#behold the contents of my camera roll

[zhouxiangs]

bias check ✨

wasn't tagged or anything but i saw @bunnakit and @negrowhat do this and i wanted to join in 🥰

— nct, kim doyoung

but i also have an extremely soft spot for the bread boy himself jeong jaehyun so he's making the list

— aespa, kim minjeong aka winter

— snsd, kim taeyeon

and of course kim hyoyeon

— kara, hur youngji

[macabr3-barbi3]

pretty when you cry- vox/reader

Vox likes seeing one of Velvette's new workers cry and pushes it as far as he can. 

I suck at writing endings once the fucking is done but here's a little break from my Alastor stuff to write something for the TV demon who also owns my heart <3

Tags: Reader-Insert, Vaginal Sex, Desk Sex, Begging, Crying, manipulation?, Sexual Tension, Explicit Sexual Content, Obsessive Behavior, possessive Vox, Excessive use of italics <3

Vox had his eyes on you.

The newest little demon on Velvette’s team, there was something about you that had him keeping a camera or a sensor on you at all times within Vee Tower.

You were a sight to behold working for her. The Vee respected you in a way that he didn’t see often, delegating you to control of models and stage management roles. And you took to those roles well, commanding respect and authority like second nature. He watched you watch him for a while, eyeing him up from across Vel’s studio. He saw the way your eyes followed the line of his legs when he strolled into the room, how you swallowed a little harder when he rolled his shirt sleeves up and showed off his forearms. He was used to that though, Velvette’s little flunkies wanting to be a Vee groupie. It wasn’t until she sent you to him by yourself for approval on something that he got to see what you were hiding underneath.

He expected you to be the way you were in the studio- demanding voice and loud tone, shoulders squared and undressing him with your eyes while he remained disinterested. What he got instead was even better.

All trembling lips and quivering skin, you were just begging him to hurt you when you slid into his office, gave him the proposal and tried to dart away. It was baffling. He sent some electricity to the doors to slam them shut before you could escape, relishing in the way that you jumped and your eyes flicked back to him. This was exhilarating- how could a demon so at ease taking control be reduced to this ball of nerves? It had to be the lack of Vel’s presence. Maybe you knew he wouldn’t do anything while Velvette was around- she always bitched about him messing with her models and assistants, and the occasional killing or dismemberment of one was a surefire way to end up needing a screen replacement when she fucking threw something at him. But with just the two of you the possibilities were endless. It wasn’t even sexual to begin with, he just fucking loved the idea of breaking down that facade of control. Making you fear him.

It was nothing personal- Velvette had sent you with a shitty proposal and he loved to yell, and sometimes a solitary scolding was like nothing else, especially when it was someone new, someone exciting and fresh. So he took it out on you, and as he was yelling and noticed your big, bright eyes welling with tears?

He couldn’t have gotten a better high from crack.

Vox made it his personal mission to bring you to the precipice of tears whenever possible. Never in front of the team- he wasn’t an asshole, he wouldn’t make you look incompetent in front of Velvette or the people you managed- but he did let slip to Velvette that he was more likely to approve her proposals if she sent her cute little assistant his way.

He got to see you almost every day then. Velvette always had something she needed him to sign or look over, and despite the couple of times he heard you simply begging to send someone else you always ended up right back at his door.

Standing in front of his desk with your head down and your eyes lowered.

Your hands clenched at your sides as you tried to avoid eye contact, tried to keep him from seeing what he so desperately was working for.

It was enough for a while. Months of hounding you and making that porcelain exterior of yours crack just enough to let a few tears slip out when you were sent to see him. Of the change in seeing you go from fucking him with your eyes to how you still checked him out but tensed up when he came into the room for something from Velvette, fearful that he would say something, destroy this image of yourself that you’ve cultivated so carefully to display for the people you work with.

Like the limits of technology it evolved. He found himself wanting more as he watched playback recordings of you begging Velvette to send someone else in your place. His mind spliced the videos together with his own recordings of you, eyes full of tears in his office.

The result was delicious. Red rimmed eyes that sparkled with tears as you looked up at him and said, “please, V̵̡͔͔͔̭̾̀̂̑͞o͙͙̙̘̙ͤͫ͞x͕͕͚͍̿̆͂͞, ” and the only thing that kept him from blowing a fuse and throwing the city into a blackout was the fact that the audio was fucked because he had nothing to input. You never said his name- it was only ever ‘sir’ in his office, or ‘him’ when speaking with Velvette.

He wanted it desperately. Wanted you to beg him with those pretty eyes, that full mouth in a pout as he denied you just to make you plead more. To make you say his name as tears ran down your cheeks and made him short circuit from dripping into his screen ports while he railed up into you from below and made you cry from the pained pleasure-

It wasn’t citywide, but Vee tower blinked offline for a few minutes.

He booted everything back up from his control room, the spliced video of you back on the screen as the door burst open and Velvette strode in to bitch about her socials going down. She looked at the image of you on the screen, eyes wide and wet while you said Vox’s name on a loop- she looked to the demon himself and seemed to wrestle with something internally for a moment.

“If she fuckin’ quits because of you,” she warns, “I’m gonna mount your goddamn head on my wall to watch the replacement interviews, you selfish, sadistic prick!” She stormed back out of the room, muttering something about how Vox was no better than Valentino but hey- that felt like he had permission in his book!

He texts Velvette a few days later and asks her to send you to his office at the end of the day. Naturally, she replies with an eye roll and middle finger emoji, but when 3PM comes around there’s a tentative knock at his door.

He waves a hand to open it, trying his best to look bored despite the excitement racing through his hardware. He slams it behind you, relishes in the way that you flinch and your lip trembles. You approach his desk, hands clenched to your sides like always. “Miss Velvette said you wanted to see me, sir?”

He leans back in his chair, kicks his feet up onto the desk and watches the way your eyes travel the length of them. “I sure did, doll! And you can drop that ‘sir’ shit with me; Vox is just fine.” He throws you a grin which catches you off guard- your eyes go wide and you startle, almost taking a step back and fuuuuck if he doesn’t want to just call his whole plan off and just jump you where you stand.

But Vox could be patient. He wanted to have you where he wanted you first, which was red faced and slack jawed and teary with ecstasy and need.

He beckons you closer with a claw and you obey- a lamb to the slaughter. “Vel tells me that I’ve been a little hard on you,” he says, all syrupy sweet and earnest. “Says that you’ve been asking her to send someone else up for her errands and proposals.” He lets his screen drop into a frown. “I’m hurt, sweetie. Did I do something wrong?”

He can see it in your eyes, the internal conflict. Deny deny deny- or be honest. He could work with either one.

“I- I mean, you’re kind of… mean to me, sir.”

Bingo. Honesty it was. He lets his feet drop down from the desk to stand and lean forward, far enough that he can get a grip on your chin. “Darling, you’ve not seen ‘mean’ from me,” he chuckles. “You think a little yelling is mean? Do you know who you’re talking to?”

You’re fighting the urge to pull away from him, and he can see it then- the shine of moisture along your lash line. It’s so much better up close than it is from across the desk, and he resists the desire to flick his tongue to your eyes and let his mouth crackle and pop at the taste of you. You aren’t talking though, adopting the same manner you get when he yells at you, all quiet and downturned, and that just won’t do.

“I asked you a question,” he says, and tightens his hold on you ever so slightly. You grimace and a drop leaks from your clenched eyes- his cock pulses at the sight. “I said, do you know who you’re talking to?”

“Yes, sir,” you stammer out, and it turns to a yelp as he lets a jolt of electricity bolt through his fingertips.

“V̵̡͔͔͔̭̾̀̂̑͞o͙͙̙̘̙ͤͫ͞x͕͕͚͍̿̆͂͞,” he corrects, his voice distorted as he tries to reign in his control. He wasn’t prepared for the feel of your skin in his hands, doesn’t think he can draw this out as long as he wanted to. “But it’s okay! Here’s what we’re gonna do, you and me- we’re gonna let it be in the past!” He lets you go and you stumble back a couple steps. He’s quick to follow, coming around the desk and throwing an arm around your shoulders. “How’s that sound, huh? I’ll stop yelling at you when Velvette sends you up here- who wants to take the time to teach someone new the route anyway, right?- and you just have to do this tiny little thing for me in return.” He turns you with his hands on your shoulders so you stand in front of him, wedged between his domineering height and the hard surface of the desk at your back.

He can feel how tense you are under his hands and delights in the way you glance up at him, bottom lip held lightly between your teeth, pupils huge and mesmerizing- almost the picture perfect duplicate of the video that he had spliced together, the reality of it so close he could fucking taste it. “What… what do I have to do?”

He uses the leverage he has to shove you, your elbows flying out to catch yourself on the desk as you’re bent backwards at the waist. As you try to push yourself up and out from under him he drops to his arms, bracketing you between them and keeping you locked in place beneath him. “Beg me,” he growls, his teeth snapping in front of your face, and the way that you’re trembling under his body is making the processors in his head spin. Your eyes are wide and wet and dilated but he can’t tell if it’s the way he wants it yet- it might be in fear, not in pleasure. And sure, fear was fun, you don’t become an Overlord without a taste for it. But he wanted you to want him. He wanted to make you need him badly enough that you would let the pleads fall from your lips like rain from the sky, like the tears he wanted to watch you sob while you asked him pretty please.

“Beg and we’ll let it all slide, dollface, does that sound fair?” Vox lets one of his hands up from the desk, trailing a sharp claw through the lingering wetness from your eyes and down your cheek, brushing across the front of your throat. He hears the catch in your breath and wants to drink the sound down, let it fester in his body until it consumes him. “You give me a couple ‘pleases’ with some tears in those pretty eyes of yours and all is forgiven! You can keep running those errands for Vel, keep yourself in her good graces. And I’ll stop yelling at you- we can be regular old pals when you stop up here for something!”

The tension in your jaw is delectable, as is the way you’re trying to keep your legs pressed together so he can’t slot himself between them like he wants to. He wishes he had olfactory processors so he could smell you, press his screen to your neck and chest and just fucking everywhere, tell from the scent of your body if you were as fucking turned on by this as he was. He’s so caught up in the thought of it, trying to figure out if he could get the necessary equipment installed to make such a thing possible, that he almost misses it.

“P-please,” you whisper, and Vox can’t help the way that his hips stutter hard against the air, not yet pressing into you like he fucking wants to. “Please, sir-”

He parts your legs with a knee, groaning internally at the heat coming from you where he presses against you. “If I have to correct you one more time,” he warns, “you’ll really see what mean looks like coming from me.” He needs you to say it like you did in his edited video. Needs his name dripping from your lips and his cum dripping from your cunt but you have to ask properly first. He rolls his hips, knowing that you can probably feel the hard length of his cock drag against your thigh.

“Vox, please,” you finally say, and when your eyes open he can see the tears gathered at the corners, so sweet and perfect and exactly what he fucking needed. There’s no distortion this time, the words falling freely and unaltered. It’s all he can do to rip himself away from you, allow you to rise off the desk with your chest heaving, drops of wetness sliding down your face with the change in angle as you watch him with wide, confused eyes.

Vox has to clear his throat but when he does, he’s back to the picture of business. “There we go!” He says, letting a little bell ding like a game show winner, fists resting on his hips. He’s cool, casual despite the harsh line of his dick pressing against his zipper. “That wasn’t so hard, huh? And now we’re all set- I’ll see you next time Vel sends you up, doll!” He turns to leave and it’s fucking killing him to act this next part out. If there’s even a chance that you don’t do what he expects you to do, he’s gonna go back to the penthouse of Vee tower and tear his goddamn organs out through his throat-

“Wait!” A hand grips the back of his shirt and he grins, wild and glitching before he schools it and turns back to you with a disinterested glance. “I-” You swallow hard and avoid his eyes, but he can still see the lines where the tears had run.

“You need something, doll?” Your eyes track his body from top to bottom, stopping at the obvious bulge in his pants. He reaches a hand out to tip your chin up to meet his gaze. “Can’t help you if I don’t know what you want.”

There’s bells and whistles going off on his internal soundboard as you step closer to him, fisting your hands in his shirt properly. “I… I want you,” you mumble, and even without the crying its got him rock hard. “I want more. Please, Vox-”

His hands are on your hips and setting you back on his desk before you can finish the thought, shoving your skirt up to your waist and dragging you against him. “F̼̼͓̙ͤ̋̅̚͞͞ụ̴̴̾̀͟͡c̨̨̣̮̝̈́̔ͯ̀͂k̼̼̞̦̞̼̔, baby, that’s all you had to say,” he groans at the feeling of your panties, hot and damp against him. He relinquishes a hand from your body to snip through the fabric like paper, wrapping your legs around his waist and grinding against you as hard as he can with his fucking pants still in the way. He’s ready to cut them off himself when you reach a trembling hand down between your bodies and start clawing at his belt.

He feels his legs turn to jello, and he presses his screen to your forehead. “That’s fucking right, doll, need me like I need you,” he hisses, and then his tongue is in your mouth and you’re moaning against him.

(Val had told him once that to kiss him was like an arc flash- that what he lacked in lips he more than made up for with tongue, and that it felt like shoving a fork in a power socket- “but like, in a good way… and with my dick.”

Vox assumed that translated to pussy as well- he’d never had any complaints but he really needed it to be the case here with you.)

You manage to get his belt undone and pulled from the loops of his pants, discarded on the floor as you whimper into his mouth. He rips his fly open and pulls his cock out to press against your slick cunt, delights in the way that you groan against him and try to angle your hips upwards to meet him.

“Slow your roll, baby,” he starts to starts to say as he pulls off your mouth; only to bluescreen, choking on his tongue when you find the angle and get the tip of his dick inside of you with a gasp. “F̼̼͓̙ͤ̋̅̚͞͞ụ̴̴̾̀͟͡c̨̨̣̮̝̈́̔ͯ̀͂k̼̼̞̦̞̼̔!”

The heat of you is blinding. He wants to clench his eyes shut with the pure fucking ecstasy of it, just fuck himself into your pliant, willing body and make you scream his name.

“Please, Vox, please, I want-” You dig your fingers into his shirt, try to roll your hips more into him, to spear yourself on him. “Please-”

“Oh, I’m gonna f-fucking g̬̬̱ͩ͋͟͟i̧̻̻͉̜͑ͪ̾͟v̹̹̘̼̞̻͆ͩ̓ͪ͢ḛ̡̰̳͓̥ͬ͋ͪͧ i̧̻̻͉̜͑ͪ̾͟t͖͖̠̬͛ to you, b-baby,” he glitches out, his voice processors overwhelmed like the rest of him. “Whatever you w-w-want, it’s y͙͙̪̰ͫ͌́o͙͙̙̘̙ͤͫ͞ụ̴̴̾̀͟͡ṛ̣̬̫̍͌ͩ͟s̨̞̞̰͎͎̪̩͕̈́̀ͯ̍ͧͅ, and you’re fucking-ing m- m̰̰̹͚̙̂ͦ͗͠i̧̻̻͉̜͑ͪ̾͟n̫̫̘̗͕̲̲̎ͥḛ̡̰̳͓̥ͬ͋ͪͧ.”

He brings a hand between your bodies to circle your clit, thrusting the rest of his length into you in one hard shove and you cry out at the feel of it. His eyes flash to your face and he short circuits at the sight that greets him- he’s pretty sure his hard-drive just gives out.

Your mouth hangs open, sharp teeth on display as you pant and gasp his name, your face red and tear-streaked clinging to his shirt.

He shifted his angle a bit and you cried his name, throwing your head back so hard you smacked it off the desk. He didn’t even have time to ask if you were okay before you were clenching around him, coming with a scream that echoed the walls of his office, your body tensed and locked around him like a vice.

It’s beautiful. Magnificent. That video he had spliced was fucking dogshit compared to the reality of having you clenched around his dick and weepy with need. Everything was dogshit compared to it- he could live in this moment for the rest of his afterlife. For the rest of eternity and beyond. Maybe he could find a way to bottle this feeling and make it a substance he could inject into his fucking heart.

You’re still grasping at him, fingers sliding down from his shirt to grasp at his hands where claws are digging into your hips. “Do it,” you’re gasping, “please, Vox, more-”

Vox comes with a grunt inside of you, the force of his thrusts making the desk screech across the floor as your cunt wrings every drop of pleasure from him, a snarl on his lips as he gives you everything, fucks into you until you lay breathless and tear-stained on the desk as he pulls out, his release spilling back out of you. He wants to frame the sight of it- he’d make it his screensaver if he could bear the thought of literally anyone else seeing this from you when he spaced out or went inactive. But this, your tears and your pleads and the way that you’re still shivering with the force of your orgasm? That was his, and would be his alone. He would fucking kill anyone who even thought that they could bring you to this state, anyone who dared to imagine it.

“V-Vox?”

“A͔͔̜̗̦ͩ̅̎s̨̞̞̰͎͎̪̩͕̈́̀ͯ̍ͧͅd̶̵̯̯̼̘ͨ̓f̰̰̯͕͊̃̊͞͞͞g̬̬̱ͩ͋͟͟h̨͚͚͖ͯ̒̄͗͞j̺̺̭͖̘̬̃̓ͨk̼̼̞̦̞̼̔l͖͖̰̝ͭ̀͘” he says eloquently, and the word flashes across his screen a couple times before he comes back online properly, enough to string together an actual goddamn sentence. “Fuck, sorry doll,” he chuckles. “I think you broke me for a sec there.” He helps lower you from the desk onto your shaky legs, his chest only puffing a bit at how unsteady you are after being freshly fucked. “You good?”

“I think I’m okay,” you agree, sorting your skirt out, covering up all of the delicious bruises and scratches he had etched into your skin. Maybe next time -would there be a next time?- you would let him use his teeth, draw blood and leave marks in places that people would see so that they would know you were owned. “Um-”

“I’ll, uh, replace the panties,” he says sheepishly when he notices the strip of fabric he had sliced off your body on the floor. He brings a clawed finger up to wipe gently under your eyes at the lingering, unshed tears. “I just couldn’t help myself, you know.”

“That’s okay,” you say, and for the first time- was it really the first time? He would have to review his files, search through them to see if this had happened before- you smiled at him, eyes crinkled and a sweet curve to your mouth. “I was just as much involved, sir.”

“Vox,’ he says with an edge, but no real heat to it. Could he make you smile like that all the time? The crying was hot, the tears what really got him hard, but that smile… he’d do bad things to good people to see that again. “You’ve not gonna quit, are you? Velvette threatened to decapitate me if you quit because of me.”

You chuckle, the sound soothing his fried audio sensors. “I won’t quit. I’ll even offer to come up more often if we get to do that again.” You throw him another dazzling smile. “Unless that was a one-time thing?”

“Not at all, babydoll,” he says, and throws an arm over your shoulder as he escorts you to the door. He makes a mental note- which then sends an actual note out- to bring someone up to the office to get it cleaned up before work the next day. “Let me walk you to your car. I think you and I are going to be seeing a lot of each other going forward. Hey, I even have an idea- what if you leave Velvette’s team and come to mine? A personal assistant doesn’t sound-”

‘I think she would kill both of us,” you interject, and he has to agree you aren’t wrong. But he still spends the rest of the walk- “hey what do you know, elevator came to the penthouse instead of the garage floor, why don’t you come in for a drink?” - trying to convince you.

[goldsainz]

THE COOLEST DRIVER — one shot.

pairing: lando norris x reader

MASTERLIST.

summary: when you introduced lando to your siblings, you didn’t think they would become so attached.

request: “Lando × reader. Your younger siblings who are 2 and 3 are crazy about Lando. Lando is amazing with them they don't like when you to hug/ kiss him Though. "No he's mine!" Your sister says as she pushes you away. When you go for a kiss. "My Lando time" your brother says. Snuggling into Lando. You find it adorable but annoying. Fans love it.”

warnings: im pretty sure that none

NOTE: thank you for requesting!!!! so this is short and sweet, and i also added a little smau at the end 🫶 i’m in my lando obsessed era. so if you suddenly see a lot of lando content posted, just let it be. silverstone grand prix has me so so excited, can’t wait… also fingers crossed lewis gets podium🤞

[ word count: 737 ]

Lando and you had been going out for quite some time now. It was as serious as a relationship could get, and evidently, he had met your family. 

It was no surprise when your siblings got obsessed with him and just about followed him everywhere. They wanted to go to every Grand Prix you went to, because if you could, why couldn't they? It took quite some time for them to understand that you were an adult, and as such could do what you pleased. 

Your brother adored Lando. He tuned in for every race and Lando quickly became his idol, even though he would never really say it out loud. Suddenly, he wanted to be a driver too. Your boyfriend was more than happy to help him out with his dream, and since he was so little, he could have a shot at doing it for a long time. 

Your sister however, seemed to like Lando in a completely different way. Whenever she saw Lando he would hug him while burying her face in his neck, hiding her smitten face. There was no way you could ever kiss or even be too close to Lando if she was present, not if you wanted to avoid the tantrum she would throw. Claiming Lando was hers, and that you were stealing him from her. 

Lando loved your siblings. It was refreshing to have such support from little humans, who idolised him and always got excited to see him. So it was no surprise when for this year’s Silverstone Grand Prix, his home race, he invited your whole family to the paddock.

When you broke the news to your siblings they ran to hug Lando, their excitement almost pushing him off balance as he attempted to hold both of them at the same time. It was a sight to behold, and you wished you would've gotten it on camera because it was just too precious. 

“Go pack your bags!” You told them, watching as they scrambled to their rooms.

“I can’t believe they are coming.” Lando says, one wrapped around your waist, pulling you in for a side hug.

“They can’t even believe it themselves.” 

You watched your parents talk with Lando over the schedule, all while holding you in his arms. They both couldn’t stop expressing their gratitude, and your boyfriend just repeated that it was his pleasure and there was nothing he would love more than having all of you there. 

His sweet words made your heart rush, and you turned to face him just for a quick peck since your parents were still around. You should have known what a bad idea that was, because all of a sudden your siblings appear in the room and they cannot hold in their disgust. 

“Ew!” Your brother shouted, covering his face with his little hands.

Your sister ran to push you off of Lando, not liking the sudden closeness. Your mother rolled her eyes at the dramatics your siblings loved to display. Lando just brushed off your mother’s concern, more amused at the reaction than anything. 

“Hey! We’re not going to Silverstone if you behave like that.” You tell them, you know you’re lying because there is no way you are not taking them. Not when you know how excited they are.

“No!” Your sister screeches, wrapping her arms around Lando’s leg as if to show how much she wants to go.

“Did you pack your bags?” Lando asks your sister, kneeling down to her level. 

“Yes.” She says, her voice muffled now that she has thrown her arms around him.

“And your brother?” 

“I think so.”

Your brother takes his hands off of his face the moment he hears he was mentioned. Moving to sit beside Lando, an annoyed look passes his face as he watches his sister.

