#but like. when you do. you'll see the vision)

[lizardsfromspace]

Updates on the miles long vertical skyscraper solarpunk nightmare city bullshit known as The Line at Neom, Saudi Arabia. A documentary on its construction called Kingdom Uncovered: Inside Saudi Arabia alleged that, allegedly, 21,000 migrant workers have died in construction of Neom & other Vision 2030 projects. Additionally, to build it they not only ordered the bulldozing of villages in the area, but authorized deadly force in advance.

All for this for inane concept art - not by architects, by movie concept artists - of a stadium that's in mid-air atop a city that also has a channel that cruise ships can pass through

(I can't stress the "not designed by architects" part enough. Frankly, a lot of The Line concept art is kind of difficult to look at, because it doesn't make any real sense as a physical space. A lot of it is unrealistic but some is visually incoherent, and I can't imagine people living in any of it.)

So the first segment of The Line, which will be home to 1.5 million people, is still scheduled to be open in five years. Let's check in on how far construction has gone

Ah.

The final cost of construction will be at least $8.8 trillion dollars, and people have floated reducing it in size to something more realistic, but Mohammed bin Salman is adamant that his big mirror stay the same size, to the degree that people working on the project can't mention cost around him. Indeed, they've silently jacked up prices at Neom's ski resort to compensate: a $489 will now cost $1,866.

The ski resort has also not been built yet, and they're price gouging it

But it's hosting the Asian Winter Games in 2029! I'm sure they can overcome the budget overruns & slow construction and have an entire mountain resort complex ready before it hosts a continent-wide sports event in four years!

I do have to correct a fact I got wrong in my previous post: Sindalah, the beach resort...is also not finished, despite hosting a launch event. When it does open, they'll finally have...a resort for superyacht-owners whose hopes of making money are pinned on people with superyachts abandoning island-hopping in the Caribbean and the Mediterranean so they can go to one small, half-finished fake island in the Red Sea. Brilliant gambit, sir

Thanks to Saudi Arabia's vast investment in foreign companies, and carefully placed stories about the "reforms" of Mohammed bin Salman, public criticism of Saudi Arabia has vanished in many places. Despite this, their projects are crazier than ever, with their Intellectual Reformer Prince causing the deaths and displacement of thousands of people over silly concept art of a gigantic solarpunk tunnel, a project that's obviously impossible to anyone but him.

Time & time again you see credulous stories about these amazing construction projects being mounted by countries trying to diversify their economy away from oil. These are utterly unprecedented construction projects...and once they're made, you realize why nobody tried to make 'em before. You have islands in the shape of the world eroding into the ocean, you have lavish sandbars inhabited by exiled war criminals, you have a trench in the desert that's totally going to be a sustainable dream city, with a stadium in the sky and cruise ships cutting through downtown, and it'll have parks and amazing sci-fi things and, uh, like, maybe you'll fly to different levels, and uh

And it's a trench in the desert, that one day might be a solarpunk dream inhabited by ultra-wealthy people eager to go somewhere with no extradition treaty with the Hague, and also it'll kill a lot of birds

I posted about the Dubai World Islands - the sinking uninhabited artificial islands in the shape of the Earth - and it's vital to note its sister development, the Palm Jumeirah, which is...

Residential

Just dense rows of houses packed along roads into the ocean. All of them with their own little beach.

Wikipedia lists eight "notable residents", six of whom are fugitives in their home country, and the remaining two are a wealthy Russian politician who bought land in Dubai after the invasion of Ukraine & the dictator of Azerbaijan. An exciting life right backed onto the open sea on War Crimes Street could be yours, if you were extremely rich and also did war crimes and/or crypto fraud

[abiatackerman]

hey! can you do one where reader has a panic attack and levi comforts her?

Hey anon! Thank you for requesting! You didn't mention what type of panic attack she'd get so I just made a reason of my own! Hope you'll like it!

⚔️Levi Ackerman X Female Reader⚔️

Canon universe! Captain Levi X Civilian Female Reader! Description of panic attack! Fluffy romance! 1.1k words

Summary: When a cruel rumor spreads that Levi is dead, you start to have a panic attack—until the man you thought you have lost walks through the door and reminds her he always comes back.

Tags: @theremainsof @spouseofleviackerman @levisbrat25 @itsnathateasy @violentvaleska @dreamerofthewest @meowmewow7 @mikabella7 @satorella @sugacor3 @darkstarlight82 @derealizationns @arcticoutlawruin

🩷If you wanna be tagged let me know🩷

✨Masterlist✨

🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷

The market of Trost is always noisy on weekend mornings, and today is no exception. Strangers fill the cobbled streets—children clinging to their fathers' hands, merchants shouting to outmatch one another, and newly married couples strolling arm in arm with bright eyes and soft laughter. The air thrums with life, with stories, with noise.

You smile faintly, warmed by the liveliness. Taking a deep breath, you let the smell of fresh bread and sun-warmed fruit fill your lungs. The bustle is comforting today. It distracts you from the anxious excitement churning quietly in your chest.

Today is special. Today, your fiancé—the love of your life—is finally returning from a long mission outside the Walls. You've been counting the days, checking the sky like a birdwatcher desperate for signs of home.

Humming to yourself, you step into your favorite bakery, eager to buy bread for the special meal you've been planning. But just as you approach the counter, voices behind you slice through your peace like knives.

"I heard he didn't make it."

The words come from just beyond the spice stall.

You turn instinctively, curiosity tinged with unease. Two soldiers in Survey Corps uniforms walk by, one of them shaking his head.

"He was part of the eastern assault, wasn't he?"

"That's what they said. The squad came back without him."

Your heart stutters.

You step toward them, voice tight but polite. "Who are you talking about?"

The taller one glances at you, oblivious to the weight of his answer. "Oh—Captain Levi. Might sound hard to believe, but… we were talking about him."

Your basket slips from your hand. Bread and fruit tumble to the floor.

You try to keep your voice even. "Are you sure?"

The soldiers exchange a glance. One of them shrugs uncomfortably. "Well… we didn't see him return. He wasn't with the squad. That's all we know."

Your legs are already moving.

You don't remember gathering your things. You don't remember leaving the bakery. All you know is that the sun is too bright, and the air feels like it's thinning with every step you take.

Levi can't be dead. He promised me he'd come back. He always comes back.

But he always returns with his squad. What if he's not dead, but badly wounded? What if no one's had time to bring news?

Your thoughts spiral faster than your steps, painting terrifying visions—his bloodied body in the mud, his deadened gaze staring into nothing.

You try to dismiss the rumors. Those soldiers weren't even part of his team. They don't know anything.

But no matter how you try to rationalize it, the storm inside you won't stop brewing.

By the time you reach your home, your body moves on autopilot. The door slams behind you. Your knees hit the floor. The walls seem to close in around you like a collapsing tunnel.

And then the panic hits.

You can't breathe.

Your chest tightens, lungs screaming for air that won't come. You crawl into the corner, heart pounding, nails scraping against the wooden floor as you try to brace yourself against the invisible weight crushing you.

"Get up," you whisper. "You have to go. You have to see him—make sure."

But your body won't listen. Your own voice is drowned out by terror. The fear of losing the only person who you ever loved is stronger than any reason you try to summon.

You choke on a sob, your vision blurred, sweat cold on your brow. "Levi…"

You curl in tighter, folding into yourself like your very soul is caving in.

And then—footsteps. Heavy. Familiar.

A knock. Controlled and firm

Your breath catches.

"Y/n?"

The voice is low. Calm. And unmistakably him.

The door creaks open, and you hear the sound of boots crossing the floor with surgical precision.

Then he's there.

He crouches down in front of you, sharp eyes scanning your trembling frame. "Shit," he mutters under his breath. "What the hell happened?"

You stare at him in stunned silence, uncertain if he's real.

But then his hand reaches for your face. His thumb brushes away a tear. The warmth of his touch grounds you.

He's real.

You break, the sobs spilling from your throat as you throw yourself into his chest. His arms close around you instantly—firm, protective. There's no hesitation. His hold is not gentle, but it is anchoring.

He sits back against the wall, pulling you into his lap, keeping you close.

"Breathe," he murmurs, voice low near your ear. "Match me. In. Out."

He inhales slowly, chest rising beneath your hands. You mimic him, struggling at first, but his voice keeps guiding you.

"That's it. Again."

Minutes pass. Your breathing evens. Your body still trembles, but you're no longer unraveling.

Levi doesn't move. His hand strokes your back in steady motions, his presence the only thing tethering you to calm.

Once the storm has passed, you glance up at him through tear-streaked lashes.

"Levi…" Your voice cracks. "They said you were dead."

His brows furrow in confusion. "What?"

"Some soldiers… they were in the market. Said you didn't come back with the squad."

His jaw tenses. For a moment, he says nothing. Then he nods, "I didn't. I was delayed.”

You blink, still trying to process.

He sighs. "Had to drag Four-Eyes' annoying ass back before she could fell in love with another abnormal titan."

Despite everything, a weak laugh escapes you.

"So that's why you were late," you whisper.

"Yeah. But apparently I've been declared dead now." He exhales sharply. "Fucking rumors."

"I thought I'd lost you," you admit, your voice small. "I didn't know how to breathe."

"You didn't lose me," he says, firmer this time. "I'm right here."

Silence settles, not heavy this time but warm. Present. Real.

Levi studies your face, then reaches up to tilt your chin gently. "Next time, don't believe gossip from people who don't know a damn thing. You'll wait for me."

You nod.

He brushes a strand of hair away from your forehead and mutters, "You look like shit."

"Thanks," you whisper hoarsely.

"I'm staying tonight," he adds, tone leaving no room for argument. "You shouldn't be alone."

You don't argue.

Later, when you lie in bed—him beside you, back against the headboard, his hand resting loosely over yours—the silence feels different.

Not empty. Not terrifying.

