#and the class meets once a week so its several hours long

[elprupneerg]

i was so tired this morning i didn't even have the energy to make coffee before i left. which meant halfway through lab my head started pounding. managed to get things done and now i'm having school coffee (i was debating walking a couple blocks to get better coffee but its cold and i'm tired)

i was so full of energy on monday that i was lowkey worried i was manic, and i got myself to be relatively fine and normal yesterday. and now i'm so so so so so tired. i wish my energy would stay more constant so that i could actually get things done

[harksness]

Distraction

A/N: i suffer from severe agatha harkness brainrot 24 hrs a day 7 days a week. i also couldnt help but make this one a little sweet too ajsadkgj im so down bad for her

the request!

Warnings: hand kink, quickie, slight mommy kink bcs im a hoe who can't write smut with agatha without working that in at least a little bit. lmk if i missed any warnings as per usual <3

WC: 3.5k

You find every little thing about Agatha to be insanely attractive. How could you not? She’s absolutely perfect. Her smooth, sultry voice and calculated words. Her pretty blue eyes that always seem to have that mischievous glint to them. Her tempting pink lips that are almost always quirked into that evil little smirk of hers. And oh God her hair, her wild hair you could play with for hours. 

She's ethereal. Agatha Harkness is the definition of beauty and all of its synonyms. Alluring, lovely, heavenly, ravishing, irresistible, beauteous, divine, bewitching and as ravishing as they come. Something pulled right out of your dreams, or some grand work of art.

But something about her hands just stuck out to you. They drove you crazy.

Her long, nimble fingers.. Watching how deftly they work her magic, the fluid movements she makes with them always has you biting your lip and wondering if she’d repeat those same movements elsewhere. 

As if you didn’t have a hard enough time keeping your eyes off of her hands, all of those pretty rings she found recently aren’t helping. They draw more of your attention to how skilled she is with her long digits, the soft silver, the pretty jewels and carvings into the metal always catching your attention. The problem is that once that happens, you just can’t seem to get your attention off of them.

You clear your throat, catching yourself staring at her hands… Again. Reluctantly, you refocus your attention back to the meeting at hand as you quickly cast your gaze over all of the people sitting around you, Agatha’s voice background noise.

Your lover finds your gaze as she’s speaking to the group, sending a quick wink your way.

Immediately you feel your cheeks flushing when you realize that’s her way of telling you that you’ve been caught red handed. Billy, of course, catches on right away with a little gasp as he raises his hand into the air, a sly grin overtaking his features as he interrupts Agatha.

“Can you two stop flirting with each other for five minutes? It’s so distracting for the rest of the class.”

You pinch your lips together at his words. Ever since you two became a thing and he figured out about your relationship, he’s really taken to the two of you as his “gay aunties”, loving to tease you every chance he gets about your sappy romance.

There’s a few beats of dead silence in the room as everyone waits for Agatha to say something.

“What are you talking about?”

She’s so obviously just trying to mess with the younger wiccan.

But still, even knowing this you try so hard not to smack your hand to your forehead at her response. She’s had over three hundred years to master the art of snappy comebacks and witty one liners, her charisma is off the charts. You’d personally say she’s more skilled with how she uses her words in conversation than magic itself, it’s one of her greatest weapons.. But that’s what she decided to say?

“Really.”

Billy says, less of a question and more of a statement. You release a big sigh, and you can feel Rio rolling her eyes from the spot next to you.

“I mean.. Of course I can’t go five minutes without flirting with my girl.. Have you seen how gorgeous she is? How impossibly perfect?”

Agatha says, gesturing towards you dramatically. You’re surprised that you haven’t passed out from the amount of blood rushing to your cheeks, a bashful smile crossing your lips at how outspoken and dorky she is. 

“Eugh! You two are too cute.. I need to go vomit…”

Billy is smiling regardless of his teasing.

“Oh! Absolutely feel free to do so! Meet back here in ten minutes!”

Agatha claps her hands together excitedly, a puzzled look crossing the boy's features.

“I was only joking..”

No one seems to pay any attention to the words he mumbled under his breath. Agatha was just so eager to take him up on the offer.

She’s being so dramatic with her hands- waving them around and gesturing so much more than usual. Not many other people would notice, considering how dramatic Agatha just is as a person, but you do.

Rio rolls her eyes at you, the slightest smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.

“You two are worse than lovesick teenagers.. Disgusting.”

You smile softly, watching Agatha shoot you a look before she leaves the room, her gaze lingering against yours as she quirks an eyebrow at you suggestively. Slowly she presses down on the door handle and pushes it open, the door swinging closed behind her a moment later with a soft click.

“I know, it’s so disgusting…”

You’re barely paying attention as you get up to follow your witch. You cross the room, winding between the fold out chairs and the women stretching and mulling about as they take advantage of their free time. Pushing the door open, you scan the room quickly before finding her leaning on a wall across from you.

“Sooo…”

She starts as you approach, holding her hands out in front of herself, as if examining her nails. You cross your arms over your chest, pouting slightly at her incessant teasing.

“Someone seems to be fixating on my hands..”

Agatha holds them up, palms facing her as she wiggles her ringed fingers at you, and wiggling her eyebrows to match. You roll your eyes playfully.

“No..”

You simply say, once again as you feel your cheeks flush in embarrassment. She lets out a disappointed hum.

“Shame. Because if you were.. I was going to suggest that we go into the back room and take your mind off of my hands for a little bit.. And put my hands on something else…”

Agatha implies suggestively, your eyebrows shoot up and your eyes widen at her suggestion.

“With everyone in the next room?!”

You hiss at her in surprise, terrified that someone was going to walk in on your conversation, let alone catch the two of you in the act. She shrugs, indifferent.

“Two rooms over.”

You watch for a moment as she slowly saunters over to the next door, leaning against it with her back to push it open and hold it ajar for a moment. She raises her wrist, shrugging down her sleeve to check her watch as two strands of her curly brown hair fall over her features, blue eyes lidded as she looks down.

“Eight minutes..”

She trails off suggestively, and that’s all you need to remind yourself this isn’t a daydream as you run after her, following her into the dingy little storage room.

The door falls shut. It’s dark, and you’re about to start groping around for a light when suddenly a warm orange glow fills the room with a little click as Agatha pulls on the string hanging from the lightbulb on the ceiling. 

The room is filled with random boxes and equipment piled up and leaning on the walls, and conveniently- a worn, plush, yellow chair that used to sit out in the main room. You raise an eyebrow at Agatha as she plops herself into it, leaning back and spreading her legs as she leans one arm on the armrest, the other coming up to her mouth as she bites one of her gaudy rings.

Her hair is piled on top of her head, two strings of hair hanging in her face. Her coat is unbuttoned and fanning to the sides as the purple fabric of her nice dress pants stretch around her soft thighs perfectly.

She’s smirking around the ring she’s biting, eyebrow quirked curiously as she gazes up at you with her mischievous blue eyes. Agatha pats her thigh invitingly.

“Come have a seat, baby.”

You could’ve melted into the ground right then and there.

You’re sure you look a lot less put together and sexy as she does as you basically scramble to jump into her lap, your knees sinking into the plush cushion of the chair as you straddle her thighs. She smiles warmly up at you, humming happily as a hand comes up to rest on your waist.

“Good girl..”

Agatha praises, looking up to meet your gaze as she trails a hand up your waist lovingly. Her other hand comes up to stroke at your thigh, sliding slightly up under the hem of your skirt. Your breath hitches in your throat.

She raises the hand from your waist, fingers curling around the back of your neck as her thumb caresses your cheek… The cold of her rings digging into your skin. You lean into the feeling.

“C’mere..”

Agatha speaks softly as she pulls you down to meet her lips, your eyes fluttering closed as her soft lips move against yours. You hum into the kiss, raising your hands to rest on her shoulders.

She runs her hand further up your skirt, her soft skin smoothing over your hips and across your ass as she squeezes the plush skin lovingly. Your hands caress the exposed skin of her neck, toying with the loose hairs hanging from her bun.

Her warm hands run along the line of your lacy underwear, tracing back up over your hips, then down between your legs. Your breath hitches, breaking the kiss as a soft, breathy moan escapes your lips when her fingers trail downwards and start to grind her fingers up against your center. Gently she presses her fingers up against you, and you rock against her, little sighs of pleasure falling past your lips. Agatha’s eyes are lidded, but fixated on your features, her gaze flickering to your lips and her smile quirking upwards just the littlest bit every time you let out a desperate noise. 

“You make the prettiest noises, angel..”

Agatha whispers against your skin as she starts to leave lingering kisses along the exposed skin of your neck. You raise your hand to cradle the back of her head as she presses her fingers into you more firmly, your hips rolling against her hand desperately as you toy with her hair.

“Mmm.. Ag’s, please.”

You plead into her hair, all you can focus on is the sparks of pleasure you’re receiving, just enough to keep working you up but not get you anywhere. Your features twist in frustration.

“What’s wrong baby, is this not enough?”

Leaning back, you notice the taunting smirk etched onto her lips. You narrow your eyes at her, unable to help the little pout that overtakes you.

“Please.. We don’t have a lot of time..”

Agatha hums in thought, moving her hand that was cradling your neck to wrap around your jaw. The metal of her rings have heated against your skin, and it feels good to have them bite into your cheek just a little bit as you press back against her hand.

“Oh, sweet pea, I know you can do better than that.”

She quirks an expectant brow at you and you know what you have to do.

“Please… Agatha I- I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you and how good you are with your hands... I’m so desperate for it.. Mommy, please, I need you..”

You do your best to pour your heart out, knowing you sound like a scrambling mess, but also knowing Agatha loves it when you sound that way. When you're desperate and keening for her, and she always melts when you call her Mommy. You know her weakness just like she knows yours.

You were right because you can feel the air around her shift a little bit, her lips hanging open and blue eyes clouded with desire as she looks up at you.

“Such a good girl, baby..”

Agatha says lowly, crashing her lips onto yours one more time in a desperate, frantic kiss before she pulls back, splaying her fingers out as she makes a show of taking off her rings. Your eyes drop to her hands.

She pinches her fingers around one, twisting it to the side as she slowly drags it off of her long fingers before setting it on the armrest to her right. She repeats the action over and over, until a little line of rings is forming.

Once she has her dominant hand free of rings except for one, you grab her wrist shyly.

“Here.. Let me help..”

Agatha gazes up at you curiously as she waits to see what you’re going to do.

You carefully bend her fingers so that they’re all curling in towards her palm, her pointer finger the only one sticking out. You raise her hand to your mouth, biting down softly onto the chunky metal ring pressed down to her knuckle, and using your teeth, you slowly pull it off of her finger, dragging your tongue along her soft skin as you do.

She watches you intently, eyes locked onto your movements. When it’s off of her finger, you raise your head and take it from your mouth, placing it with her other rings, completing the little line. Agatha’s staring up at you with parted lips and a wide smile.

“Well, that was insanely hot..”

She says breathlessly before pulling you down to kiss her again, your lips melding as you moan into her mouth. You don’t think you could ever get tired of how good her smooth, warm mouth feels against your own as she claims you, quickly taking control of the kiss. You also don’t think you could ever get sick of her taking what she wants from you, because you’ll gladly give her anything and everything you can.

Agatha’s hand starts to travel up the plush inside of your thigh, running her fingers over your skin lovingly as she reaches your center once again. Pulling your underwear aside, you gasp against her lips as she runs her fingers through your wet folds, softly parting you and gathering your arousal on her fingertips before finding your clit.

“Oh my poor girl.. You really were so worked up just from looking at my hands and imagining what I could do to you with them, hm?”

She asks you with such a cocky grin on her face. You moan softly, desperately as she toys with you, experimentally drawing patterns over your clit before dragging her fingers back to your soaked entrance.

“Ohhh, oh yes…”

You let out a long moan as she gently, carefully eases one finger into you. She’s smirking up at you, leaning down to press sweet, wet kisses into your neck as she starts to move, experimentally, getting you used to her touches before she can really fuck you.

“I’ve really got a hold on you, don’t I?”

She speaks against your skin, shifting forward a bit as she carefully slips another finger into you, and you moan at the stretch. She curls them with every thrust, the pads of her long fingers brushing against your sweet spot with precision. You brace yourself, mouth falling open in a silent moan as you curl your fingers around the top of the chair, gripping it tightly as you begin to feel your orgasm building, tension winding in your abdomen.

“Haa.. Oh, yes, Ag’s.. You do, more than you know.. You’re my everything..”

You pant out desperately, the rough fabric of the old chair scratching your knees but you don’t care. Being the center of Agatha’s attention, being touched by her like this, is the most important thing in your world. It’s all you want and you’ll savor every moment of it. Rugburn can be a future you problem, and you won’t regret it one bit. You know you’ll smile at your scraped up knees when the injuries remind you of how you got them.

“Am I now?”

She has that taunting tone to her voice that you fear but also adore so much at the same time. You hum in agreement, nodding your head in affirmation as your eyes pinch shut, an overwhelming amount of pleasure starting to make you slip and lose control of your senses as she keeps working at your center.

“Oh- Shit!”

You gasp out a bit louder than intended, throwing your head back when you feel the familiar sensation on your clit- her magic pressing into your sensitive nub has you digging your teeth into your bottom lip hard.

“Please, baby.. Tell me more about how much you adore me..”

She ghosts her lips against your ear, working her fingers faster, lingering her thrusts so that they can curl against that sensitive spot inside of you that has you seeing stars. You don’t know how much longer you’re going to last, you can feel your legs beginning to tremble. Agatha raises a hand under your skirt so that she can fondly caress your hip, her fingers savoring the soft feeling of your skin under her hand. You love her warm hand pressed against you, and the metal of her rings against your skin.

You’re letting out short and desperate moans of pleasure as you attempt to speak. You try to form a coherent sentence, but fail.

“You’re everything to me, Agatha… God.. Oh my God, you’re so perfect.. So beautiful… So, so good to me..”

You mumble out, your thighs tensing as you desperately try to focus your attention on keeping your balance. You can’t help it, all of the stimulation is so much, you can feel yourself tumbling towards the edge as you lean against the back of the chair. Agatha plants her lips against your neck, her free hand running over every inch of exposed skin she can reach as she speeds up her movements, your hips rocking intime with every thrust of her long fingers deep into your waiting cunt. 

“Haa.. Oh, Agatha… You take such good care of me.. Ag’s.. Love you so much..”

She laughs softly against your skin, her tone laced with so much fondness and adoration.