“You excited to go to Silverstone?” Your boyfriend asks, knowing full well your brother is bursting at the seams of excitement. 

“Very!”

“Is there anyone you’re excited to meet?” 

“Lewis!” 

“Lewis?” Lando asks, a smile creeping onto his face as he hears the emotion on your brother’s voice. 

“He’s so cool!” 

“Is he?”

“Yes!” A giggle pushes its way past your brother’s lips, suddenly bashful at the admission.

“Cooler than me?”

“No, silly.” He says with an obvious tone, face palming himself as if the answer was obvious, “You’re the coolest driver ever!” 

“That’s what I like to hear!” 

[a-very-fond-farewell]

(*chanting*) tag game. tag game. taggame. tagayme. tageim. [...]

You’re starring in a movie with the last person saved in your camera roll and the last song you listened to is the title. Who/what is it?

tagged by the sweet @fismoll7secinv : hi dear :D I’ll jump on the 1-year delay fun with this one xD ahah

(since I don’t have music saved in my device I’ll go with the last song on spotify that I listened to)

this would be the picture of the last person/entity saved (since it’s the same model, I’ll put both for variety), while the song would be: MAGICIAN, by Lexie Liu.

coincidentally, the lovely subject of the picture(s) is one of the many inspirations I collected (in terms of styling and vibes) to create an OC of mine, named Bang Soo Ah for a fic I’m working on. so I guess I’ll stick with that name for my co-star in this scenario! moreover, the song MAGICIAN has a beautiful, truly stunning MV to match with fantastic visuals and medieval/esoteric themes, which means it’s time-traveling hours babeyy!!

in this alternate reality, BSA does not belong to the universe I originally set her life in, but comes from 200 years in the future and accidentally stumbled in the right geographical landscape (Europe) but absolutely wrong timeline, so of course I have to help her getting back on track so she can go study the Middle Ages to her heart’s content!

but lo and behold, the only reason she messed up the calculations to get so far back in time is because someone too powerful for her own good had intercepted her intentions from the past and hijacked her journey, so she would stop in the 21st century instead. this leads to timelines to bleed and a Knight is sent to hunt the time-traveler down before she can reach her destination.

in this scenario i would try to keep her safe by disguising her at my place and give her some clothes to look less suspicious, but she still leaves some sort of magical trace wherever she goes, one that the enchanted knight can sense from miles away.

I’ll tag (but only if you have time, if not.. I tagged you so you could snoop into my business eheh): @thepointlessmasterpiece , @amethystina , @shhhsoftnwet , @nevolos

[please don’t reblog, but you can reply in the comments if you’d like! :D see u peeps!]

[matwith1t]

A/N: ‘Tis the season for playoff beards so ‘tis the season for playoff beard fics. Thank you, thank you for the words of encouragement!! They mean the wooorld to me 🌍🌎🌏 !! Wherever you call home, I hope you’re having a great day/night!

Request: Could you maybe write a blurb about the reader being excited for the playoffs beard?

MASTERLIST | LET’S CHAT 🥂 | Mat Barzal x Reader

Warnings: Allusion to smut  // WC: 2.1K // Fluff

You got the notification just as you finished paying off your tab at the bar. It had come after the blaring siren noise signaling the end of the game, after congratulatory hugs from your friends, and after the players raised their sticks up in appreciation for the fans in attendance.

With a win over the Rangers, The New York Islanders officially clinched the last playoff spot in the Eastern Division.

You had been a fan of hockey long before you somehow ended up with a professional hockey player for a boyfriend. The feeling of your favorite team extending their playing into the postseason always caused excitement. But there was a different sort of pride you felt coursing through your veins as the camera panned to show an exceptionally smiley Mat.

“You know what this means,” one of your friends leaned down to whisper in your ear, a smirk on their face and a devious gleam in their eye, “Playoff beards.”

You sat frozen in your seat as the world continued to move around you. A vertigo sensation caused you to feel dizzy as the words grew with meaning. Again, you had been a fan of hockey before you somehow ended up with a professional hockey player as a boyfriend. You had seen playoff beards before.

But you hadn’t seen a playoff beard on your boyfriend.

Knowing that their words caused you to silently spiral alone in your head, they patted your shoulder as a way of saying good luck.

When the waiter came back with your card, you slipped it back into your wallet, and bid your friends goodbye as you had to pick Mat up from the arena. They all waved goodbye with wicked smirks on their faces.

On your drive to the arena, you blasted music in hopes it would drown out the thoughts in your mind. You wanted a clear head when you talked to Mat about the game tonight, he would no doubt be excited about clinching a playoff spot, and you wanted to concentrate on driving safely. Once you made it to the arena, you parked where you always waited until Mat came out from the players exit.

Sitting alone in your car, with your knee bouncing, you turned the music up louder.

You needed to calm down, it was only the beginning of May and the playoffs wouldn’t start until a few weeks. It was too early to feel this excited about playoff beards. But when Mat texted you saying he would be a little late to your car because everyone was celebrating in the locker room… You succumbed to your desires and pulled out your phone.

New York Islanders playoffs 2020 was what you typed into the Google search bar. And when all you saw were team pictures, you narrowed down your search: Mat Barzal playoffs 2020. And low and behold… You were graced with images that your mind could only conjure up in your dreams.

To anyone, the pictures basically looked all the same: Mat in his New York Islanders gear, skating on the ice. His face was mostly hidden by his helmet, but you could still see him. And you could still see his playoff beard.

You inhaled a deep breath and let it out slowly through your nostrils as you continued to scroll.

The pictures ranged from clean shaven Mat, him growing out his scruff, and then to a full beard with long hair when the Islanders reached their furthest point in the Stanley Cup playoffs. You saw different versions of Mat, but the pictures on Google were more of an in your face kind of growth of his facial hair rather than a slow progression. While playoff games were played fairly close together, the press pictures weren’t privy to seeing the official start of his facial hair. 

The media wasn’t granted access to see how his facial hair progressed from the moment he went to sleep to when he refused to wake up in the mornings. But you would be able to see that growth. From the light stubble growing into scruff that would eventually grow to cover his jawline––

A knock on your window startled you and you locked your phone when you saw Mat wave at you through the window. With a smile, you unlocked the door and he opened it.

“Do you mind if we drive Beau to his place?” Mat said as he reached over his shoulder for the seat belt to buckle himself in.

You nodded repeatedly, and when Mat didn’t hear a verbal confirmation from you, he lifted his head at you with raised eyebrows. You cleared your throat and blinked a few times, “Yeah––Yeah, that’s fine.”

“Cool,” he smiled as he texted on his phone, presumably to Tito, “He had to go to the bathroom so he shouldn’t be far behind.”

You nodded your head again as you took in the way his clean shaven face lit up by the artificial lighting of his phone. He felt your stare on him and looked up with a tilt of his head.

“Good game,” you congratulated him and his smile widened. Mat dropped his phone to his lap, wanting to take in all of your words, “It was good, You were really good. Everyone played well and not to mention the playoff spot.” You leaned over the center console to press a kiss to Mat’s soft, clean shaven, face, “I’m proud of you.”

Mat playfully shrugged his shoulders, knowing that he played a good game, “Yeah it was exciting.”

You and Mat fell into a silence as he picked back up his phone, nudging Tito along, and you stared at him. More specifically, stared at his bare face. Your mind wandered from innocent thoughts to how facial hair would make him look older than his age, to more impious thoughts of how his beard would feel across your skin.

The back door opening stopped your thinking and caused you to jump as you and Mat turned your heads to see Tito duck into your car.

“Jeez, turn the music down.”

Bashfully, you turned the volume knob down and took your car out of park, “That was a nice goal you had, Tito.”

“Thanks,” you saw him smile brightly from your rearview mirror, “If only we could start growing out our playoff beards now.”

Mat laughed at Tito’s joke, but your grip on the steering wheel tightened.

The two friends continued their banter, while your mind continued to spiral at the thought of Mat and his playoff beard. And after you dropped Tito off at his place, the silence between you and Mat continued as you drove to his apartment. You parked in the spot that you unofficially claimed as yours and walked into his building hand-in-hand.

Once he unlocked the door, and hung up his suit jacket on the coat rack, Mat circled his arms around your waist and pulled you in close for a hug. You hugged him back just as tight, eyes closed with a soft smile toying at your lips. While Mat played aggressively during games, when he got back to his apartment, he liked to wind down.

Mat nuzzled his head further into the crook of your neck and you felt a breath of hot air fan your neck. You felt content standing in the entrance of Mat’s apartment; strong arms around you, as he began to softly press his lips against your neck. His kisses weren’t urgent, they were gentle, and lingering in one spot. His slow pace also clued you into that he didn’t expect his kisses to lead to anything further.

He just wanted to press his lips to your skin to feel you.

“Are you excited for my playoff beard?” Mat mumbled into your neck.

Your whole body froze up.

Mat let out a small chuckle, and with your arms still around him, you slightly leaned back to look at him, “What?”

With one last kiss to your neck, Mat pulled away and looked down at you with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, “After the game, the boys were talking about how their wives and girlfriends get all excited for the beards in the postseason,” his smirked widened as he pinched your waist, “And you were very quiet tonight.”

“That’s not true,” you tried to cover yourself as you felt embarrassment brewing in the pit of your stomach, “I––I said you played a good game.”

“Mhm,” Mat hummed with a proud smile, “But after Beau brought up the beards you were dead quiet.”

And just like how you went quiet in the car at the mention of playoff beards, you went quiet now. Because how were you supposed to verbalize your excitement? You knew you could say anything and it would feed into Mat’s ego…But how were you supposed to tell him how unimaginably excited you were to see his playoff beard while also expressing the tiniest bit of disappointment mourning his clean shaven face?

With his clean shaven face he looked so youthful. You could clearly see his smile lines when he tipped his head back in laughter, feel his soft skin on yours when he brushed his cheek against yours, and it was the version of him you fell in love with. Not to say you still wouldn’t love the version of Mat with a playoff beard.

Because when you really thought of him growing out a beard…All you thought about was how the dark facial hair would enhance the strong dark color of his eyes. How he would look more mature. And how the short hairs scratching against your skin would drive you absolutely insane. You would love that Mat just as much, but you had to keep your thoughts in check.

“I am excited to see you grow out a beard,” you breathed out a laugh and broke eye contact with him after you saw his eyebrows raise with enthusiasm. You played with the fabric of Mat’s dress shirt between your thumb and index finger, “I just can’t think too much about it.”

“Oh?”

He sounded intrigued.

You poked his stomach and rolled your eyes, “I looked at pictures of you from previous seasons and it…” you took a deep breath and looked up into his greedy eyes, wanting to hear all of your thoughts about him, “I had a lot of emotions.”

“Care to share those emotions?” He tried to keep his mischievous tone to a minimum, but with the way his smirk widened and his hands crept under your t-shirt, you knew he was losing a battle with himself.

“They’re private.”

Mat tipped his head back in laughter; eyes squeezed shut, mouth open, crinkled nose, with those smile lines you loved so much. He squeezed your hips once more and pressed a lingering kiss to the corner of your mouth. At his close proximity, you let your eyes close at his close proximity; always captivated with the feeling that encased your body when his lips kissed your body.

Still keeping his face close to yours, he dragged his nose across the side of your face until his smooth cheek rested against yours, he breathed in your ear, “I’m good at keeping secrets.”

Your chest expanded with the deep breath you inhaled. His face was so clean––so soft––as he brushed his skin against yours. There wasn’t a feeling you loved more than his skin on yours. And thinking about the new feeling of his facial hair on your skin sent your body into overdrive.

Your voice slightly wavered as you continued to rub the material of his shirt between your fingers, “I think we need to set a precedent.”

“Oh?”

He sounded like he knew exactly what you were proposing.

You shrugged your shoulders, shyly looking up at him as his eyes darkened with every second of silence that passed. With Mat’s hands placed directly on your skin, his thumbs slowly started to rub small circles on your waist.

“You know…” your small voice trailed off, “To see if I prefer you clean shaven or with facial hair.”

Mat’s smirk transformed into a full blown smile as he hooked an arm around your waist to pull you right up against his body. You felt his chest expand a few times as he let out a confident chuckle, “Say no more.”

After both of you agreed on the proposal you brought forward, and Mat dragged you into his bedroom, the only word you said was his name as he ducked his head under the sheets and began to kiss down your torso.

[realcube]

trying to be nice to their crush hcs

navi | masterlist | taglist

thank you to 🍦anon for this cute request!

characters: tsukishima, kyōtani, sakusa & suna

content warning: swearing & sexual references 

kei tsukishima 

♡ this is all yamaguchi’s fault （︶^︶）

♡ he found out tsukki had a crush on you bc he mentioned you a lot in conversation so yamaguchi interrogated him for answers then lo and behold, the beanpole had a lil thing for you 

♡ you sit in front of tsukishima in homeroom while yamaguchi sits beside him so when you leaned back and asked him if you could borrow a pencil and he spat back a snarky remark about you being too irresponsible to care for your own pencils, yamaguchi hastily offered you one of his own before scolding tsukishima 

♡ he explained to his clueless friend that being nasty to people isn’t a good way to get them to like you 

♡ so perhaps he should be nicer :)

♡ honestly, tsukishima would’ve just looked yamaguchi straight in the eyes and went ‘no’, if it wasn’t for the fact you shot tadashi the sweetest smile anD PLAYFULLY BLEW HIM A KISS AFTER HE JUST GAVE YOU A DAMN PENCIL LIKE WTF 

♡ after that, he decided to give up his current personality and pick up a new one 

♡ jk jk 

♡ but he had to binge a whole bunch of those youtube psychology videos that are like ‘psychological tricks to make people like you’ and ‘THESE 5 MIND TRICKS WILL MAKE YOU THE MOST POPULAR PERSON *EVER*’!!

♡ spoiler alert: he wasn’t the most popular person but perhaps that was bc he only went to the effort of using those tricks on you 

♡ god bless him; he tries hard, he really does. (not his best, just hard)

♡ but you don’t have to be extremely observant to realise that he’s began acting different around you and of course, it confused you seeing tsukishima being nice

♡ what irritated you was how dismissive he was being of your questions though, as he was clearly trying to lead you to believe that you were crazy and he’s just always been a nice guy 

♡ but as soon as he figures out that he angered you, he’ll instantly switch back to him normal self - draining his mind of the hours of phycology studying he did last night to just pretend like it never happened 

♡ and if he’s feeling flirty, he might be extra mean to you （￣︶￣）

♡ also he makes a mental note to never take yamaguchi’s romance advice ever again 🙄

♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥

you sighed, removing your hand from your bag after desperately rummaging through it in search of a pencil once again - deja vu. once you accepted that a pencil wasn’t going to materialise out of thin air, you peered over your shoulder and tapped the corner of yamaguchi’s desk, who wore a suspicious grin which you decided against questioning. 

“yamaguchi, do you think i could borrow a pencil again? sorry, this is the last time, i swear. i’ll be sure to get some on my way home after school tod--” 

yamaguchi dropped the line him and tsukishima had rehearsed many times beforehand, while clutching his pencilcase dear to his chest, “woah, (y/n). you’re so irresponsible. sorry, i can’t lend one of my pristine pencils to someone who is too forgetful to remember to buy some; what if you forget to return it to me?” 

tsukishima cringed at how forced it sounded but he couldn’t help but admire yamaguchi's dedication to his role. this allowed tsukishima to swoop in, pencil in hand, “here.” that wasn’t in the script but he panicked! okay, now, eye contact. 

you just sat there and stared at both of them with the most dumbfounded look plastered on your face. what just happened?  why were they both acting like they were in drama class?  and why are they both so bad at acting? they’re both passing performing arts for fucks’ sake!

kentarō kyōtani 

♡ sorry but i firmly believe kyōtani is the sorta guy to be extra mean to ppl he fancies smh

♡ the rest of them just act (somewhat) like themselves around their crush but kyōtani is himself2 (himself^2)

♡ like one time yahaba found you trembling in your locker bc you had gotten mud on mad dog’s white shoes so he chased you through the hallways of the school, threatening to trek mud on your forehead 

♡ yahaba took it upon himself to investigate as to why kyōtani was so rude to you and he got his answer as soon as he mentioned your name to mad dog and the boy’s face immediately flushed red 

♡ so after practise, yahaba schools mad dog on how to get chicks (⌐■_■)

♡ in short, his advice was ‘good guys get laid’ and for kyōtani’s understanding, ‘good’ and ‘kind’ were interchangeable 

♡ mad dog wasn’t completely oblivious to how he treated you and he was aware that he was far from ‘kind’

♡ although he usually doesn’t listen to people in general, yahaba seemed to know what he was talking about so he figured there was no harm in trying to be nice 

♡ but ngl, he just spent the rest of the day wondering...what is kind?

♡ after a few messages back and forth with yahaba, he figured that the best place to start was by apologising for - y’know - chasing you around the whole school 

♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥

“oi!” kyōtani bellowed through hallway, paying no mind to the students that cast him dirty looks as his sights were locked on you. standing unsuspecting by your locker, stuffing your textbooks into your bag until you heard his deep voice echo through the hall, to which you visibly perked up and began frantically looking around.

he marched towards you, hands in pockets and when you noticed him out of the corner of your eye, you were more than ready to drop all your shit and bolt away. but he didn’t let you as before you were able to take off on your heels, he grabbed your shoulder and spun you around to face him - then he noticed your hands raised in defence by your face and your head hung low.

his heart sank and his grip on your shoulder immediately softened, “i’m not gonna punch you, idiot.” he spat, rolling his eyes and gritting his teeth, trying to appear angry in hopes you’d mistake his light blush for pure rage. 

“i just wanted to say that i felt bad for chasing you through the halls yesterday - you didn’t stand a chance so i guess it was a bit unfair.” he said, frowning as you replied with silence so the duty fell on him to fill it, “and i got the stain out, anyway so.” 

more silence. lovely.

suddenly, he puffed his cheeks out as his eyes snapped to meet yours and he roared, “ARE YOU GONNA FUCKING SAY SOMETHING OR ARE YOU TOO BRAINDE-”

“are you wearing eyeliner?” 

and that was the true story behind why you missed last period, because you and kyōtani had a 30 minute conversation about eyeliner and make-up, then he convinced you to skip the rest of class with him so he could buy you ramen as an apology gift.

so yeah, he figured that perhaps he should try being nice more often.

kiyoomi sakusa

♡ he didn’t need someone to tell him to be nicer, he’s just predisposed to attempt to show kindness to someone he is fond of

♡ in his mind, showing kindness, respect and stripping himself of all his personality = the only way to be desirable 

♡ (ofc this takes place before he meets atsumu tho lol)

♡ so it’s not the realisation that’s the problem for him, it’s the execution 

♡ like how is he supposed to be nice without either sounding creepy or condescending? 

♡ *cut to sakusa practising in the bathroom mirror* ‘your hand looks- no-’ he scoffs, flicking cold water onto his face, ‘your hair looks cool- pretty- nice?’

♡ *camera pans to sakusa laying in bed, staring intently at the ceiling while imagining vivid and scarily detailed scenarios about ways he could mess up while talking to you* 

♡ *camera zooms in on sakusa’s face as he manifests a nicer version of himself*

♡ he might - depending on how insecure he is - watch one of those psychology videos or read a wikihow for help

♡ but other than that, he independently tries to alter his personality in order to gain your favour bc..true love ?

♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥

you smiled as a basketball rolled up to your feet during gym class, followed by the sound of someone approaching you and upon raising your gaze, your eyes met sakusa’s unmistakable black ones. his face hovered only a few inches away from yours due to the fact you had both reached down to pick up the ball at the same time.

he quickly pulled himself away, tucking the basketball under his elbow as he adjusted his mask so it properly covered his face to ensure that you didn’t see the light blush slowly spreading across his cheeks. he then proceeded to blurt out what he had been rehearsing for the past few nights, “oh, thank you, (y/n). your hair looks lovely today, by the way.”

you giggled, holding your hands firmly by your side to avoid fidgeting and making it obvious that his sudden comment flustered you, “thanks, sakusa. and, if we’re handing out compliments today, i didn’t know you were good at any sport other than volleyball but you’re doing surprisingly well at basketball.” you joked, your lips slowly curling into a cocky smirk, “though, i don’t think you’d stand a chance against my team.” 

god, you’re such a tease. you make it so hard for him to be nice to you. so, of course, your comment returned his ability to utter almost every sarcastic comment that comes to mind - screw being likeable. “you think so?” he quirked a brow, tossing the ball onto your lap then pacing backwards, “go on, then.”

rintarō suna

♡ it was probably those tips on social media that told him he has to be nicer 

♡ and plus he saw terushima get all the chicks and he was just sitting there like ‘where are my bitches at? 🥺’

♡ anyway, all the guys on social media that had girls lining up outside their door always had one thing in common: misogyny  obnoxious personalities !!

♡ and his whole personality was a sacrifice suna was willing and ready to make for just a crumb of cooch  🤲

♡ though you weren’t exactly his crush yet, suna thought you were the best person to carry out this experiment with bc he heard through the grapevine that you had a crush on him so perhaps this would make you happy

♡ he didn’t prepare much beforehand though which he immediately regretted as soon as he approached you bc admittedly, his game plan of ‘be self-assured but friendly’ was a bit vague 

♡ so he basically just had to bullshit through a whole, awkward conversation with you while wearing a forced ‘bold’ smirk which, in reality, looked as though he had just seen tiddies for the first time 

♡ hardly self-assured or friendly 

♡ also, the fact you thought he was playing a prank on you must’ve drastically altered the results of his experiment 

♡ at one point he says something extremely stupid you’d just quit playing along and just blurt out ‘wtf is wrong with you today’

♡ to which he’d be like ‘ahaha, nuthin much bbg, how bout you?’

♡ THE EXPERIEMNT ISN’T OVER UNTIL HE SAYS IT’S OVER OKAy?!

♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥

you rubbed your temples in order to soothe the throbbing headache suna gave you simply by existing. like yes, you had a crush on him 10 minutes ago - but that was before he came up to you and started acting like terushima on dodgy medication. “oh and your skin is glowing bab--”

“jesus christ, rintarō, shut up!” you cried, gripping the edge of your skirt to prevent your self from delivering a swift punch right to his stupid face. he’s seriously gotten on all your nerves at this point; firstly, by spamming your phone in the middle of the night asking for homework answers (accompanied by cursed memes) as he actually managed to wake you up. secondly, by acting so oblivious to the fact you clearly had a crush on him and now, this!

heat rose to his cheeks in embarrassment as his creepy smile instantly fell right back into his resting bitch face, “this isn’t working, is it?” 