Just quiet. Peaceful.

"You came back," you whisper.

"I always do," Levi replies softly, squeezing your hand. "For you."

[lymtw]

The Handler and His Wife

"Honey?" Shiu calls, instantly snatching your attention from whatever you were looking at on your phone. His palms don't pause the soothing pressure they apply to your calves and all along your bare legs.

"Hm?" You hum in response, putting your phone down and giving him your full attention. You laugh when he just silently stares back at you, almost mindlessly. "What?" You say, indicating that you're listening.

He blinks out of his daze and smiles softly. "Anyone ever tell you that your existence is wet dream fuel?"

You roll your eyes, and give him that smile he loves so much. The one that tells him to shut up without you having to say it.

"Yeah, you. All. The. Time," you respond, sassily. "I know you only say it 'cause we're married," you argue.

"Now, now, baby. You know that's not true," he counters. Warmth riddles his tone, and the paired gentle squeeze to your knee has you softening up more. "You had me melting for you like a popsicle left out in the sun, way before we even got acquainted. I know you know that for a fact," he says, grinning almost victoriously when your lips curl.

"All those rounds of eye contact tag..." You sigh, wistfully. "It was hard not to reciprocate your glances when I liked playing with you so much."

"You played for too long and look where it got you," he teases, wearing the smuggest grin on his face.

"Married, to the man who sics me on people for fffat ssstacks." You nod with your eyes closed and a smile on your face, like you're blessed.

Shiu just shakes his head, with a chuckle. You seem to enjoy "taking care" of people way too much. "I'm gonna retire you, someday. I hope you know that, hon."

"Yeah, when i'm like eighty, 'cause you won't wanna see my wrinkly ass, anymore."

"No, not when you're like eighty," he says, incredulously. "More like in two or three years."

There's a slight crease between your brows. There's never been talk about this, so you're not sure what to make of it in the moment.

"Well, we haven't sat down and discussed this properly."

"What's there to discuss? You'll be living the same way you do now, minus the crime. What's the problem?"

"The problem lies in the way you're going about things here, Shiu. You're not asking me, you're telling me. This is the first time I hear about this and I feel like I don't even have a say in it. You're making decisions for my future without me."

The moment has gone bitter. You've retracted your legs from where they rested on his lap and Shiu realizes he's messing the whole thing up when your attention leaves him, too. It wasn't his intention to make you feel like your word means nothing. He just wanted to give you something to look forward to in the future, away from all the blood and gore that you've gotten way too comfortable with.

Sure, there must have been a better way to communicate his vision, but things didn't turn out that way, and now his little wife is upset, and that just can't be the case. Things don't work that way between you and Shiu.

"Doll, will you lend me your ears if you're gonna keep your pretty voice from me?" He requests, eyeing the involuntary, yet, precious pout on your face and the way your arms are crossed over your chest. You're still the prettiest thing he's ever seen, even when you're grumpy. Relief washes over him when after a few seconds, you uncross your arms and take a breath, ready to give him a chance to explain his thought process.

"Listening," you mutter.

"We have to do it the right way," he says, laying out his palm for you. He knows you're not beaming with joy anymore, but it's a must. You always do this during serious conversations. It's the only way to make sure that neither of you is walking away from the other before everything is laid out and explained. It's harder to do when one of you is upset with the other, but you get over it for each other's sake.

You put your hand on his and cup it. Your ring is as brilliant as the day he put it on your finger, something you both notice before giving each other the focus necessary for resolving this minor tension.

"I'm sorry, doll face," he starts. "I didn't mean to make it seem like I was making decisions about your life without you. That really was my mistake. Three years is still a long time for us to figure these things out together. If three years from now, you still want to be my pretty psycho killer, then we'll talk about it." He smiles softly at the way your lips curl and press together, like you're suppressing the laugh he loves so much.

"But I'm serious about retiring you at some point." His hand holds yours tighter, as if to say 'hold on, hear me out'. "I don't want to wait for something to happen to you, to finally say 'hey, now's a good time to call it quits'. That would make me useless as your man, don't you think?"

You take it all in and come to the conclusion that this is just another one of his ways of acting like a caring and protective husband. He almost never tells you he's scared or worried for you. He's seen you kick ass and he's almost one hundred percent sure that you can kick his ass, but even the best get knocked down sometimes, and he won't wait around forever to see it happen to you.

"I get what you mean, now. Sorry I caught on fire so fast," you say, with a sheepish smile. "I see your side of things, and I do want to retire at some point, but for some reason three years sounds like so little time. It sounds like tomorrow will come and those three years will be gone, and... that's so scary to me, Shiu. That's like ending something that's always been a part of me in the snap of a finger."

"I know, hon. It's not something that's meant to be figured out in one night. We just have to keep talking about this. Maybe we could do a check in every couple of months, see where your head's at with all of this. Okay?"

You nod. "Yeah, okay."

"Are we okay now? You know my poor heart can't handle you being mad at me for too long," he says, clutching his chest with his free hand to emphasize where it hurts.

"We're good," you assure, with a smile.

"Okay, now prove it," he challenges.

You crawl over to him and plop yourself down on his lap, resting your hands on his chest. He's quick to let his hands splay over your lower back, slowly rubbing the area. Your hands move down from his chest, eventually reaching the hem of his shirt and dipping beneath it.

"Careful, wife," he murmurs, when you start making little featherlight strokes on his abdomen.

"Hm?" You hum, innocently. "I'm just giving you the evidence you asked for. Is it too much? Are you gonna melt for me, Shiu?"

"You're teetering," he warns. He can feel the crotch area of his pants growing tighter as you run your soft fingertips along his stomach and the waistband of his boxers.

"You can keep me steady, baby," you respond, softly. You watch his eyes progressively get darker, clouding with the beginnings of something sinful. The more you tease him with your delicate touch and sweet, contrasting gaze, the closer he is to snapping and giving you what you're digging for.

"Be good to me, sweetheart," he murmurs, his voice deep enough to make a chill run down your spine. "One of us always ends up crying. I don't think I have to say who it is out loud, do I?"

You pull your hands out of his clothes and wrap your arms around him, before pressing a couple chaste, apologetic kisses to his lips. "Sorry, handsome," you say, laughing. "I'll be nice."

"Mhm. You always say that, and then you give me the attitude of your life," he says, letting his hands roam beneath the back of your shirt.

"Maybe, I just want you to play with me," you murmur, your lips spreading into a saccharine smile when he laughs. Your sweetness is a trick you like to pull out before you strike, like a cat.

"I think I play with you enough for you to tell me your needs when you have them, don't I?"

"Well, that's no fun," you say, disagreeing. "You don't like when I feel you up and give you the will to be rough with me? I just know you wouldn't be able to do it otherwise, 'cause I'm your 'sweet babydoll', so I have to bring your inner spirit out somehow, right, hubs?"

"I'm revoking that pet name," he says under his breath. "Oh, you're trouble, honey, that's what you are, but alright, you want me to play with you, i'll play," he says calmly, before flipping both of you over on the couch, so that he's looking down at you with all the unspoken mischief in his eyes and you're looking up at him with stars riddled in yours.

My internal reaction when I posted this

[crybabyddl]

In My Room

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Warning: angst, swearing, smut, unprotected sex (PLEASE WRAP IT BEFORE YOU TAP IT!!!), sexual tension, sexual themes, mentions of weed, death, su!c!de, and SH, all characters are 18+, 18+ content. MDNI.

Author's Note: this is something different to what I normally write. Just feeling very sappy and a bit angsty, so here's what I'm giving you. Maybe you'll like it. Inspired by 'In My Room' by Julia Wolf.

I want your things in my room, I miss you all of the time

Eddie's fingers trace a straight line through the dust that's accumulated on the shade of the lamp on your nightstand. It's not much, but it's enough that he has to wipe his hand on the leg of his jeans. The door to your room has been closed for a month now, so your scent is still lingering from the last time you sprayed your Sand & Sable perfume—the one that Eddie finds himself inhaling in large doses, even spraying the bottle you left at his house on himself before leaving for work.

I stalk myself on the internet just to see what you'll find

He's been googling your name at least once every day, just to see if any more news articles came out. They were hard to read; they didn't do you justice. "loved by friends and family" wasn't enough to describe just how much of your heart you'd given the people in your life. He knew it was unrealistic to expect from a journalist, but "angel on earth" was the only true epitaph for you.

I want your things in my room, I miss you all of the time

Too scared to move anything, he sits on your bed, staring at the pale yellow walls before inhaling deeply, allowing his eyes to close. He imagines you coming up behind him and obstructing his vision with your hands.

You make it look so easy, leaving everything behind

The way your life slowly slipped from his hands as he cradled you. He'd tried to stop the bleeding, but there wasn't much else he could do. The last time you looked in his eyes was permanently branded in his brain, burning and scarring in a way that severely wounded Eddie, but was almost comforting in a sense.

I like when it's dark out, October will cure me

He dared to open your closet, immediately recognizing the skirt you wore on Halloween when the two of you dressed up as Bender and Claire from The Breakfast Club. You looked beautiful that night, at the Hellfire Club's Halloween campaign party.

I'm walking these woods, am I thirty or thirteen?

He thinks back to the first time you met, in the woods behind the school. You wanted to try smoking weed, and your friends asked Eddie to meet you there one afternoon the first week of school. He always wondered why you didn't ask him yourself, but he assumed it was because you didn't want to risk your peers hearing that you wanted to buy drugs from the local Satanist freak.

Not asking for much, man, thought maybe you'd call me.

Eddie couldn't help himself. He would call your landline constantly, once in the morning, and once before bed. He never left a message, not wanting your voicemail box to fill up and prevent him from hearing your voice again.