“You can’t even form coherent sentences… I love seeing you like this.. My girl, so desperate for me and anything I’ll give… I love seeing you so wrapped around my finger..”

Agatha leans back to watch you as you become overwhelmed with the pleasure she’s giving you, to enjoy the mess she’s made of you as you desperately paw for her. You whimper out as you nod your head, feeling the pressure on your clit intensify. Your lips for a wide o, your movements becoming frantic as you rock against her hand, but her movements remain controlled and steady to guide you through your high.

“Yes! Yes I am! Yes, anything.. Anything, Ag’s..”

You babble mindlessly, your nails digging painfully hard into the soft fabric of the chair, nearly biting into the wood underneath.

“Oh! Cumming! Oooh..”

You moan out, your movements sloppy against her hand as you feel electric pleasure shoot through you. You tense up, your thighs trying to clamp shut but finding themselves unable to, so instead they just violently tremble as Agatha guides you through your orgasm, peppering sweet kisses up and down your neck, an arm wrapping around your waist to support you and a smile toying on her lips as she talks you through..

“Such a good girl for me, baby… Oh, you’re so pretty when you cum.. I could never get sick of seeing you like this.. So pretty..”

You let out a pathetic hum as you collapse and melt into her lap, your body limp and exhausted as you relax. Agatha guides you to lay against her chest as she slips her fingers out of you, wrapping her arms around your shoulders and pulling you as close to her as possible. 

“Oh, sweet girl.. You did so good for me..”

She speaks into your hair, leaving little kisses along your head as she guides you to lay against her chest. You smile, burying your face into her neck, trying to take in as much of her as you can.

“Mmmm.. You also did so good for me..”

You cast her a knowing look and she grins in response.

“Happy to be of service.”

You’re desperately trying to catch your breath as Agatha lovingly runs her hands along your body, petting your hair into place, giving you little kisses wherever she can reach to help you calm down and catch your breath. You’re mushy, overflowing with love for the older woman as you wrap your arms around her middle and bury your face into her neck.

Suddenly there's an insistent knocking on the wooden door.

“Okay, lovebirds… Or horndogs.. We’ve been waiting on you two for twenty minutes. Make yourself decent and come on out.”

Rio’s familiar voice calls from the other side of the door, agitation lacing every word.. You groan out, embarrassed as Agatha laughs.

[2amriize]

.ᐟ class president RIIZE reaction to sneaky!reader ༉‧₊˚.

req: I remember myself in high school i was always very late and sneaking so the school principal wouldn’t catch me (i get caught every time😇) so what about (riize class president with a sneaky girlfriend ) I’m curious to know how would they act Especially when she do it every day 📚❤️❤️

note: its been a long time since i wrote 'long' reactions. this was really fun to write! i really love it ♥

pairing: class president!riize x sneaky!gf!reader— masterlist

⭑.ᐟ shotaro

You needed to pass economics, but it was way too difficult for you. After a tutoring session with your teacher, they decided you’d need to stay after school and study with the class president. Luckily (or maybe not), the president happened to be your boyfriend, so you figured it might even be fun.

After a few weeks of studying together, you realized that while you enjoyed spending time with Shotaro, you absolutely hated economics. No matter how hard you tried, it didn’t make sense to you. Shotaro kept saying you were improving, but you felt like he was just trying to motivate you.

That day, you’d had enough. You were exhausted from school and your friends had invited you to grab bubble tea after class. Without a second thought, you decided to ditch your tutoring session with Shotaro.

Not even half an hour later, Shotaro walked into the bubble tea shop where you were with your friends. His expression showed a hint of disappointment as he approached you.

“Really, y/n?”

Hearing his tone, you thought he was mad, so you quickly stood up, placing a hand on his shoulder to apologize.

“I’m sorry, Taro, I was just...”

“No, don’t say anything… I’ll forgive you if you buy me a drink and promise not to do it again. Honestly, I was kind of tired today too…” he said with a small smile, gently brushing his hand against your cheek.

⭑.ᐟ eunseok

You hated history; learning about the past just bored you to death. That’s why you’d told your teacher you weren’t feeling well and needed to rest in the nurse’s office, giving you the perfect excuse to skip class. Luckily, the nurse’s office was empty, so you got comfortable on one of the beds while watching videos on your phone.

The door suddenly opened, and when you looked up, you were surprised to see your boyfriend, Eunseok. Once he noticed you weren’t in your seat, he had asked the teacher what had happened. As soon as he heard you’d “felt unwell,” he knew it was a lie.

“You hate history that much?” he said, closing the door behind him and shaking his head as he approached your bed.

You tried to hide your phone, but Eunseok was quicker, grabbing it and sighing when he saw you were just watching gameplay videos.

“You know how much I hate it…” you said, meeting his gaze.

“You’re going back to class, aren’t you?” you asked, knowing the answer before he nodded, gently brushing your hair with his hand.

“Fine… but can’t we stay here for just five minutes?”

Eunseok hesitated, unsure if this was another ploy to avoid class. After a few moments, he relented, lying down beside you on the small bed to watch the video together.

“But only five minutes, okay?”

⭑.ᐟ sungchan

“What are you doing here? Didn’t you have a club meeting?”

Your eyes widened as you realized Sungchan was standing in front of you in the hallway. Being your boyfriend and the class president, he always kept a close eye on what everyone was up to.

You’d told him you had a meeting after class, but laziness got the best of you, and you decided to skip it. With most people already gone, you hadn’t expected to run into him.

“Oh… I, uh…”

You tried to turn and run, but Sungchan quickly grabbed your arm, pulling you closer as he raised an eyebrow at you.

“Hm… So, you’re skipping the meeting, huh?”

You nodded several times, giving him a pitiful look, knowing Sungchan hated when people skipped responsibilities. Still, you also knew you were his weakness. He stared at you for a few moments, clearly trying to scold you, but your expression made him look away, clearing his throat.

“Well… uh… I was going to invite you to my place, but only if you promise not to skip a meeting again, okay?”

⭑.ᐟ wonbin

During class, you asked to use the restroom, but your real plan was to get away and head to the gym to practice. You were too bored to stay in class and figured rehearsing was a better use of your time.

Although the teacher didn’t notice you’d been gone for over 20 minutes, Wonbin, your boyfriend, did. Knowing you too well, he immediately figured you’d just skipped.

Even though he hated leaving in the middle of class, Wonbin also asked to use the restroom and came straight to the gym, where he knew you’d be.

When you saw him at the door, you stopped the music.

“Aww, you noticed I wasn’t in class,” you teased as Wonbin approached.

“You know you can’t skip class to practice,” he said, crossing his arms and trying to look authoritative.

It was his duty to make sure everyone stayed in class, but you knew he had a soft spot for you. When he gave you that look, you couldn’t resist.

“Fine! Let’s go, I’ll go back to class…” you said, grabbing your things.

“Wait. Show me the choreography once, and then we’ll go back. Promise me you won’t skip again, okay? You know how much I hate missing class…”

⭑.ᐟ seunghan

As the school year came to a close, teachers were holding one-on-one meetings to discuss grades and performance. You dreaded these meetings because they always told you the same thing: your grades weren’t great, and you needed to try harder next year.

Even though the meeting was mandatory, you made up an excuse about an after-school activity to get out of it. Your plan was working perfectly, until Seunghan, your boyfriend, caught you at the school exit, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Done with your meeting already?” he asked, glancing at his phone to check the time.

“Well… uh…”

“You’re trying to skip, aren’t you?” His silence after the question was enough to make you squirm. “You know how important these meetings are, y/n…”

“I know, I know. But… they always say the same thing, and I don’t want to hear again that I need to improve. I already know that,” you said, frustrated.

Seunghan listened intently, knowing your struggles with school all too well. Brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear, he leaned closer.

“How about I go with you? If I’m there, maybe they’ll be easier on you. Plus, no one will question me since I’m the class president.”

Blushing at his suggestion, you reluctantly nodded. “Fine…”

⭑.ᐟ sohee

“What are you doing here? Class starts in two minutes.”

Sitting at the top of the stairs, you looked down to see Sohee staring up at you. He’d caught you red-handed.

“Uh…”

You were planning to hide there through your next class because you didn’t feel like going to music. You didn’t get the rhythms and felt like you contributed nothing, so why bother?

Seeing your expression, Sohee sighed and climbed the stairs.

“You weren’t thinking about skipping class, were you, y/n?”

“It’s just… I hate music class. I don’t add anything to it.”

“How can you say that? You’re with me, and I love watching you during practice,” he said with a playful grin.

His words made you smile, but you shook your head. “I don’t know…”

“You know I won’t leave until you come with me, right? I’m not letting you skip.”

Knowing he was serious, you gave in, standing up and taking his hand.

“Besides, I know you love hearing me sing…”

“Shut up, Sohee…”

⭑.ᐟ anton

You found out that morning that there was a math test later that day. Not only had you forgotten to study, but you also hated math. So, you decided to sneak away before the test and hide on the rooftop.

You’d been up there for about half an hour when the door opened, startling you. Turning around, you saw Anton.

“Skipping a test? Really?” he said, approaching you.

As the class president, and your boyfriend, Anton always kept tabs on everyone, especially you. No matter how many times you promised to stop skipping, he always managed to catch you.

Sitting beside you, he leaned against the wall and waited for an explanation.

“I forgot we had a test…” you mumbled, embarrassed. Anton sighed, shaking his head.

“I’ll ask the teacher to let you retake it tomorrow, but you have to promise to spend the evening studying with me, and no more skipping.”

Spending the evening with him? That sounded like the perfect plan. Even if studying wasn’t your favorite, you nodded eagerly and gave him a quick kiss before heading back to class together.

masterlist // taglist: @regularsuh @gacktsa @totheseok @kkumistars @taroddori @enhacolor @ladylilith @electric-hearts @astrobymarwa @layluv123 @sunflowers1610 @nctrawberries @synkjellies @ramyeonzprincess @yuzuksi

[paradiseismine]

Instant Chemistry (part 1) - Finn Wolfhard x reader

Pairing: Finn Wolfhard x actress!reader

Warnings: none yet, but of course, this fic will be packed with smut in its future chapters.

Summary: reader is an actress and her agent has a surprise for her - a hot scene in an indie film with one of her favorite actors, Finn Wolfhard.

Format: This is NOT a one shot like the ones I usually post, it’ll likely be a 4 part story (maybe longer).

Love note from Nina: I had a dream about Finnie recently and decided to write it down into a fic. Hope you like it 🫰🏻

Everyone in the industry plays an archetype: that was a given. Some actresses were the goody two shoes, some were femme fatales, some were girls next door. And as crazy as that might sound, you were growing into a femme fatale. That meant that showing some skin and partaking in more sensual roles was bound to happen - and it’s not like it bothered you.

Leo, your agent, had gotten you pretty far for a 22 year old with your background: you had gone from model, to extra in some bigger productions, to main star in a few indie films. You had started acting classes a couple years ago, and was trying really hard to become an actual actress, and make a living solely out of your acting.

One day, you made Leo a huge favor by preventing his future husband of figuring out Leo’s proposal before it actually happened, as it was meant to be a surprise. “I owe you one” he had texted you later that evening, “and I’ll make it count when I pay you back”.

Several weeks had gone by and a project you were once dying to get your hands on was finally going strong. You had gotten home after a long week of shooting your new indie film - a complex and delicate story about a young marginalized prostitute whose dream was to have a romantic relationship and live a normal life. It had some intense sex scenes, but lots of dramatic charge that would surely put your name on the spotlight. With your body exhausted but with your heart smiling, you fell asleep in your new apartment in L.A.

“Morning, rising star” you woke up to Leo texting you, your phone buzzing with his messages. “Remember that one I owe you? Just paid it”.

“lol what did you do?” you responded, the tips of your fingers rushing through the keyboard on your phone screen, curious. Leo was always full of surprises, and you loved that about him.

“You’d told me your fav tv show was stranger things, right?”

“Yeah, so?”

“Well, I think I just got one of the ST kids to be with you on a spicy scene next week hehehe” he texted, and your mouth went completely agape. “You’re welcome in advance, darling” he added, his jokingly cocky tone nearly audible.

“omg who????”

And… he didn’t text you back.

Your head was cooking for the entire weekend, trying to figure out which ST actor Leo had convinced to partake in the movie. He had said “ST KIDS”, so it was one of the core four, for sure. You crossed them out in your head after some extensive online research: Noah Schnapp is gay, so he probably wouldn’t be comfortable with such intense sex scenes with a woman… Ok, he’s not it. Gaten Matarazzo is probably busy with some Broadway play, he always is. Not him as well.

Finn Wolfhard is always juggling twenty different gigs at the same time. You wanted him the most, but it was very unlikely he’d take the role. So, Caleb McLaughlin was your best chance. He was surely a darling to work with, you’d heard, so you were still excited to meet him, of course.

As you entered the set on Monday morning, your mind was hung up on the idea that Caleb was your special guest. You’d rehearsed in your head how you’d introduce yourself to him, the things you’d say, everything.

Your brain turned into complete putty once you spotted FINN WOLFHARD sitting on a foldable chair, holding a stack of paper, eyes roaming through the script. Fuck. It was him.

You’d get to kiss him, to rub your body all over him. Not for a minute. Not for an hour. But for a whole day. Heck, maybe even two days. And you’d still get PAID for it. It seemed nearly illegal that a job would do that.

You approached him slowly, trying to gather words into your mouth to simply greet him. Soon, he raised his eyes from the script and spotted you.

- Hi - he smiled sweetly. - You must be y/n, right? I’m Finn, nice to meet you.

He shook your hand politely, and you tried your best to give him a firm handshake (Leo always says that a good handshake is important in a Hollywood career), preventing your fangirl reaction from shining through.

- Oh, hi - you smiled back at him, still trying to seem normal and unimpressed. - That’s me. Should we get to the chemistry read? I’m so excited for this project, you have no idea.

- Me too! I loved the script so much, this is just great - he flipped through the pages, his teeth showing through a cute shy smile.

- Quite a departure from fighting inter dimensional monsters, isn’t it? - you joked.

- Definitely - he laughed, standing up to follow you towards the chemistry reading table.

Once everyone was sat down and settled, the reading began. Finn would be one of your character’s clients, and was only supposed to be in a scene or two, in a cameo appearance type of thing. But at the end of the reading, that seemed likely to change.

The chemistry between the two of you was electric, the director had said. The whole crew was amazed at how naturally you seemed attracted to each other just through your words, how easily the scenes would develop. From a small role, Finn was now asked to play your character’s main love interest.