“what’s not working?”

suna scoffed, rolling his eyes - his façade having evidently disappeared. “this.” he sighed, looking around as if someone was going to save him before his eyes finally settled on you and he was reminded of what he wanted in the first place, his sparkle was rekindled for just a moment which caused him to blurt out, “just fuck me already, i’m not asking for much.”

[retrogalwrites]

Touya Todoroki x Natsuo’s bride! Reader

Title: “Just say I do” / view on ao3

Summary: Yours and Natsuo's wedding day finally arrives, and Touya wants to see the bride in private.

Sequel to my previous fic "Fool me once, then again and again." I recommend reading that fic first but this can be read as an stand alone

Warnings & Contents: Dubcon, cheating, cuckolding, spanking, masochism, blackmail, breeding, impregnation fetish, creampie, bastard touya

Words:1857

The Todoroki household hadn't seen such a frantic day in a long time, but it was to be expected that yours and Natsuo's wedding day was going to be a rather elaborate event. As soon as the sun was out, everyone was up and about with the wedding preparations, fuzzing over the venue, the cake, the banquet, the dress, every minuscule detail mattered to a family of prestige.

You weren't allowed to see Natsuo until the time of ceremony came, all for tradition's sake of course. Keeping you away of your groom, his mother and sister insisted on staying by your side to get you all ready and perfect for such an important moment of your life, it made you happy to feel like part of their family already. Rei did your makeup while Fuyumi dressed you up, and the sight you made in your wedding dress was one to behold.

Everything was perfect, more than you could've asked for. It was not the privilege and opulence of a wedding planned by the Todoroki family that mattered at all, it was marrying the man of your dreams.

Your heart only longed to see the face of your beloved Natsuo as soon as possible.

But there was someone else who also couldn't wait to see you either.

It only took the moment Rei and Fuyumi had left the room for Touya to weasel his way in without being noticed. Locking the door behind himself, you already knew what he wanted, what he always wanted.

"Are you kidding me? Touya, you can't do this today..."

Your voice was soft, pleading, yet you knew better than to really put up a fight against him.

"Aww, c'mon sugartits, don't be like that."

He was all dressed up too, a black dress shirt with a grey vest that made him look absolutely stunning, and you deeply hated yourself for thinking that. He grinned at you, rolling back the cuffs of his shirt up to his elbows.

"You're going to be off to who knows where by tomorrow, I just want to say goodbye." He was talking about your honeymoon, of course, because you and Natsuo would be taking a week long trip to Hokkaido, which meant that you were not going to be accesible to Touya until then. "You look like a fluffy cupcake, sugartits. All pretty, and dolled up for me."

"This is not for you. God, get over yourself." You snapped at him, but like always Touya was simply amused by your most angry reactions.

"Hey, calm down. You should learn to take a compliment, if I like it then your cute baby groom will love it as well." It was the cheapest way to get you to submit, using Natsuo against you to remind you that Touya had the power to destroy everything the two of you had built.

"Touya, please..."

As an attempt it was useless perhaps, but not trying at least that much would only make you feel guilty for what you knew was coming. He made his way to you, the outline of his already hard cock straining the front of his pants was clearly visible. You hated how your body always reacted to the sight of his cock, knees trembling and crumbling in weakness.

"I mean it, you look so fucking hot right now." Soon enough his arms were around you, he held you in his arms in a tight grip that crushed you against his larger frame. Touya leaned down to kiss you hard, there never was a warning for those things when I came to him. Lips crashing against yours with his pierced tongue already forcing itself between your teeth and into the heat of your mouth.

The lithe muscle eagerly fucked your mouth hole, sloppily mixing your spit with his, almost passing it back and forth, while one of his hands had hastily pulled down the top of your dress, spilling your tits bare for him. Touya was quick to grope one of your supple breasts, roughly kneading the soft mound and digging his fingers into the skin, hard enough to make you squirm and cry softly at the pain. A sound he devoured straight from your mouth as he kept on sloppily kissing you.

You banged your palms against his chest to demand he give you a chance to breathe.

Pulling back, the lipstick that had been so carefully applied on you was smeared all over Touya's lips, which stretched into a wicked grin as he amusedly looked down at your pouting expression.

"You're ruining my makeup, asshole. "

"Right, right, my bad." He was not sorry at all.

Even through the frills and lace of your dress, you could feel his erection poking at your crotch with needy anticipation, and you found yourself quickly pushed towards the opulent vanity where Rei had done your makeup earlier.

Your upper body was pushed down on the furniture's flat surface, eyes facing the mirror on it, while Touya seized your hips with his large hands and forced your perky ass to stay up, pushing back all the layers of the dress to finally bare your backside to his hungry gaze. Touya greedily palmed the supple roundness of your ass cheeks. It was pathetic, how you were hopelessly trying to gather some of your broken pride to talk back, when the only thing in your mind was the feeling of Touya's still clothed cock rutting against your pussy, it was driving you crazy.

"Shit, what kinda whorish bride wears stuff like this, huh? You're such a slut." He hissed, fingers hooked to the elastic around the waist, quickly pulling your panties down to your thighs. Touya whistled, pleased with the sight of your wet, puffy folds. "Natsuo is a lucky man."

"Shut up."

"Hey, if we hadn't broke up, do you think you'd be my bride instead right now?" He sighed, something earnest about the longing in his words made you sick. "Would you've liked that? If I had proposed back then?"

"Touya, that's enou—"

 SMACK

The sound of his hand spanking your ass was loud, horribly loud.

 SMACK

The stinging pain shooting through your whole body had your back arching beautifully, toes curling inside your expensive high heels.

 SMACK

The skin of your ass had already become red and raw, it hurt so much, it hurt so good. You muffled your cry by bitting down your lower lip, but only barely, your quivering voice called his name like a cursed word.

But instead of a response, the only thing you heard was Touya unbuckling his belt, and you braced yourself for what was coming. Without any sort of warning, he angled the supple head of his throbbing, erect cock into your hole, before burying himself deep into the snug fit of your tight pussy. The intrusion was sudden, violent, with him balls deep inside you there was no way you could keep yourself from moaning out loud.

"Ahhh...!"

"Shiiiit...baby..." Touya groaned, mouth open and eyes shut in a blissful expression. Your pussy was just so perfectly shaped for his cock, your slipper walls tight around him like a form fitting fleshligth. He couldn't wait to start moving his hips, fingers gripping your ass as he drilled himself into your welcoming hole. He groaned low and almost feral when he pounded you from behind.

The soft smack of his balls against your bare cunt and the strained moans coming from your trembling lips were almost deafening in your ears. With every thrust, you could feel him hit that spot so deep inside you, that spot he knew better than anyone else, even better than your beloved Natsuo, and you hated him for it, hated yourself for it.

"Heh...you're making such a lewd face right now, you fucking whore." His voice was low and shaky, breath steaming agains your exposed neck as he leaned over to press his chest against your back. "That's right, even now you're nothing but my little whore." A dark chuckle just as his arms wrapped around your frame, hips still thrusting relentlessly into your cunt.

"Shit, you're squeezing my cock so hard..." Touya planted an open kiss on your shoulder. "You like being fucked by another man while your groom is out there, don't ya?"

"S-Shut up!! Please...stop talking...ahhh...and f--ah!!"

It was like begging to be pitied, to ask for respect while moaning every time his cock scrapped your insides into his shape. You covered your face with your hands, the soft fabric of your satin gloves pressed against your eyes desperately trying to block your sight of the mirror, did not want to see the reflection of Touya fucking you raw while you were supposed to be getting ready for your own damn wedding.

Salty tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, threatening to roll down your cheeks, and it took all of your will power to keep yourself from crying.

"If you get pregnant, who do you think will be the father?"

Your body was burning with pleasure, so close to your orgasm.  

"Stop it...please stop it..."

"Is it bad that I hope it'll be me?"

As he said that, or perhaps because he said it, your walls clamped around his cock as you came, your body trembling and shaking against Touya's. He hissed against your ear, and you felt the scorching warmth of his cum shooting straight into the entrance of womb, coating your walls in sticky white.

Touya kept trusting himself into you as he came, as if to push his cum as deep as he could inside you. His words on wanting you to get pregnant by him still ringing in your ears, filling you with am indescribable despair, as well as shameful thrill.

"Let's get you cleaned, before my dad comes looking for me."

Looking at yourself in the mirror then, turned into a mess in your wedding dress, tears finally started streaming down your face.

You heard the shutter of a camera going off, looking over your shoulder you saw Touya holding his phone, as he took pictures of your abused hole stuffed with cum.

"I'll need something to remember you by while you're on that honeymoon."

"Go fuck yourself, Touya."

He chuckled, careless as ever, unbothered by your rage and pain, as ever. After a pause, while he tucked himself back into his pants and you fixed your dress, he asked almost absent minded.

"So, do you think you'll get pregnant from this?"

"Shut up."

"Do you think it'll be mine?"

You didn't reply.

————

Watching you and Natsuo standing by the altar while exchanging vows was terribly dull, more that words could express. And Touya couldn't help himself from drifting to his phone, disregarding the angry glare his father sent his way from his seat a few rows ahead.

Opening his image gallery, he displayed on the screen the picture of your abused sex with his cum, eyes fixated on it, he could feel himself getting hard again.

A satisfied smile on his face, crooked and sadistic, as he heard your voice saying.

 "I do."

[cocastyle]

Wish — ONE

Pairing — Maxwell Lord x reader

Word Count — 7,234

A/N — and here is the first official chapter! I’m so excited to explore this storyline with you all and having an already established relationship between Maxwell and Y/N is going to make this story just that much more interesting!! let me know what you all think so far in the comments and thank you for the support I’ve already received from you all! it’s so greatly appreciated :))

if you would like to be added to the tag list, let me know!

W I S H

Wish Series Masterlist

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾   ONE   ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

"Welcome to the future."

The familiar voice of Maxwell Lord spoke through the TV, the sizzling sound of bacon on the stove and the soft hum of a girl's voice harmonizing with the commercial just like it did almost every morning. It was a natural occurrence for the apartment, the familiarity of it all providing a warmth to the place that Y/N herself couldn't describe.

"Life is good, but it can be better."

The girl picked up a small piece of already cooked bacon and took a bite, her eyes flickering over to the small TV while her other hand absentmindedly flipped the bacon in front of her. Y/N let her gaze wander over the man upon the screen, the corners of her lips perking up with each crunch of the bacon between her teeth while she followed every single one of his animated movements.

"And why shouldn't it be? Everything we've ever dreamed about is right at our fingertips."

He was smiling towards the camera, towards the audience watching on the other side. Maxwell Lord was a man who was destined to be a TV star in some shape or form, even if that meant a commercial. His charisma, his charm, his whole being was something the world was meant to see and Y/N had known that since the moment she first laid eyes upon him that Maxwell Lord was meant for greatness.

"But are you reaping the rewards?"

Y/N flickered her eyes back over to the bacon, smiling with satisfaction once she noticed it was almost done. She moved across the room to where pancakes were currently covered with pieces of tin foil to keep them warm. She pulled the tin foil off, tossing the discarded pieces into the trash before grabbing the extra plate she had ready and bringing it over to the bacon which she began to take off the pan one by one.

"Do you have it all?"

Y/N hesitated at that, the question ringing through her ears and swirling within her head. She was too busy thinking that she didn't even register the sound of footsteps until two arms were snaking around her waist, lips gently pressing against his neck and leaving a soft kiss  where the lingering ghosts from the night before still peppered her skin.

Yes, she wanted to say. I have everything I could ever want.

Y/N let out a soft sigh of content, her eyes fluttering closed as she leaned back against Max, her free hand sliding up into his hair while he moved his lips up her neck and towards her cheek where he left a gentle kiss. "Good morning," Max whispered, his lips brushing against her ears and making her shiver before he was burying his face into her neck while he held her close.

"Morning," Y/N replied a little breathlessly, not being able to help the effect Max always seemed to have on her. She could feel his fingers trailing down her side, gently lifting up the night shirt of his that she had thrown on so that his hands could glide across her skin. He held her waist then, his thumbs rubbing soft circles against her skin while Y/N struggled to pull herself out of the daze she was already falling into.

The smell of bacon was the only thing keeping her from falling into a mess right then and there and she didn't hesitate to pull the rest of the bacon off the pan and on to the plate. She then moved the pan off to the side, quickly shutting off the stove before turning towards her boyfriend—the one and only Maxwell Lord.

He was already dressed to impress, his usual suit hugging his body and his blonde hair styled back to perfection. His brown eyes shone down on her, twinkling as they always did when he looked at her. Then there was that smile, a smile that was very similar to the one on TV but with an extra component reserved just for her. He was a sight to behold, his beauty something that never failed to make her heart skip a beat.

Y/N barely had time to smile before Max was pulling her closer by her waist, his head ducking down to close the distance and capture her lips with his own. She instantly responded, her eyes fluttering closed while her hands reached up to wrap around his neck and pull him closer if that was even possible.

It was a simple kiss, one that still managed to make her breathless while also preventing her from forgetting the food that she had spent a while making while Max got ready for work.

Max pulled away first, his smile never leaving his face as he looked at her before he wrapped both arms around her waist and nodded towards the TV where his commercial was just ending. "You like the new commercial? Same words, just a different concept," he explained.

Y/N smiled and let her hand cup his cheek, her thumb gently caressing the skin there as she said, "It's perfect because you're in it."

Max jokingly rolled his eyes at that, pulling away from the girl in order to help grab the rest of the plates and utensils they would need while Y/N grabbed their coffee and a bottle of syrup for the pancakes. Max set his things down before pulling the chair out for Y/N to sit in. She let out a quiet mutter of thanks while he just pressed a chaste kiss to her cheek and sat down beside her.

The two were like a well oiled machine as they got their food situated, neither of them even saying anything as they automatically began passing things to one another that they knew they would need for their food. Before long they were already eating, Max letting out a small moan of delight before whispering, "Honey, you've outdone yourself again. I still think you should quit your job at the museum and open your own restaurant or maybe even a bakery."

"You only say that because you don't want to cook it yourself," Y/N teased, raising her eyebrows at the boy with a teasing smile while he simply winked at her.

"Maybe the half about me not wanting to cook is true, but the half about me only saying it's great because of that is a lie. You seriously know how to cook," Max insisted earning a small chuckle from the girl.

"Well I'm glad you love it so much and I guess you must be right if you've been able to stick with my cooking for almost three years now," Y/N admitted, noticing the way Max's smile grew a little when she mentioned how long they had been together.

"I'm always right," Max insisted earning a small eye roll from the girl which made him chuckle. He bit into a piece of bacon as he lifted up his watch to check the time. "Shit," he muttered, already turning to his plate and beginning to pile all of his dishes on top of it. "I'm sorry, sweetheart, but I really have to head to work."

Y/N frowned at that, having not noticed it was already time for him to leave. "Really?" she asked, attempting to sound curious and not whiny. "Is it already time?"

Max knew what she was doing and let out a small chuckle as he set his dishes in the sink with the intent to clean them later when he got home. "Sadly, yes," he told her. "And if my calculations are correct, you have about half an hour before you need to head to work and unless you want to work in my shirt all day you might want to get ready. Not that I'm complaining."

Y/N turned to him at that, rolling her eyes at the smirk that dawned his face as he not so subtly looked her up and down. She looked away with a sigh and stood up muttering, "I wish we didn't have to work. I'd much rather spend the day here with you."

"I know, sweetheart," Max sighed, taking one last sip of his coffee before rinsing out the cup and setting it in the sink. "But we have to."

"Life is good," Y/N said before pointing to her boyfriend half heartedly and making the face she was so used to him doing on TV. "But it can be better."

Max gave her a small smile at that before walking over and pulling her in for a hug, one hand holding her head against his chest while his other arm was wrapped around her waist. Y/N closed her eyes for a moment and breathed in, Max's scent instantly filling her senses and making her feel more relaxed than before.

Y/N then glanced up at the man who smiled and leaned down to kiss her. She instantly kissed back, her hands beginning to slide up his chest and inching their way towards his hair. However, before she could deepen the kiss and somehow convince him to skip work for the day, Max was already pulling away with an apologetic smile.

"I really have to go," he told her. "I'm going to be late if I don't."

"Right," Y/N agreed. "We're still on for dinner tonight after work, right?"

"Of course," Max assured her, smiling as she pressed one more kiss to his lips.

"Good. Have a great day. I love you," Y/N said, kissing him once more which in turn made Max chase after her lips to prolong the kiss.

"And I love you," he whispered before quickly pulling away and grabbing the last of his things. He went for the door and pulled it open before glancing back at Y/N who was standing in the doorway hugging her body with a small smile on her face. She lifted her hand and waved it ever so slightly in goodbye. Max smiled and sent her one last wink before disappearing out the door and leaving Y/N behind.

The girl stood there for a little while after he had left, her thoughts consisting of nothing but her boyfriend. She couldn't help but be slightly upset for this was what every morning was like,  Max rushing off to work while they were still in the middle of breakfast. And she knew she wouldn't be able to see him until that night.

Luckily it was a date night which meant he would get off early just to eat with her, but most of the time he would be at the office until so late that by the time he got back it would be time for them to go to sleep and repeat the whole process again.

The weekends were the only days she truly got to spend a lot of time with him, but those were also the days that they were in charge of watching over his son Alistair which meant she didn't really get to have him to herself very often. Y/N never complained about it, but sometimes she wished he didn't always have to rush off or wasn't always so busy.

She just wanted to be able to spend a little more time with him was all, especially at this time since he hadn't always used to be so busy in the three years she had been with him. Lately he had just been going through a lot of things at work and he kept referring to some project that he was trying to get started, but wouldn't tell her what it was because he wanted to surprise her when it was ready.

Max's reminder of work was what kept her from getting lost in her thoughts for too long and Y/N quickly went back to the kitchen to put away the leftovers and clean up the dishes. Once she was done, she went to hers and Max's shared room and got ready, throwing on a nice blouse, jeans, and heels like always.

As she put her earrings in, her eyes flickered over to the picture frame on their dresser, her eyes lingering on the photo of her and Max from a gala the year prior. Max was kissing her cheek, an arm wrapped around her waist and holding her close while she smiled towards the camera and kept a hand upon his chest. It was almost funny to think that back then she still hadn't even moved in with the man yet. Now here she was sharing an apartment with him and wishing for the day that he finally decided to pop the question.

Brushing away all thoughts of Max, Y/N checked her appearance in the mirror one last time before grabbing her bag and heading off to work. She had been blessed enough to work at the Smithsonian Museum for a while now and was probably one of the few people on the planet who really didn't mind working. It was just the having to get ready part instead of staying in bed that got to her.

By the time she reached the Smithsonian, Y/N was already looking forward to her day. She was so lost in her thoughts about what she planned to do that she didn't even notice the person trying to go in the door at the same time as her until she had accidentally bumped into them.

"Oh my, I'm so sorry," Y/N quickly said, snapping out of her thoughts and glancing to her side where she was met with a warm smile. "Oh, Diana, good morning."

Diana Prince's smile didn't waver as she looked to the girl. "Good morning, Y/N, and it's really no problem. I wasn't paying attention to my surroundings," she insisted.

"I assure you it was my bad," Y/N said with a small laugh. "I've just been lost in thought all morning and was kind of going through the motions."

"Is everything alright?" Diana asked curiously.

"Yes, yes, everything's fine," Y/N assured her. "I've just been trying to figure out my schedule for the day so that I'm able to go to dinner with my boyfriend tonight."

For a moment Y/N was sure she saw a flicker of sadness in Diana's eyes, but it was gone before she could fully register it was even there. "Ah, trying to juggle your work life and dating life can be hard," Diana agreed while Y/N let out a small sigh of agreement.

"You have no idea," Y/N said, the two girls chuckling softly before Y/N grabbed the door and held it open. Diana gave her a smile in thanks before walking inside. The girl followed after and was about to engage Diana in another conversation when she noticed that the woman was already gone.

Blinking, Y/N looked around for a moment before brushing off the interaction. After all, it wasn't unusual for Diana to disappear when the conversations became a little too friendly. Y/N didn't blame her. It was obvious Diana wasn't looking for a friend and she wasn't going to force her into any sort of friendship that she didn't want.

Y/N let her eyes wander around the museum as she headed for the back rooms, smiling slightly at all the history that surrounded her and the kids who pointed towards different exhibits in awe. It was only when she got to the back rooms that she reminded herself to focus, instantly heading towards the front desk where she began to pick up her papers for the day and any mail that had come in for her.

She was in the middle of flipping through her mail when she heard the sound of papers hitting the ground behind her. Y/N blinked before turning around, a curious look in her eyes before she noticed a blonde on the ground struggling to pick up her papers.

"Hey, Jake!" the blonde said, eyes locked on her coworker who was walking by at that very moment. "Jake, hi! Can you. . .can you. . .?" she began, but the man merely gave her a look before walking away.

Y/N rolled her eyes at Jake's behavior, not necessarily surprised since he wasn't exactly the kindest person there. She let her gaze shift back over to the blonde who was muttering to herself with a disappointed look on her face.

The woman didn't hesitate to set her stack of papers down before walking over and helping the girl pick her own papers up. The blonde blinked in surprise and glanced up, her eyes locking with Y/N’s as she sent her a smile and said, "Good morning."

"G-Good morning," the blonde replied, still stunned at the fact that someone was helping her and someone as beautiful as Y/N no doubt. Another pair of hands joined in and the blonde's eyes grew even more at the sight of Diana who flashed her a grin as she too helped pick the papers up.

"Hi," the blonde said to the two, still looking at them in slight shock. "Thank you."

"Diana Prince, cultural anthropology and archeology," Diana said as she reached out to shake the blonde's hand.

"Y/N L/N," Y/N greeted next with a warm smile as she too shook the blonde's hand. "Anthropology and curator."

"Barbara Minerva. Geology, gemology, lithology, and part-time cryptozoologist," the blonde said with a smile.

"Woah," Y/N said with a small laugh. "That's amazing."

"I kept busy in college," Barbara explained, quickly diverting her gaze as she grabbed the last of her papers and stood up. Diana and Y/B followed, each of them handing Barbara the papers they had managed to pick up. "Sorry. It's these heels, you know. It's stupid. I don't know why I was gonna wear heels. Scientists don't wear heels."

"Sometimes we do," Diana told her with a kind smile.

"Makes things fun," Y/N said, winking at the blonde. "And it might be just me, but I love the sound of my heels clicking down the hallway."

Barbara let out another nervous laugh, feeling slightly intimidated by the two gorgeous women in front of her who were both wearing heels. "Right. Right. Those are cool," Barbara said, pointing towards Diana's cheetah print heels. "I like those. Animal prints." She then did a small growl and Diana and Barbara both awkwardly laughed while Y/N let out a small breath and reached over to grab her stack of papers from the table nearby.

"Do you want to get lunch?" Barbara asked suddenly, her eyes flickering between the two women who blinked in surprise.