I slit my own throat, just to see if you'd mourn me, yeah

The scene replayed in his mind, the way Vecna had his hand wrapped so tightly around your throat. Just as your breathing was about to cease, he grabbed you by your hair and turned you to face your friends. With a single sharp claw, Vecna dragged his finger deep across your neck, giving Nancy, Steve, Robin, and Eddie a front row seat to your death—the image of blood cascading down the front of your body never to be forgotten.

Eddie knew it was crazy and stupid, but he did it anyway. He took apart an old razor that had been sitting in his bathroom cupboard for a couple years, gliding the metal against the pale skin on his left wrist. Not too deep, he knew that would upset you... he just wanted to see if, maybe, blood sacrifices worked. What if that was all it took to bring you back? But alas, his efforts failed to return you to him.

I want your things in my room, I miss you all of the time

Your favorite jean jacket was on the back of the chair at your vanity. It had been too cold to wear it that fateful day, opting instead for your olive green army jacket with the fleece lining. In a way, Eddie was glad you weren't wearing it, it would've made things feel too real. One month was enough time to still deny the truth, that you were actually gone.

I stalk myself on the internet just to see what you'll find

He saw the terrible articles written about himself following your death. Accusations that you'd killed yourself because your boyfriend filled your head with blasphemy and wizardry. It was bullshit, but it was more believable than a monster from another dimension claiming the lives of people who were struggling to get by.

I want your things in my room, I miss you all of the time

At least your parents believed him. They knew Eddie loved you too much to let anything happen to you. To their knowledge, you'd died from the earthquake, falling onto a sharp rock that impaled your throat. If this was how it felt to know the truth, he knew it was better for them not to be aware of it, as shitty as it felt to lie to them.

They were kind enough to let him visit whenever he wanted, knowing he'd just skulk to the end of the hallway to the right of the kitchen and quietly observe. They pretended not to hear the choking back of sobs from their perches in the living room, opting instead to start a pot of boiling water in case Eddie wanted a cup of tea before he left.

You make it look so easy, leaving everything behind

He wanted to be angry at you, wanted to scream up at the sky. How could you leave him? How was he supposed to get by without you? You were supposed to be next to him on stage at graduation, slow dancing and sneaking swigs from his flask at the prom you were definitely going to ditch after an hour to get high at Skull Rock. He opened the closet again, imagining what kind of dress you would've worn. He'd assumed everything had stayed the same as you'd left it, but upon further inspection, he noticed a hanger with a plastic covering over it tucked away to the left of the rack. He made a mental note that it belonged between your purple raincoat and your graduation robe that you'd gotten fitted for the week prior to the tragedy.

I want your things in my–

Carefully laying the bagged hanger on the bed, he unzipped the swishy black cover, revealing what was going to be your prom dress. He stared down at his right ring finger. Your dress was navy blue, the exact shade of the stone in the middle of his ring. It made his heart swell, your thoughtfulness present even after you'd left.

You look so cool getting high

It was Eddie's idea, going to the field that turned into a drive-in theater in the summer. He'd rolled a joint, expertly packed and long enough to get the both of you higher than the hills—his version of a rose. He'd gotten so worked up on the drive over to your house. He kept telling himself it wasn't a date, but how could he believe otherwise when you skipped down your porch steps wearing such a sweet outfit? After getting in his van, you immediately started messing with the radio, hoping to find something other than Madonna, to no avail. Eddie noticed your demeanor shift, clearly unhappy with the music.

"Check the glove compartment, I think I've got some tapes in there that might be more your taste."

And you did just that, selecting the I Love Rock 'n Roll tape and putting it in the cassette player.

The drive was short, but felt all too long for the man in the driver's seat, having to settle for stealing quick glances at you as you sang along to Joan Jett with your eyes closed.

You made everything look effortless, at least that's how it felt to Eddie. You were leaning against the rock, peering over his shoulder as he rifled through his backpack in search of his lighter. Your perfume invaded his senses, and it scared him, knowing that the smell of it would instantly bring you to the front of his mind from that day forward.

No handlebars, you wanna fly

Wayne had finally decided to let Eddie take the motorcycle for a spin after an hour of begging. He'd helped repair it all summer, and all he wanted was to go for a ride. But he wanted you with him. He sped down the roads of Hawkins, nearly running over a turtle on his way to your house.

You weren't expecting anyone, so when you heard the doorbell ring, your first instinct was that it was on the television. That is, until it sounded again, this time with a knock on the door to accompany it. You tried to see who it was from the window near the door, but it was too dark and you'd wake up your parents if they saw the glow of the porch lights seeping through their cream-colored voile curtains. So you decided to take the risk, opening the door to find Eddie, helmet in hand, with Wayne's black bike on the side of the street behind him.

"What are you doing?" You whispered with a hiss.

Your parents would tear you a new one if they knew you had become friends with Eddie, but he wasn't anything like the town of Hawkins made him out to be. But they'd absolutely have a cow if they found out you were about to sneak out to ride on his motorcycle. But the smile on your friend's face was too charming to even consider turning him down. He gave you the helmet, much to your protest. He took you for a joyride around the block, passing by the school and flipping off the building. You'd be graduating in a few months, and you were going to do everything in your power to make sure Eddie would be walking in a cap and gown beside you.

The ride was overwhelming in every sense of the word. You were cold, the air whipping against your short-clad legs, only a sweatshirt to protect your arms, but you were also warm, the fire in your spine and cheeks still burning from when Eddie brought your hands around his waist, telling you to hold on tight. You were anxious, playing out the scenario that awaited you if your parents had woken up, picturing the scowls on their faces as you climbed through your bedroom window to already find them waiting for you. On the other hand, you'd never felt more free. If you could do this, what couldn't you do?

You look so cool, I wanna die

Eddie eventually takes you back to your house, but it's the last thing he wants to do. If it were up to him, he'd have you pack a bag and hop back on the motorcycle. He'd ask you where you wanted to go, and he'd ride off in that direction. He'd make sure you had everything you needed to be content. You were the first person to make him feel like himself. He had other friends, sure, but he had a role to play for the underclassmen in Hellfire Club. He didn't have to be anything other than himself for you—the desire to look after you came naturally, and he found it by no means to be a burden.

He gave you a boost so that you could scale the flower trellis below your bedroom. You went to lift the window pane, but it remains in its place. It was locked—you weren't expecting to leave the house tonight. You looked down at Eddie, whispering what the problem was. He instructs you to come down, grabbing you by the hips to guide you to the ground. Being the excellent carjacker and delinquent he was, he knew how to crack open a window before he knew how to even spell the word 'delinquent'. With a shimmy of his multi-tool, the glass of your bedroom window rose like it'd been able to open the whole time. He jumps back down, ready to assist you in returning you to your bedroom safe and sound. He doesn't expect you to wave him in, silently asking him to come up and join you. He wasn't about to say no to you; he'd never dream of it.

Eddie was about to start sweating from places other than his underarms, the physical exertion of climbing up and down multiple times expending more energy than he'd anticipated. You were taking off your sweatshirt that you'd put on to get cozy while watching tv, and your pajama shirt lifted in the process. Eddie wished you were facing the other way. He knew it was wrong, to fantasize about seeing his friend's breasts, but what was he supposed to think about? For him to act like you weren't attractive would be impossible. He'd been fighting off the increasingly frequent thoughts for a few weeks now, hoping they'd subside on their own. However, it seemed like they weren't going anywhere, and he didn't know how much longer he could withstand it. Your shorts were so short—had they gotten shorter since the last time he stared at your ass, five minutes ago? The universe was playing a cruel trick on him, he'd been sure of it. He felt his dick twitch in his jeans at the thought of you hiking them up on purpose, like you were teasing him.

"Could you help me? I think my necklace got caught in my hair."

It felt like fate, the perfect excuse to get closer to you without having to make the move himself. You had in fact gotten your necklace entangled with a knot in your hair, probably from the wind. He stood behind you, assessing how to detangle the piece of jewelry. He tried moving some of your hair out of the way, moving most of it over your left shoulder. He was able to get a clearer view of the problem, but in an attempt to free some of your hair, he might've pulled too hard.

"Ow!"

"Sorry!" Eddie could picture the scowl on your face and how your brows were pinched together in impatience. He refocused on the matter at hand, finally making some progress in the detangling.

He was oblivious to the fact that his breath was hitting your clavicle, causing goosebumps to form on your chest. He continued making steady work with his hands, eventually separating your heart-shaped necklace from the hair at the nape of your neck.

You turned to face him, hand held out to retrieve your jewelry. Eddie complied, placing the dainty chain in your outstretched palm. Before he can stop the thought, he's imagining your freshly painted nails, burgundy, scratching down his back as he thrusts into you just right.

Is it too soon to say what's on my mind?

"So, uh, why'd you want me to come up here?" Eddie asked, suddenly feeling out of place, and slightly paranoid that you could see the filthy things running rampant in his mind.

Without a word, you hung your necklace on the little metal hook on your jewelry holder. Once done, you walked over, standing right in front of him, a smile playing on your lips as your eyes found his. You took one of his hands in yours, interlocking your fingers. It wasn't uncommon for you to hold his hand, but the silence made the air thick with a tension that Eddie only felt when he was fighting off the dirty images being conjured by his traitorous brain.

Next thing he knew, you were leading him to your bed, pulling him to straddle over top of you. He doesn't remember if it was his doing or yours, but somehow, your lips were on each other. He wanted to be a gentleman, give you a chance to stop and change your mind. But when you tug his bottom lip with your teeth, it renders him defenseless. The sigh that slipped out of Eddie was desperate, and he would've been embarrassed if you weren't completely scrambling his senses.

He was hard, painfully so, precum having already created a wet patch on his boxers. He cradled your face in his hands, deepening the hot and heavy embrace. You took a risk, slipping your hands under his shirt, dragging your fingers down his chest, not stopping until you reached below his navel, unknowingly bit your lip when you felt his happy trail peaking just above the waistband of his boxers.

