. “Yeah, and did they follow it with, ‘especially after how much of a fuck up we thought he’d be’?” 

Heidi playfully frowns at him. “C’mon, man, give yourself some credit. You earned the right to be here. I didn’t have to approve your audition.” 

His throat tightens. No, she really didn’t. He shakes his head.

“You’re right. As always.” 

Heidi grins, pleased, and drops her head back to her notes, marking things in a red pen. 

“So what did you think of your co-star?” 

Be nice, Dieter. “She’s . . . fine.” 

Heidi smirks, but doesn’t look up. “Wow, I don’t think you’ve ever used less words to describe someone, much less a woman.” 

He doesn’t like the way she says woman, as if there’s this cosmic reckoning that’s started and he just doesn’t know it yet. Sam and Diane, Bones and Booth – a destined sort of thing. 

He rolls his jaw. 

“She just acts . . . uppity, is all. Like she’s better than everyone else.” 

Heidi snorts. “Okay, tell me how you really feel.”

“I don’t like her.”

At that, Heidi pauses and looks up, genuine concern on her face.

“Really? You don’t like her? She came recommended by an old friend of the studios and I know she’s a bit much, but I didn’t think you’d actually dislike her.”

He back-pedals as fast as he can. This day is so close to being perfect. 

“I mean, I don’t not like her . . . I just . . . I don’t know her.” If he is being honest, the best time to tell her exactly what’s been on his mind all day is probably right now. “And, fuck, Di, isn’t she a bit . . . I don’t know . . .” He swears he can hear the old Dieter laughing at him. “. . . young?” 

Heidi grimaces, taking his concern seriously, and he loves her even more for that. 

“It was a studio note. Execs say it makes the central conflict feel more . . .”

“Predatory?” His eyebrow lifts, disdain evident in his drawl. She frowns at him.

“Transcendent.”

There is nothing about that girl that is transcendent, he thinks bitterly. 

He sighs and leans closer. Heidi notices his change in body language and leans forward too.

“I just cannot fuck this up, Di. I have to come out on top with this. It’s really important.”

That pity flashes across her face again and his stomach curdles. But she soothes a hand over his, her eyes serious. 

“Dee, I know. I really do. I’m not going to let anything bad happen here. She starts acting up, she’s out. We don’t need her that badly.”

He couldn’t be sure if she actually had the power to kick a co-star off the set, but he wanted to believe she did. More importantly, she wanted him to believe she did. 

“Thanks, Di,” he sighs. “I don’t know what I would do without you.” 

She chuckles and pulls her hand back. 

“Go home to your wife at a normal hour.” She pauses, making a face as if she tasted something sour. “Your wife – God, I will never get used to that.”

“Hey, I got used to it, after my best friend left me for some brunette out in Bali,” he teases as he stands up. 

Heidi scoffs. “That wedding was sick as fuck and you know it.” 

“You know, I never did bill Lucy for the piercing I got there. Sober Dieter would never have made the decision to look like a Keith Richards knock-off.”

“Oh shut the fuck up and go home. To your wife.” 

He’s laughing as he waves her good night. 

He opens the back door to the studio lot and breathes in the evening air. Day one, knocked down and dragged out back. He feels so fucking good. 

He’s thumbing through his keys when he smells smoke. Acidic smoke. Like those disgusting American Spirits he used to choke down. 

You’re leaning by the trunk of your car, one heel kicked over the other, smoking a white cigarette through your fingers. That would be fine with him except your car is parked tightly in the space next to his and you’re blocking the way to the driver’s seat. He’d rather crawl through the trunk than have to bend around you.

You’re biting on your thumbnail and staring directly at him with unabashed contempt. 

“Your reading was stilted,” you announce and then take a long drag. 

“Excuse me?”

“Your reading today,” you say slowly as though talking to a particularly stupid child, “it was stilted.” 

He pops his jaw. 

“That’s because it was a fucking . . .” He remembers to breathe. “That’s because . . . it was a table read. Have you ever been to one?”

“Yes.” You tap the ash off your cigarette on the heel of your boot, drawing his gaze to the flush of your thigh but he’s not going to fall for it. “It can be a great opportunity for actors to find their chemistry. To find their rhythm.”

“I know that.” 

“Then where was yours? Huh?” You lift your eyebrows. Did you ever not want to play Dare?

“What are you talking about? I had a fine time with the band. We’re actually going to hang out outside–,”

“I mean with me.” 

That burning sensation returns to his chest. You look at him as if you could sear a hole right through him. Your cigarette is left smoking, forgotten, between your fingers at your hip. 

“The only time you ever gave me anything was after I touched you, and even then your performance was so saccharine, it made my teeth ache. I’m out here to prove I belong here, on this big budget film, and you’re stonewalling me. What do you have against me? What did I ever do to you?” 