"I, uh. . ." Diana began, already sending the rejection that made Barbara's smile deflate a bit.

"Not now, obviously. It's morning. But later today, or whenever. Like, around. . .Like, at lunchtime?" she asked, hope still flickering in her eyes.

Y/N felt a wave of guilt wash over her and she gave the girl an apologetic smile as she said, "I'm so sorry, Barbara. I actually have to work through lunch today so I can get some stuff done."

"And I have a lot of work today as well," Diana said. "But maybe some other time?" Y/N nodded her head in agreement, both of them looking to Barbara who was obviously trying to hide her disappointment.

"Oh. Yeah, I'm busy today, too," Barbara muttered making Y/N feel ever worse.

"Great," Diana said, but before any of them could say anymore, their boss Carol came walking up, her fingers pointing towards Diana and Y/N.

"Ah! Diana, Y/N, do you happen to know who a Barbara Minerva is?" Carol asked, genuine confusion upon her face.

"Oh, hi, Carol. Hi!" Barbara exclaimed, forcing her smile on to her face despite the confused look upon Carol's face. "It's me. I'm Barbara. Remember? You hired me. Started last week."

"Oh!" Carol exclaimed, although Y/N had a sneaking suspicion that Carol really didn't remember her. "Gemologist?"

"Yes. And zoologist," Barbara added. "We had a couple interviews."

"Yeah. Well, the FBI are gonna drop off some artifacts later this afternoon," Carol told her causing both Y/N and Barbara's eyes to widen while Diana suddenly walked back over to the conversation.

"The FBI?" Barbara asked while Y/N let out a breath of disbelief.

"Wow," the girl muttered, knowing that whatever it was that the FBI had to bring in had to be good.

"Yeah. Yes," Carol told her.

"They're coming here?" Barbara asked, still in shock.

"The mall heist yesterday, apparently they were using a jewelry store as a front," Carol explained.

"Front for what?" Diana questioned and even Y/N found herself taking a small step forward out of curiosity and anticipation.

"Black market. Stolen jewels and art meant for private buyers. But we could use your help identifying one in particular," Carol explained, gesturing towards Barbara who smiled widely.

"My help?" Barbara asked before laughing. "Yeah, I'll help the FBI with whatever they need."

"Is that a yes?" Carol asked, obviously wanting to get the conversation over with.

"Yes. I would, um. . .I would love to assist you," Barbara told her.

"Wonderful. It's nice to meet you," Carol said before walking away.

"We've met," Barbara lowly called after her, her smile disappearing into a look of utter defeat.

Y/N watched the blonde for a moment before reaching out and placing a friendly hand upon the girl's shoulder. "Don't worry about, Carol. She treated me the same way when I first started working here," she tried to assure her earning a small grateful smile from Barbara in return. "I really am sorry about lunch, but I'll try and stop by later and talk to you for a bit if that's alright?"

Barbara's eyes lit up at that, her smile widening as she said, "Yes, yes! I would. . .uh, I would love that."

Y/N gave the woman a small nod before beginning to back away. "I'll see you then," she told her before turning and going to head to her office.

"Have a nice day," Diana said as she too turned to leave.

"Bye, Y/N. Bye, Diana," Barbara called after them, a small smile dawning her features all because of the two friendly faces that had made her feel not so invisible for the first time in a long time.

- - -

Y/N let out a small sigh of triumph as she leaned back in her chair, her eyes slowly flickering over the now finished work that she had laying on her desk. It seemed she was going to not only be off in time for dinner with Max, but now an hour earlier than she had expected. All she really had to do was go see Barbara like she had promised and then she would be free to go.

The woman had a little bit of a pep in her step as she got up and began to clean up her desk, putting away the papers that needed to be filed and sending the last couple of emails that she had written throughout the day.

It was when she was in the middle of filing the last of her papers that her phone went off. She didn't even bother looking at the caller ID as she picked it up and said, "This is Y/N L/N speaking."

"Good afternoon, Miss L/N. This is Raquel, Mr. Lord's secretary," the woman on the other end of the line said, her voice just a tiny bit shaky.

"Yes! Raquel. How are you, dear?" Y/N asked, not really paying full attention to the girl for she was too busy trying to file her stack of papers in her hand.

"I'm doing good, Miss L/N. Mr. Lord asked me to call you and deliver a message for you. He's really sorry, but he won't be able to make it to dinner tonight," Raquel said, her words making Y/N freeze almost instantly.

Raquel then went into this big discussion on how Max was held up at work and wouldn't be able to get home until later that night. Y/N could only stand there and listen as the girl rambled, her eyes closing as she sat down at her desk and leaned her forehead against her hand.

"Miss L/N?" Raquel's voice echoed through her ears.

"I'm here. I'm here," Y/N assured her before she let out a small sigh and sat back up in her chair. "Thanks for letting me know, Raquel. If you don't mind just letting Max know that we can just reschedule and that I'll see him when he gets home tonight, that would be great."

"Of course, Miss L/N," Raquel said. "Have a wonderful day."

"You too, Raquel. Don't let Max push you around too much, okay?" Y/N asked.

There was a small chuckle on the other end of the line before Raquel said, "Of course, Miss L/N."

Y/N smiled softly and pulled the phone away before setting it down to end the call. She sat there for a moment after that, momentarily glancing at the paperwork that she had so desperately tried to finish that day only for it really to mean nothing in the end.

Although, she really shouldn't be surprised. This had become an often occurrence in the past couple of months.

Letting out a sigh, Y/N got back up and made no effort to work quickly as she put the rest of the papers away. When she was done, she collected all of her things and made her way to where she knew Barbara would be dealing with the new artifacts.

To her surprise, Diana was already in there with the blonde, the both of them standing over a small box as Barbara muttered, "Here it is."

"What is it?" Diana asked while Y/Nnodded in greeting to a few of the workers as she walked over to the two girls.

"Um. . .Uh. . .I can't tell. Some light," Barbara muttered as she moved a lamp over the box.

"Whatever it is. It's kind of pretty," Y/N spoke up causing Barbara to jump in surprise before smiling once she saw that it was Y/N.

"Y/N, you came," Barbara said in slight surprise.

"Of course. I told you I would, didn't I?" Y/N replied, smiling softly at the girl who only blinked with a look of disbelief on her face as if she couldn't understand that someone had actually wanted to talk to her.

"R-Right, of course you did," Barbara laughed awkwardly. "Uh. . .I was just showing this to Diana. It's the artifact that they wanted help identifying. I think the technical term here is 'extremely lame.'" She laughed in defeat while Y/N and Diana both chuckled softly with her. "Um. . .It's. . .It's citrine. A classic stone used in fakes throughout history," Barbara told them, gently picking the stone up and sighing softly. "I can't imagine this is worth any more than $75. What do you think?”

"Fakes aren't my forte, but let me see," Diana said, taking the stone from Barbara and beginning to examine it. "Mmm. Latin."

"At least it's an antique, right?" Barbara suggested.

"Or a purchase from a stall on the Ponte Vecchio last week," Diana retorted. "You never know."

"I wonder what it says," Y/N admitted, carefully reaching out to run her fingers across the Latin words while Diana kept the stone in her grasp.

"'Place upon the object held but one great wish,'" Diana read off earning a surprised look from both Barbara and Y/N as the later girl pulled away.

"You read Latin?" Barbara asked.

"Yeah. Yeah. Languages are a hobby," Diana explained.

"Wow and here my hobby is watching TV until the sky is suddenly screaming good morning to me," Y/N muttered between laughs which Barbara and Diana quickly joined in.

"So maybe it's, like, a lucky charm or something?" Barbara suggested.

"Yeah, I guess. Strange," Diana said, letting her eyes flicker over the rest of the objects upon the table and the box the stone came from.

One of Barbara's coworkers Roger must have overheard because he walked over and placed his hand upon the stone before saying, "I really wish I had a coffee."

Y/N cracked a smile at that while Barbara laughed a little too hard for Roger's joke and said, "You're funny."

It was at that moment that another coworker walked in and said, "Hey, I got Erika a coffee, but she's out sick. Does anybody want this?"

Roger blinked before laughing and looking back over at Diana, Barbara and Y/N, "What? Yeah, I'll take one." He took the coffee happily and went to take a sip as he walked away, "Ooh, hot! Hot, hot!"

Y/N watched the man go, furrowing her eyebrows slightly before glancing back at the stone that was in Diana's hands. Barbara let out a small gasp of disbelief, "Did you see that? Can you imagine?"

"If only," Diana whispered.

"Hmm. So many things, I don't even know what I would wish for," Barbara admitted.

Y/N smiled softly as she stared at the stone in Diana's hand before lowering her gaze and moving to look at the other artifacts. She knew exactly what she would wish for if given the chance—to spend more time with Max and Alistair, the two people in the world who made her the happiest she had ever been each time she saw them.

"I do," Diana said, a distant look in her eyes before she set the stone back down. "Well, um, anyway, sorry to bother you. If you need anything, I'm around."

"Oh, yeah, I'm good," Barbara told her. "But thank you for. . ."

"That's okay. It's my job. And I'll look into it more when I have a chance," Diana replied.

"Okay. Well, thanks for. . .talking to me," Barbara added before glancing towards Y/N. "The both of you." She let out an awkward chuckle and looked down bashfully. "I'm. . .I'm sorry, uh. . .I mean, I'm fine."

"You know, we could go and grab early dinner and talk about exactly how lame that stone is," Diana suggested, her words making Barbara look back up at her in surprise.

"Really?" Barbara asked, her voice barely above a whisper and sounding so fragile.

"Yeah, I mean, citrine? Who are they kidding, right?" Diana joked.

"So lame," Barbara agreed between laughs.

"Dorky," Diana added.

"Lame," Barbara said. "That's, like, the lamest of lames."

"Yeah, let's go," Diana told her and Y/N watched as the two began to leave before biting her lip nervously and then running after them.

"Hey, uh. . .if it okay if I come too?" Y/N asked. "My dinner plans kind of flopped and I'd really like to make up for the missed lunch."

Diana watched her silently and Y/N knew she was thinking back to what she had said about going to dinner with Max, but Barbara was already smiling and saying, "Y-yeah. Of course."

Y/N smiled widely. "Great," she said, falling into line with the other two women as they began to head out the building. "Thank you."

And with that, the three made their way out of the building and off to dinner while Barbara silently thanked whoever was looking out for her for putting the two amazing women in her life.

- - -

Y/N had to hold back a snort as she leaned back in her chair, laughter shaking her body while she tried to ignore the fact that maybe she had one too many drinks than she should've.

"Wow. You're so funny," Diana said as she looked to Barbara, Y/N quickly nodding in agreement.

"Oh. Thank you," Barbara said a bit surprised seeing as no one had ever told her that before.

"My sides hurt," Y/N admitted, using her hand to brush her hair out of her face as her eyes sparkled at the girls. "I think my smile is now permanently on my face."

"I've got to agree with, Y/N. Wow. I mean, no one's made me laugh like this in such a long time. I mean, it's true, I don't get out much socially, but—" Diana began, but Barbara gave her a loo of disbelief.

"You don't get out much?" Barbara asked.

"No, not really. No," Diana said and Y/N had to hold back her utter of agreement for she knew how anti-social Diana could be if she wanted to, but she didn't want to let her know that she had noticed it.

"I'm sorry," Barbara laughed. "I'm just surprised. Because you just seem like the kind of person who's, like, always out. Like, people are asking you to go out all the time and you live out. You're just out."

The three laughed at that as Barbara began making hand gestures, "Like, you never get in. You just seem like you'd be really popular. And I would know because I've never been popular."

Y/N frowned a little at that, feeling a pang of sympathy for the girl who no one really seemed to give a chance to. "I wasn't popular much either," Y/N assured her. "It happens to the best of us."

That made Barbara laugh and Diana joined before saying, "I'm surprised you two haven't. You're both so personable. So. . .free. I mean, honestly, I gotta say that I envy that."

"What?" Barbara laughed in disbelief. "You envy me? That doesn't make any sense. Oh, my gosh. People think I'm weird. They avoid me and talk behind my back when they don't think I can hear them. I'm like, 'Guys, I can hear you.'" The blonde looked down at that, awkward laughs escaping her lips while both Diana and Y/N looked at her sympathetically.

"Barbara, my life hasn't been what you probably think it has. We all have our struggles," Diana told her.

"She's right. As much as I wish it were true, no one's got a perfect life," Y/N sighed. "Life is good, but it can be better," she whispered like a mantra.

"Yeah, it just sucks," Barbara said and Y/N chuckled softly at that. The blonde let her eyes flicker over to her new friend and she gave her a curious look, "So Y/N, you mentioned earlier that you were supposed to be getting dinner with your man, what happened if you don't mind me asking?"

Said girl let out a soft sigh, her eyes focusing on the glass of wine in her hand and the way the liquid spun as she slowly moved it. "He got caught up at work," she explained with a sad smile.

"You don't sound surprised," Barbara pointed out.

Y/N glanced up to find both women staring intently at her and she just shrugged. "It's happened quite a bit lately, but it's okay," she said. "He's had a lot to deal with, so I'm not mad or anything. I just miss him is all."

"I'm sorry," Barbara frowned. "I know it must be hard."

"It is," Y/N admitted with a sad laugh.

"How long have you guys been together?" Diana asked.

"We'll be coming up on three years next month," Y/N replied, a genuine smile appearing on her lips as she thought about what an accomplishment that was and how lucky she was to have Max.

"Three years? Wow. You must really be in love with the guy," Barbara teased.

"Yeah," Y/N said with a small blush, her thoughts suddenly being consumed with everything that had to do with Max. "He's the love of my life and he has this kid who is just the greatest. I'm very lucky with what I have. I just wish we were able to spend more time together, you know?"

"I get it," Barbara told her, reaching out to gently squeeze the girl's hand in comfort before glancing at Diana. "What about you, Diana, you ever been in love?"

"Uh. . .Yeah. A long, long time ago," Diana told her. "You?"

"So many times, yeah. All the time. Often," Barbara replied instantly making Y/N chuckle softly despite the ache in her heart that had reappeared at the thought of Max. "So what happened? Where'd he go, your guy?"

"He, uh. . .He died," Diana explained, her words making Y/N still. She couldn't imagine the type of pain Diana had to be going through. She didn't know what she would do if Max ever passed away. "But I still think sometimes that I see him up there in the sky. He was a pilot."

"Oh!" Barbara exclaimed.

"That sounds fun," Y/N told the girl. "I bet he was an amazing guy."

"He was all kinds of things, but he was great. It was true," Diana said.

"I get it," Barbara said, her eyes flickering between the two women who were invisibly now thinking about theirs guys. The blonde was quick to pick up her drink, smiling at the two as she said, "Well, cheers to us. Wishing us better luck, I guess."

Y/N smiled softly at that before clinking her glass with the two beside her, but she would only be there in spirit for the rest of the dinner for her thoughts would be on Maxwell Lord.

Just like they always were.

- - -

By the time Y/N got home from dinner, she wanted nothing more than to curl into the embrace of the man that she loved. She knew she should be mad at him for ditching her once again, but she knew what it was like to be busy at work and would never blame him for working hard like he did.

However, she couldn't stop the small pit of despair that was growing in her stomach once she got back to their shared apartment only for the lights to still be off and for Max to be no where in sight.

The girl let out a soft sigh before walking towards their bedroom, stripping off her work clothes in favor of something more comfortable before pulling her hair back into a ponytail as she plopped down on the couch to watch a little TV while she waited for Max to get home.

It was at least another hour before the door opened up, Max tiredly shuffling inside before closing the door behind him. Y/N could already tell that he was tense and she frowned before slowly getting up from the couch, her eyes trailing over the man as he took his jacket off and went to hang it up.

Y/N came up from behind him, her arms snaking around his waist so that she could hug him from behind. She felt him relax under her touch, a small sigh escaping his lips as he leaned back into her while she rested her head against his back.

He sounded tired, but she could still practically hear the smile on his face as he said, "Hey there, sweetheart."

"Hi, Maxie," Y/N whispered, pressing a soft kiss to his back. "How was work?"

"Stressful," Max admitted with a small laugh. "I'm sorry about dinner. I just had a lot I had to deal with today and I didn't realize how long it would take."

"It's alright," she assured him, but Max was already turning around so that he could gently cup the side of her face.

"It's really not and I promise I will make it up to you, alright?" he told her and although she knew he would only forget just like the other times, Y/N still gave him a small nod and a smile in response.

Max smiled and leaned forward to press a kiss to her lips, his arm slowly snaking around her waist and pulling her closer before he pulled away and went to sit down on the couch. He held onto her hand and dragged her along beside him, pulling her down into his lap as he wrapped his arms around her waist and looked to her with a small smile.

"How was your day?" he asked. "A lot better than mine, I hope."

"It was the same as every other day," she told him, her eyes closing slightly in content as he pressed a small kiss to her neck before holding her tight and resting his face in the crook of her neck. "Just a lot of paperwork as always. I met a new coworker today at work named Barbara and went to dinner with her and Diana."

Max hummed in response before muttering, "Sounds like fun."

"It was," Y/N said. "Oh, and we got a shipment from the FBI with all of these cool artifacts."

Max hesitated at that and pulled his head away from her neck in order to look at her. His eyes sparkled with curiosity as he asked, "What kind of artifacts?"

Knowing that her boyfriend was intrigued, Y/N smiled and continued, not seeming to notice the way Max looked off into space as she spoke. "Apparently the mall heist the other day revealed the jewelry store was selling stuff on the black market. We got a big shipment of all sorts of artifacts. I only got to glance at a few, but there was this one gemstone looking one that I saw with this engraving on it. Diana said it mentioned something about making wishes with it and—"

It was then that she noticed Max's behavior, the way he was just staring off while being so quiet she would've assumed he was asleep if it weren't for the fact that his eyes were still open. "Max?" she questioned, her gaze flickering over him until he finally seemed to hear her voice and blinked himself back to reality.

His eyes flickered her way and she gave him a confused look. "Are you okay?" she asked.

"Of course," he told her, sending that smile of his in her direction that made her heart skip a beat. "I just love listening to you talk is all." He pulled her closer to his body if that was even possible, pressing a small kiss to her cheek before whispering, "I love you."

Y/N didn't even have time to blink before he was closing the distance between them, his lips capturing hers perfectly while his hands slowly moved under her shirt before resting upon her hips. She couldn't help the way that her eyes fluttered closed and she knew her face was heating up due to the intensity of the kiss that literally came out of no where.

When Max pulled away, Y/N was sure her face had gone bright red, but thankfully the only light in the room was coming from a lamp nearby which meant that her blush was semi-hidden by the darkness.

"What was that for?" she asked breathlessly.

Max just shrugged with a small smile as he whispered, "I love you."

"Yeah, yeah," she chuckled, her eyes fluttering closed once again as he felt him slowly begin to kiss down her neck. She leaned back with a heavy sigh while Max smirked against her skin.

"I love you so much," Max whispered, his emotions heightened even more as he tried to process how his beautiful girlfriend had been able to help him achieve his dream without even realizing it.

Y/N let out a breathy laugh as she opened her eyes to look at the man, taking note of the way his eyes seemed to sparkle as he stared at her. "Oh, really? How much?" Y/N asked, smirking at the man who merely chuckled before pulling her up off the couch with him.

His eyes were practically flashing at her as he slowly began to back her towards their bedroom, his lips curving up into a smile as he whispered, "Let me show you."

- - -

Tag List

@blogforhoes @mrschiltoncat @haileyybird @vampgguk @buckysalefty @elfwoodfae @imcalledflorence @skullchik89

[softkuna]

Sukuna || Interview || Fic

Part 1

Content   ║  Punk!Sukuna x reader. There is an oc version here.

Beauty wasn’t in the eye of the beholder, no, it is in the mind. Sukuna was enraptured. Addressed again, he shifted his posture, leaning into the arm of the couch as she did with her chair. The two were close in their cohort. An air of comfortable conversation lingered between them, much to his dismay. Her question wasn’t unusual. He’d been asked it in the beginning of his career and one where he had a planned answer.

Count      ║ 2,626 K

Consider ║ Swearing. Female Pronouns (she/her).

Creator   ║ This is the reader version. I took the name of the oc out. Hopefully the double post isn’t too weird? I did research on punk fashion, culture, and all which was really interesting. I knew some stuff about it before, but it’s really rich! I hope it’s not too information dense for you guys. Either way, Punk!Sukuna is now my comfort au and writing him is an absolute delight!! Also, Sorry for changing from ‘you’ to she/her ;v; it’s a lot easier for me to write/edit this way.

Sukuna had a lazy grin as he lounged back into a modern cream sofa. His arm stretched across the back of it, ankle crossed over his knee. Eyes staggered from the two cameras set up to the woman talking with some other chick. One held a small stack of papers, the other was grandly gesturing. He breathed out a short-stop breath, wishing they wouldn’t waste his time with bickering. Annoying as it was, it left a thick self-satisfactory lather over his ego.

  “-didn’t you say the band?”

  “Yeah, but this is better.”

  “Sure… but what happens if-“

  Quite frankly, he hated most press and avoided it, so to just have him in the hot seat was a double-edged blade. They didn’t get the whole band, but they did have The King himself. Whatever publicity he thrived off of were live shows, signings, fancams, tangible and real-time events. Interviews were a complete and utter waste of his time. He did a couple in the beginning, but found them pointless, callous even. They all asked the same shit. So, him coming alone was absolutely a note to pin to the fridge, even if it were a passive-aggressive post-it note.

  His head turned to the two going back and forth. It wasn’t until the third minute ticked by that Sukuna felt the flashpoint of his blood plummet, “Yo! We doing this or what? You’re wasting my time here, Eros.”

  The blogger whipped her head to the man with an indignant, “Excuse me?”

  “Eros. Known for being reckless and unreliable? Like your scheduling.” He leaned forward, elbow on knee and chin in palm. The aura of shit-eatery exponentially growing, “You’re not excused, sorry, not sorry Princess.”

  “I think you have the wrong God,” She quipped as she dusted off the front of her outfit. It was a smart look and an intentional one for an interview with a punk rocker. What would strike the best complement than a khaki academic outfit? It consisted of a white high collared button up, sleeves billowing before cinching at her wrists. The blouse was stuffed into high-waisted, cuffed khaki chinos, pleated at the center of each pant leg. Over top, a gray woolen sweater vest. Accessories included various silver rings, a black ribbon to tie under the folded collar, and small silver studs as earrings. Makeup remained that done-up natural with brow, liner, and mascara. Hair had been swept into something similar to a faux 1920’s bob, pulled loosely back. The overall silhouette made the perfect contrast.

    Sukuna wanted to peg her as your average superficial fashion bitch, he really did. Even at the concert, she dressed smartly despite the pathetic look on she wore on face. It wasn’t until afterwards when he saw the burn in her eyes, that he craved for her to prove him wrong.