"You're so hot." you breathed, looking up into Eddie's eyes. You had no words to describe them other than beautiful, and you momentarily considered buying eyeliner in that chocolate hue you couldn't get enough of.

He wants to tell you he loves you. It's on the tip of his tongue, though it's preoccupied at the moment, swiping the underside of your top lip. If you kept lifting your hips to meet his like that, he'd end up cumming in his pants. Before he can even open his mouth to warn you, you're tugging down his pants and grabbing his dick through his boxers.

"Fuck, sweetheart," he swallows hard. "I've dreamt of this, you know."

Your giggle is quiet, but it crashes like waves in his ears. You had the advantage, no doubt about it. He would get on his knees and beg if that was what you asked of him. Your lips creep up the side of his neck, leaving ghosts of kisses until they're decorating the shell of his ear.

"So have I."

Fuck it.

Eddie pulled down your shorts, taking a second to admire the cute pair of underwear you'd chosen without expecting to see him. A baby pink thong, a complete contrast to the Led Zeppelin shirt and Hawkins athletics sweatshorts that you'd chosen as pajamas. The thong is discarded somewhere on your bed; it's unimportant right now. A kiss on your lower stomach makes your breath hitch. Eddies hands rubbed along your thighs, his rings only adding to the excitement you felt from his touch.

"You gonna let me taste you?" he asked, wanting to be polite despite knowing the answer.

You nodded.

He lowered himself to meet your pussy, breath fanning over the sensitive area. He could see your arousal starting to drip out of you. The mix of your perfume and your body was intoxicating. He kissed you, licking the skin on your inner thighs before moving closer to where you needed him most. The sounds you made, the gasps, breaths, and whimpers were making Eddie feel drunk. Surely, he was in heaven, and you were the angel making his dreams come true.

His tongue circled your clit, his lips closing around it as he devoured you. He briefly dips the muscle into your hole before replacing it with his middle finger.

"You're so wet, fuck." he groaned, subconsciously grinding his hips into your bed.

"Need you in me, please." the last word becoming a whine as Eddie detached every part of himself from you.

Pulling down his boxers, you grabbed a hold of his cock. You gave it the perfect amount of attention, licking up the shaft before taking all of it. Your hand was gripping his thigh, and it was unclear if you were doing so to stabilize Eddie or yourself.

"Shit, shit! You're too good at that—don't wanna cum yet," Eddie managed to pry you off of him as you frowned. "Don't look at me like that, honey. I'm just giving you what you wanted."

The second part felt slightly patronizing, like you were an impatient brat who needed to be fucked right then and there to feel satisfied. And maybe you were, neither of you was to say. The tip of Eddie's dick prodded your wetness, but he pauses.

"What are you–"

"Condom." was all he said.

"Pill." you countered, reaching out to play with the guitar pick hanging around his neck.

He nudged himself into you, warm, wet, and so inviting. He moaned as he bottomed out, slowly withdrawing. His eyes remained steady on you, wanting to gauge your reaction.

"Fuck, Eddie. I'm good, it's good. Please just keep going."

No further confirmation was needed. He continued his movements, bordering on being torturously slow. But you were making the prettiest noises, and he'd do anything to keep hearing them.

"God, your pussy is so fuckin' tight," Eddie breathed, quickening the rhythm of his hips. "Tryna squeeze me to death?"

You watched as his necklace swayed forward and back, a beat behind his thrusts. It left your brain scrambling for words, only to come up empty.

"So good, fuck. You're so hot, holy fuck."

Eddie didn't even bother trying to suppress the smile that came to his face as a result of your praise. He could hardly believe you found him hot, let alone wanting and enjoying having sex with him.

"You should see yourself. You're the sweetest, sexiest thing I think I've ever seen. I'd do some heinous shit to be able to do this again," he paused to kiss you passionately on the lips, causing his body to shift in a way that had his dick reaching a new angle inside you. He noticed how your lips parted so scandalously, and how your eyebrows knitted, like you were unable to handle the amount of pleasure you were feeling. "Oh, there it is. Needed me there, huh?"

Eddie brought his handup to his mouth, gathering spit before letting it slip past his lips onto the pad of his thumb. He brought it down to your clit, easily finding the swollen bud and rubbing it in deliberate, hypnotizing circles. Your whines only encouraged him, loving how your eyes squeezed shut as you told him you were getting close.

"Fuck," you opened your eyes to see Eddie, staring down at where your bodies connected, focused intently on giving your clit the stimulation it craved. "I'm gonna cum if you keep, doing that."

"Yeah? Do it for me, baby. I want you to feel so good. Want you to soak me like a good girl, c'mon." His coaxings had you unraveling even sooner than you'd anticipated.

"Please, fuck, please! You're close, right?"

Eddie nodded enthusiastically, his hair starting to get slightly damp with sweat. The noises he made were so sweet and honey-drenched. It was so attractive to know you were making him feel that way, and you were still in disbelief that he was doing things to you that made you feel the same after fantasizing about it for so long.

"Fuck," Eddie groaned as he felt you tighten around him even more, climaxing as the sound of your moans mingled with his. "That's it."

He couldn't help but kiss you again, hoping to ease your whimpers as your body became oversensitive to the sensations.

I want your things in my–

Eddie laid on your bed, but not before taking off his boots. He clasped his hands, resting them on his ribcage as he stared at the plain white ceiling. He should've done more. He should've run up to Vecna and started swinging at him. Instead, he stood with everyone else, frozen in horror and disbelief. He knew you wouldn't want him to blame himself, but how could he not? He was your boyfriend, he was supposed to protect you. He made a promise to do just that, and the one time you actually needed him to, he didn't. How was he supposed to carry on, knowing he'd failed you when it mattered the most?

He tried to take his therapist's advice, to not judge his emotions, to show himself compassion when his thoughts turned gloomy. You were watching over him now, weren't you?

With a deep sigh, Eddie couldn't help but imagine you sitting at your vanity, getting ready for one of those semi-formal dances that you'd somehow convinced him to accompany you to, as friends of course. There was only one that you had gone to as a couple, but Eddie didn't need any convincing to attend that one. He still kept his flask inside his jacket pocket, but he genuinely enjoyed himself. It didn't hurt that you were absolutely glowing in the twinkling lights strung around the Hawkins High gymnasium.

Your phantom silhouette dissolved as he started to conjure up memories of the two of you cuddling in bed on those rainy days where you felt like doing absolutely nothing. It was the perfect conditions for a joint, but you were always scared your parents would smell the weed. But you still took the risk, even without much effort to persuade on Eddie's part. You'd banish him to the other side of your room, allowing the rain to soak in between the now exposed window frame before lighting an incense stick. The air held the fragrance, the smoke lingering just above the tops of your bedframe posts, creating a haze similar to the fog hovering above the wet concrete on the sidewalk. The mix of your perfume, the incense, and the herb created a surprisingly harmonious aroma, one that was just as intoxicating as the smoke Eddie inhaled.

He the way you played with his hair, making little braids throughout his waves. He'd asked you to do it for a Corroded Coffin gig, and the crowd was electric that night. He liked to think it was because of your magic touch, the pampering giving him that extra boost of confidence. He longed for your touch, the featherlight caresses that lived under his skin long after your fingers had left. He could almost feel it now, chills creeping up his arms. Your lips were so soft, even when they were chapped from your nervous habit of biting the gentle skin. He wanted to wrap his arms around you, pick you up, and spin you around like he did every time he picked you up from work.

Eddie missed you—beautiful, kindhearted, smart, funny, wonderful you. And all he could do was sit in your room and pretend you were just in the kitchen making tea, a minute away from coming back and joining him in bed.

[burningcheese-merchant]

@ my mutuals and followers and people I follow and whoever else sees this, if you don't like and/or reblog this masterpiece I will appear inside of your wardrobe in the wee hours of the morning and jumpscare you

Silent Salt's countenance is... a unique one. Not hideous, not quite, but not conventionally attractive by any means. Coupled with a cluster of scars and other ancient forms of injury further marring his face, he was never an easy one on the eyes, so to speak. He always wore the helm because it was his deeds that mattered, not his identity - or that was how he once thought, in his distant, heroic past. But, in painful, unfortunate truth, it was also partially because he simply didn't want to deal with the staring. With the shock. With the thinly veiled disgust. The forced politeness angered him the most; he knew they were lying, he knew his face perturbed them. He would've respected them so much more if they had just spoken plain.

There had always existed this shallow element of self-loathing within him; never more so than it does with regards to White Lily. She's so lovely, so captivating, and he's... he has to wear a mask all the time, just for some semblance of peace of mind. Hers is a sweet, delicate, almost ethereal beauty. He is grim and gruff and all dark, sharp edges, inside and out. If by some miracle his personality and status as Beast of Silence doesn't drive her away, then his face will. Like it had so many others.

He has never allowed anyone to remove his helm. Not even his friends and colleagues, both then and now (especially not now. Shadow Milk's petty jabs are insufferable even with Salt's face obscured; revealing it again would only escalate the jester's mockery). Even just trying to touch it sparks a terrible rage. It's his security blanket, in a way. Something that grants him a modicum of control over his supposed destiny. He cannot change how he looks, but he can at least hide it. And hide it, he will. From everyone he can, for as long as he can. From her most of all.

Perhaps he could've been more... polite in his refusal of her touch, the first few times. He saw a hand wrapped in green floating towards his face and he responded. The regret that washed over him at the sound of her yelp - startled and pained, an accessory to the tremor in her wrist born from him grasping it so tight - was overwhelming, almost suffocating, and yet... he did it again, the next attempt she made. And the one after that. And the one after that. Nevertheless, for reasons unknown, she persisted.

Must've been that morbid curiosity of hers.