He runs his tongue against the back of his teeth, guilt smothering the fight you aroused in him. He drops your gaze and puts his hands on his hips. He’s too old to be scolded like this.

“Nothing, alright? You didn’t do anything,” he says quietly. “It’s not you–”

“Of course it fucking isn’t but thank you for saying so,” you snap. 

You take one more drag before flicking the white butt onto the pavement at the edge of the gathering darkness.

“This is going to be a long shoot if you can’t get your head out of your ass.” You step forward and he instinctively takes a step back, but you come close anyway and shove a finger at his chest. “I don’t know what your deal is and I don’t care. We’re going to get through this even if I have to grab you by your hair and pull you to the finish line. Got it?” 

Your eyes are shining, fierce, powerful. Your mouth could crush rocks. 

He nods. 

Maybe it’s the trick of the failing light, but he thinks your pupils are a little too unnaturally wide. 

“Great. See you Monday.” 

You turn away from him, stalking back to your car and hurling your purse into the side seat. The car, a Chevy that’s possibly older than he is, roars to life with just as much vitality as you possess. He leaps back a second before the wheels squeal as the car lurches backwards and darts off into the dark. 

He stands, watching the car pull away onto the road until it’s gone. He can still hear the engine screaming in the distance. He thumbs his keys, shaking his head. 

For the first time in months, he would literally kill someone for a cigarette.

[cum-villain]

being autistic means i don't know tone well, i dont know how to talk to people. my words always have meanings that i cant read, in a language i was never able to learn, that i may never learn.

i've been told there's such a thing as being "rude". in the dictionary, i'm told it means "offensively impolite", "ill mannered", "abrupt". I don't know what those mean. i know polite means "courteous", which means "showing courtesy", which means being nice to people. i think. the dictionary tells me it means "showing politeness in attitude and behaviour". i don't know what attitude means. mother tells me i have one. but when i say "courtesy" means acting nice to people, i'm told i'm correct, so maybe the dictionary doesn't know everything. maybe this word has meanings that cant be expressed in my language too.

i'm know being polite and being courteous are the same, and i've been told that, but i think "polite" has a secondary meaning i never learned. "polite" is defined as "having or showing behavior that is respectful and considerate of other people", being courteous, but it's also defined as "relating to people who regard themselves as more cultured and refined than others". I don't quite know what cultured and refined mean. Cultured should mean knowing culture, but when i share all the things i know, i'm called that allusive word "rude". refined should mean formal, using a fancy vocabulary. mother told me i was smart for my big words, but i lose that intelligence every day. i wonder if i ever was that smart. nowadays i'm called "stuck up", which i'm told means "rude".

abrupt is about timing. it means to be rude. it means "sudden and unexpected" in the dictionary. i never know when i should speak. maybe they never wanted me to speak at all, with my pretentious words. mother says i need to learn to listen better, but they're all speaking in a language i never understood. "body language", they call it, but i always see it as angry. but when i think they're angry they yell at me for daring to think that. i'm sorry mom, i wish i was smart like you said i was.

the dictionary hasn't helped me learn the word "rude". i've seen examples, though, to help me understand. "rude" is like rude words, crass cusses, fuck. "rude" is saying what shouldn't be said. i'm sorry, mommy, i didn't mean to accuse you of being mad, i'm sorry. "rude" is saying sorry too much. but i dont know what else to say to make you feel better. i never learned the language. "rude" correcting. i'm sorry i interrupted you, but i'm really not that smart anymore, see, you can tell i'm not smart because i'm always too abrupt, too uncultured. "rude" is my existence. "rude" is me speaking, trying to connect. i'm sorry. but i still want to be here, even if it's rude. but i'm sorry for being so rude. i try not to be myself nowadays.

or maybe i don't know the definition of rude. i never learned the language allistic people speak in the first place.

[magentainbio]

hey undertale/deltarune fandom im dumping a bunch of headcanons on you that may or may not be popular/adopted from other people or just might be flat out canons

spoilers for undertale, undertale yellow, and deltarune, i suppose.

- Kris wishes they could wear something besides the same shirt constantly but don't feel like doing anything about it

- Frisk had a rough life at home and Toriel might have reminded them of it a little bit at first. this rough life is possibly why they climbed Mt. Ebott in the first place.

- If Ralsei is evil, he doesn't have it in him to betray the party. I don't think he is, though, and with the direction the story is going think he will be more of a "What you're doing, even if you don't realize it, is wrong" and then he gets all sad and apologizes, changing for the better.

- Frisk's trait is Love, and not Determination. They just happen to possess a large amount of Determination.