  Black flats clacked as she approached her own seat, a matching armchair to the couch. She held a certain command once she walked in, instructing him on where to be, which camera to look at, and what the introduction would be. He listened, admiring how her small frame moved to and fro, fixing up last minute edits on a paper, chattering with who he assumed to be a videographer. It was a whole production. One that was hers. The set itself was practically out of a home décor magazine. It was a general space used across the publisher, but she was born to be there. Deserved to be there. Her calculated glee and deliberate positioning of each member made him feel as though he were looking through a mirror.

  The interview process began.

  She sat professionally, legs crossed and leaning on the arm of her chair closest to Sukuna. He was unmoving, that slit to his lip curling upwards as the cameras began. She introduced the blog, the channel, her social media handles. With a smile, she introduced herself, “With me in this special is lead singer of Two Face, the King of Curses – Sukuna.”

  The camera panned to his lazy wave, “Yo.” He looked to her, she looked to him and for a moment she thought she saw a flicker of interest. Maybe the man was meant for cameras after all.

  “After looking more into the punk scene, there’s a pretty interesting history behind it. Revolution, social discourse, poverty, violence, and unity. As someone in the scene, can you talk a little bit about what you know of the background?”

  Sukuna drank in her voice, smooth and warm like the steady strum of a bass guitar. For a moment, he wondered if she sang. He quirked a brow, “Sounds like you didn’t research enough to summarize it yourself,” Eyes flickered to her features, watching as slight annoyance crinkled onto her nose then smoothed, “Let me learn you, Daisy. Starting back from rock in the 50’s, take that, strip it, build it with shit you find in the backyard…” His wrist rolled as his harmonious voice sang on, lacking even a single stutter as he summarized the movement top to bottom, inside and out, “…So, people would make their own records, sell them in plastic bags, they’d scan and reprint photos to make their own ‘zines. Shit was hard to distribute without tech…”

  Much of his dissertation, she hadn’t even found on her own deep dive into the culture. Sure, the anarchist and nihilistic ideologies were well known to pretty much anyone who would listen, but the deep history and connection between communities was far beyond the surface scratched into.

  “There’s a crowd of sub-genres now. Fuck ‘punk is dead’ what even is that bull shit?” Sukuna scoffed, jerking his chiseled chin to the side, “Only thing that’s dead here is – ironically – peoples drive to change.”

  His interviewer sat in silence for a moment, mind spinning. He spoke in the way a well-educated University professor gave a dissertation to his peers, dripping in confidence from his storm of information. He was articulate despite the fowl language, even including a tie in to modern perception. Excitement curled into the recess of her mind. In a delightful turn of events, expectation and reality didn’t match up.

  She leaned forward slightly folding her hands over the arm of the chair, “That was comprehensive. Thanks!” She chuckled, causing the man before her to freeze and thaw with a nod. She continued, “With all of this mention of D.I.Y. culture in punk, let’s talk about Vivienne Westwood.”

  Sukuna kept his attention to her profile as she spoke to the camera, catching himself in the glow of her enthusiasm, “On Kings Road in England, she kickstarted the fashion movement into gear. Now, many would think that with a style such as this, it would’ve been hand-me-downs, pins, self-stitching, but contrary to this belief, many of the clothes in her store were expensive. Knock offs circulated, and seeing as much of it did have that hand-done finishing touch, many decided to take tailoring to their own hands…” Not that this was a competition, but she found herself trying to prove his ‘research’ comment wrong. Her ability to scour and exhaust her resources of fashion history is the furnace that kept her going and she would make it well known that she was not to be challenged.

  The approaching lurch of a stalemate stuck to the walls of the vocalist’s stomach. Something he didn’t think he’d feel for a while. Small stuff over here may not’ve known all there was about the cultural history, but he could feel the crashing wave of fascination washing over him as she spoke. Sure, some of it he knew. Some of it he naturally garnered from stylistic preference and others he learned for marketing, however there was just a certain target she aimed for with such precision that he bled a newfound admiration.

  Beauty wasn’t in the eye of the beholder, no, it is in the mind. Sukuna was enraptured. Addressed again, he shifted his posture, leaning into the arm of the couch as she did with her chair. The two were close in their cohort. An air of comfortable conversation lingered between them, much to his dismay. Her question wasn’t unusual. He’d been asked it in the beginning of his career and one where he had a planned answer. As practiced, “I ans-“

  “You’ve answered it already, yeah, I know. I saw the interview,” Her head tilted to the side, pleasant smile hinting at her trick, “but enlighten me for a second about how your natural style transitioned to what it is on stage. We’ll put up some of the photos taken from last night here,” her hand gestured to some empty space, “You basically turned chiaroscuro and made it a performance. It’s obvious in how each member contrasted with themselves and the stage.”

  The chick didn’t even know who he was a week ago, yet somehow watched every interview since the start? An answer tumbled from the tongue readily, “Punk is like a renaissance of music. Like I said before, it tore down the foundations of what was before and built something new out of it.” The words were succinct, but as her pretty lashes bat, he was goaded into continuing, “Contrast is important. I like art. I like plays. Just ‘cause it’s punk doesn’t mean I can’t have it look aesthetic? Or is that a word only snobby fashion journalists can use now?”

  “Hm. Change ‘journalist’ to ‘vocalist’ and you’re a word away from meeting the requirement,” It was a sour candy treat traded for his lemon warhead.  

  “Ouch. Miss Blog-Spot here has some sass,” His large frame leaned further into the armrest, cheek resting on that fist.

  “Mister Eight-Track here is some a–“

  The videographer clapped his hands, “We have sponsors, you know. We can at least censor him.”

  It was Sukuna’s time to laugh a loud, hyena-like cackle. A large hand smacked his leather-clad knee. She scrunched her nose again, biting back her tongue from childishly jutting out at him.

  As soon as the videographer clapped his hands again, she recollected herself, shuffled her papers, and continued on, “From what it looks like, you took a mixture of old and new high-trend brands and added a touch to them to keep with theme. Even now, you’re wearing a Real McCoy with cone spikes embedded. Is that custom made? McCoy isn’t cheap.”

  Part of him hated her keen eye, but reveled in her raw talent all the same. “I’m not going to bull shit you and say I dumpster dive for my clothes. I like high quality things. What’s the point in making money if I can’t spend it? What’s a bigger ‘fuck you’ than having your version of a top-brand item being worth more than the original?” With a proud glint in his eye, he rolled the jacket off, sure to make a grand display of strong, bare arms as he did so. The muscle tank he wore was similar to the concert before, white with a pocket, neckline was stretched and worn. It hung over the dense muscle of his shoulders and chest. Sukuna could feel the trail of her eyes on him. His chest puffed from her approval. He threw the jacket over his knee, flipping the leather inside out to show where the studs had been placed, “See this? Did it myself.”

  Manicured fingers touched the inside of the jacket, thumbing the connecting points that the studs were pressed in by and sealed. The work was immaculate. Sukuna leaned back, canines gleaming as he saw her mouth move in a silent ‘wow’. He picked the front of his tank top, snapping it up and allowing it to billow back to his body, “Embroidered this, too.”

  He waited for her comment, her praise. Why? Like he needed some two-bit Vanderbilt bitch’s validation. He chalked it up to being praised by a master of the craft. He hadn’t been prepared for her to take the fabric between her fingers and rub it, concentrated brows cinched like a corset. Well-toned abs flinched in response to her delicacy, but she didn’t notice.

  The embroidery was messy and chaotic, but it was obviously intentionally. The way the needlework was so clean, barely leaving a hole from the pull of the exceptionally soft fabric. It wasn’t floral like in the concert, but abstract stitching created crosses and streaks here and there, using the composition of the fabric as like it were a canvas. Experimentalist. It was like touching the work of Westwood herself.

  God, she hated how perfect it was. It squeezed her heart to know that he was so effortlessly multi-talented. She rubbed the fabric between her fingers once more, attention being stolen by his baritone voice. She could practically hear the treble in it, “Ey Princess, you think it’s okay to just touch me?” His breath caught under the arrogant teasing of his words. Not from the words themselves. Couldn’t care less about that. What choked him up was whatever resplendent emotion flared from them when she peered up to him.

  “Let me check the tag.”

  “What?”

  The blogger leaned back, cheekily snapping the shirt as she did so. “Your shirt, can I check the tag? I want to see what its made out of. Also, sorry.”

  Sukuna blinked twice, mouth stupidly hanging open before he leaned forward, “I’ll allow it.”

  He may have tinnitus, but he wasn’t deaf enough yet to miss the mocking ‘I’ll allow it,’ muttered under her breath. He wanted to laugh, but for the second time, the graze of chilled fingertips along his skin shut him up. Along the back of his neck, she fiddled to flip the collar and tug it. Her eyes squinted and a hum escaped her throat. Sometimes she wished she could read upside down. That’s when she sat on the back on the sofa and leaned closer, pulling the shirt to better read the small print. If Sukuna were a cat, he’d lean his head into her. The thought physically bothered him.

  “I knew it. It’s American Pima. Thanks for letting me check.”

  He missed the shiver her touch gave him as she sat back into her chair.

  “While I have more questions for you, this video’s gotten pretty long already, so we’ll have to cut it a bit short here,” She gave a closing statement, motioning for her guest to do the same. With a thanks, the cameras were cut.

 While the editor and videographer chatted together, She leaned heavily into the back of her chair, poised posture slipping into something more comfortable. Long lashes slid closed and a heavy drag of breath lifted her chest. Sukuna’s eyes trailed along her form, contemplating Eros once more.

  She exhaled sharply, “I do appreciate you coming on stage. It’s disgusting how talented you are.” She laughed, cracking an eye open to meet his, “I prepped a lot of questions thinking you’d be short with me. It’s a shame I only got to ask a few.”

  He was surprised himself. It was more than just her talent to make him talk - she may have been the first to see him as an opportunity rather than a commodity. ‘She would be the first and last reporter to see me as a meal’ was the thought he had going into this interview. He had every single intention to shut down her buffet, make it apparent that he was not to be dined on by a single soul. Yet, if his dish were ‘opportunity’, hers would be ‘intrigue’. He wanted to devour it, to know its palette and identify its spices. It was a compulsory urge to order, just to see why he craved it in the first place.

  “Film the next few concerts. Backstage.”

Tags:  @lovesakusa​

[bentforkent]

pictures

penelope garcia x emily prentiss

a/n: my self-indulgent rarepair. sweet penelope and her goth gf. they love each other! 

content warnings: SMUT (18+), brat/daddy, yes emily is called daddy i TOLD you this was self indulgent, overstimulation if you squint, oral sex briefly, soft dom!emily and sub!penelope, basically just filthy smut and pretty lingerie

word count: 2191

in which penelope is wearing pretty lingerie and emily wants to keep the moment forever

“Do you like it?” Penelope preens, stretching across the white comforter on Emily’s bed. Her arms rise over her head, allowing Emily a full view of her torso, adorned in bright pink lingerie. The ruffled straps weave across Penelope’s stomach and chest in ways Emily can’t even begin to understand, so she thanks the universe she doesn’t have to. She’ll just fuck Penelope with it on.  

“It’s pretty, Pen,” Emily murmurs, running her hands up Penelope’s sides and coming to rest on her breasts. When Penelope gives a soft--nearly imperceptible--whine, Emily tweaks her left nipple through the lacey pink fabric with a chuckle. “Shh, Princess. Let me look at you.”

Penelope sticks out her bottom lip, but Emily is unfazed. She taps Penelope’s protruded lip, mumbles, “put that away,” then continues letting her hands roam Penelope’s body. Her fingertips brush every inch of bare skin she can reach, lighting Penelope on fire. Emily’s touching, just touching, reveling in the soft, supple woman before her. Emily could do this all day. But after what feels like ages, (to Penelope, of course,) Penelope starts to get antsy. Emily’s warm, callused hands are moving everywhere except where Penelope needs to feel her. It’s when Emily grips Penelope’s thighs just above the white thigh-high socks she’s wearing, revelling in the half-moon shapes her trimmed nails leave, that Penelope snaps.

“Are you going to touch me, or not?” Penelope asks, a bite in her words. She knows she’s starting trouble. She knows that Emily’s eyebrow will quirk; that her eye will twitch. She knows she’s overstepped and she’s not being particularly good right now, but Penelope doesn’t mind because she also knows that means Emily will fuck her like she’s being bad.

Penelope’s right, as usual, because as soon as the testy words leave her mouth, Emily’s hands are off of her body and she’s stood at the foot of the bed, looming over Penelope, almost scary. “I thought this was a gift for me, you brat,” Emily says calmly, her left eyebrow raised in mock-disbelief. “You’re not gonna let me enjoy my gift on my own time?”

Penelope shakes her head quickly, the blonde ponytails on the sides of her head swishing. This is what she’s been aching for, for Emily to be mean, for Emily to rough-handle her. This is how it always goes, Penelope knows. Next, Penelope predicts, Emily will tell her to turn over and get on her hands and knees.  Penelope knows exactly how Emily works, which is why Emily absolutely catches her off guard by turning away from the bed and stalking to the closet.

Her butt looks cute in that underwear, Penelope thinks, but her thoughts are abruptly cut off by Emily whipping around, shit-eating grin on her face, Hitachi wand in her hand.

Immediately, a sensual combination of regret and arousal washes over Penelope. She sits up, scrambling away from Emily and up against the headboard. “No, Emmy, please no,” she pleads with a coquettish look in her eye.

Emily is a sight to behold in front of her, dressed in only a mismatched bra and underwear set, as if she hadn’t been expecting Penelope to come over. It makes Penelope warm with desire, that idea of Emily carelessly choosing her undergarments while Penelope had agonized over picking the perfect pink set for her girlfriend. Emily returns to the end of her bed, twirling the vibrator as if it’s a baton. Penelope squeaks at the motion of Emily’s tanned, toned arms.

“What’s your color?” Emily asks gently, even though the only color she can fathom right now is the dark pink spot on Penelope’s panties where her arousal is seeping through the fabric.

“Greener than the grass in the Garden of Eden,” Penelope says.

Emily moves to sit in between Penelope’s legs where she sits up against the headboard. Shifting the energy of the room back into one of a scene, Emily pouts at Penelope mockingly. “Impatient little brat just couldn’t wait for me to fuck her, huh?” she teases.

Penelope nods. “I’m sorry, Daddy,” she murmurs.

Emily reaches to plug the wand in, and Penelope squirms preemptively upon hearing the tell-tale sound of the vibrations.

“I think,” Emily starts, running the wand against Penelope’s inner thigh in a feather-light touch, “I need to teach you a lesson in patience.” She presses the vibrator against Penelope’s clit experimentally, grinning when she cries out in response. “Can you be quiet for me, Princess?” Emily asks, leaning in to kiss Penelope’s inner thighs repeatedly. God, she wants to taste her, but for tonight's purposes, it doesn’t quite seem to be in the cards. Then Emily contemplates for half of a second, then licks a wide stripe up Penelope’s arousal, through her lingerie. She wraps her lips around Penelope’s clit, sucking once, then pulling away. Satiated, she sits back on her heels and focuses her attention back on the vibrator.

“Oh, Daddy,” Penelope whines.

“Shh,” Emily reminds. She pulls Penelope’s lace underwear to the side, tucking the vibrator underneath so it sits snugly against her clit. Penelope starts to writhe at the stimulation, bucking her hips up against the toy. Emily pushes the heels of both of her hands on Penelope’s hip bones, pinning her down. “You have to stay still for the rest of what I have planned for you, princess.”

Penelope looks at Emily and lets her bitten lips part. “There’s more?” Her facial expression reads, but she dares not to speak.

Understanding, Emily says, “Yes, there’s more.” Penelope lets out a tiny squeak, and Emily shoots her a look.

“S-sorry Daddy, it just---oh---feels good,” Penelope speaks through a moan.

Emily shakes her head, laughing. “You’re lucky you’re pretty, because speaking without permission on any other day would guarantee a few bruises on your ass.”

Penelope smiles widely for a moment, but is cut off by her own pleasure, face twisting and eyes screwing shut as she tries to suppress another moan.

“Penny,” Emily sings, taking advantage of Penelope’s obscured vision. She clambers off the bed, all limbs, and starts rummaging through her bedside table. She can hear Penelope letting out soft whimpers next to her, and the noises only serve to fluster her in her quest to find what she’s looking for. After a moment, her hands feel smooth plastic, and she grins. Her camera.

Well, technically, it’s Penelope’s camera, but after multiple nights of wishing they’d had it at Emily’s apartment, the yellow Polaroid had found a new home with Emily. They’d only ever used it innocently--a picture of Emily while she was napping, a picture of Penelope when she’d tried a new makeup idea, a selfie of the two of them that had come out horribly overexposed---but Emily’s stroke of genius extends far beyond her job and she had decided recently that the sweet camera would be better suited for a more naughty fate.

When Emily turns back to Penelope, she’s rutting her hips against the vibrator.

“Penelope. Cut that out,” she barks, but when Penelope peeks up at her, her visceral reaction to seeing the camera breaks Emily’s resolve. Penelope’s eyes widen and her cheeks flush.

“You’re gonna take pictures of me, Daddy?” She asks, pushing the words out quickly.

“Yeah, Daddy’s gonna take pictures of you, Princess, is that okay?” Emily replies gently, looking for consent.

Penelope nods with a squeak. There’s a wet spot on the bed underneath her, and Emily knows what she’s gonna say next.

“I might--mm--might not last much longer, Emmy,” Penelope whimpers, and tears of frustration fill her eyes.

“Hold it for me, baby,” Emily says, crawling back onto the bed and situating herself back between Penelope’s legs. Penelope juts her lips out in a pout, and Emily snaps a quick picture.

“Hey,” Penelope protests. A tear rolls down her cheek, leaving a mascara track in its wake. “Emmy I--”

“Hold. It,” Emily emphasizes, but turns down the vibrator a notch anyways. “Can you pose for me, pretty girl?”

Penelope shakes her head, but sticks her thumb in her mouth provocatively with a look at the camera. There’s a click and a flash as the photo is taken.

“Good girl, Princess,” Emily says, setting the camera to the side and moving in to kiss Penelope’s neck. She rubs her nose against the soft skin, breathing in Penelope’s perfume. Emily thinks that she might just like to live in this spot forever. But she can’t, she knows, so she settles for sucking a deep mark in the crook of Penelope’s neck. Penelope gasps, and the gasp morphs into a loud moan.

“Okay, pretty girl, let’s get you off,” Emily mumbles against Penelope’s jawline, letting her hand wander to the vibrator, shutting it off and pulling it away. Penelope whimpers at the loss of contact.

“Daddy,” Penelope whines pleadingly, and Emily presses a chaste kiss to her lips.

“You’re so sweet for me, Princess,” Emily says, repositioning to rest her head on Penelope’s thigh. “So soft, so beautiful.” Emily speaks mostly to herself, enjoying the feeling of Penelope’s gaze on her as she nips and kisses her inner thighs.

Penelope weaves her hands through Emily’s hair and tugs gently, subtly trying to pull her closer. Emily’s mouth opens to reprimand her needy baby, but she figures she’s equally as eager, so she decides against it. One of Emily’s fingers circles Penelope’s entrance teasingly.

“Who’s all this for?” Emily asks, looking up at Penelope. She’s frustrated, incredibly frustrated, and instead of telling Emily what she already knows--that Penelope’s pussy is Emily’s only, and Emily is the only one who can get her this wet--Penelope chokes out a sob.

“Please, please, please,” She chants.

“You’re just so fucking disobedient today,” Emily murmurs, granting Penelope what she wants and sliding a finger into her. “Think I spoil you too much, what do you think?”  Emily’s words tell Penelope she’s a brat, but her actions contradict as a second finger joins her first, pumping in and out of Penelope at the pace Emily knows will get her off.

Penelope moans, high-pitched and delicate. “I’m sorry, Daddy, really.”

“It’s okay, baby,” Emily whispers, curling her fingers to elicit a reaction from Penelope. It works. “You’re my good girl, aren’t you?”

Penelope’s overwhelmed by the sensation of her Daddy’s fingers working her towards her orgasm paired with the sweet words coming out of her mouth.

“Say it,” Emily demands.

“I’m your good girl,” Penelope whimpers. At her words, Emily’s thumb comes to circle her clit rapidly, drawing her to the edge. “I’m, I’m--” Penelope starts.

“I know, sweet girl. Cum for me,” Emily says, working Penelope through her orgasm.

Penelope, who had been decently good about not moving, squirms through her release. Her legs are flailing, her hips are bucking, all in an attempt to move away from Emily and the overstimulation. Emily lets out a short laugh at Penelope’s desperation, and pulls her hand away from her.

“Good?” Emily asks, after Penelope has calmed.

“Mhm,” Penelope hums, adjusting to lay down.

“Hey, don’t fall asleep on me now,” Emily calls as she moves to the bathroom and prepares a warm, damp washcloth.

“Too late, I’m asleep already,” Penelope replies. Her eyes are closed, arms wrapped around Emily’s pillow. When Emily returns, she taps Penelope’s ankle gently.

“Let me clean you up, baby,” she whispers.

Penelope peeks one eye open at her. “I have to take this off,” she says, gesturing to her lingerie.

“I’ll help,” Emily offers, but Penelope responds with a short laugh.

“If you could figure out how to get this off, it would’ve been off already,” she says, sticking her tongue out at Emily playfully. She’s right.

After Penelope’s undressed and decently clean, Emily gasps. “Oh, man!” She exclaims sadly. “I only took two pictures.”

Penelope pouts. “One for you, and one for me. No more tonight, I’m sleepy.” Emily sets the photos on her bedside table and crawls into bed next to Penelope. She pulls Penelope against her chest, working the hair ties out of her hair, and massaging where the ponytails were situated against her scalp.

“I know you wanted me to be mean to you tonight, but I just couldn’t do it,” Emily says, carding her fingers through Penelope’s hair. “You looked so pretty.”

“I’m always pretty,” Penelope quips, looking up at Emily to see her playful scoff. “But seriously, I liked this better tonight.”

“Yeah?” Emily asks, vulnerable.

“Yeah,” Penelope responds simply. She could elaborate, tell Emily despite how much she loves rough play and her daddy, Emmy is who she fell in love with, and their nights together are equally as satisfying. She could say that, she thinks, but Emily already knows. She knows by the way Penelope snuggles closer into her chest and by the way their hands intertwine perfectly. She knows by Penelope’s eyes--they’re always lovesick--and by her smile.

Penelope closes her eyes, letting one hand hold Emily’s and the other rest on Emily’s chest. They lay there for a moment, just enjoying each other’s company. Emily is nearly asleep when Penelope shoots upright, wide awake.

“Oh my god, Em, I forgot to get you off.”