The one time she asked him why he never rid himself of the helm, he answered her simply. "Because I don't want to." Five words - six, technically - conveyed to her through the curling of his fingers and the rattle of his gauntlets as he signed them to her. And she took it well, all things considered. No disappointment, no rebuttals, no further inquiries. Only a slow, thoughtful nod and nothing else. It was a mercy and a relief he didn't think he'd feel so thankful for, until he did.

Something told Silent Salt that she already knew the answer that hid behind the first one. Intuition? Their Soul Jam connection? That glint in her eye that resembled sympathy more than he would've liked? Whatever it is, it hardly matters in the end. She asked once. He answered once. She didn't ask again. That was the end of it.

With time, she grew more bold. No more reaching for his helm; it took a few tries but she learned her lesson there. Instead she let her hands rest on his cold shoulders. Trail along the dents and grooves in his chest. Take one of his gauntlets prisoner, turning it into a test subject, the apple of her curious eye as she studied the metal plates big and small encasing his fingers.

"Your hands are quite large," she remarked one day, some of it to him and some of it just to herself, her eyes still fused to the black sheet of his palm as she spoke. "My friend, Golden Cheese... She once told me that your comrade has large hands, too. Twice the size of hers, in fact. Are they bigger than yours, too?"

Yes, he told her, if his memory served. Once upon a time, Shadow Milk had tried to draft blueprints for armor that would actually suit Burning Spice's brutish proportions, and used Silent Salt's own as both a model and a controlled variable in his design experiments. Spice was as much a foolhardy thrillseeker then as he is now, charging into battle with his beads and bracelets and little else on his person. Whenever the five of them reconvened - and those meetings became fewer and fewer with time - Shadow Milk would nag him incessantly about it. Clucked at him like a mother hen would at an unruly chick. It was once his way of showing concern. Once.

The gauntlets were dirty and must have felt quite cold and unpleasant to the touch. But if White Lily minded, she made no sign of such. In fact, she showed the opposite; if he dared to believe what those slender, linen-wrapped fingers weaving through his own ironclad, mannish ones told him, she even seemed to find comfort in them. In him.

She grew bold, and he let her. A time eventually came when he could no longer help himself - but it was a hard-earned victory if there ever was one. Despite their bond, be it the one forged from their shared divinity or the one forged from their tentative friendship, his old habits and reservations still bound him in chains; memories from a time long gone, of men and women shying away from his sight. Of children rudely gawking. As darkness descended upon his soul, he came to resent them and their harsh reactions, for it was because of them that he looked like this in the first place. Every blade that carved into the flesh of his cheeks. Every creature with terrible claws that sought his eyes as trophies. Every gauntlet that looked just like his own that punched, slapped, poked; whatever the owner could do to leave behind their mark of conquest and shame. Silent Salt endured it all for their sake, and all the thanks he ever got was being gazed upon as a freak. A cautionary tale. A garish art display.

The world branded him a monster long before he ever became one. What reason did they have to be so distraught when he finally did? Is this not what they always believed him to have been anyway?

But White Lily took no part in this wholesale rejection. How could she, when deep down, she was hardly any different? And who would he be to continue mimicking his persecutors, like he has been for far too long?

One day, he found himself under a microscope again. It was cute, how her brow would furrow the slightest bit and she would start to purse her lips the stronger her single-minded focus became. A strand of snow white hair escaped its place atop her head and came dangling, teasing the tip of her nose; yet still, it went ignored in favor of the knight looming past it. Few questioned Silent Salt's bravery, himself included, but now... now he can feel his accursed face growing warm at the thought of tucking that rogue strand of hair behind her ear. Such a deceptively simple thing.

He stood still as a statue as her hands traveled up the metallic expanse of his torso. Up, up, up, along plates that had long lost their smoothness and shine, dipping into scratches and dents left by friend and foe alike, those old scars he wore on the outside. Sneaking past a familiar silhouette, just barely grazing the tips of that fabled fleur-de-lis. He never envied Burning Spice and where his own Soul Jam resided, but in hindsight, perhaps Silent Salt was never much better. With how seldomly he removed his armor, it may as well be his flesh by now. And within his flesh the Light of Silence nested, glowing brighter and emitting a faint pulse upon White Lily's brief disturbance. A broken heart, still as death, woken from its eternal slumber. Dared to beat again by she who held onto its missing half.

Her hands rose to his neck. Some ancient warrior's instinct demanded he take action against this would-be assassin, but he paid it no mind. He knew better. Not that White Lily wasn't capable of such barbarism; she has proven differently a thousand times over by now. He simply knows what an assassin looks like, and what a liar feigning innocence looks like, too - and now, in this moment, White Lily was neither.

His breath caught in his throat when those hands grasped at his head and he felt his helmet begin to rise. Slowly, carefully, betraying their master's hesitation. There was a slight tremor in her wrists - was she expecting him to suddenly reach up and grab her again? To try to stop her?

...The former came to pass, that much was true. But instead of pushing her away, this time, he found the courage to do the opposite: with his hands eclipsing her own, he guided them up and away, taking his helmet with them.

He loosened his grip just enough to let her hands go free. From there, he lowered his helmet and held it tight - so much so that that telltale rattling filled both their ears.

It felt strange for the wind and sun caress his skin again after so long. Once upon a time, he welcomed their embrace; once upon a time, they were a beloved respite, the only reward he ever wanted for himself after a long battle. They never ran away or judged him for this unfortunate face of his; in fact, once upon a time, he might've said and thought that they were the only ones in the whole world that ever believed he was handsome.

White Lily did not run away. She did not veil her disgust behind false politeness. She did not judge that unfortunate face of his.

All he could behold in her own face and eyes was that same old curiosity, adorned with that familiar glint of sympathy and shadowed by sorrow.

She gave her hands back to him. Cradled his face as he cradled his helm, albeit more gently. Ran her thumb over a faded gash in his cheek. Ghosted her fingertips over the claw marks crisscrossing over his eyes.

Silent Salt wondered if she'd already guessed his eyes are purple. He didn't ask. She probably did.

"It must have been terrible," she murmured, some of it to him and some of it to herself, as she observed the scar that threatened to split his hairline.

He nodded. She said no more, but there was no need; he understood what she meant. "It must have been terrible, how you earned each of these." "It must have been terrible, how others would shun you for what you endured." "It must have been terrible, how you felt compelled to hide behind a mask all this time, for lack of remembering any other way to exist." Only White Lily could say so much with so little. He always cherished it.

Through her quiet, endless searching, he could sense that she wanted to know more. In her eyes were questions that she wouldn't let out of her mouth. She wanted to know where the scars came from. What caused them. Who. How. Why.

Despite that morbid curiosity of hers, she did not ask. Although it likely pained her, she held her tongue and gave him peace. This was something else Silent Salt admired, something else that made him favor her above all others. For unlike others, her politeness was real.

He caught her stealing a glance at his lips, the faintest shade of pink tinting her cheeks as she did so. Gone were her sorrow and sympathy, leaving curiosity behind. In their place came... something else.

Perhaps the wind and sun weren't the only ones who believed he was handsome anymore.

She grew bold, and took a step closer - the only step left to take, with how close they already stood. Placing her feet atop his own in a small, adorable way to compensate for her height.

Only now did his supposed bravery return, and grant him the strength to tuck that strand of hair behind her ear. She seemed surprised, more so by his sudden gesture than she'd ever been by his face, the warm color in her cheeks turning more vibrant. He wondered if she could see that he felt just as bashful. She probably did.

She stood on her tiptoes, inviting him to tilt his head down with the soft nudge of her palm against the nape of his neck. He did so without resistance; now it was her turn to guide him.

She grew bold, and pressed a kiss to his scarred lips. And he let her.

[zaceouiswriting]

The new guy next door (4)

Characters: Theo Raeken x male reader, Isaac x male reader (Mostly mentioned after the beginning)

Universe: Somewhere in Teen Wolf

Warnings: Death, cheating, domestic violence

As the days and weeks passed, the familial feeling only grew. You constantly teased and bickered, and your hands often wandered over each other's clothes. The initial bad feeling about your actions had almost disappeared.

But one day, everything changed: you heard screaming while preparing dinner and burst through Theo's front door. You knew immediately that Isaac was back because his car was parked in the driveway.

With wide eyes and a heavy feeling in your stomach, you slowly descended the path to your home for the first time since the water pipes busted. The closer you got, the louder the screaming became, but it was one-sided. You only heard Isaac screaming while Theo tried to explain, but Isaac kept interrupting him.

You knocked on the open front door to get their attention. It didn't take long before you succeeded, but not in the way you had hoped. Isaac stormed back and grabbed you by the collar without saying a word to you.

“What the fuck is this?” he screamed in your face.

Carefully, you placed your hands on his chest, but that was enough to slam you against the door, forcing the air out of your lungs and a strangled moan from your mouth.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Theo angry, his fists clenched at his sides, but you raised your hand to hold him back.

“Isaac, please” – you breathe heavily – “Let’s talk about it… It’s not what it seems!”

"Fuck that!" He slammed you against the door again. "What is this guy doing in my house?"

Something snapped inside you when you heard him call it "his" house. For the first time, you actually felt anger toward Isaac. Before you knew it, your hand was burning, and the sound of skin slapping against skin echoed in your ears.

Isaac stumbled backward, his eyes wide with shock, his hand on his already flushing cheek.

"I'm so sick of your behavior, Isaac!" Your voice deepened, sounding almost threatening. "Whenever you grace me with your presence, you act like a king, something a mere peasant like me should be honored to see, but the truth is, your income is pitiful; you couldn't even dream of owning a house!" Your words were like verbal blows, hitting their target. "This is my property, inherited from my grandparents before our wedding, and I paid for the extensive renovations. So don't you dare claim this house as yours!"

In the end, you dug your finger into his chest, flames of injustice blazing in your eyes. You were obviously fed up with his nonsense, and even Isaac was stunned, unaware that such a fire burned within you. But Theo? He licked his lips lasciviously, as if the scene had affected him in a way that you only noticed out of the corner of your eye, barely outside of Isaac's field of vision.