- Gaster

- Sans knows all about the multiverse. He studies it as a hobby because it's a special interest of his. He's studied the timeline, the Deja Vu monsters tend to get, all of it. He is a nerd who likes to crack jokes. And neurodivergent.

- I think Charrator theory is true, and I think Chara had some time before Frisk fell down to examine their actions. Possibly realized what they did was wrong. When we do the Geno route, it's like that part of them is reawakened, and they manifest, forever taking control when we aren't. They continue playing along with our silly schemes, but the change we did? It's permanent.

- I like to imagine Flowey has some sense of empathy or feeling. I don't think he does. But, I like to imagine.

- Asgore is bi. Do I need to elaborate??

- I like to imagine Gaster just watching everything from the Void. We don't know enough about him to really *know* anything about him, but I like to imagine him watching over the Underground, cheering from the sidelines, watching over his boys Sans and Papyrus as they do their silly little things

- Heats Flamesman is the knight /j

- Papyrus forces the UTY and UT gangs together, it goes horrible at first but eventually things work out.

- Sans acting completely apathetic and monotone is a coping mechanism

- Sans studied the multiverse, but also some psychology. He understands emotions better than most, reading people's minds just by their body language.

- Sans has tried to explain to Papyrus in at least one timeline the entire multiverse theory and Papyrus just didn't get it

- Common theory, I know, but Kris, Susie, and Ralsei form a trio: Red, Green, and Blue. More notably, Kris, Susie, and Noelle form a much closer trio of: Magenta, Cyan, and Yellow. Just a blind guess based off of this, Noelle might be more important than Ralsei.

- Sans is not the only one aware of the world's mechanics, by a long shot. Frisk knows of them through our help, Flowey has directly messed with the world, Asgore is at least aware of the other children loading their saves. Shopkeeper Tem is just... somehow completely aware of your resets. All monsters get a sort of Deja Vu.

- I feel after the Pacifist ending of UTY Ceroba never truly let go. She either let go of her resentment after Kanako was sent back, or sometime after meeting Alphys and promptly attacking her. Maybe both.

- The cast of UT never really understood the harm they did to the cast of UTY. besides flowey. buut, in the end, Flowey honestly helped everyone whether he meant to or not.

- We, the Player, are just always there. We tell people what to do. We are, however, attached to different hosts for different reasons. Maybe there's some higher power pulling the strings, moving us around. Maybe there's just a system.

- Papyrus isn't naïve. He's quite clever and powerful. He just isn't really bothered by a lot. Not enough for it to matter to him, anyways.

- Asgore has to force himself to agree that ehat he's doing is right. Always. It hurts him, but I think UT is his breaking point, where he can't take it anymore. He's being dealing with everything for so long, and... There's just something about them. Frisk. That reminds him so much of Asriel. He can't keep his guard up around them.

is this list too long yet

im stopping here for now

I accidentally posted this without tags whoops

[ladythornofrivia]

The Imperfection of Sound

In a world of sound, reader is deaf. Until she meets Ran Haitani, who shows her that life is more than just hoping for a miracle.

Pair: Ran x Reader

Warnings: Mature Content, Inappropriate Moments and Adult Language. (if you’re under 18, you can’t read this). Spice. (Spice is nice 😏😎😉)

Author’s Note: Sorry for the wait. Enjoy this chapter. Today’s my birthday!

(Please report if someone decides to steal/plagiarize my story. And notify me. Thank you.)

Chapter 7: My Miracle

Previous Chapter

Ran’s eyes widened at her text. Gulping, he looked back at the innocence of her fluttering eyes then back at her text back and forth. He’s sure that you’re just a pure angel to him, but the moment he reads what’s on the phone screen, his mind reeled and mingled with confusion and delight.

“Are you sure, my angel?” he typed.

To which he found you nodding at his question as your legs reeled him in, his crotch touching your clothed pussy with your hands slithered at the back of his neck. Leaning your head against his collarbone, the smell of Mont Blanc cologne tingled your body.

The hum in your voice vibrated, and Ran slithered his hands around your waist line, caressing the smooth texture of your backside, then inch his way onto your smooth skin. His head leaned onto your neckline, pressing it with fervor kisses.

Happily, your feet shifted little kicks. And Ran caught on that. Smirking, he scooped your ass, having you up with your legs around his waist, leaving you wanting more of his kisses. His lips then leaned close to yours but halted with a feathered touch.

“Can I kiss you,” he asked, heart pacing.

You understood his body language.

Eventually you granted his wish, and his smooth lips clashed against yours in languid passion.

••••••

Your clothes became undone by his hands, as his clothes were undone by you. In a bask of golden sunlight, your skin tingled with shiver as you plopped above his naked body onto the king size bed.