[kiranatrix]

Need some Death Note fanfic to read while avoiding family, recovering exams/work, or just cause? Here’s everything I wrote in 2020 for Death Note. I’ll be updating this post for 2021 eventually. I organized them by type of work (in-progress fics, finished chaptered fics, tumblr fics, and one-shots).

IN-PROGRESS FICS BEING UPDATED NOW

Dial K for Kira: Lawlight//Rated E. Summary: Light needs some easy money to finance his Kira plans, and notices there’s a big demand for Kira roleplay phone sex. So he figures, “Why not? Pretty sure I’ll be convincing.” He raises some fast cash and plans to shut the whole thing down and get back to writing names, until he gets a request from somebody who wants to “roleplay” as L.

Catch Perfect [with @resilicns]: Lawlight/Rated M. Summary: Light’s desk catches on fire during the placement of L’s illegal surveillance cameras in the Yagami household, burning up the Death Note. Light forgets everything, the killings suddenly stop, and Kira fades away from the public consciousness but never from L’s. Six years later, Ryuk returns to Earth with a new Death Note for Light, now an agent in INTERPOL, ready for Round 2. L’s ready too.

Good Bones [with @main-exam]: Lawlight/Rated E. Summary: Mello and Matt have a seance with a cursed Ouija board but summon a very annoyed Ryuk from the Shinigami Realm into the attic of a gothic mansion. Fast forward a few years and Light Yagami is a realtor in England, vying for the title of Realtor King from the current champ. He's determined to sell this discount mansion with a bad reputation, but just as Light starts to make friends with the mansion's ghost, a ghost-hunting detective gets wind that something spooky is going on.

FINISHED CHAPTERED FICS

Koi No Yokan [with @ghostoftasslehoff​]: Lawlight//Rated E. Light decides to take a little risk and seek a no-strings-attached hookup and gets a surprising (accidental) match. Light and L gradually open up to each other over the course of a night, not knowing who the other is. However, as they go back to their lives in the morning, suspicions take hold and secrets come to light. The chance meeting starts to feel a lot more like fate as L closes in on Kira, and both must decide whether they felt anything real for the other and what that means. 

Lux Aeterna [with @ghostoftasslehoff​]: Lawlight//Rated E. Vampire AU. The world’s greatest vampire hunter, L Lawliet, heads to Romania with his mentor Watari to investigate some odd disappearances. Meanwhile, the 400-year-old vampire, Light, has recently awoken from his century-long slumber to find the world has changed, but his thirst for the blood of sinners hasn’t. 

Enemy of My Enemy [with @my-one-true-l​]: Light Yagami/Beyond Birthday//Rated T. It’s just another day for To-Oh’s top student Light Yagami, until he runs into a mysterious new student in class who can see Ryuk. Beyond is set on getting to Kira before L does but things take a twist when Light gets him alone.

TUMBLR FICS

Strange Fiction: Death Note Ficlets: Various//Rated Gen to T. Thirty-nine ficlets and more added periodically. Lawlight, Ryuk & Light being bros, MikaLight, gen fic, Remisa, Android AU, stories of Light and L’s childhood, etc.

ONE-SHOTS

Get Well Soon [with art by @sketchyspirit​]: Lawlight//Rated E. Summary: Light buys Misa a birthday present which L jealously intercepts. Possessiveness and misunderstandings threaten to rock the precarious agreement between Light and L, where each has made dangerous sacrifices to stay together after the end of the Kira case. 

Phototaxis: Lawlight//rated G. Summary: L comes over to the Yagami's household for dinner and to work on a project with Light. On the menu are suspicions, ulterior motives, and nobody saying what they mean.

Orbit: Lawlight//Rated T. Summary: Light’s having lunch under the cherry trees with his friends at To-Oh, but L unexpectedly shows up and runs everyone else off but Light. A missing scene, a private conversation with L's 'first friend' and rival under the spring sakura.

Appetites: Lawlight//Rated T. Summary: It was never about cake.

Main Attraction [with @ghostoftasslehoff​, with art by @ohgodplsdontlook​]: Lawlight//Rated E. Summary: Light invites L to the movies but L expects to be bored since Light picked the flick. Light has a secret plan to make sure that L will be on the ‘edge’ of his seat the whole time-- a toy that L doesn't know is remote-controlled. L finds out the hard way, and at the worst (best) moments.

Obsolete: Ryuk/Light//Rated T. Summary: Light lives all his life in the span of a day, but Ryuk will live that day over an eternity.

Beholder’s Eye: Lawlight//Rated M. Summary: Light's rudely awoken and seemingly kidnapped to face his execution, but all is not what it seems.

One of a Pair [with @ghostoftasslehoff​]: Lawlight//Rated M. Fencing AU. Summary: Light has just quit the To-Oh fencing team and the team Captain, Ryuzaki, will do just about anything to provoke him to come back, including challenging Light to an illegal duel.

Restitution: Lawlight//Rated T. Summary: L tries to pay Light a salary for his work on the Task Force to assuage the prickling of guilt he feels, but that’s not what Light wants.

Kodama [with @ghostoftasslehoff​]: Lawlight//Rated T. Summary: Seven years after L’s death, Light feels compelled to visit his grave and take solace under the strange, dead tree nearby. L’s watching from Mu and takes residence in the sacred tree, changing it and Light, who can’t see him.

Still Life: Light/Light//Rated T. Summary: Light stumbles upon a painting that he bears an uncanny resemblance to and discovers a magical secret behind who was cursed to dwell within it for 300 years. It might just be the best luck of his life (or the worst).

Dark Horse [with art by @daathdweller]: Gen fic. Linda left Wammy's House for a brilliant art career, but never forgot how she'd been passed over as one of L's successors. She decides to work in the shadows as the detective L2 when a new Kira appears in 2019, moving fast to tackle the case that the 'official' L seems content to ignore. Roger told her art never helped solve a case, but he was wrong. 

Technology Liaison: Light & Ryuk. Light gets curious about what the Death Note is really made of and asks Ryuk. What happens when paper becomes obsolete in the increasingly digital world?

Yosuzume [with art by @ikathemadhatter​]: Beyond-centric//Rated T. Summary: Beyond’s shinigami eyes have always set him apart and given him knowledge no human should possess. His obsession with divining and controlling the future has led him to develop his own rituals, which weave themselves into his life and the events of the LABB case.

Names and Distant Things [with art by @ikathemadhatter]: Beyond/L// Rated T. Summary: Beyond knew when L was planning to visit Wammy’s House because a padlock would appear on the second refrigerator in the kitchen. A day or so later, a green Aston Martin would roll up the long, oak-lined driveway in the dead of night, headlights off and practically invisible. Not to Beyond, though; his strange eyes had always seen more than others could-- names and distant things; an antique car in the darkness or the date someone will die.

Copper and Silver: Beyond/L//Rated M. Magician AU. Summary: There had always been two types of magic in the world. One was quite real but elusive, and more of a curse than a blessing on those who could channel it. The other was the magic of mankind-- the sleight of hand or memory trick, the careful distraction or well-placed mirror. It was the business of the famed illusionist Lazarus, also (un)known as L Lawliet, that no one in his audience should ever know the difference.

For fics before 2020, check out my AO3 (ZombieJesus) here!

[wireless-art]

For the @gerrymichael-bigbang event. 

(Click for best quality, this pic is big).

Adjacent to Human by @prentissed

It’s Michael who gets the idea, when they happen to pass by an old, inexplicably terrifying dentist advertisement on the road.

It stretches across a faded billboard, lone in the stretches of desert that surround them, featuring a gargantuan set of grinning teeth being poked and prodded by metal tools. Text overlaid above reads, ‘Every tooth has its end. Eckleburg & Co.’

“Oh, look at that,” says Michael, like he’s just seen a particularly cute cat picture. “I can’t remember the last time an actual doctor examined me.” He sighs. “I wonder how many teeth I have now.”

Gerry looks up briefly from the magazine he’d been peeling through to circle job offers. “Huh.” He wonders why an advertisement would deliberately make itself so existentially horrifying. “Well, I dunno, we could always take an x-ray of you or something. That’s not impossible, right?”

Michael makes an excited noise that briefly removes all sound from Gerry’s right ear. “It might be!”

So that’s how they get the idea to quote-unquote ‘borrow’ some medical equipment. It’s more simple than Gerry thinks it’ll be. Michael just pops them in and out of an empty lab and they take the x-rays before anyone notices. (And for the record, they aren’t careless. Gerry has a fair bit of medical knowledge, in fact, left over from the long-forgotten years when he’d been studying for a doctorate. He’d had dreams once.)

As Michael lies back on the examination table, twiddling his thumbs, Gerry asks, “Why’re you interested in this kind of thing, anyway? I thought you didn’t like having… knowledge about yourself.”

“I don’t,” he lilts, “but sometimes I get curious, you know? Anyone would. No one in the world knows how I work. Not even me.” One of his hands waves fingers just a touch too long. “Besides, there’s no guarantee this will even give that information. Or maybe it’ll be knowledge man wasn’t meant to know.”

“I see,” Gerry says flatly, starting up the machine. “Hold still for a sec.”

After all x-rays have been scanned (and equipment hastily abandoned at the startled screams of returning doctors) Gerry sits with Michael on the couch back in their apartment, rifling through the pictures they managed to snag.

Truth be told, he can’t help but be curious too. Whatever Michael’s insides look like, they definitely count as some sort of once-in-a-century medical anomaly… and maybe, maybe it bothers Gerry a bit that he doesn’t know what’s going on in there either. Don’t judge him. It’s his fucking boyfriend.

“Where do you wanna start?”

Michael hums from where his head is pillowed on Gerry’s lap. “In the spirit of Eckleburg, how about teeth?”

“I hope you’ve been flossing,” Gerry mutters.

The average person has 32 teeth, including incisors, canines, molars, and premolars. Michael has upwards of two hundred and forty-seven. No discernable categories between any— some are almost normal-looking, some are ingrown and nubby, others sharp as blades and spiraling out in jagged hooks, occasionally doubled up like emerging baby teeth. They’re jammed into the vague space where the mouth cavity should be.

“I hope it isn’t a turnoff.” Michael grins. In the flesh, he doesn’t have nearly that many. Well, sure, it’s more toothy than any human-adjacent thing has any right to be, but 247? Gerry counts and recounts. The number remains surprisingly consistent.

“No, no. You’re fine.” It’d be pretty hypocritical if Gerry went around judging someone for the state of their dental. He’s gotten a few knocked out himself— there are some gaps he’s never filling back in.

Besides, Gerry’s long since gotten used to Michael’s smiles. Even if he agrees with the general consensus that they look like “puncture wounds with molars”, they’re all part of Michael’s distinctly unnerving charm. He’s gotten used to a lot these past years.

“Okay, okay, what about the rest of my skull?” Michael claps his hands like a kid about to go on a roller coaster. “I wonder if I still have one.”

“You do,” Gerry confirms. “It’d be pretty wild if you didn’t and still had the capacity to carry teeth.” He squints as he pores over the pictures. “No eye holes, though. And you have a few more nose cavities than usual.”

“Of course, of course.”

Every human has 24 coupled ribs (12 pairs total). Michael appears to have missed the memo, because the x-ray of his torso displays something so distended and crooked it barely looks like a real extension of a creature’s anatomy.

Gerry loses count after around 20 and he’s not even halfway down the left side. Looks asymmetrical too.

Again, when he glances over at Michael’s torso, it really doesn’t look like all that twisted bone is in him. When one gets to know Michael (as much as that’s possible) it’s actually the normalcy of his appearance that becomes weird after a while. It’s easy to forget Michael doesn’t look monstrous to 90% of the general population.

But in a way it’s kind of nice too. When Michael sheds that skin around him, Gerry’s getting a look at something more real— not real, probably not even comprehensible, but truer. 

“Let’s take a look at those hands…” Gerry flips the next picture over, does a triple take, and scoffs. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

“What? What?”

“These look normal.” Eight carpals, five metacarpals, fourteen phalanges; all lined up neatly in little rows. No unusual curves or even crookedness in the joints. It’s a perfectly ordinary, human-presenting hand.

Michael seems to find this one particularly amusing. He muffles his laughter into his fist, which Gerry glares annoyedly at— like a camera fading in and out of focus, it goes from regular to the inhumanly distended appendage he knows it is. Most people are lucky (or rather, profoundly unlucky) to get even a glimpse. Gerry suspects maybe it’s because he’s spent so much time around Michael; still, the cognitive dissonance gnaws at his brain the longer he looks at it. He doesn’t like his eyes lying to him.

As if to placate him, Michael reaches out and touches his wrist. Now this is a feeling Gerry really knows— something much larger than a hand, heavy, alternately soft and sharp, settling like a sack of stones into his grasp. The skin rasps against his. The texture is more akin to that of a sandbag. Now, that’s something uniquely Michael. It’s an oddity that has become a signature of their shared life between each other.

“Now come on,” Michael croons up to him, not unkindly. “You knew an X-ray couldn’t reveal everything, right? I have my secrets to keep after all.”

“Yeah. But I wanted to see you,” Gerry pouts, letting his face be held between too-large, too-scratchy, too-long hands. He runs his own fingers over one of them absentmindedly and Michael sighs. “Sometimes it just frustrates me that I can’t know you better.”

“There are things that you, nor humanity, aren’t meant to see. Besides,” he adds, nuzzling closer, “wouldn’t you say that knowing someone isn’t the same as understanding their anatomy? I could study textbook upon textbook and still never really grasp why you humans are the way you are.”

“Don’t get started on that,” Gerry rolls his eyes.

Michael gets insistently coy about these things, leveling little jabs implying humanity is some alien race to him when Gerry knows damn well he didn’t always used to be this way. He lets Michael have this because bringing it up tends to make him upset, and Gerry’s content letting him be a bit of a shithead if it makes him comfortable.

Still, though. Sometimes he’d like to ask what exactly’s so bad about being human. Maybe it’s perspective— there was never a time when Gerry wasn’t human, so how could he make that call?

“You know me well enough,” Michael says, smiling up at him softly with those wretched teeth. He takes one of Gerry’s wrists, one of his scarred and tattooed and utterly ordinary human limbs, and kisses his pulse point. “Be sated with this, darling. Don’t be like one of those Beholding folk, hungering for knowledge you can’t have.”

“But sometimes I like knowing things.” Gerry combs his free hand through Michael’s hair. It’s stiff and sharp at the edges, with the faint smell of straw. “Did you know there are over 7,000 nerve endings in the hand alone? Our fingers contain some of the densest areas of those endings in the body.” He watches Michael’s eyes slide shut. “Say what you will about us, but human beings have amazingly complex bodies. Like. It’s a wonder we’re here at all, with how easy it is for them to malfunction— and you have all that, compiled with the fact that it’s a statistical improbability for us to exist at all in the first place.”

He brushes his fingers over Michael’s cheek. “It’s terrifying being alive. The fact that we are alive is pretty astounding, though. That knowledge keeps me going sometimes.”

Michael has such a worn face. So close to human. Almost adjacent.

He sighs in Gerry’s lap. “Hm.” A pause. Then: “Gerry?”

“Yeah?”

“All that being said…” It’s not that Michael’s voice wavers, exactly, but the usual smile isn’t present in it. “Is there any part of this you would like to change if you could, then?” 

“Nah,” Gerry decides, leaning down to kiss his forehead. “It’s all part of your charm.”

[anonsleap]

Showtime

This is for an anonymous reader. I hope it’s okay, I wasn’t sure how to go about it. (Also yes, Mahiru zoning out was just so I didn’t have to write the acts I couldn’t come up with, thank you for noticing.)

Important! This is from Mahiru’s point of view!

Content: fireworks, clowns, contortionist, smoking, sad Hajime, knives,

I sat in my seat, waiting for the giant curtain to rise. As a press member, I got front seats to get the best pictures. There’s a kid sweeping sadly off to the side, with a button on his shirt that says “I’m sorry, I was born stupid.” Hajime, I think his name was.

From backstage I hear a deceptively sweet voice.

“Hey, ticket boy! Hurry up, will ya!?”

He just sighed. The kid wasn’t a part of the main show, so he got a lot of crap for it. He just cleaned up after the acts and sold tickets. He finished up and ran backstage.

Finally, the lights flicked off and everything was silent. The curtains raised, revealing a small stuffed rabbit. Click!

“Hello everyone! It’s nice to see you all here tonight! We have a very special show for you all, starting with an act from our good friend, Sagishi!”

The crowd cheered, and the curtains lowered once again. When they raised again, a man was sitting in the center of the stage, mocking several people in the audience as they roared with laughter. Click!

I rolled my eyes, lighting my cigar. His act was never my favorite. Something about it just seemed so… heavy handed. It was more like men’s humor. After what seemed like forever, a trapdoor opened up beneath him and he let out a comedic shout. Click!

I let out a sigh of relief as I blew a puff of smoke. Then, all of a sudden, I heard quite the commotion backstage. Then I saw the animal tamer, Gundham, walk onstage. Following him, there were four hamsters. One balancing on a ball, one walking on its front paws, and one standing on another’s shoulders.

“Behold, common mortals! Feast your eyes upon my demon beasts! The likes of which your souls could not even fathom taming! JOIN ME, MY VICIOUS LACKEYS! STAND BESIDE THE SUPREME OVERLORD OF ICE, AND SHOWCASE YOUR TRUE POWER!”

I couldn’t help but snicker at that. I’ve seen his act before. The pictures for this one are always the publisher’s favorites. I hold up my camera for a perfect shot when the time comes. And then I wait.

First in line, a raccoon scurried onstage and scrambled up a wooden pole on one side of the stage. Two monkeys followed, climbing the opposite beam. The first grabbed a trapeze bar and swung to the other side, flipping halfway and holding the bar with its feet. The raccoon reached out and the monkey grabbed its hands. The other monkey, now also on a trapeze bar, reached out, and the first one threw the raccoon to it. Click! That was my best shot.

After a few more tosses, the animals came down and went backstage, and a lion walked out. It did the typical jumping through flaming hoops, Click! and then the tamer laughed triumphantly and bowed, letting the hamsters climb up his arms and then throwing back the curtain dramatically to exit. Click, Click!

The crowd was beaming. The next act was supposed to be that clumsy sad clown, but they had mentioned a special show at the beginning. A slender fellow with long black hair pushed the curtain aside impatiently. The crowd went silent, all at once. Click! He snapped his head over to my direction with an irritated glare. Must be camera shy.

He snapped his fingers and the previously mentioned sad clown stumbled out, pushing something under a cloth. She tripped and fell as the mystery prop slid into place and started bawling. The new man glared at her and she jumped to her feet and ran offstage. We then heard a loud crash and a few crowd members chuckled.

The man shook his head disapprovingly, and ripped the cloth off of the item. It was a wheel, with a man with fluffy white hair stuck to it. He pointed into the audience, signaling for the bystander to come onstage. The crowd cheered as a girl with pink hair and a pixelated hair clip walked up. He made a spinning motion and she grabbed the wheel and spun it around, the man attached wailing comically.

The tall man pulled a knife out of his pocket, gestured for the girl to move away, and… Click! He threw the knife at the wheel. The audience gasped, and the girl slowed the wheel down to a stop, revealing that the knife hadn’t come close to hitting him. This repeated several more times, before the knife thrower unhooked the man on the wheel, watched him collapse, and then dragged him backstage while the audience laughed. The girl walked offstage and sat back down. I got a lot of good shots there!

Then I saw a muscular looking woman cartwheel onstage. Click! That’s Akane, their contortionist. She laid down on the floor, and pulled her feet in front of her face, grinning wildly as the crowd reacted in both disgust and awe. She unfolded, then laid on her stomach and folded herself backwards. Click! The publishers will love that one.

Eventually Akane unfolded for the last time and walked on her hands off the stage. She passed by a tall, muscular man, Nekomaru, who hoisted her up onto his shoulders. He stepped down to his knees, and the previous owners of acts climbed onto his shoulders. He stood up and the crowd cheered. Click!

As he was letting them climb down, the sad clown tripped and fell into the audience and they laughed hysterically. The strongman pulled her back onto the stage and walked off with her while she burst into tears.

After this, I kinda zoned out. There’s one act I always looked forward to. A short girl with pigtailsand a giant rocket on her back and a chubby guy walked onstage, the girl blowing smoke out of a pipe into his face. Click! The strongman wheeled out a cannon, lifted the small guy up, and pushed him into the cannon. Click!

The girl walked up to me and grabbed my cigar, lighting the fuse with it. Click! She turned around, waiting for the cannon to launch. After a solid 5 seconds she started yelling at the guy in the cannon, who poked his head out to see what the holdup was, when all of a sudden it launched him into the air. Click!

She walked back to me, handing me my cigar, when I noticed that the hot ash from it must have lit the rocket on her back. Not three seconds later, I heard a loud boom and looked up to see a hole torn in the roof of the tent. We all ran outside and saw a firework in the shape of the girls head. A pink haired man next to me muttered,

“Well, I guess now’s as good a time as ever..” and pressed a button on a remote. The sky lit up with dozens of other brilliant flashes of color.

[cmi-miu]

Ya’aburnee - Chapter 7 (Seventeen Soulmate AU)

Soulmate AU: The last words your soulmate says to you are the words tattooed on your wrist.

Pairing: SoonWoo, JiHan, SeokHao

Title: Ya'aburnee (arabic): yak-BER-nee (n.) lit. "you bury me"; the hope that your lover or beloved will outlive you as to spare yourself the pain of living beyond that person.

Chapter Summary: This is a JiHan chapter so obviously it’s plain and simple fluff sprinkled with a little bit of Hosh and Josh sibling love.

Jisoo eyes the Skype icon that keeps vibrating as he curses the day Soonyoung was born. He had clearly told his brother he’d come online today and lo and behold! Soonyoung was nowhere to be seen. He’s this close to disowning the man when the great Mr Kwon Soonyoung finally decides to answer the call.

“I know I am late but please understand I couldn’t find my laptop charger!” Soonyoung speaks a mile a minute to avoid Jisoo’s chiding. When he sees the man’s frown only double in size, he brings out his hands in front of him and waves them about exclaiming, “I’m sorry im sorry im sorry!”

At brother’s pleading expression and pouting lips, Jisoo doesn’t stand a chance. And it seems Soonyoung knows because he’s part snickering as he apologises. “Urgh!” Jisoo screams, pulling at his hair comically and had Soonyoung not been begging the man for forgiveness, he would’ve guffawed at his expression. “I hate when you make that face!”

Soonyoung knows now that he’s in the clear so he snickers and exclaims, “love you too, Josh!” He shakes his head when Jisoo mock glares at him and raises an eye cheekily as he asks, “so? Where’s Jeonghan? I wanna meet him! Show me! Show me! Show me!”

Rolling his eyes and sighing Jisoo places his elbow on the table and his face in his palm, grouching, “he just went to the bathroom. We’d been waiting for half an hour.”