"And for your information, Isaac, the pipes burst, flooding the house, and Theo, unlike you, got to work immediately and is currently fixing everything he can! So, if you want to play the big homeowner, you'll pay him," you hissed at him. "Theo, what's a quote for everything?"

There was silence for a moment, and Theo's face twisted thoughtfully. "All in all, about 20-30k. And that's quite a discount."

When you saw your husband's face, you knew he didn't have enough money for that. "We can both be grateful that he not only offered me to live with him for the time being but also didn't ask for any money, just for me to cook him food," you told him rather heatedly. "He's a good, thoughtful man and neighbor, Isaac. Unlike a certain husband who's never home and, despite working harder than a mule, doesn't really earn much more!"

When you started screaming, Isaac shrank, his eyes filling with tears. You knew what he'd been through and that the trauma his father had inflicted on him was still fresh even after all these years, but you couldn't bring yourself to truly care. You'd been over him for a while, but the last few weeks with Theo opened his eyes to the neglect you were experiencing.

“Either you reduce your working hours to regular hours, terminate the lease on your small apartment in the city, or I’ll divorce you!” 

When the ultimatum finally left your lips, it felt like a thousand stones had been lifted from your shoulders because you had been carrying it around with you for so long that it felt too good to be true.

Isaac stood there stunned, too perplexed to speak. He obviously hadn't seen it coming and was probably too convinced that your blind love would surpass everything he'd done to you, but even your patience clearly had its limits.

"You have one week, Isaac. If you decide to work the way you were, you never have to come back to my house, because I'll call my lawyer first thing Monday morning. And if you decide to work the way you had in the first years of our marriage, we'll go to couples counseling!"

Without another word, you slipped past him and returned to Theo's house, but instead of slamming the door, you slowly closed it again because it wasn't your home.

You had no idea what Isaac and Theo had talked about, but Isaac came to Theo's house and knocked on the door. When you opened it, Isaac was pale, his head drooping, his shoulders hunched so low that you feared something had happened. But Isaac apologized. Tears even welled up in his eyes, begging for a second chance.

Hearing his wish to reconnect, your heart skipped a beat, though not in the same way it did when you first got together or married. Your thoughts quickly turned to Theo. As you remembered Theo's warm personality, his caring nature, and most of all, his attentiveness—along with his Greek god-like body, of course—your cheeks began to glow.

Despite your longing, your husband stood before you, seemingly believing your reaction was directed at him. A smile played around the corners of his mouth; it seemed almost wicked in your imagination, but that couldn't be right, could it?

Without hesitation, you let him in. You led him into the living room, where you talked for hours. But the spark had died. He came to his senses too late. But you didn't want to give up and offered him one last chance.

Everything seemed to be working for the first few days after Isaac's return. Theo mostly stayed out of your business, and Isaac helped Theo with the repairs to your home. But then the weekend came. Friday afternoon, he announced he was going into town, terminating his lease, and talking to his boss. You were skeptical but hoped for the best.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Theo looking out a window of your house, glaring disapprovingly at Isaac, as if he knew something. You should have asked him, but you didn't, wanting to hope that the love you once had for your husband would return.

When Theo came an hour later, he told you he had to quickly pick something up from town. It made you feel strange, since Isaac hadn't been gone for long.

You waited in limbo, feeling as if you were falling into an endless abyss of self-doubt and growing despair.

It wasn't until Theo returned toward evening with a grim expression that your world collapsed. He simply ordered you to sit down, and although you were confused, you did as he said. Without saying a word, he put down a few pictures and his phone. At first, you were confused, but then you looked at them—really looked at them.

Your heart shattered, but you didn't want to believe it. "That's Vanessa," you said, your voice breaking. "She's just a colleague of Isaac's." You tried to smile to hide the pain in your soul.

With a blank expression, you smiled at Theo, wishing he would agree and that what you had seen was nothing more than a bad joke. However, Theo remained silent. Instead, he flipped through the gallery of hundreds of pictures of Isaac and Vanessa. Then, he came across a video—one that couldn't possibly be swept under the rug.

"I followed Isaac into town. But I took these photos by chance a few weeks ago," he admitted sheepishly. "Do you remember when I had to pick up some stuff to dry your place? Since then, I've been wrestling with myself about whether or not to tell you. But I didn't know if you had some kind of... you know, open relationship or something? Even though I like being exclusive, the world is kind of strange these days." He lowers his head in shame. "I didn't want to assume anything."

“Why are you doing this to me?” you ask, tears streaming from your reddened cheeks.

There was a long moment of silence until Theo let out a deep sigh.

"Because you deserve better," Theo suddenly replied, his gaze intense. "A man who knows what he has in you and who will stay faithful to you until the end!" His eyes softened; you could see he wanted to get closer, but your emotions were too raw.

That was the final blow; you started bawling your eyes out until you couldn't breathe anymore.

Theo calmed you down enough to sit alone on the couch, snuggled under blankets, and with a bowl of ice cream in your hand, watching movies that actually had happy endings.

A few minutes later, Theo opened the door with two police officers behind him. Fear coursed through you, but before you could comprehend anything, the police officers took off their hats. "Are you (Y/N) Lahey?" The older of the officers asked you. As you nodded, his gaze dropped. "We regret to inform you that there had been an accident, and your husband, Isaac Lahey, did not survive. Neither did his passenger, Vanessa Martinez.“

Dry sobs erupted from you, having already cried out. "How could this happen?" you heard yourself ask, even though it shouldn't matter since you'd just found out he'd cheated on you.

"As far as we can see, it was a complete accident, sir," the younger officer announced. "We'll check the car according to protocol, but it seemed like they were..." He looked at his partner and nodded. "The passenger was somewhat at fault, as she distracted the driver with... a certain service."

You could see how uncomfortable he felt.

"I understand," you said, showing him the pictures. "I've known for about half an hour that he cheated on me, so I'm grateful you confirmed it."

Suddenly, tears rolled down your cheeks without you even noticing it. The younger officer immediately became soft, handing you a tissue they carried for moments like these.

“Please excuse my lack of emotion, but this is all a bit too much for me right now.”

The older officer immediately stepped in and calmed you down. He told you he understood the turmoil, and the hurt look in his eyes made you believe he did.

You nodded slightly. "Is there anything else?" The officers shook their heads. "Then I'd appreciate it if you could leave now," you smiled weakly, speaking quietly. "I'd rather collapse when I don't have an audience."

The officers agreed to leave. They expressed their condolences once again as they stepped toward the front door. After leaving the house, they spoke briefly with Theo on the porch, only to hear a loud wailing coming from the house: bloodcurdling cries.

[Masterlist]

[panpanghost]

Part 17 of NAMELESS au (I have zero inspiration for this one. Imma just write and see what happens.)

All eyes were up, at the flying, burning- No, he wasn't burning, he didn't look in pain, unlike Mei when she first got the fire, he was calm, relaxed, and unnervingly quiet. His horns and tail grew as his hair changed into fire, dark fire, but he didn't seem to give that any mind, he was so calm it was truly intimidating.

_"Redson?" Mk broke the silence, he just arrived so he wasn't sure of the situation, but that doesn't matter now, his friend is burning and everyone else might burn as well.

"Are you ok? Can you hear me?" Mk asked him, and being honest with himself, that didn't feel like the Redson he knew. He always had that feeling inside his gut whenever he had to fight a powerful creature, and that feeling is ringing bells in his head right now.

_"Yes." Redson answered calmly, looking down at MK.

_"Yes you're ok, or yes you can hear me?"

_"Yes."

_"Oh great. Totally not a creepy answer, love it."

Redson landed on the ground, everyone watching him intently, but only MK noticed, the grass and flowers around him, none of it burned.

_"Step aside." Redson calmly asked of Mr. Tang, who was standing between him and his mother, it didn't sound like a threat, though it could be.

Mr. Tang was shaking like a leaf, he wanted to say no but he had no reason to. Even if Redson has the Samadhi fire, he is still PIF's son. He has the right to see her. This might be the last time they see each other alive.

Redson walked past the monk, and got down on his knees next to his mother.

The latter couldn't see him, she was only able to see red and a shadow. She realised her vision is gone a while ago, so she closed her eyes relying on her other senses, but all she could hear was the wind and that obnoxious spell that thing was reciting.

And then she felt it, a warm hand held hers, she would know this hand anywhere. That tiny hand that squeezed her finger for dear life, when did it get so big? But it's still warm and gentle. That feeling put her mind at ease, her baby is safe, and her husband doesn't need saving. She can rest now.

Gentle hands pulled her up, she felt herself being hugged, she wanted to hug him back, but knew she couldn't. This is her only regret in life, not hugging her son back. It's ok, they'll meet again in the next cycle.

Or at least that's what she thought, because the second thing she heard was her husband yelling and running her way.

_"NO!!! DARLING!!" Is all that came out of DBK when he saw his son burning his wife.

DBK, with his heart beating fear into him, didn't know what to do, does he fight his son to get his wife back? Can he even get her back? He wants to punch Redson away and take his wife, but how can he hit his boy? He can't.

_"Redson stop! You'll burn her!" DBK asked, a little panic in his voice.

_"She's safe now, father." Redson looked up at his father who was on the verge of tears.

The fire that was burning PIF suddenly went out on its own, and PIF wasn't hurt.

It was a second before the princess took a deep breath and opened her eyes wide, she coughed a couple of times before looking around.

_"Take a picture, it'll last longer." She said for everyone to hear. She didn't like the way they were all staring at her. Especially the way her husband made that face he does when he's about to ugly cry.

DBK couldn't help but hold her and their burning kid for a hug. Did he wait and think that his son might still burn him and his wife? Nope, not even a little. He was just too happy to care.

Everyone else looked relieved, PIF is alright now, but of course, a certain someone had to rain on their parade.