He called his agent on the spot and pushed back a few band gigs on his schedule and said yes to being half naked with you for a few more days. I mean, the project itself was an indie film, so it wasn’t even good money. His main reason to take the part must’ve been you.

[crazylittlejester]

Unsure if you’ve answers this already, but what’s the rest of the chain doing in your modern au?

I don’t think ive ever really talked a lot about it like, in depth, but im more than happy to because i love my au and my silly guys :)

my bad for spelling errors i am Stupid 💔

Time: (46) Lives on the ranch with Malon. He worked full time as a mechanic before he met and married Malon, and he still works at the same place just SIGNIFICANTLY less hours because he’s also doing work on the ranch. He also plays guitar as a hobby, he played more when he was younger but Twilight’s BIGGEST flex in middle and early high school was that his dad owns some fuckass guitars

Hyrule: (20) He really really really likes rocks and being outside so he’s going into geology because he wanted to dig in the dirt and find special rocks. Sometimes Twi will text him like “bro where are you?” and if he even has service Hyrule will just send him a pic in the literal middle of fucking nowhere. Hyrule lives with Legend in the same apartment as Wars, Twi, and Sky, EXACTLY one floor below them

Legend: (20) Political science major, because he was running out of time and had to pick something. He’s not super sure what he wants to do, he has like, no plans, he didn’t think he’d be alive this long and have to DO something with his life. He works at the same little coffee shop as Sky, and those two are good friends. Every time Wars is being too loud above him (jumping, screaming, dancing) he will get up on his table and smack the ceiling and yell, or he’ll leave him angry voicemails. He left the dorms because he couldn’t handle being in the room next to Wars’s dramatic ass, he was DEVASTATED to discover all he did was move in underneath him

Wild: (19) He’s doing fashion/arts and he really really likes photography. He’s a retired skater (same as Wars) and on good days he can move around alright with minimal pain, but it’s not uncommon for him to use a mobility aid. He’s very good friends with Wars and sometimes they’ll fuck around at the rink together, other times when he has five minutes to spare Wars will drive him around and they’ll go to parks and just sit. They’re each other’s oldest friend and they both left a sport that was literally their entire world and its been hard to adjust to life without competitions but they’ve got each other. Wars makes a very serious effort to meet up with Wild 2-3 times a week

Four: (19) He’s a blacksmith, like his grandpa, but he got roped into this mess of a friend group somehow anyways. He finds most of them to be far too loud or dramatic, but they’re his best friends and he’s stuck with em

Wind: (16) He’s still in high school, but he does band and soccer. Wars took him skating ONCE because he used to babysit him, and Wind kinda got obsessed with the idea of what he calls ‘knife shoes’. Of ALL the people Wars has taken to the rink with him (who have no prior experience skating), Wind is the best. He’d be able to fuck around and play ice hockey with Wars, he’d get his ass beat if he went against an actual hockey player, but he can play a simple friendly game with Wars if Wars agrees to it

and then for anyone unfamiliar with the au!!:

Wars: (20/21; depends on what time of year I write the au in, because everything is just about their last year of undergrad and he’s a December birthday) He’s a retired figure skater who holds a world record and several gold medals, and he won the hyrule equivalent of the olympics at 18. He’s a dance major now, he’s been doing ballet since he was 3 and he never quit it, and he’s gone pretty much all day during the week because he goes skating for two hours before class, his last class ends at 5:30, and then if he’s actively in a show rehearsal ends at 10. Weekends are his only time to breathe but he’ll still have rehearsal from 1-6 and will hit the rink from like 10-11 unless Sky and Twi get on their literal hands and knees and BEG him not to because they miss him and “when will my husband return from the fucking war??”

Twilight: (21/22; his birthday is March) Bio/chem major with the intent to become a vet for ranch animals. He LOVES animals so so so so much, and he has a rather bad habit of bringing home sat wet creatures to his adoptive parents/aunt&uncle Time and Malon who just need a little extra love, including but not limited to: Several dogs, several cats, an injured bird, Warriors, a baby deer. Most of these things get taken care of and then released or Time helps them get adopted, and others get kept (at LEAST four dogs (including a very fluffy one named Wolfie), Wars, and two cats)

Sky: (21) English literature major who wants to become a teacher because he had an awful time as a disabled kid in school and he was made to feel stupid and he NEVER wants a kid to have that experience. It broke his heart to realize Wars had that experience too and still thinks he’s stupid, but Sky is determined to be the kind of english teacher you remember DECADES after you leave grade school because they were so important and changed your life. His gf Sun also loves english literature, and they go on dates to the library together and it’s just disgustingly sweet. He’s living out his best coffee shop romance au life because he does in fact work at a coffee shop and he did in fact fall in love with the girl who came in and ordered mint tea at 4 pm on the dot every day he just so happened to be working

[hbyrde36]

Updated 10/23/2024

Fuggi Regal Fantasima

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Two days after they failed to defeat Vecna, after Max died and came back, after Eddie died—and didn’t. Two days after they were forced to leave his body behind in the Upside Down because everything had gone to shit, a bright yellow pizza delivery van that looked like it’d been through its own apocalypse pulled into the Wheeler's driveway. Jonathan, Mike, Will, and El finally made it home to Hawkins with the help of a friend. On day three, Max woke up. She’d have a long road to recovery, but the doctors seemed fairly confident she’d walk again. Though, no one could be sure how much of her eyesight would return, if any. The same day, in a twist no one saw coming, Joyce showed up, fresh off a plane from Alaska after escaping Russia—yes, Russia—with a miraculously alive and mostly well Jim Hopper. And four days after the world both did and didn’t end, the ghost of Eddie Munson appeared in Steve’s living room.

Midsummer Nights

Tumblr | AO3

This summer they were eighteen, part of the graduating class of 1999, on the brink of college, and finally old enough to be hired as full fledged counselors with paychecks and days off and everything. Not that it paid much, but Steve wasn’t in it for the money. He was in it for the love of the place. Sunset Lake Camp had become a second home to him over the last decade of his life, his real home, and the people there like family. Robin was mainly in it for Steve, excited at the prospect of getting to spend the entire Summer with him for once instead of the single session, two short weeks, she was used to—all her folks had been able to afford each year growing up. It was poised to be the best summer of Steve’s life. Then he met Eddie.

Caught in the Undertow

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Against all odds, Steve Harrington saved Eddie Munson from certain death. And Eddie doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to forgive him for it.

Canon divergence - Eddie lives, suicidal ideation, sad with a happy ending, angst with happy ending, POV alternating, good uncle Wayne Munson

It's Only Forever

Tumblr | AO3 | Art by Penny00Dreadful

Labyrinth AU | 43K | Mature | Mild Sexual Content

Little did Steve know that uttering the ridiculous phrase, “I wish the goblins would come and take you away,” would turn his world upside down, and buy him a one way ticket to a nightmare maze.

Thirteen hours, one for every year of Dustin’s life, was all the time he had to solve the Labyrinth, make it to the castle beyond the Goblin City, and save his little brother from being trapped there with the Goblin King forever

…The extremely hot Goblin King, who was maybe not quite what he seemed, but still tried to thwart Steve at every turn.

Teaser & snippet

“Goblins” Promo

"Helping Hands" Promo

No Vacancy

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When Eddie Munson arrived at the Buckingham Beach Motel to spend the summer with his best friend Chrissy and her business partner Robin, the absolute last person he expected to see hanging around in the lobby was former King of Hawkins High and renowned jock asshole, Steve fucking Harrington. To make matters worse, Eddie found that Steve's presence was just the tip of the iceberg—long story short? Mistakes were made and it turned out the motel was a little overbooked...

Who even goes on blind dates anymore?

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After several failed long-term relationships with fuckboys that weren’t worth his time and heartache, who ran the second things got real, he joined the apps—quickly realizing that most of the guys he found on there were only looking for sex. Which was fun and all, but Eddie wanted more. He was looking for romance, a spark, someone he could see spending his life with, who was also looking for a partner. Someone who wasn’t allergic to commitment. So, he’d quit the apps. And when Chrissy told him she had a guy she wanted him to meet he figured, fuck it, he’d tried everything else.

Times Like These

Anniversary Post

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When Eddie finds himself back in his living room, staring down a very alive Chrissy Cunningham, after just having bled to death himself in the middle of a nightmare world, he was rightfully very, very fucking confused. -Or- What happens when the new guy, who only just got inducted into the fucked up world of monsters and mayhem, gets stuck in a time loop and finds himself responsible for saving everyone?

I Don't Think We're In Hawkins Anymore, Big Boy

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After being run off the road in a freak accident during a terrible storm, Steve and Eddie find that not only have they committed vehicular manslaughter, but they’ve also somehow been whisked away to a strange land. The journey is rough and they are being hunted for revenge, but through it all Steve and Eddie grow closer than ever as they try and find their way home with the help of some new friends with familiar faces. -Or- Steddie Wizard of Oz

Hellfire Ink

Tumblr | AO3 | Art by Glitterfang

Written for the Stranger Things Reverse Big Bang 2023/2024

Not for the first time, Eddie was really regretting his decision to book a client on a Friday night, a new client at that. It wasn’t as if he had anything better to do, exactly. There were no dates on his calendar, and going out to random bars and clubs on the weekends to look for quick hook-ups had begun losing its appeal lately. But it’d been a long week, and he’d much rather be getting ready to plop down on the couch with Chrissy to split a bottle of red wine while they watched Drag Race, than preparing to do a cover up for some idiot who’d gotten their girlfriend’s name tattooed on his body, only to fall victim to—The Curse. Ask any tattoo artist and they’d be the first to tell you, there was no surer way to guarantee a breakup than to ink your significant other’s name on your body forever.

Life is a Game (and True Love is a Trophy)

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For years Eddie has been playing D&D with his cousin Dustin and his friends. It’s a crazy home brew campaign of his own design that plays fast and loose with the lore, weaving in heavily embellished events from their real lives. They play themselves, filling out a full cast of NPC’s with the likenesses of friends, family, and strangers. It’s been a wild ride. The game is set in Hawkins, but not quite their Hawkins. This manifestation of their hometown is full of dark secrets, including a shady government agency, evil scientists, and another dimension full of dangerous creatures hiding on the other side of reality. They’ve just wrapped their most recent session before spring break 1986. It was a bittersweet end to an epic part of the story. A blast to play through, but they didn’t beat the bad guy, and the party has been left in ruins. Eddie’s character is dead, one of their favorite NPC’s is in a coma, and the world has literally split apart at the seams. Honestly, Eddie’s not sure how they come back from this. - In 1983 Steve Harrington joined the search for a missing boy and found something he never bargained for. In 1984 Steve Harrington disappeared.

Honey, You're Familiar

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Written for the Stranger Things Writer's Guild Hozier Project, a collection of one-shots inspired by songs from Hozier's self titled album. The word count limit was 3,000 and I chose the song From Eden

🖤The Crawl

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Inspired by the VERY little information we have about the Stranger Things writer's plans for season 5 Time travel stories love to play with the idea that one small act can have an incredible impact on the future. What if, in a crazy twist of fate, Will Byers was rescued from the Upside Down a day early and with just a little knowledge of what was to come. Would it be enough to change everything?

POV Will Byers, POV Eddie Munson, POV Steve Harrington, time shenanigans, fix-it of sorts, angst with a happy ending, friends to lovers, falling in love, confessions, first kiss, character death, HAPPY ENDING

Steve Harrington: Vampire Hunter

Tumblr | AO3 | Art Link (art by Penny00Dreadful 🖤)

Steve Harrington is an animator. It’s a job that involves raising the dead; sometimes as a service for mourning relatives looking for closure, often as a tool for the courts to settle disputes. He is also a licensed vampire hunter. Two years ago, vampirism became legal in the United States, granting its undead population citizenship. With this new legal status comes a complication for Steve, as he finds himself tasked with helping the very creatures he is accustomed to killing. Speaking of complications, Steve struggles in more ways than one when he finds himself working closely with none other than Eddie Munson, an undeniably sexy several-hundred-years old master vampire. Or, The Anita Blake/Steddie mashup that nobody asked for but I’m having far too much fun with.

Modern AU, Vampire AU (Anita Blake AU/mashup),  aged up characters, enemies to lovers, slow burn, eventual smut, dream sex, vampires, wereanimals, zombies, other supernatural things eventually

Shelter In Place

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Written for Lex’s Spicy Six Summer Challenge! My prompt was : Hurricane

When a major Hurricane is projected to hit Hawkins (technically it’s more like the remnants of a hurricane, but the residents of Hawkins don’t really know the difference or care), Dustin is worried about his new friend and DM, Eddie Munson, who lives in a trailer, a structure not known for its resilience against severe weather. He invites the older boy to ride the storm out with him and his mom at home, unaware that she has made arrangements for them to stay with family that live far away from the storm's trajectory. Dustin doesn’t want to leave his friend high and dry, enter everyone’s favorite babysitter: Steve Harrington.

[youkailuvr]

RebelCaptain Secret Santa 2023

Hi @luciechat !

I’m not your original RCNSS, but I volunteered to whip up a little something for you when your original SS had irl happenings that prevented them from writing it.

Your prompts honestly sounds very much like something I would like to read. As usual, this almost grew a life of its own and I hope it meets enough of your prompts to make it enjoyable. It's titled <a href=https://archiveofourown.org/works/52791835>Choice</a> and it's also on AO3.

It’s been a heck of a year and I haven’t really written anything for a long time, so I really hope you’ll like this.

Enjoy! (Summary is below; full fic below the cut.

*****

She scoffed, sipping again at her cider. “Cassian, the only reason I’m even here in the first place was because Melshi and the others broke me out of prison. You can’t seriously think I actually would have come if I had been given the choice? With who I was then? Not a chance.”

Nearly a year after Scarif, the surviving crew of Rogue One found themselves fully immersed in the Rebel Alliance’s efforts against the Empire.  Not only was the Alliance searching for a more permanent base after evacuating Yavin IV, but they were actively and heavily recruiting to boost their numbers, which is how Cassian Andor and Jyn Erso found themselves on the miserable little world of Agmir.

Cassian had only been fully cleared for all field missions a month previously, finally relieving him of the frustration of being on desk duty and intelligence analysis.  During his lengthy recovery (which involved several surgeries and many hours of physical therapy), he and Jyn had grown closer.  Jyn’s recovery had taken much less time than his and, as she found her place in the Rebellion, her talents as a fighter and coder had not gone unnoticed.  Jyn had already been on a few missions with the Pathfinders and given several (unofficial) sparring lessons, but she always returned to Cassian’s side after each mission.