“I’m sorry,” Soonyoung whines, “I just got back from work. I’m exhausted.” The younger slams his head into his pillow making his tablet fall down. Propping it up by its side, Soonyoung continues looking at Jisoo with a wonky smile. It’s a different colour of Soonyoung and Jisoo can’t put a finger on it but something seems to have changed.

The elder chooses to voice his suspicious out with a tiny grin, “you seem content. Not happy, but content” Soonyoung laughs at his brother’s comment. The same old, crinkled eyes, hands on his mouth laughter. “Is it safe to assume you have a crush? Who is it? Your boss?”

Soonyoung’s expression sours at the words and he crinkles his nose funnyly, “my Boss is an old man, old man. And no,” Soonyoung shakes his head, his hair flopping, “I’m not crushing on anyone lately. I just had a good time last weekend with Wonwoo.”

Now Jisoo is very curious. Soonyoung having a good time is, in itself, a miracle ever since he forced himself into this marriage with Wonwoo. And to think that he’s had a good time with said husband? Jisoo absolutely has to know what’s that all about.

“Why? What’d you guys do?” Jisoo asks nonchalantly. Trying very hard to hide his curiosity about the matter.

“Nothing much,” Soonyoung shrugs, a small smile on his lips, “we watched some anime. Ate some ice cream. Talked a little.” Looking back into the tablet camera, Soonyoung continues to smile as he says, “we just had a good time.”

“Well,” the elder begins, “I’m glad you two are getting along.”

The man of the other end of the call coughs a little and his expression turns uncomfortable, as he tries to steal his gaze from his brother. “I wouldn’t exactly call it getting along…” Soonyoung licks his lips uneasily and tries to think of how to continue, “we’re back to ignoring each other again but I feel like I at least know something we have in common now. Besides being unhappy with our marriage.”

“Soonyoung…” Jisoo begins already at a loss for what to say next. He wants to comfort his brother somehow, but he already knows he can’t. “Soonyoung, I know you’re scared to try but sometimes, you have to be the one to initiate any kind of friction between each other. It’s frustrating, I know.” The elder huffs a sigh and shakes his head as he continues, “I know it’s frustrating to not know if you’ll make it. It’s infuriating when you have to start all the conversations. When you don’t have a choice. But Wonwoo is a very nice guy. He’s just a little shy.”

“I know, Josh,” Soonyoung mumbles, turning on his side to stare up at the ceiling. “it’s just… after Mingyu… I’m not ready. In fact, I don’t want to. I’m happy with us just being friendly strangers. I don’t want to lose the one thing that is set in stone for me. He’s not… he’s not Mingyu.”

And the elder knows that’s not all of Soonyoung’s worries. No one would know better than him how much Soonyoung has suffered at the hands of fate just to end up in an unhappy marriage with a heartbroken man. From being rejected to having to reject so many.

To having to hear those dreaded words before saying goodbye to his soulmate.

Soonyoung has suffered so many heartbreaks in his small twenty-seven years of life that Jisoo can’t even fathom how the man smiles at him every time they speak.

He remembers that one time when Soonyoung was sixteen and had confessed to a girl that he liked her, only to be rudely rejected because she was already in love with someone else.

When Soonyoung was eighteen and had gone out with another for two days before he was dumped because the words on his wrist scared her (as if it was Soonyoung that would cause her death).

And that time when Soonyoung was twenty-one, his boyfriend had dumped him because he was so sure he had found his soulmate.

Or when Soonyoung was only twenty-five when his third boyfriend died after saying goodbye. When the words on Soonyoung’s left hand wrist glowed golden as his soulmate boarded the plane.

Yep. Life didn’t deal Soonyoung the best cards and Jisoo was no stranger to this. But, seeing his brother smiling quietly, despite his worried eyes staring back at him, he couldn’t help but wonder if Soonyoung had finally found a person to call his own now.

“I think Wonwoo’s the one, Soonyoung,” Jisoo mutters, smiling quietly at his brother. “Try and get to know him. Try and be the sixteen-year-old who randomly confessed to a girl because he liked her stockings.”

Soonyoung laughs out loud at the mention of Minyeo, his high school crush, and relishes in his attempt at a proper confession. He’d always been a little too impulsive when it came to feelings and even, he found it disturbing sometimes.

“Let’s keep sixteen-year-old me out of the conversation,” Soonyoung sniggers, “and talk about Mr Yoon Jeonghan. Where is he?”

“Oh! Right!” Jisoo grins, turning his head to the bathroom and screaming, “Jeonghan! Come out now or I’m bringing the phone into the shower!”

Soonyoung sniggers at his dramatic brother and watches Jisoo smile when the sound of the bathroom door opening makes him look up.

“Soonyoung?” Wonwoo calls him then. Soonyoung turns to find him peeping into the room as if unsure if he’s allowed to enter his home office. Soonyoung smiles at his husband, lazily waving him over as he points at his tablet.

“Jisoo’s online!” He exclaims, smirking giddily when Wonwoo rushes over to his side and pushes him out of the screen to say hello to his brother.

“Josh!” Wonwoo waves at him, smiling happily. “How’s LA?”

“Wonwoo! LA is amazing! The weather here is to die for! You two should’ve been here!”

“Maybe next time,” Wonwoo smiles, shooting a glance at Soonyoung who looks just as baffled by the declaration as Jisoo does. “Where’s that mysterious boyfriend of yours that Soonyoung’s always talking about?”

Jisoo starts speaking but before he can even get a word out the camera shakes violently and his voice turns staticky.

“Is he out now?” Soonyoung yells into his headphones, but he can't make out anything his brother is saying. Annoyance discolours Jisoo’s face and then the camera turns to show a handsome young man waving at Soonyoung and Wonwoo.

They laugh at the goofy smile on the man’s face. They already know it’s Jeonghan, Jisoo’s boyfriend, acting cheeky in the video call, completely ignoring his angry boyfriend in the background.

The camera shakes a little and Jeonghan’s face comes into view. There are soap suds under his chin, and he looks every bit of that goof Jisoo had said he was. And Soonyoung giggles at the man waving a soapy hand at him, supposedly speaking. But the audio is lost.

Jisoo jumps up behind his boyfriend and seems to be yelling at the man, pointing at the phone and Soonyoung is severely confused but everything that’s going on screen is hilarious. Even without the audio, both Soonyoung and Wonwoo can tell that Jeonghan probably did something while picking up the phone that made the audio cut and now Jisoo was yelling at the taller man. Hands on his hips and a full-on mommy expression of his face.

Jeonghan pouting like a little boy with his head down is the cherry on top and Soonyoung finds himself laughing till his cheeks hurt.

But that’s not even the best part of the call. It’s when Wonwoo carelessly leans on his shoulder while laughing like a madman at his brother.

It’s the pleasant weight on his shoulders that Wonwoo is generous enough to grace him with that makes the night wonderful.

Soonyoung cuts the call after a while when Jisoo texts him that Jeonghan got water into the speakers and now the audio doesn’t work anymore.

They end up laughing for another hour at his brother’s obvious annoyance.

[xellandria]

Zmija Yilan was a temporary character I played towards the end of our Tomb of Annihilation campaign after my boy Alexus got petrified by a beholder somewhere deep in the bowels of the tomb itself.  We were able to “salvage” both him and Amara (who had also gotten petrified in the same fight) by shoving them into the Bag of Holding, but short of having the two of us sit on the bench while the remaining two party members waddled back to town, we had to roll some new characters.

I spent most of the week between the petrification and the new characters appearing being mad at myself for not remembering I had Inspiration I could have used to reroll either of my failed dex saves and not being able to do much beyond that, but with less than 72 hours left until she had to debut, I finally pulled an idea out of my butt, ran it by the DM because it involved Shenanigans™, got the OK and started designing her. Thus was born Zmija Yilan, whose appearance was based partly on an old photo that was semi-viral on Tumblr several years prior and partly on Xelloss from Slayers because when I’m in a pinch, that’s always who I fall back on, and have been doing so for like, 20+ years at this point lmao.  Personality-wise, there was a post floating around Tumblr that week about proverbs in various languages that, when translated literally or without context, made very little sense so she got a lot of that (and associated misunderstandings based on language mix-ups) mixed in with—again—Xelloss from Slayers, because I am a hack.  I would probably never play her again because she was so firmly entrenched in that campaign and also there’s some parts of how I designed/played her that I look back on and am like “ehhh I’m not sure I’m comfortable with the optics of this,” but I enjoyed playing her a lot more than I expected, and I look back on the end of our Tomb campaign very fondly because of it.

I haven’t been able to talk about her in public both for a lack of reason to do so and because I didn’t want to “spoil” my group in case they found my various social media posts, but as it’s nearly a year since she was introduced and nine months since the campaign ended, I’m gonna absolutely wall of text the shit outta this bitch, rofl (that said there’s baby’s first nekkid pin-up under here so assuming Tumblr lets me actually post it, fair warning for that under the cut)

Zmija Yilan - level 8-10 Human* Warlock (Great Old Ones/Pact of the Tome) (usually this is where my D&D character posts put stats but I don’t actually have access to her character sheet anymore, so let’s just pretend she had something ridiculous like maxed Charisma because I remember my spell DC being ridiculously high)

Zmija Yilan is a traveler from the far-off land of Zemlya, and a disciple of Matrymriy, one of the "family" of five gods in the pantheon of that region.  Matrymriy came to Zmija in a dream one night and told her to travel across the seas because She had a task for her, and that she would learn more once she reached her destination.  She's been traveling around Faerun for seven or so years—reaching one place, being given hints to go to a specific location, and upon reaching it, being told to travel on without seeming to do much more than just Be There.  Upon reaching Chult sometime within the last few months, her patron's hints indicated that she should travel to a place called Shilku Bay; she hired a guide (named Salida) and a bodyguard (a Fort Belurian mook) with what little locally-acceptable currency she had; they got separated after being attacked by a band of undead, and after failing to reunite with them, she was wandering around lost, trusting that Matrymriy will guide her where She desires her to go.

Part of her wandering had her end up in the Tomb of the Nine Gods itself, where she encountered our adventuring party (down two player characters) desperately trying to find their way out of the tomb in the hopes of returning to Port Nyanzaru to depetrify their friends.  Our barbarian’s player immediately distrusted her because I’d drawn her tabletop token with her back to the camera, which was an awkward feeling almost immediately returned in-game because both the barbarian and paladin aren’t hardcore RPers but they had to carry all the RP weight as they were introduced to this new character and explain that they were there to destroy a lich (both because it was the source of all the bad undead in the area, and because they’d been promised a reward—a motivation Zmija understood, as “a hungry bear will not dance.”)  Beyond the usual RP awkwardness there was an additional layer of awkwardness between the characters IC as at the time, Thokk was barely wearing more than a breastplate and loincloth, while Zmija was covered neck-to-ankle despite the heat and humidity of the region.  She claimed that in the culture of Zemlya, having strangers see your skin was a mark of great shame and that modesty was of paramount importance, so seeing so much of him was very off-putting and threw her off-balance for much of their initial interactions. 

Getting off on the “wrong” foot with the party and pushing as hard as I could into Zmija’s quirks (the weird proverbs, sprinkling in her Zemlyan vocabulary and making a point of her being from Very Far Away with Very Different Customs) meant I went a little too hard on them at the beginning, which is partly what I’d do differently and partly why the whole thing ended up working, so it’s a weird retrospective balance.  If my partymates had ever shoved (almost) any of the names or places Zmija mentioned into google, they probably would have twigged to the scheme pretty dang fast.

In reality, Zmija is not a human traveler from Zemlya, because surprise! she's actually Zsaksatyi, a Chultian Yuan-Ti Pureblood under the command of Fenthaza.  She worked as a bit of a double agent/interrogator within the Fane prior to her current assignment (hence her spell list's focus on information gathering, silent communication, and manipulation); she's been fleshing out her alternate persona for years and would occasionally pretend to be a captive and be thrown in one of those cells the party was in to get relevant information from the other prisoners, or assist others that were interrogating prisoners by more direct means (via Detect Thoughts).  In-universe, the language she pretends to speak is mostly made up, and something she's been working on for years at this point—it's not a fully-fleshed conlang and she only has a couple hundred words and phrases but it's enough to be consistent and believable when she sprinkles it into regular speech.  Since there's no real risk of running into anyone else from Zemlya (because it doesn't actually exist), it mostly didn't matter, and since there's actual meaning behind the words she does have, in theory it would have held up to a spell like Comprehend Languages as well. Out of universe, the language she speaks is an amalgamation of my own conlang stuff (which, like the in-universe version, is very limited and not complete) and various words and phrases pulled mostly from real-world Slavic languages (russian, croatian, hungarian, etc) with a little bit of Turkish thrown in when my English-only ear felt that it fit or when I had already used a word and needed another word for the same thing.  Zsaksatyi (pronounced dzahk sot-YEE) is the only name/word in the whole mess that doesn’t actually mean something somewhere, and was a combination of syllables from an online Yuan-Ti name generator that I kinda liked together. If she had ever been outed, I would probably have come up with something a little less cumbersome for me and my (almost certainly wholly monolingual) D&D group to say... but she didn’t, so Zsaksatyi it stays!

She very much looks up to Fenthaza and almost idolizes and worships her—if she ever had to choose between Fenthaza or Dendar, things might have gotten a little bit rough for her (possibly no matter which way she ultimately jumped, though I imagine Dendar's vengeance would be more immediate, if Dendar's a hands-on sort of patron).  Thankfully (for her), there was very little risk of that given that the party had left Fenthaza on reasonably neutral terms (having already helped her oust Ras Nsi from his position of power in the Fane and the party having essentially marked that dungeon as “cleared”). Fenthaza had sent her to scout the Tomb of the Nine Gods and locate (or steal) an artifact known as the Black Opal Crown, which will allow the Night Mother to emerge into the world.  The group actually came across the crown pretty soon after Zmija (and our other new character, a firbolg druid named Mei Ren who replaced our cleric, Amara) joined them, but the party couldn’t figure out how to get it out of the room it was in and Zsaksatyi was content that it would be safe from both our group and other adventurers there while she found her way back to the Fane (though she Sent the location to Fenthaza in case she wasn’t able to make it back).  That was actually like, halfway through the session right after she’d been introduced so having her sneak off that fast would have been absolutely wild, so I kept playing her as Zmija and while there were myriad opportunities for her to be discovered—including a hallway where any non-magical non-living thing got evaporated, up to and including clothing—she never was.  The fact that the only spells she ever used spell slots on were Hex, Counterspell, and Identify never really got commented upon, because prior to her joining the party we didn’t have a source for any sort of utility magic and we’d been feeling the lack for a while.  She was a lot of fun to play just as Zmija once I got the hang of her, but the hidden agenda that only our DM & I knew about was an extra layer of fun, too. It would have been neat to see how the party reacted to a reveal, but unless Jim wants to take us back to Chult to actually deal with the Night Mother’s return (because without having to keep up appearances and alignments, I’m pretty sure I could have gotten that crown out of there even before the weird teleport-defying magic of the Tomb got turned off), her story is over for us—taking her outside of the setting she was designed for would be weird... plus we already have two warlocks (well, one and a half) in a party of four PCs; adding a third would be a little bit bizarre, I think.

Her more Yuan-ti features include scales down her spine and across her shoulderblades, on the backs of her hands, and on her hips and thighs—mostly in reds, oranges, and browns, but as she increases in power and connection with the Night Mother, more of them are darkening to Her blue-black; it started right at that spot between the shoulderblades where you always picture being stabbed in the back, and has expanded from there; I imagine by level 20 all of her scales would be that blue-black and may have encroached further on the more human-y leather bits, probably encroaching on her face at the last, which would make being a spy a lot more difficult (even moreso than wearing as much clothing as she already does) but I guess at level 20, do you really need to be sneaking around pretending to be human?

In direct sunlight or other very bright light, her pupils constrict to slits, which is the real reason for her heavy eye makeup—between the distraction of it and the (somewhat exaggerated) squinting that such light induces, it often goes unnoticed, as it did with her character portrait (although to be fair to my party, Alexus also has slit eyes because that’s one of the traits of elves and half elves in D&D, and also I’m not sure if they ever saw her portrait any larger than 150x150 or whatever Roll20 shows them at). Both her top and bottom canine teeth are sharper, longer, and narrower than is typical for humans, and she is careful not to grin too widely and will cover her mouth when she laughs or yawns, whether she is in disguise or not.  That part I’ve never drawn though, so I can’t really point to that as something the party overlooked, heh.  In hindsight, I wish I'd given her more/heavier snake features but even the official art for Yuan-Ti player characters are very light on them and getting around the differences between human and yuan-ti racials without tipping off the party was hard enough as it was—I took the 120 feet of magic-ignoring darkvision invocation to disguise the fact that she innately had darkvision, I never used my racial spells and abilities unless I was willing to “use” a spell slot on them and had another plausible way to have obtained them, the one time I got hit with a poison ability (which she was immune to) I spent a lot of time “figuring out the math” on how much HP I had to drop, etc.  I also wish I’d given her darker skin, as she is supposed to be Chultian but she is significantly lighter than all the NPCs we came across.  Then again, I’m as white as a sheet soaked in bleach so there’s something weird about me RPing folks of colour regardless (especially given her fake backstory, agh agh agh) so yeah.  Really enjoyed her, don’t regret her, will not ever play her again rofl

In our very last session of Tomb of Annhiliation, the party—fresh off the victory over the big bad lich whose name I can never spell and his weird world-eating fetus—headed back to Port Nyanzaru via the Aarakocra village of Kir Sabal, which the previous variant of the party (of whom only Thokk remained alive and mobile enough to talk to them) had helped out significantly earlier in the campaign, unlocking a flying ritual that we were like “man we’re not coming back here if we’re gonna use it we gotta do it now” to get us the rest of the way to the port.  En route, Zmija tried to leave the group and rolled a secret 15 Stealth roll... contested by 17 and 18 perception rolls from Mei Ren and Thokk, but as she wasn’t carrying much of the party’s stuff and it was the end of the campaign, they kinda just let her give some line about seeing them again in the future maybe, the Mother’s will is unknowable, etc etc.  I think if Duf and Kattii didn’t know that I wanted Alexus back as badly as I did and that we were like twenty minutes (real time) away from actually getting him back, they might have considered that more suspicious than they did.

Pronunciations (and translations): (mostly C&Ped from her bio, which is the only part of her character sheet I can still access on Roll20)

Zmija Yilan: zMEE-ah yee-LAHN.  Because I'm subtle as hell, that's Croatian/Russian/Ukranian (first name) and Turkish (last name) for "snake/serpent," according to the internet.  What do you mean Remus Lupin is a werewolf?!

Matrymriy: mah-tRRuh mRREE (Rs are rolled).  Matrymriy is Zmija's claimed patron—one of five major Zemlyashan dieties—but she'll state that she doesn't know the name that she goes by in the local dialect.  That's only partly true, of course—мати мрій is Ukranian for "Mother of Dreams" (at least according to google translate), which is close enough to her patron's actual names and titles (Dendar, the Night Mother) that she can get away with it without actually raising suspicions about the true source of her powers.  She'll also do that thing where if someone tries to say the name back to her she'll "correct" them by saying it exactly the same four or five times and then "give up" and accept whatever "butchered" version the speaker comes up with, except she'll do it even if they're actually saying it perfectly correctly.  She may do this with her own name as well (sorry, Jim. And Duf. And Dustin. And Kattii. And Kattii's coworker, if he ever joins us and I'm still playing this character by then, lmao.) (2021 addition: and literally everyone who has a name that isn’t typically pronounced by us English-only plebians, I am so sorry I’m not better at your language)

Zsaksatyi: dzahk sot-YEE.  Zmija's real name, when she isn't pretending to be a human.  That doesn't mean anything as far as I know, it was just a combination of some of the syllables the random Yuan-Ti name generator was coming up with that I liked (which is also where "Itszella" was from), lol.  I may end up changing it to be less cumbersome at some point, unless it comes up before then and ends up written in stone, but I'm on a bit of a time crunch for the moment.

Zemlya: zem-lyah.  If pressed for more detail on where in Zemlya she's from (e.g. by someone pretending to know details about her country), her home town is Fal'shyva (fall-sheh-VAH), southeast of the capital of Hayali (HI-yah-LEE) and just north of the port city of Farazi (fah-ra-DZI), which is where she originally sailed from seven years ago. фальшива земля is Ukranian for "fake land," Hayali is Turkish for "imaginary," and Farazi is Turkish for "hypothetical," lol.

Proverbs & (approximate) Pronounciations: (if I recall correctly, asterisks indicate ones I had used, so I didn’t repeat myself too frequently)

Wziąć się w garść (zvun shih garsch): lit. take the self into the fist (polish), pull yourself together Галопом по Zemlya (gal-OH-pohm poe zem-lyah): lit. galloping across Zemlya (russian), to be hasty/haphazard. * У кого немає собаки, полює з котом (Ooh koe-hoe meh-MIGH-eh soe-BAH-kay, poe-LOO-yay koh-tome): lit. who does not have dog, hunts with cat (ukranian, original proverb is portugese), make do with what you have. Z choinki się urwałaś? (dzi hoink-E she urr-vahl-wash): lit. did you fall from a Candlenights(aka Christmas) tree? (polish), you are obviously not well-informed; are you dumb? * Mi o vuku (MEE oh voo-koo): lit. to talk of the wolf (croatian), speak of the devil. * Thalai muzhuguthal (tha-LIE MOOz-GOO-thal): lit. pour water over someone's head (tamil), cut off a relationship. * Хоть кол на голове теши (coat-coal nah gohl-ehvee teh-SHEE): lit. you can sharpen an axe on this head (russian), a very stubborn person.

Other Languages Are Hard Today, Let’s Just Proverb It In English:

Cat's Forehead (japanese): a tiny space, usually used humbly to refer to owned land. It fell between chairs (swedish): group work that everyone assumed someone else would do, and didn't get done as a result * It gives me a beautiful leg (french): fat lot of good that'll do me Drown the fish (french): avoid a subject by talking about anything and everything else, confuse the issue In a river with piranhas, the alligator swims backstroke (brazil): protect your weaknesses * Accusation always follows the cat (iraqi): it's easy to blame someone who can't defend themselves The honey only sticks to the mustache of he who licked it (arabic): he who smelt it, dealt it * A hungry bear does not dance (greek): the reward must be worth the cost (or at least exist) * The crayfish sides with the crab (korean): people who have a lot in common stay friends * If you can't live longer, live deeper (italian): get the most of your time * A spoon does not know the taste of soup (welsh): intelligence is not wisdom Examine what is said, not who speaks (arab): don't take things at face value * Turn your face to the sun and the shadows will fall behind you (new zealand): have a positive outlook He who does not travel, does not know the value of men (moorish): wide experience is gr8 Do good and throw it in the sea (arab): don't expect anything back from kindness * Shared joy is a double joy; shared sorrow is halved (swedish): friends make things better If you want to go fast, go alone.  If you want to go far, go together (african): strength in numbers, speed on your own.