The concept of virginity is supposed to be saving for someone special on the day of marriage. You dreamt of a splendorous wedding with someone special, one you dreamt of long-lasting romance in novels and movies.

His violet eyes watched you, enchanted by you. With your engorging nipples and open lips and silk skin, you’re just divine.

“I’ll guide you,” Ran said. “Is that what you want, my little goddess? To be guided by me?” he asked.

Once you read his lips, you gave a go signal. With Ran lethal speed, he pinned you down against the bed cushion, laying on your stomach as his hands clutched your forearms and his hips, his leaking tip of his cock aligned against your entrance and shoved his cock all the way in.

Your moans filled the quiet air. And Ran’s semen is about to leak at this moment.

This wasn’t a dream to him.

If only I could tell her how beautiful she sounds.

Ran then kissed your wet cheeks, then your gaping lips as he kept thrusting into your pussy, bed creaking louder and louder as he went twice as fast. With you, everything’s better.

Your moans stifled at first, but as soon as he thrusted with more passionate force, your moans unleashed several cries—pleasurable, as your pussy clenched around his cock.

Usually, Ran was quiet whenever he bedded someone, but his moans found its way to release. Each squelching beat from thrusting his hips, he wanted nothing more but to breed you, too. He never dreamed of having a child with someone—people come and go—but with you—anything is possible.

For now, all he could provide is to want your trust to be placed back and his heartbreak to be replaced with love.

Love.

Love was a foreign concept to him. But anyone can love anyone—devoted for life. He doesn’t mind that.

He then gathered you into his arms, and lead you at the wide marbled balcony, where you can see the high-end view of Roppongi. Your arms propped against the railing, Ran continued to shove his cock into you, all riled up by the view of you and your arousing cries.

His hand pulled you against his chest, kissing your lips, then his lips against your cheek, whispering. “I love you, (y/n). I’ll never let go of you. I’ll give up everything for you. I hope you know that.”

Then his semen coated your walls.

•••••

Once you and Ran headed back, resting against the soft pillows, your face glowed with happiness. Ran embraced you, admiring the way your expression unfolded before him, with a usual smirk adorned his face when you shifted closer.

“I love you, (y/n),” Ran said. “Stay by my side, and I’ll protect you. Don’t stray from me. I don’t think my heart could take it. I want to spend the rest of my days with you, wedded or not, I want to see your smile again. You’re the miracle of my life—my miracle. Stay close to me by my beating heart.”

He then lifted his left hand and formed a “I love you” in sign language.

You smiled at him and gave him a good long kiss—two kisses—one for him, and one for you. With his moving lips, you understood everything.

You watched his large and lithe hand touched your face. Your heart stirred as your finger clasped around his wrist, leaning in and savoring his touch.

You couldn’t live without him either. Your love grew larger than last.

Forever mine, forever mine.

In your soundless world is filled with brighter and winsome color with his.

Meanwhile…

Rindou came back to see you and Ran naked in bed.

Rindou slammed his palm against his face.

“I knew this is gonna happen.”

~End~

Taglist: @colored-tr-panels @galactict3a @penguinlovestowrite @f1yh1gh @akemiixx01 @goldenbeskar @sehunnies-hunnie96 @onyx-blossom

[sharkjumpers]

It's so awkward on the chronically disabled end when you go back into a setting like a classroom and your professor's like "glad to see you're better!" I know they mean well and it's a kind thing to say and i always say thank you in turn, and I take no issue with them, it's just like... I'm not. I'm not feeling better or doing particularly good. I just have no other choice but to go out and force myself to function after a certain point because of the way society works. I wish the natural reaction sometimes was "are you feeling any better?" and I wish that it were acceptable to respond and go No. Not really. without making it really weird and without the knowledge that a lot of people just won't believe you. I wonder how many people in the day-to-day lives of disabled people actually grasp the chronic aspects of a disability. I can't think of a day in years where I haven't been in pain in some degree, and I don't mention it everyday because it's just a part of my life. I'm never going to feel all the way better—and maybe I'm being nitpicky with language, but I feel as if I've earned that—and if I were to point that out the mood would go down, or I'd be reassured, or something, and it's like... hmm. I don't say it with great despair or anything, or to be down on myself, it's just a fact of life. I think more able-bodied people should be able to accept statements like "I won't ever get better all the way" without their initial reactions be jumping to assure you or "that's horrible!" (Thanks?) or that you aren't "believing" in yourself. Acknowledging the facts of something isn't inherently a miserable thing, and it doesn't mean I'm complaining or need you to lift me up. I think it'd make my life and a lot of my friends' and family members' lives much easier if people around us understood there's not always a "glad you're feeling better" moment.