Once Cassian was cleared for full duty, he made it clear (with Jyn’s permission) to Draven that he would only be taking field assignments with her as his partner.  (As much as it pained him to not have K-2SO by his side, Cassian had yet to find a suitable body for the droid’s backup disks.)  Draven had then given him the assignment to investigate the planet Agmir for possible Alliance recruits and suppliers.  A milk run, really, an easy job that Cassian hadn’t had to do for years, but having a non-life-threatening mission for once had seemed appealing at the time.

If only he had known about the rain.

Agmir was a developed planet, semi-populated, with the standard sector mix of rural and urban, wealthy and less-fortunate, law-abiding and law-breaking.  For most of the planet’s rotational period, it was temperate – a few rains here and there to avoid droughts, but mostly pleasant.  For the remaining two standard months, however, Agmir received eighty percent of it’s annual rainfall, resulting in daily rain and many destructive storms. 

And, of course, Cassian and Jyn arrived a month into that two-month window.  They realized very quickly that the rainy season was not prime time for tourists or even off-worlders in general, so they changed their cover stories from a clueless vacationing couple looking to explore the ‘edges of civilization’ to a pair of traveling laborers looking for work who had the poor luck to land on Agmir during the worst time of the year.

The rain would be bearable, Cassian thought as they entered the local bar and shook the rain from their shoulders, if only we were getting results.  As Jyn walked to the bar to get drinks and Cassian headed for what had become their customary seats, he reflected on what was likely to be a failed mission.  They had visited several cities so far and had currently been in this primarily working-class city for a week now.  Typically, those lower on the social rungs of society tended to be more sympathetic to the Rebellion’s cause and more willing to fight for it. 

However, it was becoming quite apparent that the people of Agmir were completely uninterested in any of the happenings of the galaxy outside of their little world – no one had even remotely shown any desire to stand against the Empire.  And Agmir didn’t produce anything that the Rebellion could use; at least, not that they couldn’t get elsewhere for lower costs and easier shipping.

Jyn returned with two glasses of a simple brewed cider, easily the least alcoholic drink the bar offered and one that had become their go-to.  They sat side-by-side on stools against the back wall of the bar, no table in front of them, but two small tables on either side, shared by other stools nearby.  He took his with a word of thanks and kept his eyes on a group of five hard-looking laborers that had just walked in – already loud and possibly already drunk.

“So, when do we get to leave here again?”  Jyn sipped at her cider, looking askance at his questioning expression as she did so.  “Don’t give me that look.  You know as well as I do that this place doesn’t offer us anything.”

“True,” Cassian replied.  “We should stick it out until the end of the rainy season.  Not being cooped up for days on end with nothing other than work to occupy the minds of the people could be helpful.”

Jyn rolled her eyes.  “I’ve seen it before, Cassian – I used to be like every person here.  Nothing will change their behavior until it affects them personally.”

Cassian’s attention was caught on the men who had walked in after them and he could tell Jyn was watching them, too.  They seemed to be the rough and tough sort of folks – bodies large and shaped by decades of manual labor.  But their voices were growing in volume, and they kept turning to look towards the rest of the bar.  Cassian wasn’t sure if it was true, but he thought they looked toward him and Jyn a little more often than was normal.  He kept an eye on them all the same.

Jyn’s words finally registered.  He looked at her, lowering his drink from where he had raised it.  “I don’t believe that.”

“What, that these people don’t care?”

“That you didn’t.”

She scoffed, sipping again at her cider.  “Cassian, the only reason I’m even here in the first place was because Melshi and the others broke me out of prison.  You can’t seriously think I actually would have come if I had been given the choice?  With who I was then?  Not a chance.”

Cassian took a drink of his own cider and watched the room for a moment before answering.  “I saw you fight –”

His words were cut off by the sound of raucous shouting coming from the men they had been eyeing.  One broke off from the rest and stumbled over towards them.  Jyn and Cassian both put their drinks down and their hands drifted to their waists.

“You…girl,” the man slurred. 

(Cassian amended his original notion – the men had most certainly been drunk when they arrived.) 

“You, you should come over here.  With us.  We could – could show you a good time.”  The man’s breath and words were laden with alcohol as he leered openly at Jyn, who stared stonily back.

“I don’t think that would be a good time,” she deadpanned. 

The man scoffed and stepped closer.  “How-how will you know if you don’t give us a try?  We’ve seen you here, with him,” the man glared at Cassian as if he had been personally offended by the rebel captain.

“Me and my friends could wipe the floor with him in a tick,” he turned back to Jyn and smirked, “Then we could show you what a real man’s like.”

Cassian slid off his stool to his feet at the same time Jyn slid off hers. 

“I said no,” Jyn repeated before looking to Cassian.  “Time to go?”

He nodded once and they stepped forward, intending to walk past the drunken man and leave the bar.  The drunkard had one more trick to try, however, and grabbed Jyn’s wrist as they stepped past.

Jyn’s other hand whipped out and caught the drunk on the chin, forcing his head up and back hard enough that the man released his hold on her.  Howling in pain, the man stumbled back and held a hand to his face. 

“You bitch!  Forget a good time – I’m gonna kill you now for that.”

“Try it and you’ll regret every second,” Jyn hissed.  Cassian looked around and saw that the commotion had roused the other bar patrons.  Most were simply watching the altercation, but the man’s drinking buddies had risen from their seats now and were stalking in their direction.

Cassian slipped next to Jyn and placed a hand at her elbow.  “We should go,” he muttered, low enough for her ears only, “We don’t need a scene.”

He felt her stiffen and saw a raised eyebrow.  “It wasn’t me that started it,” she responded.

“I know,” Cassian smiled slightly.

Jyn followed his lead and turned to continue their path out of the bar, but they were stopped by the drunk man’s also drunken friends.

One of the bigger and burlier looking ones stepped closer.  “You hurt our friend.”

“What of it?” Jyn asked, defiant.

Another spoke.  “We want payback.”

“I don’t think you do.  We certainly don’t want a fight.”  Cassian knew his attempt at pacifying the men would likely fail, but he had to try.

“Oh, but we do,” said the man Jyn hit.  The other men closed in.

Cassian saw Jyn reach just under the edge of her rain coat, where he knew her favorite set of truncheons lay.

Oh well, he thought and set himself into a defensive stance just as the men lurched forward.

---

Twenty minutes later found a drenched Jyn and Cassian opening the door to their rented room.  As the door closed behind them, they peeled off their soaked outerwear and hung it to dry.  Though given the chill in the room, their clothes weren’t likely to dry much.

The bar fight had not been a hard one.  The drunks were easy enough to incapacitate; a few bottles had been broken (and maybe a wooden stool or two).  Jyn and Cassian had maneuvered the fight out of the bar and away from the other patrons, but what had made it worse was that the moment they had succeeded in luring the men outside, the skies opened up, turning what had been a steady, if heavy, shower into an absolute downpour.

Cassian wasn’t sure if he had ever been this wet, even after Eadu.

He glanced over at Jyn, who looked back, just as soaked to the skin as he was.  “You can clean up first.  I’ll see about what’s wrong with the heater.”

“Thanks.”  Jyn grabbed her pack and walked across the room to the small, attached refresher, closing the door behind her.

Ten minutes later, Jyn emerged, now in clean clothes with a towel across her shoulders to prevent her wet hair from soaking into her dry shirt.  “Your turn,” she said, coming to stand beside where he knelt in front of the room’s heater.  “Any luck?”

Cassian leaned back on his heels and shook his head.  “No.  I can reprogram droids without a thought, but this heater?  Nothing I’ve tried has worked.”

Jyn reached out a hand and pulled him to his feet.  “Go get changed – I’ll give it a shot.”

He flashed her a grateful smile before grabbing his own pack and heading for the ‘fresher.

When he emerged a few moments later, a second towel around his own shoulders, it was to the sound of low cursing coming from the area around the heater.

Jyn was kneeling by it, forcibly replacing the outer cover and cursing quite brilliantly under her breath as she did so.

“No luck?”

Jyn easily rose to her feet.  “No,” she sighed, “At least it’s not cold enough to turn this rain to snow.”

Cassian hummed in acknowledgement as he stowed his bag next to hers by the door.  The rainy season here wasn’t cold by most sentients’ estimations, but the dampness seemed to seep into the bones and make even a moderately cool ambient temperature feel much colder. 

Body heat would likely be their best option for a safe sleep.  Given how close he and Jyn had become, it wasn’t unusual for them to share a bed, though all they ever did was sleep.  The comfort of knowing someone was near, was next to you – someone you could trust to have your back and protect you, should you need it – had given them a respite on the nights when their past became a little too prominent in their thoughts.

Jyn’s ease around him was obvious when she unerringly stepped forward and pulled down the covers on one side of the bed.  “Are you coming?” she asked.

He smiled slightly and followed her lead, laying their towels across a nearby desk chair.  As they settled into bed and dimmed the lights, a flash of red on Jyn’s arm caught Cassian’s eye.  Her shirt sleeve had gotten pushed up enough to bare her forearm and he saw an angry red slash across it.  He immediately sat up from the pillow.

“Jyn – what happened?”

She sat up as well.  “What?”

“Your arm.”  He reached for the injured limb and it was a testament to their familiarity with each other that she didn’t flinch away from his touch.  He held her wrist gently as he turned her arm to see the mark on her outer forearm – a defensive wound, then.

Jyn stared at her arm.  “Oh, it’s fine.  It had stopped bleeding by the time I got changed.” 

Cassian released her hand and slid back out of the bed. 

“Where are you going?”

“We need to clean and wrap that.  Who knows what was on whatever cut you,” he said, reaching his pack and removing the medkit.

“Cassian, it’s fine – it’s not even bleeding!”

He sat back down on the edge of the bed and held out his hand for her arm.  “I’m still going to do this.  An infection is the last thing we need right now.”

Jyn let him disinfect and bandage her arm.  “Anywhere else?” he asked.

“No,” she responded.  “What about you?” 

He shrugged.  “A few bruises, but they’ll heal.”

Jyn raised an eyebrow.  “You made me show you mine.  It’s only fair I get to see yours.”

Cassian flushed slightly and hoped the lowered lights would hide it.  “Fair is fair,” he agreed, and showed her the two worst bruises – one to his ribs and one to his bicep.  Her fingers lightly slid over the one on his arm and he could tell she was worried. 

“They’re superficial, I promise,” he assured her, reaching for her hand on his arm and holding it tight.  “I’m alright.”

They settled back down and further dimmed the lights, though they didn’t turn them off entirely and left just enough to see by if needed.

Side by side, they lay there and tried to rest.  Cassian and Jyn both knew that Agmir was not what they needed, so they had decided on the way back to the rented room to leave the next day, rain or no rain.  But to do that, they would need a good rest, if only a few hours’ worth.

Sleep proved elusive, however, as the chill of the room only deepened.  The blanket provided to them in the room had previously been enough to keep them comfortable, but the combination of a cool room combined with the soaking they had received during the fight was proving difficult to regain that warmth and rest.

Finally, he had enough and turned to her, intending to offer the most basic way of warming he could think of.

“Jyn –”

She turned at the same time.

“Cassian –”

They both laughed lowly.  “Go ahead,” he offered.

“No,” she said, still smiling, “You first.”

Cassian inhaled.  “It’s cold in this room and I know you’ve got to be just as cold as I am.  Why don’t we lay closer and share the body heat?  It’s bound to be warmer than not.”

Jyn looked at him, thoughtful.  “Okay,” she simply said, before sliding closer and curling against his side, her head on his shoulder.

Cassian froze.  Jyn noticed and he felt her tense as well. 

“Is this okay?” she asked, hesitantly.

“Yes, only let me just...” Cassian eased his arm out from under her to rest along her back.  “Okay?” he asked, hoping she was comfortable.  It had only been a moment for him, and he felt like he could rest there forever.

He felt, rather than heard her nod.  Moments passed and Cassian felt himself drifting off when he heard Jyn speak.

“Cassian?”

“Hmm?”

“What did you mean earlier?”

Cassian woke himself fully.  “When?”

The tone of Jyn’s voice was uncharacteristically vulnerable.  “In the bar; when you said you didn’t think I was like these people.  What did you mean?”

Cassian blinked, looking down at the top of her head on his shoulder. 

“I mean that...I saw you.  I may not know every detail of your life before we met, but I saw you then.  I saw you fight for yourself.  Fight to protect that little girl on Jedha.  I saw you befriend two forgotten warriors so fast that they were willing to leave all they had behind to follow.  I saw that when it came down to it, you wanted to do what needed to be done so others could have the chance to survive, to win – and your conviction was enough for others to stand and follow.  That’s all this Rebellion really is – people who see what needs to be done and do it.”

Jyn was quiet for long enough that Cassian worried he might have overstepped.  Then he felt her shift and lay her free arm across his chest.  “Thank you,” she whispered.  “I see you, too.  I see the man who has given his life time and again to a cause he believes in.  A man that befriended the most annoying, most loyal droid in the galaxy.  I saw you come back for me.  You’re the only one who’s done that in a very long time.”

Cassian’s smile at the mention of Kay faltered a little at the reminder that many of the people in Jyn’s life (and his own if he was being absolutely truthful with himself) tended not to stay long.  And they couldn’t promise each other a full life together either.  Even if they were to ever leave the Rebellion, civilians were never safe in a war.

Cassian gently pulled Jyn closer to him and tugged the blankets a little more snuggly around them.  A moment passed and he felt Jyn relax into the first tendrils of sleep.  But maybe, he mused, maybe we should take our own advice and take the chances given to us.

A gentle smile graced his face with the hope of the future as Cassian followed Jyn into sleep.

[crowgreeds]

@curseyeds ( Selwyn ) said: of course they'd been originally tangled in bed together, but the summer heat renders selwyn too hot of a body to hold onto for much longer than just a few minutes. so he sleeps on his own (surprisingly peaceful for someone in his own space, awake when he is not) as kaz flips through their book. there will be a moment, though, where selwyn wakes and moves silently, his hands slinking up kaz's body (one to his forearm, tracing up a bicep, curious and wandering) as selwyn curls in close again like an animal seeking shelter. kaz's back is pressed to his chest as he coils in, and kaz will feel the way his heart beats: alive, alive, alive. selwyn presses the hot line of his mouth against the base of kaz's neck, right against the bump of bone that is the top of his spine. "my love," he murmurs, letting himself press his nose up against the underside of their jaw, just below their ear. "you don't need to study that textbook for that long, do you?"