[spones-in-my-bones]

Spones Amusement Park Date

OK SO I’ve had this in my WIPs for YEARS, and it’s an outline for a fic, so not fully written out fyi. The idea is basically: McCoy and his 5 y/o daughter Joanna going to an amusement park and on the way they meet Spock who is studying human culture and due to Reasons they invite him along. And then Romance happens ???

(The things they do (rides, games, etc) in the park in the fic are based upon going to Knott’s Berry Farm and Disneyland with my family as a kid, and what traditions we had when we went! It was a fun way to put that personal touch into a story, imo. Anyways, I hope you enjoy! (Also it’s like 4,600 words, full of run-on sentences bc rambling, and gets more fleshed out as it goes)

Let's just take a second to imagine Spock on Earth studying Terrans and their culture, and he bumps into McCoy, someone he met at the academy a week before. Let's just say, they did not get off on the right foot, and now are avoiding each other a bit. McCoy is with Joanna, and Joanna asks who Spock is, and McCoy introduces him.

Later on that same morning, Joanna wanders off and Spock saves her from nearly getting hit by a car (kinda dramatic but ok), and McCoy decides to give his impression of Spock another chance by inviting him to the amusement park with them. Spock declines at first, but then McCoy asks what his other plans are, and Spock say study Earth ways, to which McCoy says that an amusement park is a vital part of terran society and culture, thus convincing Spock to join them. 

The first thing Joanna does is take out her small camera and take pictures of everything, especially her father and new friend. The next, of course, is to get some cotton candy. Spock and McCoy both dislike the pure sugariness of the cotton candy, and Joanna doesn't mind since she gets it all to herself. 

Then the first ride they go on is sure to be the spinning teacups, which Spock remarks that it is illogical to sit in something designed for drinking out of, but McCoy simply rolls his eyes and pulls him into the cup before they start moving. when they get off, McCoy is a bit dizzy and thus stumbles, Spock catching his arms and straightening him. McCoy thanks him as Joanna rushes ahead and snaps another photo of the two. Then it's off to the log ride, where McCoy and Joanna get on, but Spock declines, instead going to observe the shops nearby in the meantime.

McCoy calls Spock a party pooper and Joanna does as well and they both go off to the log ride when they return, Joanna and McCoy are drenched, and thus walk around in the sun to dry off as they look for Spock, who's looking curiously at one of the many VERY old-fashioned holographic games in which you attempt to knock down stacks of bottles with a ball. Joanna sees a large stuffed Shelat (just for fun, it's a sehlat) that she wants, and McCoy says he'll give it a shot and gets four balls. He throws the first one and utterly misses, just saying that he was warming up. The second one misses as well, and Joanna says that her dad isn't very good at this. Spock then inquires if he might make an attempt, and McCoy says go for it. Spock nails it on the first try, winning the bear for joanna. Still having one more ball left, the guy behind the counter makes a wager that if Spock can hit a very difficult target, he'll get two bears, the sehalt and teddy bear instead of just one. 

McCoy asks Joanna and Joanna accepts, telling Spock that she believes in him. Spock picks up the ball, calculates as necessary, and nails the hit, winning a total of two stuffed bears for joanna. Joanna places them in her bag, the two bears sticking out of the top from just under their arms. 

After then, the three ventured into the kid's zone of the amusement park, where a lot of Joanna's favorite rides were. There was a miniature racetrack, where Joanna picked her favorite car, number 3(like the three of them!), and raced around the small, safe track as Spock and McCoy watched, McCoy taking pictures for his daughter. Then it was off to the the large spinning swings. Joanna loved them because they made her feel like she was flying. McCoy noticed that Spock was looking around the balloon animals at the time, which were still a big hit. McCoy explains them and then asks for a balloon hat for Joanna in the shape of a starship. Spock is impressed at the craftsmanship, and needless to say Joanna is elated at the sight of the hat.

Finally, it was time for the roller coaster. Joanna was tall for her age, which was 8 years old, and thus she was now able to ride the roller coaster she had been waiting literally all her life for. The Gallelio Thunder. Spock inquired about it's odd name, and McCoy explained that it was an indoor, underground rollercoaster that projected stars everywhere, so it was as if you were actually travelling through space. Though he supposed Spock had already seen space on his trip from Vulcan, so it's probably nothing like the real thing. 

Spock was going to wait outside as Joanna and McCoy went inside, but Joanna asked if Mr. Spock would please come with them. She said that the ride was three seats across, and so they had to have three people or else it wouldn't work. When Spock asks what wouldn't work, McCoy comments that Joanna is afraid she'll fall off of the coaster if there isn't a person on each side of her. But not to worry, since these are really safe. Spock says that he will join them for Joanna's sake, and follows them into the ride. 

In the long line there, Joanna gets really nervous, and thus holds her dad's hand. When they get to the front, she becomes even more nervous, and grabs Mr. Spock's sleeve, to which Spock and McCoy look at her and McCoy apologizes. Spock says that there is no need for apology, and McCoy smiles a bit. It's their turn, finally, and, after Joanna's height is checked and confirmed, they walk over, McCoy leading the way into the car and taking the farthest of the three seats. Joanna is shaking with anticipation as McCoy buckles her seatbelt and pulls the restraint over her head to her chest. Spock follows suit and then finally McCoy does his own. 

Time for liftoff. 

The roller coaster starts off slow, climbing up a great hill as panels on the walls mirror the reflections of the passengers in the car. McCoy appears very unsettled, Joanna is grinning widely, and Spock is looking around curiously at their surroundings. As they reach the top, the lights dim more and more until they are surrounded by darkness. Joanna instinctively reaches for her father's hand, squeezing much tighter than an eight year old should be able to. Then they stop as the car climaxes the peak. Surrounding them is a true work of art that is nature's universe around them. The stars twinkle in a variety of colors, and you can practically feel the heat coming off of the sun to their left. It was beautiful sight to behold. "Get ready, now." McCoy warned as the car jolted a little bit. The brakes released and the car went plummeting downwards into a multi-colored nebula. The stars stretched and flickered in their sight as the car sped by, fast as a shuttlecraft. A moment later they swirled with the track's loops and then flicked across their vision as they made sharp turns. Then, the car climbed one final hill, taller than the first, and at the peak was a view of the entire underground galaxy, all of the stars, planets, asteroids, meteors and nebulae the eyes can see. Right before you. As if you could reach out to it. But no one dared to as the gravity of the final drop was all too sudden to do so. The car raced to a slow crawl into the station, each of the passengers speechless. McCoy considered himself lucky that scared silence ran in his family rather than scared screaming. After that ride, he and Spock both surely would have lost their hearing. 

The three exited the ride, McCoy more slowly than the rest as he stomach tried to catch up with him. Joanna was jumping around saying that it was so awesome and amazing and she wanted to go again, but McCoy protested, saying that he didn't think he could handle another ride. Joanna made a sad face as she 'awwww'd, walking up the incline that led to the exit of the ride's building. Spock then suggested that he could take her on the ride, and Joanna said "yes, yes, yes! Pleeeeeease daddy, let Mr. Spock take me!" He then asked if Joanna was afraid of falling out if she wasn't surrounded, and she said that Mr. Spock would protect her, just like earlier today. How could McCoy argue with that?

(he could, but listen)

McCoy said very well and Joanna jumped around happily and gave Mr. Spock a hug around his waist, which she could just reach. McCoy and Spock are both shocked at this unexpected behavior, but McCoy just smiles as Spock stands there awkwardly. McCoy walks with them to the ride, but instead of getting on, passes through, taking joanna's bag and balloon hat for her, and says that he'll be at the restaurant at the exit when they're done. Joanna nods and says thank you to both him and Mr. Spock before the ride starts and McCoy steps back, watching them take off into the galaxy together. 

Almost fully exhausted from their energetic day, the first thing McCoy does is go into the restaurant and sit down. He notices the virtual pinball machines against one wall, and takes out a few coins for Joanna when she gets back. He sat back in the fully metal, yet oddly comfortable chair that was one of four at the table, and shut his eyes with a content sigh. Joanna and him had always had fun when they did this twice a year, but this year he felt much more, well, relaxed. What had changed? Well, sure Joanna was older, but it had to be more than that. Could it have been Spock? McCoy opened his eyes and looked to Joanna's small blue backpack that held the two plush bears Spock had won for her earlier. He noticed that one was falling out, and thus adjusted it in the bag so that the two were side by side comfortably. 

Maybe it was Spock. 

"Daddy!" The excited sounds of his daughter call out to McCoy, who set the bag holding the bears down and hugged his daughter as she ran up to him. He asked her if she enjoyed herself, and she said yes and that Mr. Spock said he did too. McCoy grinned at Spock. “Is that so?” Spock nodded. “It was a competent source of entertainment.” Bascially meaning that he had fun in Vulcan. McCoy asked Joanna if she wa hungry, which he gets a hearty reply. McCoy asks Spock if he is hungry as well, and Spock says that he is “indeed in need of nourishment”. McCoy chuckles and rolls his eyes at the Vulcan’s phrasing. 

He tells Joanna to order at the screen beside their table and then gives her the coins so she can play pinball. If he had something odd to be proud of in his daughter, it would be her skills at a pinball machine. He taught her so well that she nearly beats /him/, and she's only eight. "Dr. McCoy," Spock begins as he takes as seat across from McCoy. "Look, Spock, we're at an amusement park, not the academy. You can call me Leonard." Spock is hesitant for a moment. "Very well, Leonard." McCoy smiles at his name and orders his food, giving Spock some recommendations. He looks back over at Spock and bites his lips together in an effort to hold back a laugh.

“Well, I’ll be. You’ve got uh-” he motioned to the top of his own head-the place the hair was standing askew on Spock’s own. 

Spock piqued a brow before reaching his hand up and in one smooth motion, flattened his hair.

“I didn’t know that it could do that.”

Spock gave him a confused look.

“It’s just-you appear to be so...” McCoy gestured in the air. “Meticulous? That I didn’t think it was possible for a single hair to be out of place.”

“I assure you, the hair of Vulcans reacts very similarly to human’s. Perhaps you have mistaken me instead for a statue?”

McCoy laughed at that. “Maybe, but good to know that you’re just like the rest of us. In all the good ways, of course.” He winked at Spock, causing the Vulcan’s brow to soar higher and make McCoy let out another laugh. This time, he caught Spock eyeing him with a sort of... fondness? Maybe he’s starting to relax, finally.

Just as McCoy was about to speak, Joanna came over, exclaiming that she had gotten the third highest score on the game. McCoy says 'atta girl' and moves her bag so she can sit down beside him.

Their food arrives moments later, McCoy having a nice thin slice of meat on his plate surrounded by vegetables, Spock ordering a full fruit and vegetable plate, and Joanna ordering the kid version of what her father has."If memory serves, most Vulcans are Vegetarians. Is that right, Spock?" McCoy asks and he peeks down at Spock's salad plate. 

"Your memory is correct, doctor." 

"Leonard, please," McCoy grins up at Spock, "You are eating dinner with us, after all. So, how important would you say vegetables are?" 

Spock raises a brow at the question, but before he can say anything, he sees the doc-...Leonard motion to Joanna, who is currently picking at her vegetables. "They are incredibly important, as they are my main source of nourishment." 

Leonard makes an expression of faux surprise, turning to his daughter. "You hear that. Jo? Fruits and vegetables are /very/ important to eat. Even Mr. Spock thinks so." 

“But that's /all/ he eats," Jo whimpers, picking at her broccoli. "And Mr. Spock's not a human, so it's different.” “That may be true, but-” 

“I am half human,” Spock offers. McCoy raises both his brows at the information. “My mother is human, and it is true that a balanced diet, containing vegetables, is crucial to maintaining one's health. This applies to both you and Leonard as well.” 

McCoy smiles, mentally stumbling at the sound of his first name in Spock's voice for a second before turning back to Jo. “See? Spock may not be a doctor, but he knows his stuff.” 

Joanna frowns, simply picking at her vegetables before eating them with disdain. McCoy chuckles a bit, tilting his head towards Spock in thanks. 

When they had finished eating, it was already nighttime, meaning the park was closing soon. Spock was saying that he must be going, but Joanna protested, saying that they only had one more thing to do before they left. McCoy agreed with his daughter and said that it wouldn't be much longer. After some thought, Spock agreed and they walked down towards a giant fountain that stood in the center of the park. McCoy then left saying the he's going to a stand that they had just passed and would be back in a minute, leaving Joanna with Spock just 20 feet away. 

Joanna looked up at the stars, saying that she loved the night because she could see other worlds then. She then asked if Mr. Spock that if he was an alien, that meant he was from another planet, right? which he said he was. She followed up by asking which star was his planet in the sky. Spock said you cannot see it from here, bug pointed out the orion's belt, and said that it was the far left star there, the one that shined a bit dimmer than the rest, is where his galaxy was, and his planet was in that galaxy. Joanna spotted it and commented that she wanted to go there someday and meet more people like the kind Mr. Spock.

McCoy returned a split second later with three fresh churros, handing one to Joanna and one to Spock. Spock tried to deny the food, but McCoy insisted, saying that it was a dessert on Earth that was meant to be eaten on such an occasion as visiting an amusement park. And that he knew Vulcans well enough to ensure it didn't have any sugar. Spock then accepted the treat and Joanna said that he cannot eat it yet, and that he had to wait. Spock inquired as to why, and McCoy said that it's tradition with the two of them. 

McCoy then led the way to what appeared to be an old wooden house in the middle of the amusement park. When they walked around the side of it, a train was revealed to be hidden behind the old house, and Joanna immediately ran to it. Not having seen this before, Spock asked what this was, and McCoy explained that it was an antique steam-powered train that the park ran once per night. They followed Joanna to the third of the eight passenger cars and sat down across from one another. Not too many people were on the train that night, so they ended up getting that open-air car to themselves. McCoy told Spock that the side they were sitting on was better, and asked him to come over. Spock asked as to why it was better, and McCoy said that he would see soon. Spock moved and sat next to McCoy, Joanna on the Doctor's other side near the head of the car, eagerly looking out of the side waiting for the train to go. Moments later, the train jolted to start, McCoy bumping into Spock with it's force, however Spock caught him. McCoy apologized, feeling a hear rise to his cheeks, and Spock said there was no need. The train chugged steadily as it made its way around the park, passing by the teacup ride, log plunge, kid's zone, and finally the building for Gallileo's Thunder before halting to a stop at the back of the park. Spock asked why they had stopped and McCoy said to wait a minute and he'll see. Joanna said that they could eat their churros now, and the three of them unwrapped it and took a bite at the same time, all together enjoying the still warm, sugary bliss they held in their hands.

All of a sudden, just about every single light in the park went out at once, leaving a sole light from the large fountain to illuminate the center of the park. The light changed from green to yellow to red and made its way through the entire rainbow before halting on a bright, watery blue

Tiny white orbs of light flew up from the fountain, making a set formation above it.

White lines connected the orbs to one another, creating a very familiar pattern; that of Ursa Minor. As soon as they all were connected, the constellation sprung to life, dancing in an elegant manner. More white orbs floated up, creating another constellation that was known as Cassiopeia. It joined in the dance with Ursa Minor, flowing around the fountain as if they could walk on air. Soon enough, more and more constellations joined them, sharing the dance of the stars before everyone's eyes.

McCoy laid his head on his arm that was resting on the top of the bench he sat on. His eyes were calm, and his face aglow. This had to be his favorite part of the entire day. Curious, he looked over at Spock, who seemed to be fully engaged in the light show. McCoy couldn't blame him. Holograms or not, it was still a beautiful show. 

There... was something about Spock's eyes. Something that captivated McCoy as a whole. No matter how much he wished to look away, he couldn't. After today, he had a hard time believing that the stubborn Vulcan he had met before was the same one he had spent nearly the whole day with. But he was. Both of them were, he chuckled. Spock was both of these men, both stubborn and kind, blunt and gentle. And McCoy liked it. 

He liked... him. 

Spock.

After the light show had ended in an explosion of glittering stars, all of the lights slowly came back on in the park, and McCoy found himself still staring at Spock's eyes. When Spock looked to him however, he found the energy to look away and over at Joanna. She was sitting a few feet away from him on his other side, clapping for the amazing show they had just witnessed. "Mr. Spock, Mr. Spock! Did you see the lights? Did you like it?" Joanna asked, practically jumping up and down in her seat. McCoy knew that he should not have given her that sugar so late. "I did see it. It was quite... Interesting." Spock stated, unable to hide the sliver of fascination in his voice.

The train jolted to a start again, McCoy being pushed into Spock again by the force, his hand landing on top of the Vulcan's. McCoy immediately withdrew his hand and cleared his throat, apologizing for the sudden bump. Spock said there was no need to apologize and McCoy could feel his face redden.

After they got off the train, they headed straight towards the exit of the park, Joanna snapping a few more pictures along the way. Joanna halted the two of them before they could leave and walked up to a member of the park's staff, asking if she could take a picture for them. The woman accepted and set them up for a photo. Spock attempted to leave and let just McCoy and Joanna get a picture, but they pulled him back in, saying that he was with them the whole day, so he has to suffer through one last picture with them. McCoy held up Joanna on his right side so she was in the center of the two adults. Joanna smiled widely at her dad and new friend as the camera flashed with a couple of pictures. This day had been perfect for her, and she was happy to have photos to look at later on so she could remember this day.

About halfway through the parking lot, Joanna began to walk slowly and yawn. McCoy, noticing this, asked her if she was tired, to which she replied that she wasn't. She yawned again. Okay, maybe a little. McCoy picked her up and carried her, her head resting on his right shoulder. He asked Spock if he was taking the bus back to the academy's living area, and Spock said yes. McCoy commented that he is as well, though he gets off just before then in an apartment complex. The two arrive just in time to catch the bus back to where they are staying, though they are a few of the only ones on the bus. When McCoy sits down, Spock across from him, Joanna is fast asleep already. McCoy adjusts his hold on her and yawns himself. Moments later, he is asleep as well. 

About a half an hour later, McCoy is awoken by Spock, who was sitting beside him, shaking him awake with one hand. The first instinct is to ask where he is, and Spock comments that he is on the bus, and they are nearly at McCoy's stop. McCoy blinks himself awake and looks around at the bus' bright interior. He thanks Spock and looks out the window. Indeed, they are very close to his stop. He reaches up and pulls the cord, telling the bus that he wants to get off at the next stop and then wipes his face with his hand. "Thanks, Spock." He says with a slight yawn. He looks down at Joanna, who is still asleep, and thinks it best not to wake her right now. McCoy took Joanna's bag off of her back and opened it, taking the camera out. He turned it on and pressed a few buttons before a small chip came out of the side. He handed it to Spock. "Here, it's a copy of all of the pictures from today. I thought it might help your research." Spock accepted it with a nod and placed it in his pocket. 

When the bus pulls to a stop, McCoy stood up with the help of the bar beside him, and then turns to Spock. "Hey, uh, Thank you. For today. Just... well, everything today." Spock simply looks up at him and replies "It was no trouble." McCoy smirked at that. He opened his mouth to say something, but stopped himself. “So... I'll uh, see you around, then.” Spock nodded and McCoy hesitantly exited the bus, watching as the bus ride away. 

Opening the door to the apartment, McCoy quickly walks in, as it had started raining as they were walking, and takes off both his and Joanna's shoes and places her bag on the sofa. He carries her to her room, helps her change into her pajamas, and puts her to bed. Today had been great. Joanna had been great. Spock had been great. McCoy, he... He really liked Spock. Not in the way one friend liked another, either. Was that selfish of him? After all, they had only really talked with one another today. But when he thought about him... 

McCoy pulled Joanna's camera out of her bag and scrolled through the pictures, noticing a pattern. Most of the pictures were of him and Spock, next to each other. In the teacup, at the bottle game, eating, and on the train. In all of them, McCoy is smiling. He looks to Spock, and Spock is smiling too, with his eyes. He let out a quiet sigh. He was never going to have a chance with Spock as perfect as the one he had today. 

A sudden knock on the door startled McCoy from his thoughts. Would could it be at this hour? McCoy opened the door to see Spock standing there, drenched from the rain. "Spock!" McCoy exclaimed, ushering the man inside. "It's pouring out there, why don’t you have an umbrella?" McCoy shut the door behind him and grabbed a towel from the closet. "Seriously, what are you doing here? Weren't you going back to your apartment at the Academy?" 

Spock accepted the towel and wiped the water from his slick hair. "Indeed, I had planned to return to my apartment." He stated, now drying off his arms and shoulders. "However a situation came up that required my presence here." 

McCoy was confused. "What? What situation?" Spock opened his bag and pulled out a small brown teddy bear. McCoy looked to Joanna's bag that was on the couch beside them and saw only the one teddy bear was present. "Oh... thank you." McCoy said, taking the bear and placing it beside the other. "Joanna would have been sad if she had lost either of these guys," McCoy admitted. "But you could have given them to me later. You didn’t have to come out in the pouring rain, you know." 

Spock stopped drying himself off and handed the towel to McCoy, touching his hand. Spock met McCoy's eyes. "Leonard," Spock stated, serious. "Are you aware the Vulcans are touch telepaths?" 

McCoy blinked. "No, I wasn't." He replied, confused as to where this was going. 

"I see. I noticed that, whenever we touched today, you were harboring romantic feelings towards myself, that grew more and more prominent as the day passed." Spock looked down at their hands that were still touching. "I can sense that they are currently at their strongest now." 

McCoy looked down at their hands and his face reddened. "So,” he hesitated, “what are you saying?" 

"I wanted to tell you that I reciprocate those very feelings." 

"W-what?"

Spock took the towel from McCoy and intertwined the fingers of their left hands. "I wish to attempt a relationship with you." 

McCoy couldn't speak. He really liked the guy, and Joanna liked him as well, and he felt as though he could trust him, so what was holding him back? Nothing. 

"Uh, I... I mean, I’m definitely interested but, how about we go on a few more dates first? get to know one another better." 

“Very well. Would you be interested in meeting me for lunch tomorrow?”

“Yes-well, I mean, I have Joanna with me-”

“Joanna is welcome of course. I have found myself... fond, of both of you.”

McCoy grinned at that. “That’s good, because we’re a package deal.”

“I would not have it another way, Leonard.” Spock raised up the man’s hand, and in a motion he’d seen a few times before, he placed his lips to the back of the man’s palm. “Until tomorrow, then.”

McCoy stammered at the gesture, face flushed both at how cheesy it was and how much he utterly loved it.

“Until tomorrow, Spock.”