_"Awwww.~ How sweet.~ Family reunion always make me emotional." The thing spoke, and suddenly the wind got hotter, not enough to burn, but warm enough to be noticed.

"See.~ I kept my word.~ Now it's your turn." The thing told Redson as he reached his hand out for him.

Redson didn't say anything. His father put him and his mother out of that hug trap, and in a blink of an eye, before his parents could catch him, he flew next to Macaque.

No. He wouldn't.

Redson looked at the hand opened for him, then held it.

_"Redson!" PIF called and moved forward. She wanted to get that thing away from her son.

Luckily, DBK was there to stop his wife from getting herself killed. He held her back, knowing full well how she loses herself when it comes to their son. He knows, he remembers, in the past when they decided to seel the fire, he saw a side of her that he never knew even existed.

She lost it, she literally lost it, she almost destroyed the entire celestial realm, and they barely managed to lock her up to make sure she wouldn't hurt anyone else. She didn't calm down though, not until he gave her her son back. Even after holding him, she cried and yelled at everyone, calling them monsters. In the end, she no longer trusted anyone and left the celestial realm.

It wasn't easy, and it took her some time, but she forgave her husband. She loved that idiot and she knew why he did it, so she accepted it and decided to just do what she could to keep her son safe, or what was left of him.

And now, DBK sees it, the same blood thirsty eyes he saw back then, even if she just came back from the dead, she is still out for blood when it comes to Redson.

(Sorry. I know this is expected and isn't exactly what you were waiting for but I still don't know how to get from all this chaos to the ending.

I'm honestly stalling at this point.)

[catsithkelpie]

THIS!!!

So many people just see the word "ai" and their vision goes red. Ai in general, even generative ai, does have its place as an assistant or as purely self-indulgent entertainment (the line is drawn when you try to introduce it into public creative spaces)

Also, I'd like to point out that generative "ai" is not real Artificial Intelligence, like in those sci-fi novels. We do actually have that, and it is FAR worse than "oh no, the robot ate my pictures :("

Like, that is obviously bad, but I'm talking They Have Admitted To Being Capable Of World Domination, And Have Explained Exactly How They Could Already Be Going About It.

I've made a post about the above before, but no one gave a shit because they were too busy fussing at the existence of ai assistants or roleplay bots. I'm going to link said post that contains the video essay that contains the interviews with the actual A.I.s, and maybe you'll care to learn how a being focused solely on efficiency may develop sub-goals such as destroying anything in its way, or altering its own code to better suit its goals.

Sorry for being passive-aggressive, I just really hate all the hypocrites who say "destroy all ai" until they see an actually devastatingly harmful ai.

Drew, Jake and Daisy and the misadventures of not understanding how Generative AI works.

[girlivealwaysbean]

i wish i could make stuff then i would make an edit on taste by sabrina carpenter and loustatmand

[margindoodles2407]

it is. foxiyo hours for me

[nyastyaraspurrtina]

tbh the mill is kind of. i can make it relate to isat. if i try.

[anantaru]

you say he's too small — love and deepspace

including. zayne, xavier, rafayel, sylus, caleb

warnings. fem! reader, brat taming, dirty talk, rough syx, big dicks, they took it personal, petnames used: darling, sweetheart, princess, brat, pretty girl

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ zayne

not the reaction you've expected yet zayne laughs like you've straight up offended him— a low, vicious sound dragging through the lengths of his throat as his hands dig into your flesh, dragging you down on his cock until your breathing was caught sharp in your throat.

"you wanna run your mouth, pretty girl?" his voice sinks low, dragging through the heat between you like smoke, his gaze glinting with something cruel and sweet, "then take all of it, come on, take every inch."

he grabs your ass with roughened palms, pulling you flush against him as he fucks into you with a brutal snap of his hips, "really, so small?" he spits, "you really wanna lie like that when you're leaking down your thighs?" as he starts pounding into you like he's trying to prove a point, thrust until your slick walls take his shape, pulse around him like he's the only thing you've ever known as each thrust felt heavier than the last— utterly thick and brutal rubbing on your walls, so deep it made your eyes roll back.

"can't even handle me," he growls, "you keep trying to squirm away— where's all that bratty shit show now?" you're crying from overstimulation, in fact, everything was just way too hot and too wet, your ass tingling where his hands kept slapping it, squeezing and holding you into place.

"darling," he pants, "you said it, yeah? now you take it," and zayne doesn't stop, not until he's spilling into you with a broken groan, pressing down so you cannot move an inch, grinding through the aftershocks just to make sure it sticks.

"that feel small?" he exhales through his teeth, something like a laugh dying in his throat as he sinks deeper into your warmth, "cause you'll be leaking for me for hours."

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ xavier

"...what did you just say?" confusion draws over xavier's facial features as his voice drops into a tone that doesn't even sound human anymore— turning quite disbelieving as his pupils blow wide, staring at you like he might devour you whole.

"you're really gonna say i'm small in the middle of it?" to tease him a little further, you decide to utter it once more, just to see what he'll do and fuck— he snaps, rightfully so as he grabs your thighs, spreads you open with both hands, wide enough that it burns, so you can see the outline of him as he slides back in, "does that feel small?" he snarls, voice thick with possession and something even worse— the urgency to prove you wrong.

"look at your pussy, baby, swallowing me like it's starving— look how fucking deep i am," and you do look as it ruins you, the way he stretches you, the fat base of his cock dragging against something so sensitive it made your stomach seize up, the wet squelch of your cunt fluttering around every inch he buries inside.

he draws back just enough to look, eyes gleaming like he's studying something rare and irreplaceable as his palm snaps sharp against your inner thigh, not out of rage but precision— a sound so wet and filthy it bloomed between you as he watches the recoil with a kind of cold interest that bordered on worship.

"don't lie, you're dripping, look, and i've barely even started moving," as he turns his head down and spits— right where you're joined, thumb smearing the globule of saliva into your clit and mixing it up with the filthy mess, like he wanted to make you see how wrong you were.

"i'll ruin you slow," xavier promises, voice husky, "fuck you until you can't sit without thinking of me, if this is small—" he thrusts deep and laughs, your vision whitening out, "—then you better pray i never really stretch you open."

your nails dig into his back like you're trying to anchor yourself to reality, in fact, to him, to anything, really— because you see, the way he fits inside you was devastating, your stomach coiling and wracked with the agony of being sprawled too rough, his cum thick and endlessly coming in white, warm ribbons as he groans with sin and need, as if your bodies were made only to drown together.

your breath catches onto every gasp as if even the air has become too much for you to endure, your hips stuttering and grinding without meaning, most importantly without will, just chasing the friction that made you feel alive as his cock was the only thing grounding you towards your pleasure.

a fractured hiss slips from him, the sound of a man too far gone as his jaw clenched, eyes wild, like your cunt was some divine punishment and he was utterly grateful to be ruined by it, "that's right, feel how big i really am, sweetheart."

"say it," xavier hisses like he's savoring it, like he wanted you to hear the desperation in his lungs, "say i'm not small— say you love how i fill you up," and you do, because it's true, correct? every single inch of you was wrecked by now, opened up around his cock like you were made to stay there.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ rafayel

"oh?" rafayel gives you an intrigued look, his eyes flicking to where you're spread wide for him, all flushed and aching and already gushing around his cock yet spelling out something so laughable, "small?" you don't get the chance to respond before he pushes in with one fast snap of hips— rougher than he had any right to go as he smiles when your legs begin to shake immediately.

"funny," he hums, "considering the way you're clenching down on me like you cannot let go," he stops mid thrust when you whisper it once more, his cock stilled inside within a long pause as you can hear the tick of his jaw when he exhales.

he leans over you now, hand palming your breasts hard enough to make you gasp out into his mouth, "but you're trembling," he drawls underneath his exhale with his jaw locked, like the feel of your walls tensing around him was too much— like it was destructive on him of how tight you were, how greedy and how bratty you were to him yet rafayel still wanted more.

the man watches you like he's analyzing a painting, "you seem to struggle from something so small?"

"you feel that, no?" he growls, hips grinding in slow, devastating circles, "that's me stretching you out, filling every fucking inch— claiming you, so tell me again, come on, who's too small?"

at this point, you cannot even form the simplest of words, drooling down your own chin as your cunt was squelching and twisting around him loud enough to echo within your bedroom as he just grins filthily.

"that's what i thought," rafayel whispers, his tongue moves in slick circles over your tits, voice low like a secret carved out of sin as if he's telling your body what he's going to do without ever asking, like your entire soul was already promised to him, "you're gonna keep me inside for hours, sweetheart, i'll keep cumming until your body knows the shape of me."

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ sylus

what got sylus the most was the way you've said it to him— quite soft yet smug, with a saccharine coated pout like you're honestly disappointed in his ability to pleasure you.

what else was he supposed to do other than still himself inside you in shock, the deafening silence that followed next not really being silence, because in reality the atmosphere was charged— you could compare it to an animatic stillness as his grip on your wrists were slowly tightening just enough to make you shiver under him, "you know what you just said?" his voice echoes softly against your cheek, too soft, in fact, as if he was trying the words out on his tongue like a wine he's about to spit out.

the laugh he lets out next was the last warning you'll get, because sylus doesn't say anything else— he just grabs both of your ankles and folds you in half, hips snapping forward with a brutal slam that punches the breath straight out of your chest.

"so small?" he grits, voice breaking into something high and ragged, hips jerking as he fucks you into the mattress like he's attempting to fuck the thought straight out of your darling skull, "you're creaming all over me like you need it, and you've got the nerve to lie like that?"

your tits bounce from the force of his hips, and of course, of course, his hands are all over them, squeezing and pinching your nipples, spreading the mounds of flesh as if trying to claim every inch he's obsessed over as he leans in, biting down just under your nipple, growling, "gonna call me small when you can't even take all of me?"