         Kaz had told himself that morning that he would make an effort to spend a portion of his night studying his textbook before tomorrow's dawn brings back the bustle of school back into his life but.... well. Studying with their boyfriend present in the room has never been the easiest thing in the world.

     Even now when Selwyn is not conscious to knowingly distract them from their studies Kaz finds it difficult to focus on the task at hand. Selwyn isn't touching them at present - the thick summer air even with several fans blowing has made his presence against their body brief the past few weeks - but they are still acutely aware of him in the bed beside them. How his chest rises and falls with the gentle rhythm of sleep. There are moments when Kaz can't help but look over his shoulder at him, his eyes lingering upon the hard lines of his body before settling to stare at how his thick eyelashes brush the skin of his cheeks in his sleep and the way his lips slightly part - his hair splaying across the pillow in a temptingly beautiful mess of curls.

         It's the most peaceful Selwyn ever looks, these quiet moments in the middle of the night where he settles in with them rather than circling the campus looking for cysgodanedig to kill all night long. It steals Kaz's breath away every time. They can't help but wish that this peace would stay with him into his waking hours - it's what Selwyn deserves.

     They are attempting once more to continue reading their textbook, just one more chapter, when they feel the bed shift underneath them and then Selwyn is upon him once more. He curls in around them, his touch gentle and wandering as his hands wander over their body like it is his first time exploring them. There is a shiver that runs down their spine, but it is quickly calmed as Selwyn guides them to press against his chest and they can feel the steady beat of his heart against them alive and well. The textbook in his hands is already all but forgotten as Kaz leans back into Selwyn's wandering touch, letting out a sigh of contempt as his lips meet skin. He can't help it how he unravels underneath him and he turns his head to press into Selwyn's shoulder, nuzzling into whatever part of him they can reach affectionately.

        "Selwyn, my darling love." Kaz murmurs against him, allowing their lips to brush against his skin as they speak. One arm has abandoned its hold on his book to drag one of Selwyn's arms more securely around his middle. "I did tell you earlier I wanted to get a bit of studying done before class tomorrow. It isn't easy to focus when you are this distracting. I've hardly made any progress at all."

    Their voice is warm with affection as they speak and they smile against him as he noses at them just below their ear. "Is that your goal hm? To make me forget about the book entirely?" It's working.

[meatriarchived2]

me when i say Fuck It to gun's timeline because two weeks is just Not Enough Time in my eyes to properly hold a missing person search throughout several counties and give them time to actually yknow. search ( which we know is already debatable but at least long enough to make it seem like they "tried" yknow? ) before calling it all off.

( which also this does not have to be adopted by anyone else - im just rambling and all but i do believe two weeks is just. not enough time at all- )

maria left for that last trip just before the uni of texas' spring break started. which typically seems to land somewhere between early-mid march (8th-16th). meaning she disappeared in that week.

( im inclined to say maybe within the first 3-4 days of her leaving is when she was taken, probably after she'd been driving most of the first and stopping at random to take photos. also inclined to say she left earlier than break actually started due to how any places she probably wanted to get to ).

her car was discovered abandoned - which could have easily been moved to a different location than where she actually went missing. and that could have taken any number of days to have been reported to local sheriffs after being called in by someone passing by, and which wouldve taken longer to look into before making that house call to her family and announcing her being missing ( esp considering its the 70s so...things were much slower to be processed, searches to be formed took longer to find enough bodies to look, etc ).

so im thinking im pondering im perceiving this roughly :

beginning of march: - maria leaves 2-3 days before spring break actually started. - by the time break is underway, she's made it to her initial few planned stops but is taken, her car hidden briefly, to be gone through. mid-march: - by the time spring break ends and classes resumes, maria never returned to her apartment or campus. - friends probably assumed she'd gotten sick maybe or something went on back home. - her car is discovered that week being back from break, found someplace else, and family is notified. - police start the investigation and search for her once confirmed she hasnt been in contact with anyone back home since those first couple days being gone. - that first-72-hours of easily finding a missing person window now out the door which makes them less concerned of finding her alive. that coupled with the sawyer/hewitt influence around the different departments? they seem less eager to do their jobs, they appear to be avoiding sending search parties at all to look around a certain region. end of march thru april: - when ana catches winds of talks of them suspending the search by the start of april when no leads have been found i think is when she actually leaves their hometown to go find the friends, see if they know anything, come up with a plan to go searching for themselves. - danny told everything and he speed-demons back from his trade schools' training by the coast. - the friends start scouring every place they can think of that maria could have gone to - both that she'd been to before, and where she'd mentioned to them she had planned to stop at or drive past during this trip ( which i imagine must've taken them yknow. a while to do. cause i'd assume they wanted to be thorough since the police weren't. ) - they keep meeting dead ends with every place they go to til they reach newt, and ultimately come across drayton, luda, etc etc. ( insert teehee forbidden knowledge )

¯\_(ツ)_/¯ like give it at least a little over a month to give shit time to unfold and grow more frustrating and confusing yknow? give it time for hopelessness to settle in to make that excitement of hearing from the scattered hewitt-sawyer family members of some possible leads refill them with the hope that maybe they've finally caught onto something!! that she was seen, that shes nearby maybe!!!

[meatriarchived]

me when i say Fuck It to gun's timeline because two weeks is just Not Enough Time in my eyes to properly hold a missing person search throughout several counties and give them time to actually yknow. search ( debatable but at least long enough to make it seem like they "tried" yknow? ) before calling it all off.

( which also this does not have to be adopted by anyone else - im just rambling and all but i do believe two weeks is just. not enough time at all- )

maria left for that last trip during the uni of texas' spring break. which typically seems to land somewhere between early-mid march (8th-16th). meaning she disappeared in that week.

( im inclined to say maybe within the first 3-4 days of her leaving, probably after she'd been driving most of the first and stopping at random to take photos. also inclined to say she left earlier than break actually started due to how any places she probably wanted to get to ).

her car was discovered abandoned - which could have easily been moved to a different location than where she actually went missing. and that could have taken any number of days to have been reported to local sheriffs after being called in by someone passing by, and which wouldve taken longer to look into before making that house call to her family and announcing her being missing ( esp considering its the 70s so...things were much slower to be processed, searches to be formed took longer to find enough bodies to look, etc ).

so im thinking im pondering im perceiving this roughly :

beginning of march: - maria leaves a day or two before spring break actually started. - by the time break is underway, she's made it to her initial few planned stops but is taken, her car hidden briefly, to be gone through. mid-march: - by the time spring break ends and classes resumes, maria never returned to her apartment or campus. - friends probably assumed she'd gotten sick maybe or something went on back home. - her car is discovered that week being back from break, found someplace else, and family is notified. - police start the investigation and search for her once confirmed she hasnt been in contact with anyone back home since those first couple days being gone. - that first-72-hours of easily finding a missing person window now out the door which makes them less concerned of finding her alive. that coupled with the sawyer/hewitt influence around the different departments? they seem less eager to do their jobs, they appear to be avoiding sending search parties at all to look around a certain region. end of march thru april: - when ana catches winds of talks of them suspending the search by the start of april when no leads have been found i think is when she actually leaves their hometown to go find the friends, see if they know anything, come up with a plan to go searching for themselves. - danny told everything and he speed-demons back from his trade schools' training by the coast. - the friends start scouring every place they can think of that maria could have gone to - both that she'd been to before, and where she'd mentioned to them she had planned to stop at or drive past during this trip ( which i imagine must've taken them yknow. a while to do. cause i'd assume they wanted to be thorough since the police weren't. ) - they keep meeting dead ends with every place they go to til they reach newt, and ultimately come across drayton, luda, etc etc. ( insert teehee forbidden knowledge )

¯\_(ツ)_/¯ like give it at least a little over a month to give shit time to unfold and grow more frustrating and confusing yknow? give it time for hopelessness to settle in to make that excitement of hearing from the scattered family members of some possible leads refill them with the hope that maybe they've finally caught onto something!! that she was seen, that shes nearby maybe!!!

that they can maybe find her and bring her home finally!!!!!

[gotjacobian]

The whole context is long, but last time I was really kind of hurting myself finishing my paper(s, there were 2) that way (and during full-remote COVID, while taking a full class load, and doing grad applications). I thought if I didn't, I'd be failing to live up to something I wanted from myself, and that I felt other people wanted from me. It was bad. Worse than I was able to see at the time. For that deadline, I would start experiments on my computer, set an alarm for two hours later, sleep, then wake up to see the results and adjust. I wasn't able to sleep normally for a few weeks after. I presented those papers, that I had spent collectively about 2.5 years of my life on, remotely, about six months later, in a totally empty apartment. It was the day I had to move for grad school - I closed my laptop immediately after, and left. The experience hurt my ability to engage with something I care deeply about for a long time, in ways that compounded with my own angst, and a string of unlucky circumstances. The papers got published, and that got me into grad school, which definitely isn't nothing. But I didn't get to travel for grad school visits or conferences. My advisors were burnt out and started cancelling meetings, and our communication totally dropped when I graduated. My new PI was and is stretched too thin to engage much. No interest in my work or me from other professors, who were busy with external life things, or skeptical of crossing fields. It was over a year before I ran into someone interested enough in my work to want to build on it, and finally got to collaborate - every other project I worked on got dropped by everyone but me (with one cursed exception that would require its own essay to explain, but led to several people in my cohort basically dropping my field). It's been 4 years since I published a first-author paper. There were no roboticists in my subfield in our lab at all for about 9 months* . I spent my first two years working on something that my advisor still hadn't internalized enough during our weekly meetings to describe correctly when I was preparing my mandatory final presentation***. That thing didn't work because I did every ill-advised thing a first-year PhD student can do when picking and scoping a project at once. I had surgery and multiple significant personal emergencies right before major deadlines (sometimes multiple at once!!). I moved to live and work in a city with no one I knew in it, which came with additional hurdles from learning to live as a not-publicly-trans trans person for the first time. AND as a first-time not-in-college adult. Etc, etc, etc.

I'm sure there's a billion ways I could've handled those things better. I doubt litigating them would help. I have missed *so* many deadlines and milestones and experiences that 4-years-ago-me was hoping to hit. Which has sucked, don't get me wrong. But it also did a lot to take away their power? I have a much better picture of how this all (academia, robotics, grad school, research, whatever) Works in a cosmic sense, that's much less tied into how I judge my own capacities. I feel strongly that I've become a better researcher, somehow, despite not feeling like I have any of the signifiers of it.

I had a conversation a couple years ago with my high school best friend's mom, who spent a bazillion years getting a PhD in nursing education (because she was simultaneously running a nursing education program). She asked me why I was doing the PhD, and said she thought a lot about how her own answer to that had changed while she was completing hers. And now I think about that a lot, too. I think my answer at the time was that the kinds of jobs I want to do require it (still true). I've been motivated by wanting to be a superstar scientist or professor - wanting to have my ideas taken seriously, to feel smart and influential and respected. I've wanted fancy accolades and awards. I've wanted to deliver on the thing I always said I wanted to do as a kid. I've wanted to prove that I can actually fucking do this, I swear to god, I know what it looks like, but I swear I can. I've wanted to make some kind of statement about what it means to a good researcher - to prove I can produce something up to my own standards and values, and to spite everything in the field I feel doesn't meet them. I've wanted to have the chance to explore questions I feel like no one has asked, or asked correctly. I've wanted it because I felt like I should. It was The Thing To Do, and no other options seemed feasible. The all-nighter still isn't great, sure, and is driven by other stupid constraints on when the robot is available for experiments (that I TOLD EVERYONE would be an issue and no one listened.) But at least it feels like my answer has changed, and I'm doing it for myself this time? And I think that's significant progress. I want this stupid paper to be done, and I want it to be good, and I know how to make it good without hurting myself. I'm the one who cares, and will get something out of it being finished. Plus: the deadline is weirdly early this year, I am NOT fucking missing mystery hunt for a robotics deadline. I'm not gonna do it. If the experiments have to happen at 10pm on a Saturday to achieve that, so be it.

*I have come to feel strongly that robotics papers in particular really require collaborators, even for the system engineering alone. And while robotics tends to mingle with a lot of adjacent fields (machine learning, computer vision, graphics, natural language), it has some very field-specific underlying philosophies and assumptions that can make it hard to get useful feedback from people who Aren't Roboticists. They often don't have the background to know what problems are hard, or why (I get a lot of people saying "I think a neural net should just be able to solve that" about my specific work. If you had access to a dataset including a cleaned point cloud of every single object in the world, pose-aligned and conveniently labeled by category and constituent parts, sure! Let me know when you find that!)** **Also it's STILL not actually that easy, which is literally one of the claims I've been formalizing in a whole section of this exact paper, but explaining why requires grounding in policy learning, equivariance, optimization, compositionality, and how those things are all handled specifically in robotics, where you can't necessarily make some assumptions that are common about how they're used in other fields. You can probably tell this is a pet peeve of mine.

*** He finally independently connected it to another student's work I'd been comparing it to for months this year, after brushing those comparisons off repeatedly, and I was honestly ready to throw a chair at him.

Second time I've stayed up all night for a paper and then left in the morning to realize it's snowing. I hope that's a good omen?

[zeroth-writes]

Fighting For You -Yandere!1st Class-

masterlist | request

Prompt:  What would happen if Yandere Sephiroth and Yandere Genesis, Yandere Angeal fights over the female reader

Pairing: 1st Class Soldiers x Female!Reader

Summary:

Word Count: 1.1k

When you first met Genesis you thought of him being a friend. Just a really good friend.

The two of you met at a bookstore. You somehow lost your one and only copy of loveless and needed to grab another quickly.

So after work you rushed to your local store and quickly navigated your way to the ‘poetry’ section. Once your eyes found the all to familiar white cover, they lit up.

A series of apologies left your lips as you weave though the other shoppers, occasionally bumping into them.

As you stood in front of the bookshelf, you reach out to grab the last remaining copy, but stop as another hand cuts in front of yours and grab the poem for himself.

“Hey!” Your voice was louder than anticipated, but it caused the stranger, and a few passersby, to stop and look towards you. The stranger raised his eyebrow in displeasure at you.

“You can’t just take the last book like that.” The man chuckles at your words before glaring between your figure, the empty loveless section, and the poem in his hand.

“Why. Do you wish for this? The hand holding the book rose to eye level. He watched as your eyes follow along and widen at the movement. A smirk rose to his lips.

“Well, I can’t give just anyone this copy. Why don’t you join me for coffee as we discuss this work of art?” His free hand motioned to a small cafe across the street from you. You took a moment to think before nodding.

For the next for hours. The two of you sat in the small cafe and talked. You began speaking about the poem you both loved. But that slowly morphed into personal talk. You learned a lot about the stranger, his name, where he grew up, and his occupation. You told him the same details about you in return.

The next thing either of you knew, the sun was beginning to set. As an orange hue overtook the blue sky, you said your goodbyes to Genesis, but not before receiving his phone number.

♡♡♡♡♡

One night you come home to a mysterious wrapped package sitting on your doorstep. It was your name written in beautiful handwriting. Carefully you begin to unwrap the package and gasp when you see whats inside.

The Loveless book you and Genesis met over. You gleam over the pristine cover then begin to carefully flip though the pages only to stop just after the cover when he see a sticky note with the same handwriting on it.

“Dearest Y/N.

I realized after you left that I failed to return this book to you. I hope you can forgive me for tracking down your location this why, but i wanted to make sure this copy found its why into loving hands.

If you wish, I left my number if you ever wish to talk more. I would love to hear your thoughts.

- Genesis

You picked put the number in your phone and sent a quick text to both confirm the number and that you got the book. Within a few hours Genesis had responded.

♡♡♡♡♡

Over the next several days, you and Genesis spoke nearly every day. He told you about his day and vise versa. You even spend a few hours a day speaking of your shared love for the epic.

It didn’t take long for him to fall for you. You were so passionate about something he loved, and for once he could talk to someone who understood his passion.

Unlike Angeal and Sephiroth who just dealt with his obsession - you understood what he was talking about and wanted him to continue, even after several hours.

♡♡♡♡♡ 

Once the two of you got tired of speaking over the phone, he invited you over. Which is how you ended up meeting Sephiroth and Angeal.

The other two were suppose to be on a mission all week, leaving Genesis and subsequently you, all alone.

You expected to spend a full week alone with him, that was until his two colleagues walking into the room. The three of you shared awkward glances before Genesis introduced you.

♡♡♡♡♡

For your next few visits, the mood between you and the soldiers slowly got better. Instead of narrowed eyed glares, you got a welcoming smile. They began talking to you more and including you into conversations instead of pretending like your presence was null.

Eventually they started inviting you to other activities. Angeal would ask you to cook with him, and invite you to spend some time in his personal garden where he would give you tips and tricks.

Meanwhile Sephiroth wanted to train you. He wants you to defend yourself. He also attempts to introduce you to other books, mainly to annoy Genesis, but also he wished for someone else to enjoy the books he does and to spend his quiet time with someone else.

At first Genesis was happy you and his two other friends were getting alone, but that quickly changed as he began to notice you spend more time with them and less with him.

Genesis tried to think of different ways to get you to spend more time with him, like getting front row tickets to the loveless play or ordering your favorite food, yet even after those you still made plans with the other 1st classes. 

The red head at first tried to blame you, thinking you were ignore him on purpose, but then after seeing how nice you are to others, he realized you were just to kind for your own good. Of course his friends are taking advantage of your kind nature.

So instead he took out his frustration on his fellow soldiers. He fought harder against them, took his missions more serious, and even tried to take control of their missions.

He continued this until Angeal and Sephiroth confronted Genesis on his actions.

Genesis stood in the virtual training room when Sephiroth and Angeal interrupted him. Angeal began asking his childhood friend about his recent behavior.

Genesis chuckled before telling them everything. About how they were trying to take you away from him,. That you were constantly wasting your precious time of them, when you should be spending it with him instead.

Within a few minutes all three men has drawn their weapons and pointed at each other.

Genesis and Angeal charged first, leaving Sephiroth amused at his stubborn friends actions. It didn’t take long for the three to commence a heated battle.

♡♡♡♡♡

Sephiroth stood tall over his panting friends, their swords flung across the room during battle.

The silverette gazed down at his sword for a moment before turning towards each of the soldiers

“I’ll warn you once. Stay away from her.”

ffvii taglist: @asilverraven​​    

[shikonstar]

Hearts are delicate. Breakable. Once they slip through one set of fingers, can they ever find a home in those hands again?

An Inu/Kag ficlet.

“I love you.”

She says it, knowing it’s too late. He’s already set his eyes on someone else, but if she doesn't get the words out, she knows she’ll explode. Saying it once he’s actually involved with someone else just wouldn't be right. Her smile is several watts too bright as his eyes blink rapidly, his brows lowered in confusion.

“But I don't--”

“Love me. I know. I just....had to get it out. Don't worry about it. I know that it’s her. And...I hope it works for you. Really.”

She means it. She truly does. All she’s ever wanted is for him to be happy, even if that happiness is like acid in her lungs, drowning her in fire. She doesn't bother waiting for an answer. She knows he’s staked out this hallway, waiting for Kikyo to make her way to her next class, and just because she’s always been his biggest cheerleader doesn't mean she wants first-row seats to the game. So she steps to the left and allows herself to be swept away in the sea of other students, drowning out the sound of him trying to let her down easy.

Her heart slipped from the clawed hands in which she had placed it, shattering into crystalline fragments as it hit the floor.

“This doesn't mean I love you or anything.”

It’s an almost grudging mumble, and she has to bite back the harsh words that want to shoot from her mouth like bullets in response. It’s been months, he’s dating someone else, and she’s not an idiot.

“I didn't think it did,” she settles on saying, meeting his eyes steadily.

He shifts, still holding the class assignments he brought for her while she was sick with the flu.

“I just....didn't want to give you the wrong idea,” he explains, and there's an almost apologetic note in the tone of his voice.

“I hardly think bearing gifts of extra homework qualifies as a declaration of undying love,” she says dryly, choosing to give him an out.

He snorts a laugh, and the tension leaves his body as he drops into the chair by her desk, launching into everything she’s missed in the Miroku/Sango drama since she’s been out for the week.

“Tryin’ to take her place won't make me love you!”

The words are sharp and meant to cut; the feral snarl on his face makes that clear. The breakup with Kikyo has been bad, and he is still raw and exposed. Steam was still rising from the meat of a fresh kill, and he was looking for something--anything--on which to vent his pain.

Naturally, that would be Kagome. Always soft. Always helpful. Always near. But even as the words leave his mouth, something tells him he has crossed a line. He waits for the tears or, if he is lucky, the angry yelling, and his apprehension grows when neither comes.

Instead, she draws herself up and gazes at him with a coldness that would have had even his brother shivering.

“You don't share my feelings, and that’s fine. But that doesn't mean you get to throw them in my face whenever it suits you,” she says quietly.

The words fell on him like a stoning, each one leaving a bruise in its wake. It washes away his own raging sadness, leaving him feeling small and ashamed.

“I didn't mean--”

“I already knew it without you having to say anything. Just....leave it.”

He looks at her from under his bangs, and for the first time, it occurs to him that Kagome is no stranger to this feeling. He wonders how she manages to keep such a good lid on it and how long it took to learn that kind of control.

He’s afraid of the answer.

Her phone buzzes, sparing them both. She looks at the screen, then arranges her lips into the distant cousin of a smile.

“Sango wants us to go to the movies with them. C’mon, let's go spend a couple of hours watching things blow up. It usually makes me feel better, at least.”

He should probably make a better apology or at least finish their conversation, but instead, he wipes the crusty trail of tears off of his cheeks and snatches up his jacket from where he had tossed it on his bed.

“Fine. I’ll spring for your snacks this time,” he says, knowing that as apologies go, it’s weak and insufficient, but he promises himself that he’ll try to make it up to her later when he isn't feeling like a steaming pile of shit.

“Ya know, if you didn't love me, you'd probably have more of a social life.”

He says it almost like a joke, and he hopes she doesn't hear the note of curiosity in his voice. He knows she’s been asked out on dates. He’s heard guys moan over her in the locker room. Part of him feels guilty that she’s never made an effort to move on. Part of him he bludgeons with a mallet every time it starts to pop up out of its hole.

Kagome takes another delicate nibble of her sandwich, never raising her attention from her book.

“It would probably make it easier for me to get laid, too,” she agrees, her manner distressingly casual.

The shock causes him to pause before his fangs can break the skin of his apple. The concept of Kagome getting laid is foreign. It’s as if he has been dropped in another country where he doesn't speak the language and doesn't know the terrain, but somehow he is expected to navigate it successfully. He examines her out of the corner of his eye, wondering if she realizes that she sounds almost comfortable with the idea of being with someone other than him.

It should come as a relief.

But it doesn't.

“You've always said you didn't love me, so what does it even matter?”

They have been arguing for over an hour. She’s tired, and her nerves are fraying. Why was he acting like this was such a betrayal? Eventually, he would move on from his heartbreak (for someone who could heal physically within the blink of an eye, wounds of the heart had been surprisingly slow to mend), and he wouldn't need her as some sort of living security blanket.

He digs his claw into the tree, the wood soft as butter under the unyielding blades. “We’d all decided on the same college, and you wait until now to say you aren't going?” He snapped, unable to look at her; otherwise, the stinging sensation behind his eyes might make itself known.

“I am going. Just not until next year,” she says with a listless shrug. “My grandparents are paying for this trip, and it’s an opportunity I think I’d regret passing up. Besides, having me around would just cramp your style,” she tries to joke, but she can tell by the way his jaw clenches that her attempt has fallen flat.

“Is it really what you want?” He asks, becoming oddly stoic.

There’s a stretch of silence, as she thinks. For years, she’s been by his side, as constant and unobtrusive as his shadow. The pain of loving him has become a steady weight that she carries like her school backpack. She’s weary. She wants to put it down.

“It’s what I need,” she answers.

“I don't love you anymore.”

She says it with a smile that speaks of relief, a prisoner who has had their sentence revoked.

Inuyasha wants to scream, wants to laugh. He wants to beat the living shit out of someone or tear down trees. He wants to bury his face in his mother’s stomach and sob like a pup. But he doesn't get to do that, does he? He had his chance. No. He had hundreds. In the time she’s been gone, he’s counted them all out, a rosary of sadness worn smooth from use. It shouldn't come as a surprise that it was too late, and yet, for some reason, it had. It was like fate had saved up all of the pain Kagome must have felt from his words and actions over the years and hurtled it back into his stomach.

The smile he gives her is only marginally less shaky than his voice. “Took you long enough,” he laughs.

His heart begs her to realize that something is wrong, to understand and make things better as she always has, in her typical Kagome way.

She doesn't notice.

She’s not really looking at him anymore.

“They look so in love, don't they?”

He has to turn a growl into a cough at those words, and he pretends to check his phone so he doesn't have to watch the couple slowly strolling across campus, their arms wrapped around each other. They do look like they're in love. It was a look he had imagined on Kagome’s face for over a year now, and he was finally seeing it. Just not from the angle he wanted.

Not that he saw it much. He hated being a third or fifth wheel, so he usually made an excuse to duck out of any kind of group activities where she and her boyfriend might be. He had made the mistake of going to a party, and he still wasn't over the shock of seeing Kagome dancing. Her body swaying and grinding against another, her arms wrapped around his neck in such an intimate manner that screamed out for the whole room that they were lovers.

He had staggered out into the cold night air, his legs so shaky that those watching him thought he was drunk. But he had been stone-cold sober; he wasn't granted the mercy of a blackout-induced memory loss.

Still, he couldn't bring himself to try to find someone else. There was a tiny part of him that hoped that if he waited long enough, the situation would right itself, and they would find their way to each other. The thought brought a grim smile. That isn't how life worked, though. The most likely scenario was that Kagome, if she didn't stick with this guy, would find someone else. And then another. And so on and so forth, until she finally found one who was the one.

And he was just going to have to deal with it.

“It hurts. Not as bad as loving you did, but it still hurts.”

She’s crying, and he can feel each hot tear as it sears through the material of his hoodie. He’s a sick, selfish fucker because, for one hot minute, he clings to the fact that she had felt more strongly for him; that feeling withers and dies in the face of her sadness, and he can't bring himself to take any real joy from something that is causing her pain. At least this time, he’s not the one who fucked up and hurt her. At least this time, he’s trying to be there for her in whatever way she needs him--not the way he wants, but hell, this isn't about him.

Sango would probably tell her not to waste her tears on the bastard.

Miroku would have soothing words of wisdom that made you want to slap him for being right.

Inuyasha figured he’d said enough of the wrong shit over the years, and she didn't need to hear anymore. Words had never come all that easily to him, and she was too precious to hurt as casually as he had in the past.

So instead, he holds her a little tighter, stroking her hair. He places the barest whisper of a kiss on the top of her head, knowing she probably hadn't felt it but unable to hold back that small gesture of affection.

She wasn't his to love or protect.

Somehow, it really didn't seem to matter.

“Because I’m an idiot, and I fell in love with you again!”

It’s a quiet wail of despair, and honestly, the last thing Inuyasha thought he would ever hear. His ears flick forward and back in rapid succession, sure that somehow the delicate instruments were in error. She had been avoiding him, and he had finally hunted her down and pressed the issue. At her words, joy bubbles up within him, and the dead lump of flesh in his chest starts beating rapidly as if it’s trying to make up for lost time. He’s almost delirious in his happiness, so it comes as a shock when he realizes that Kagome is slumped in on herself, looking like the textbook definition of misery.

Why isn't she as happy as he is?

Then his brain catches up with the reality of the situation, and he has his answer. She thinks it’s like before. She thinks her heart is in a freefall and he’s not gonna do a damn thing before it splatters all over the ground.

But she’s wrong.

He takes a step toward her, and then another.

“Took you long enough,” he says, and he can't hold back the smile when he hears the hitch in her throat as her eyes search his with a desperate intensity.

He’s still shit with words, and he knows that she knows this. So instead of tripping over his own tongue and leaving room for misinterpretation, he leans forward and places his lips over hers. It’s light and gentle and over far too soon. She still looks slightly confused, so he places one hand on the back of her head and goes in for another. He feels her fingers slide up and grip his collar as she returns his kiss, her small whimper of satisfaction pulling out a rumble of agreement from deep within his chest.

He still doesn't feel like it’s enough.

“Fuck it,” he whispers harshly before pulling her flush against him, bruising her lips as he pours out the feelings that have been trapped within him for far too long.

Kagome, being Kagome, feels everything that he is saying without words, and to his delight, she responds in kind.

As they cling to each other in the cramped stairwell of her dorm, he feels it. Not the hair under his right hand or the hip under his left. But somehow, in both, the sensation of her heart sliding into place, exactly where she had placed it before.

It was a perfect fit.

From the slight tremble that ran through her body, he knew it was being placed carefully, as if not entirely sure it was safe. He couldn't blame her, and he was determined to do whatever it took to prove that neither her trust nor her heart had been misplaced. He wasn't too worried.

He might be an idiot, but he was an idiot with a damn good grip.

[chiwhorei]

𝐀𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐚

✞𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐁𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐬: 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐜 𝐈𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧✞

Pairing: Shouta Aizawa x Fem!Reader

Genre: Smut, Dark Content, 18+ MDNI

Word Count: 3,175 [Link to Ao3]

Tags: Darkfic, sacrelige, coercion, corruption, dubcon and noncon elements, intonations and parallels to incest, but not actual incest (ie. ‘Father’ Shouta), choking, age-gap, oral, Priest!Aizawa, Virgin!Reader

From Chiwhorei: Aizawa is where this all started, so it’s fitting he is the subject of my anniversary fic. To everyone who’s followed me along this journey despite the long bouts of radio silence, to everyone that’s participated and supported this collab, to all of my lovely, devious friends— truly, completely, thank you for this past year. Xoxo.

The pain was so sharp that it made me utter several moans; and so excessive was the sweetness caused me by this intense pain that one can never wish to lose it, nor will one’s soul be content with anything less than God.

** ** **

There’s not a soul awake this late.

The rosary wrapped between twitching fingers feels like a hot lashing against the skin. The glass and metal itch in your hold, the devotional was a gift for your confirmation-- it holds a decade of sins.

Your family has been asleep for hours now. Slipping through the back door as soon as you’re sure. Nineteen. A legal adult. Yet the only way to leave in the middle of the night is in secret. The cool, summer air hits your cheeks, it’s still for a moment. It’s so quiet, you feel like you’ve mistaken the real world for a snow globe. Static— in the moments after all of the glitter settles, all of the quiet, iridescent tears laying at your feet. It waits, patiently, until someone comes by to shake it again.

Moving into a cramped dorm room a few hours away, your childhood home feels bigger every visit. It’s bigger because nothing fills the space inside. There’s nothing but tense words and the clatter of silverware against dinner plates. Your father reminds you of an old briefcase— stern, rigid leather, unmistakably empty; your mother’s rose garden smells like poisoned wine.

Roses and leather, the combination suffocating enough to repel you in the hours you should be unconscious.

The walk from your parent’s house to the church is the most familiar thing in the world. Down to the cracks on the sidewalk and mossy steps leading up to a set of large, cherry doors. So routine it almost feels good for you.

There’s not a soul awake this late, you decide, that must be why you’re here.

That must be why he’s up too.

Pushing open one ornate door just enough to peek inside, you’re met with that distinct waft of incense and dusty missals. It smells like every Sunday morning and Easter Vigil, it smells like home.

Only votive candles light the space around you, flickering with intentions from fellow parishioners. You wonder if there’s one burning for you.

You know where to find Father Shouta, and suspect he’s waiting. He can trace every step from your parents home to the front gate. You open the confessional booth and crawl inside, the wooden space around you is cramped. It smells like incense masking cigarettes. Kneeling into the leather cushion, you face the screen partition.

“Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. My last confession was,” the memory has you falter, “three months ago.”

You remember the last hollow confession like it was yesterday. You were back in town for spring break. After mass that Sunday, your dad told Father Shouta how deplorable it was that your friends had tried, in vain, to drag you to the beach a few hours away from campus. “A week of drinking and sex, not for my daughter.”

Shouta met with you that evening and you cried your sins to him. How you had been dared to kiss boys at a party during midterms week, how you drank who-knows-what mixed with cheap beer at a frat house. He consoled you then, he told you that God will forgive all transgressions. “Even the sins of a whore.”

The memory makes you want to cry all over again. Yet, here you are— knees pressed to the very same leather, face against the same dusty screen.

He’s so still, so quiet, you jump out of your skin at the sound of his voice, “What is it that you’d like to confess, my child?”

Your body aches, stiff and tense to the bone. You breathe in, shallow and suffocated, before you speak again.

“Father, forgive me I—” you can tell his posture is just as rigid, he’s only a shadowed outline and the slightest glimmer of color from his eyes. They warn you, but you ignore the familiar feeling on the back of your neck.

“I have been having impure thoughts. I’ve been thinking about a man,” one more deep breath in an attempt to keep your voice neutral, “a much older man.”

If you could hear a smile, Father’s creaks like floorboards.

His silence prompts you to continue, you knot your fingers together and hold them against your stomach, the Rosary tangled in between threatening to cut off circulation.

“The boys in my youth group, the ones in my classes— they’re all nice but,” you leave the second half of the sentence to rattle around in your mind, “but they aren’t you.”

“Impure thoughts are one thing, sinful, but,” his voice is indifferent, cold, “the true sins are ones of the flesh.”

“I- I haven’t,” you start to stutter, trying to defend yourself, “I haven’t done anything, Father.”

Despite himself, he laughs.

“It’s true Father,” you wonder why you hadn’t just stayed at home, “I’ve only ever kissed a boy— it wasn’t even a real kiss. I’m still a virgin.”

From the screen, you can only see him in fragments. Little cutouts of a dark figure and sickeningly bright red eyes. The color peaks through like pieces of a puzzle, chasing through the patterned wood before you can catch that he’s stepping out of his side of the confessional booth.

“It wasn’t a ‘real’ kiss,” each word is mimicked, emphasized by the tap of his shoes against the tiles below, “no, of course it wasn’t. Not with some boy.” Your legs are unsteady as you stand from the kneeler. There’s nowhere to hide, Father has you trapped in a toy box. Just for him to play with.

“Of course that wouldn’t have satisfied you.”

The door to your side of the booth creeks open just as your back hits the wall. You can see his face for the first time in months, you trace the features illuminated with candlelight. Father Shouta’s face is strong, even more sharp with his long, black hair tied back. His presence looms over where you’re sunken into the booth. Even standing and puffing out your chest, he’ll still be able to look down at you.

He bares his teeth. You know this by now, stupid little girl, you know he likes to play with his food.

Long fingers grip the small door frame and curl around the wood like an omen, his body slithers into your personal space until he’s only an inch away.

“Lust, greed, what is it that you want?” Each vowel cradles a hearty dose of poison, the consonants bite away and spit you out. Your skin feels raw under his attention, “You can’t atone for sins you’re not really sorry for.”

Those same fingers slide up either curve of your neck, he crawls from shoulder to jaw, slowly. So slowly it seems like he’s trying not to get caught. He holds steady against your skin, thumb rubbing lightly at your bottom lip. You must have just fallen asleep after your parents went to bed, that stale, poisoned house even lulling the restless. You must be dreaming right now.

“Don’t make me ask again.” His timber hits the three walls and brings you back to the present. There’s no rest for you, only a weak answer to his question. What is it that you want?

“I want to be a humble servant of our Lord.” Your voice shakes, battered against your throat on its way to meet the stiff air.

Father’s lips are on you, he traces the words of Luke over your trembling mouth, there’s only a breath of space between you,

“No one can serve two masters. For you will hate one and love the other; you will be devoted to one and despise the other,”

The hands holding your cheeks move down to circle your neck, each long finger lays a trap. He tightens around the skin, just enough to make you forget how it feels to breathe freely. He could do anything to you right now, and your cries for help would be swallowed by stained glass.

No one can serve two masters.

The scream caught in your throat meets his wicked smile, it fizzles into little more than a whimper. The small booth you’ve been trapped in is burning hot, you feel sweat beading on your forehead. The last ounce of courage, of restraint, tumbles out before you can catch it.

“Who do you serve, Father Shouta? God or the Devil?”

He answers you with a thick tongue finally pushing into your mouth. He smells like perfumed oils and votive candles, he tastes like sugar free gum and Seven Stars.

His grip around your neck is the only thing keeping you on your feet, you’re sure if he were to let go you’d melt into the floor below. Father’s lips against yours are a siren, dulling all other senses, rendering you malleable to his will. Whatever his will may be, whatever it is that he wants from you— you’d let him have it anyway.

He breaks away, the kiss that’s felt like hours disappears far too soon. Your body jolts forward of its own volition, trying to connect yourself to him again. You’re sure you look desperate, but you’re too intoxicated to care.

“I serve only myself.”

Father lets go of your neck and you’re allowed the first deep intake of breath you’ve had since walking into the church. You swallow hard, looking back up to him. He scares you, he always has, but that fear draws you towards him.

Does a moth know what the flame will do to it? Does the moth know their fate?

You feel like crying, really crying, but all that comes out are a few frustrated tears. Father leans over you once more, eyes trailing the tear waxing over your cheek, “You’re a wretched little girl.”

Is that why they fly towards fire, because they like the burn?

** ** **

You step forward in line, it’s almost your turn. Mother first, she’s always thought of Father Aizawa as such a “charming young man''. The notion always made you scoff, in reality he’s only a few years younger than your parents.

Your dad is behind you, he’ll give him a friendly handshake after the service and remark how beautiful the homily was. Today, he spoke of the devil tempting Jesus. You hung on every word.

Mother steps aside and makes the sign of the cross, you’re next. A sheep guided by the dutiful shepherd, a lamb onto his slaughter.

Your chin tilts upwards, eyes locked onto your part-time captor. He only has you for a few seconds this time, but his attention is a hallway— every door is a pitfall. Aizawa’s gaze turns red when he looks upon you again— a bright, bloody, captivating red. You’ve convinced yourself it’s a trick of the light. But you see them in the dark too.

“The Body of Christ,” his voice is a welcome mat in front of an asylum, holding out the wafer and obscuring one painfully beautiful eye.

“Amen.” You know you’re part, but you can’t hear your own voice.

Father watches as your eyes close and your mouth opens, a quiet obedience, nothing at all out of the ordinary. Your fingers tingle with how tight you’re holding them together.

He places the Body to your awaiting tongue. It tastes like a harsh nothing that will stick to the back of your throat for the rest of mass. You take Christ in pieces, letting it start to melt into the roof of your mouth.

Shouta brushes your bottom lip before retracting. It’s subtle, an accident— the smallest touch of chilling skin. No one notices, the earth doesn’t stop on its axis for anyone else. You step aside and follow your Mother back to the wooden pews like nothing out of the ordinary stirs in your heart.

You feel Father’s eyes on the back of your skirt. They feel red.

“Your sweet girl here has offered a helping hand getting prepared for a youth retreat the church is hosting next week.” After mass, the stop to shake Father’s hand is inevitable, a pleasantry every parishioner makes time for before shuffling out for Sunday brunch.

He speaks over your quiet, “Good morning, Father Shouta,” right as your family turns to leave, almost as if he had been mulling over whether or not it was worth a mention. He regards them with a veiled casualty, never once looking at you.

Father’s face is kind when he wants it to be, laying a hand in the middle of your shoulder blades, it's a feeling of comfort you can’t help but lean into, “We’re discussing how to remain chaste in a sinful world.”

The word ‘chaste’ is pinched into your spine and despite yourself, you smile. A heavy heart has found home at the bottom of your stomach, but you can’t let on to the sick churning in your gut. Your parents gleam with pride for their daughter. A perfect example of a good Catholic girl.

“I’ll have her meet at my office this evening, is six okay?” His question sounds like your dowry, talking past you and asking for your parents permission.

Your dad shakes Father Shout’s hand once more, delighted at how his diligent parenting must be the reason you’ve found yourself in holy favor. Said ‘parenting’ is definitely to blame, but not in the way your dad assumes.

*** *** ***

The walk through church and into the sacristy is like a meditation in fear, every step begging you to turn back, to run home like a scared child. You tread steady, feet searing on hot coals until you’re met with the sound of Father Shouta just beyond the threshold.

“You’re late.” Something sinister fills Father’s quarters as soon as you open the door. It’s scary how offhandedly he can lie. You’re at least ten minutes early, the evening toll of church bells will signal the hour. He wants to see if you’ll stutter, if you’ll argue. You stay quiet, busying your hands with the hem of your skirt, fingers lifting it slightly before you remember who owns the eyes sitting across the room. They look golden from here, a honey you could drown in. You cough at the feeling of sugar in your lungs before collecting yourself and awaiting instruction.

Seemingly pleased with your docility, he smiles wide and crooked. It’s bound into a book he will whisper into you page by page. It’s written in a language only he knows.

Shouta motions you farther inside, leaning back in his seat. He corrects you when you move to sit in the chair on the other side of his desk, waiting with little patience as you settle against his side instead. Your posture is stiff being this close, being this alone.

His facial hair is trimmed neatly, small scars litter his face, the most pronounced a jagged trail under his right eye. From the dim evening light, you see a shadow of loose hairs make a pointed crown around his head.

“St. Teresa of Avila,” Father starts, tapping his fingers against a small stack of papers, “what do you know of her?”

You’re disarmed, the question seems so innocent-- not a note of ulterior motive detectible. Even so, your guard remains high. His intentions need no subtext.

“St. Teresa of Avila, the patron saint of headache sufferers,” you’re struggling to see the point, but Father prompts you to continue, “she was a Spanish nun, she wrote about a prayerful life,”

After another moment of measured silence, you grow even more tense, “Father Shouta, forgive me, I don’t understand,”

You’re hushed with a laugh, the small collection of papers placed in your hands. The first leaf is titled with large letters, “The Life of Teresa of Jesus.”

“I’d like you to read the section I’ve highlighted.”

You shake, thumbing through until you find a block of text traced in bright yellow. You scan its contents, but are quickly interrupted by Shouta’s next request.

“Out loud.”

There’s no escaping the toy box.

His stare is unwavering, giving you no room for objection. They’re not soft like honey anymore, Father Shouta’s eye’s are harsh, bloody gemstones.

You know better than to keep him waiting, adjusting in your half sat position on the side of his desk, you begin reading with hoarse inflection, “In his hands I saw a long golden spear, and at the end of the iron tip I seemed to see a point of fire. With this he seemed to pierce my heart several times so that it penetrated to my entrails.”

Wincing, the words sound like a stranger in your ears. After every sentence, Shouta’s fingertips inch closer to the end of your skirt, right above the knee. You’d be stoned for this kind of hemline at home, but with Father it seems to be exactly the sacred skin he wanted to see.

His hands move, unwavering, as you continue with the annotated paragraph, “When he drew it out, I thought he was drawing them out with it and he left me completely afire with a great love of God.” Fingers stop their gentle assault before adding pressure to your inner thigh, he peels apart your legs with a wordless prompting to keep going.

“The pain was so sharp that it made me utter several moans; and so excessive was the sweetness caused me by this intense pain that one can never wish to lose it, nor will one’s soul be content with anything less than God.”

By the last several words, Father Shouta’s lips are centered in between your open thighs, you feel tears frozen in the duct. You want to pull away, to escape, but his lips hold something you’ve never been this close to.

“Piety is a virtue,” you can feel the hot breath against your most intimate planes of flesh, “but our God is one of pleasure too.”

His kiss feels like branding. An aimless, confused lamb seared with the mark of its owner.

You cry out, loud and broken, when his mouth meets the cotton covering your pussy. Shouta uses his pointer and middle finger to move the fabric away.

No one has ever seen these parts of you, kept locked away for your future husband until now, sitting in the heart of your family's church, writhing from even the slightest touch.Hips buck of their own accord, and you’re granted one last open-mouthed lave against your twitching cunt. His tongue peaks out slightly to catch your clit before pulling away.

You move as if possessed, falling to your knees in front of your Father. Your mouth opens, that same quiet obedience, and his finger brushes your lower lip again. “No one” you think, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of fingers wrapped into the back of your hair, “no one can serve two masters.”

“Body and soul, you’re mine.”

But there’s not a soul left in sight.

✞ 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐞: All writing is chiwhorei’s original content, please do not repost or modify. Do no read my content as asmr. Do not recommend me on TikTok.©️

[queenshelby]

Teacher’s Pet

31 Days of Kink: Day 7

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Words: 1378

Warning: Smut, Teacher/Student, Age Gap

Imagine starting drama school during your first year of university and having Cillian Murphy as a temporary drama teacher while your professor has taken six weeks off to recover from a broken leg.

But, Cillian and you aren’t exactly seeing eye to eye and you were asked to meet Cillian in his office to discuss some recent issues that have arisen in your performance.

***

‘You are difficult, you know that’ Cillian murmured, his smile faded, his face hardened, and his eyes narrowed.  You had yet again complained about your schedule.

‘I am difficult? I think you are the one who is difficult. I have been trying my best here and you keep rearranging everything…’ you said as you felt your stomach tighten. Immediately, you knew that you screwed up again because you secretly desired Cillian, a man twice your age, and the worst of it all was that you knew he was right when he criticised you and your performance.

‘Have you?’ he asked, his voice stern.

‘Have I what?’ you asked.

‘Have you been trying your best? Because it sure doesn’t look like it to me’ Cillian said, referring to you having forgotten your lines several times over the last few days.

‘I am distracted, I am sorry’ you huffed.

‘By what?’ he asked and you sure didn’t want to respond to this question.

But he already knew your answer. He has seen the way you kept looking at him.

‘I need you to tell me what has been distracting you so that I can help you Y/N’ Cillian said.

‘It is you who distracts me and, unless you are going to fuck me over this table right now, I will probably continue to be distracted for the auditions this afternoon’ you huffed as you knew that, by the way things were going, you may as well cancel your drama school enrolment.  

Cillian chuckled and moved quicker than you thought possible, grabbing your waist, hoisting your up off your chair and onto your feet.

‘I’ve got 45 minutes Y/N…you better remember your lines after this’ Cillian said, quickly pressing his lips onto your before spinning you around to face his desk.

He had been wanting you since the moment you walked into his class. Of course, it was inappropriate but his desire had finally gotten the better of him when the words left your lips.

His chest pressed against your back and you previously pounding heart doubled its pace as you felt incredibly turned on.

His breath was hot on your skin as he kissed his way from the nape of your neck up to your ear where he took your earlobe into his mouth and tugged at it gently with his teeth before whispering in your ear ‘Is this what you want.’

‘Yes’ you moaned, your head falling back against his shoulder as your eyes closed.

‘Don’t make a sound’ Cillian’s inducted as his hand slid beneath your cotton skirt and into your panties where his fingers found your already soaking wet slit.

He traced the edges of your pussy with the tips of his fingers, never directly touching your clit but getting just close enough to make you ache with anticipation. He continually dipped the first knuckle into you, but never enough to satisfy the desire to be filled that pulsed inside you.

As he teased you, you could feel the bulge in his pants pressed against you growing. All you wanted was his cock inside you. You moaned and tried to grind against his teasing hand, shifting your hips in an attempt to get his fingers where you wanted them, but he continuously rebuffed your attempts.

After what felt like hours of teasing, his hand left you and you felt him unbuckle his belt and push his pants off.

Cillian pushed your skirt up and, when his body came back against yours, you felt his hard member pressing against your panties.

‘Please, please just fuck me’ you moaned as Cillian finally pushed your panties down to your knees.

‘One thing you really need to learn is to be patient’ he then growled as he moved his fingers adeptly through your folds, finding all your most sensitive spots, rolling around and over your clit, probing inside you deeper and deeper, making you groan with pleasure and fuelling your desire even further to get him in you.

You could feel the precum oozing from the tip of his cock, smearing on your ass as he slid back and forth between it. You tightened your glute muscles around him and felt his girth slipping between you.

Then, all of a sudden, he removed his hands from your aching mound and reach for his wallet on the desk, pulling out a condom.

You heard Cillian opening the packet just before he rolled the condom onto his hard shaft. The sound of it made you ache for him even more, knowing that he would be inside you any moment now.

‘Spread your legs for me’ he instructed before he aligned the head of his cock with your entrance.

Instead of pushing into you however, he began to slowly pull you back onto his length. As the tip entered you, you felt your walls stretch to accommodate his girth. It was uncomfortable for a moment, but he went slowly and you soon adjusted.

You slowly took inch by inch, moaning a long guttural moan that seemed to be pushed out of you at the same rate that he filled you.

‘Sssh, we don’t want anyone to hear us, do we?’ Cillian whispered, his breath changing.

Eventually you felt his tip bump into your cervix and Cillian came to a halt, allowing you to adjust to his size.

Once he felt you relax, he quickly backed 3 or 4 inches out of you and then thrust inside you again, being sure to stop just short of your cervix.

From that point forward you were lost in the moment. You bounced back against Cillian’s cock which he met with equal thrusts, each time the head of his cock stretching you and pressing against your g-spot as he slid deeper inside you. You had never felt so full and satisfied in your life. With each thrust you felt the heat and tension building deep inside you.

 ‘Are you going cum for me?’ Cillian groaned as he could feel your legs shivering and your walls tightening.

In the heat of the moment, with his hands on your waist, holding you firmly, and his cock buried in your pussy, you couldn’t hold back much longer.

‘Oh my god, oh my god!’ you moaned in response and Cillian’s hand immediately moved onto your mouth to cover your moans.

Your moans became more and more desperate and your hands clenched the front end of the desk while your eyes slammed shut as you felt the explosion erupt inside you.

‘That’s it’ Cillian moaned as your legs shook uncontrollably and you could barely breathe as your walls spasmed around Cillian’s pistoning cock. When your voice finally returned you let out a wailing scream as you rode through wave after wave of bliss.

Even after your orgasm had subsided, your body twitched and convulsed involuntarily as the aftershocks of being so satisfied rippled through your body. Through it all, Cillian continued his onslaught, watching as you writhed before him, your figure reacting to him in every way he could have wanted. He watched as your pussy gushed around him, dripping all over the floor.

He tried to hold off his own pending orgasm, but the ferocity with which your spasming walls gripped and milked at his cock was too much. As your orgasm began to subside, he could hold out no longer. He groaned and thrust deep inside your as he felt his balls tighten and begin to unload his cum. You felt his already thick shaft swell inside you and begin to twitch and pulse.

When he had finally finished, he pulled out of you and quickly disposed of the condom.

‘Right Y/N, you’ve got what you wanted, now repeat your lines for me’ Cillian smirked as he zipped up his jeans.

 Tag List (Cillian):

@lilymurphy03  @deefigs @theflamecrystal   @desperate-and-broken  @weepingstudentfishhorse   @livinginfantaxy  @rosey1981  @atomicsoulcollecto  @peakyboyslover  @nerdy4itall  @elenavampire21  @hanster1998  @mariapaiva13  @fairypitou  @harry-is-my-sunflower  @zozeebo  @lauren-raines-x @kasaikawa  @littlewierdalien  @sad-huffle-nerd  @theflamecrystal   @peakymalfoyscullymulder  @themissthang  @0ghostwriter0  @stylescanbeatmyback  @1-800-peakyblinders @datewithgianni  @momoneymolife  @ntmynouis @lilymurphy03  @mcntsee@cloudofdisney @missymurphy1985 @peakymalfoyscullymulder  @otterly-fey @janelongxox  @uchihacumdump @basiclassy  @being-worthy  @chaotic-bean-of-smolness  @margoo0 @chocolatehalo

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@l0tsofpennies @trolleydolly @avonlady1985 @chrisevanshoeee  @daydreamingnymph  @fookingshelby   

[narukoibito]

Trope mashup - 10 + 51

10 (Airport/Travel AU) and 51 (Accidentally Married)

Oh my God, you are so funny, @theroomofreq! This immediately fired up my brain. I went way overboard, but this is the most I’ve written in a long time. I had fun with my favorite two idiots. Hope you enjoy!

Please feel free to send me more trope mashups!

*

Harry slumped back into the squeaky, plastic airport chair. The woman two seats over shot him a look before leaving in a huff, her purse clutched to her chest. Great, just great.

He sighed, rubbing his forehead out of habit. A bad habit, according to his best friend, Hermione. Supposedly would induce early on-set wrinkles, as if his troublesome life weren't the cause. He looking longingly over at the bar. Would it be too early to start drinking before he even got on the flight? One could hardly blame him, after all. Even Hermione, who had insisted he take the trip, despite everything.

And now he was thinking about it again.

Fuck it, he thought, dragging his carry-on over to the bar. It took longer than it should, considering its funky wheel that kept trying to go the opposite direction as its partner. It almost made him want to laugh. Or cry.

Instead, he ordered a whiskey, neat.

Harry was fiddled with the napkin the bartender set in front of him, when a curtain of red hair leaned over the bar several seats from him.

"Gin and tonic, please," the redhead ordered.

Their eyes caught, and Harry flushed at being caught starting, but she gave him a bright smile. He felt his lips raise in response. Then he quickly looked away, back to the napkin he had all but massacred.

No, none of that. This was supposed to be about finding himself or something, or whatever Hermione had chattered on about while shoving him into the car and driving him here. She had even done the packing, if tossing whatever clean laundry he had into the bag counted. For all he knew, she had slipped a copy of Eat, Pray, Love in there. Of course, he was probably going to brood and drink the entire time. But there was no redhead or blonde or brunette in the picture.

Even if they were really fit.

"Old fashion, neat," the bartender said, placing a new napkin and the drink in front of him.

"Thanks," Harry said, taking a liberal sip, even though it burned on the way down. No more getting drawn towards pretty women who would break his heart. No matter how shiny their hair was.

There was an announcement on the overhead before an overly cheerful voice crackled through the loud speakers, "Good afternoon everyone! Or should I say 'Aloha'? Welcome everyone here at gate B24, outgoing flight from London to Kauai, Hawaii. We'll be boarding shortly. As we wait, our company likes to play a little lottery for an upgrade to first class!"

He tuned out the annoying chatter and focused instead on his drink, which was starting to make everything feel pleasantly warm and fuzzy.

"We have our lucky couple! And would you look at that, newlyweds on their honeymoon! Would Mr. and Mrs. Harry Potter come up to the podium?"

Harry promptly choked, spilling some of his drink. He turned, appalled to see the flight attendant at the podium, holding up two leis.

"Would Mr. and Mrs. Harry Potter come to gate B24′s podium to upgrade their seats?"

Not only was he going on his honeymoon alone, but he was going to have to be humiliated in an airport full of strangers? As if being humiliated in front of his family and friends wasn't enough? He needed to get out of here. Why fly to Hawaii to drown his sorrows when he could do it from the comfort of his flat?

"Mr. and Mrs. Harry Potter?" the speaker repeated.

Harry had just grabbed hold of his luggage handle when an arm looped with his.

"I can't believe we won, honey!" 

He looked down at the voice in disbelief. The redhead was smiling up at him encouragingly, a blazing look in her eye. 

"Yeah," he managed. “Wow.”

She pulled him towards the gate, waving one hand cheerfully in the air to announce their approach. Harry was too stunned to do anything but let himself be dragged along.

"Congratulations to the happy couple!" the flight attendant sang while bequeathing the leis around their necks as the crowd aww'ed and clapped. After the spectacle died down, she asked for their IDs to update their tickets. Dumbfounded, he provided his ID only to panic about his companion, but without missing a beat, she explained how she hadn’t yet had a chance to change her name. Yes, all that paperwork was such a bother, the attendant laughed in commiseration.

Next thing he knew, he was seated once again at the bar, his whiskey placed back in his hand as the redhead went back to sipping her gin and tonic. His mind was spinning with how this stranger had rescued him and how to thank her, but all he could think was how stupidly attractive he found her audacity.

"This isn’t how I imagined meeting my wife," Harry blurted like an idiot.

“Well, now we have 19 hours to get acquainted,” she laughed, the sound sending small shivers down his spine. 

“How’d you figure it out?” 

She gave him a sympathetic look.

“Jilted at the alter all over my face?” 

"Her loss,” she said, waving her ticket victoriously, pulling yet another smile out of him. “Being Mrs. Potter for five minutes has already proven to the best part of my week.”

His heart skipped a beat at her words. “I’m not sure if I should be impressed or scared by your acting.”

“I tend to think anything's possible if you've got enough nerve,” she said. “Besides...” She squinted thoughtfully at his face. He had to clamp down on the urge to flatten his hopeless hair. “Yep, you have a look about you.”

“What look?” he asked, defensively.

“Like you have a noble streak,” she declared. “If the situation were reversed, you’d have done the same for me.”

“What idiot would leave you at the alter?” He must have had more alcohol than he realized. That, or maybe it had to do with the fact that he hadn’t eaten since Saturday. His stomach rumbled as if on cue.

“See? Noble,” she laughed, rummaging in her bag. She pulled out two colorful Easter eggs. “Would you like one?”

Harry took one gratefully, peeling the wrapper. The chocolate melted on his tongue, and a familiar comfort eased through him.

“So,” Harry said, clearing his throat. “All this alcohol must be getting to me since I can’t seem to remember my wife’s name.”

“Ginny,” she said, holding out her hand. “Ginny Weasley now Potter.”

He slid his hand into hers, feeling her warm and callused fingers grip his in return. Maybe it was the fact the warm chocolate always comforted him, but Harry was feeling more happier than he could remember in the longest time.

---

Please feel free to send me more trope mashups!