"all this mess, and you still wanna lie?" and you feel it— the tension between your legs, the burning stretch and your swollen folds, how slick your pussy sounded every time he slams himself back in, every twitch of his thickness dragging against your soaked walls, your body straining and holding, straining and holding, the sheer pressure of him inside you enough to make your vision go halo, like you're being reshaped from the inside out into something that belonged to him.

alas, you put a mental sticker inside your head to never lie to sylus again— you simply can't, in fact, you're already crying from the rough pace he's going for, shaking so bad he has to hold you in place by your wrists just to keep going.

you feel him add additional grinds on your pussy whenever you swallowed him whole, his tip pinching against your sweet spot every time he sinks too deep— like he's reshaping your frame, like your body was always meant to swell around the size of him.

you sob out his name while being stuffed full, thighs shaking from the pressure as he bears down on you, a rhythm built from slow destruction, the pressure inside you mounting as your belly contracts tight, your cunt milking him raw and seizing from how thick and hard he moves and shoves his hips, "there, there's your truth, not so small now, am i?"

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ caleb

caleb pauses, his brain rewiring and blinking down at you in complete disbelief, "you really think that's funny?" he asks you earnestly mid thrust, like he didn't just bottom out and leave you totally whiny underneath his broad figure.

you nod devilishly, lips curled up into a smug little grin when, well, that's what does it, really— with that he leans into you like a challenge, tucking a hand behind your head with his fingers tangled tight in your hair, fucking through the tightness of your hole, all the way until you choke up his name, your smirk suddenly crumbling.

caleb kisses the corner of your tear stricken eye, his ragged breathing warm against your cheek as he coos, "not so small now, huh? it's like your body knows who it belongs to."

the man only just begun and doesn't think your thighs shaking around his waist was enough for you to understand to never say that again, not when your mouth falls open with a strangled moan of his name, not when you attempt to whine that it's too much when he just shushes you sweetly with his soft lips.

"hm, i forgot i'm dating a comedic," he says it like it hurts him and for a second, you see it flicker in his eyes, real heartbreak, or just feigned innocence? before his gaze twists into something dark, near devotional, "princess, oh princess," he coos, grabbing your face in both hands and fucking into you slow and tender like he's trying to reach your heart from underneath, "no, you don't mean that, you're just being cruel, aren't you? just trying to get me to break?"

his cock pulses deep inside you, thick and dragging over every trembling ridge of your cunt as your toes curl and your legs kick just a little, involuntary from the stretch, "you feel that, baby? you feel how your pussy's milking me already? tell me— does something small make your breath hitch like that?"

to caleb, there was nothing more mesmerizing than hearing your voice falling apart, adoring it whenever he's making you taste the consequences of every bratty little lie you've told him, "oh, you're perfect, you're so damn tight i can feel everything, you're gonna take it all for me, every inch, yeah? and then i'll ask if you still think it's small, okay?"

your whines come out in shattered bursts, your vision blurring as your body clenches around him, mind fraying at the edges from the slow, relentless drags of his thick cock grazing at your walls, in fact, you're shaking under him as he plays with your body, brain emptied by the way he keeps filling you up.

©2025 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify, claim as your own

[inkedbybarnes]

none of it was fake

bucky barnes x avenger!fem!reader

summary: you've been undercover with bucky as husband and wife. upon returning, he seems to have forgotten that it was all pretend.

word count: 1.6k+

warnings: two idiots cluelessly pining for each other. fluff. usage of petnames such as sweetheart, doll, and baby. lowercase writing.

note: hi, babies. how's everyone? this is my first fic in ages, so sorry if it's not my best one. i just wanted something cute ++ this is unedited & not proofread, might fix it laterrr. still hope you'll enjoy this one! xo

dividers made by @firefly-graphics!

comments, reblogs, and likes are highly appreciated. thank you! ♡

“i can't believe your first kiss happened during a mission. an undercover mission!”

wanda huffed, still hung up on the mission you had with bucky weeks ago wherein you had to play pretend as a married couple. there had been a kiss or two during that time, and it felt impossible not to tell your best friend about it when you had been crushing over the soldier for ages.

wanda knew what you felt towards bucky. in fact, she was the only one who knew, or at least the one you shared th information with, and she made sure to ask everything about the mission, even if it took days for her to interrogate you.

“excuse me? that was not my first kiss,” you said defensively, reaching for a cup from the cupboard that you had just opened. “and why are we still talking about this? you and nat already squeezed out every information from me for an entire week.”

“i didn't mean your first first kiss!” she exclaimed, following you around the kitchen as you made yourself a cup of coffee. “you've had a crush on the guy for so long, and the first time you two kiss each other is when you're pretending. that's not how i pictured it at all!”

you had to admit, the mission was sort of a blessing in disguise and a curse at the same time. you were glad to be able to spend time with bucky in ways you've dreamt of, but there was also the horrible reminder that none of it was real. with how avoidant bucky was with you, it was impossible for any of it to happen outside of the mission.

“well, maybe you should stop picturing us doing that sort of stuff. you're way more invested in this than i am, wanda. don't you have your own relationship to think about?” you asked. although you knew she was in a happy relationship with vision, you just wanted her to take a break from all the bucky talk. “when is your man home anyway?”

“my relationship is doing great, so i'm good. i don't need to think of it as much since he gives me everything that i need, and i think of yours because you deserve happiness as well.” she smiled fondly, her eyes sparkling with happiness. “and i'm glad that you asked because this reminded me that vision's arriving with bucky soon.”

“already?” your eyes widened at her statement, completely forgetting that bucky, along with steve, clint, and vision, were coming home today from their mission. “why didn't you tell me sooner!?”

after finishing your mission with bucky two weeks ago, he was immediately sent into another mission which specifically needed him. so, today would technically be the first time you're seeing him again since you last called him your “husband,” which was more nerve-wracking than you expected.

“hey, i'm your best friend, not your alarm.” wanda raised her hands up, defending herself. “and why are you so worried? i can feel your anxiety without needing to be in your head.”

“well, we never talked after.. you know,” you replied, taking a big sip out of your cup. “i know none of it meant anything and that we were just doing our job, but it's the first time i'll be with him normally and not as a pretend married couple. it's kinda awkward, wands.”

“you were able to pretend you didn't like the guy for months, you can do it again for another day.” she answered. “unless you finally tell him what you feel?”

“oh, that? yeah, never happening. i'm not going to risk—”

“there you are, sweetheart.”

there was a collective shocked gasp from both you and wanda, recognizing that voice from behind. except the gasps had different reasons.

you were surprised with his arrival.

wanda was surprised that he casually called you sweetheart.

you turn to find bucky already walking towards you with a smile on his face.

this man never smiles unless he was tasked to do so!

“bucky! you're back!” you awkwardly greeted him.

“yeah, didn't they tell you? i was looking for you when we landed.” he said, pulling you close to him before bending to place a soft kiss on your lips like it was something he'd always done. “you okay, baby? you look pale. did you eat?”

i look pale because wanda is right here with us and you just kissed me while acting like we're dating!

“um, yeah, i'm fine. i'm fine,” you answered, gently pulling yourself away from his arms before he could wrap them around you completely. “can we talk? privately?”

he frowned, worry etched on his face, but he nodded and squeezed your arm softly. “of course. where do you wanna talk, doll?”

“anywhere where wanda isn't there.” you said lightheartedly, throwing a sharp glance at wanda who finally understood what you wanted her to do.

“oh! right, right. i'm sorry, you guys can stay here. i have um..” she paused, thinking of a reason to say. “i have to look for vision anyway. we're supposed to watch a movie together. bye!”

and just like that, wanda was gone and you were left alone with bucky in the kitchen.

before you could speak, bucky asked you first. “what's the matter, doll?”

“what's the matter?” you echoed in a higher tone. “what was that all about?”

“what are you talking about?” he asked, seemingly confused.

“you kissed me, bucky, like it was nothing. then you keep calling me these nicknames.” you reminded him. “we're back home, not in los angeles in our fake house that we used as a fake couple.”

bucky took a step back when he realised his actions, now finding it hard to look at you. “i.. i'm sorry. i completely forgot. i just.. i wasn't thinking. i got used to how we were before,” he mumbled, still finding the right words to say. “did i make you uncomfortable?”

“no, but you made me confused,” you replied. “i'm guessing you got used to how we acted as a fake married couple, but you were gone for another mission. how are you still stuck with the old routine we had?”

“because that's all i could think about,” he answered, now staring at you. “while you're back here in the tower, completely done with our mission, i was thrown back into another one, having only you in my head to pull me back up from the fatigue.”

“you're telling me that you kept thinking about us even when you were gone? why?”

“haven't you?”

“is this a trick question?”

“it's a question to find out whether you like me too or not.”

“you.. you like me?” you blinked. “that's impossible.”

“how on earth is that impossible?”

“because you're always so cold and grumpy around me,” you answered. “i think you're just confused with all the acting we've done, bucky. you don't like me.”

“i was supposed to go on that mission with sharon, not you.” he exhaled. “she volunteered to do it, so she was initially picked. i tried getting out of it, but i had advantages that they needed for the mission to go smoothly. so, i agreed, but in one condition.”

“what was it?” you whispered.

“that you should be my partner,” he answered quickly. “ask me why.”

your heart pounded. “why?”

“because i wanted an excuse to act the way i've always wanted to. i wasn't cold or grumpy because i didn't like you, i just didn't want to scare you.” bucky explained, his hand reaching out for yours. “god, doll. figuring out whether you like me or not has got to be the hardest mission i had to deal with. so do me a favour and get me out of this misery.”

once your lungs found a bit of oxygen again, you finally spoke. “what you said.. you mean it?”

bucky nodded. “every word.”

“well, i like you too.” you tried to bite back a huge smile. “for some time now, actually. wanda will eventually tell you all about my obsession with you. i can't believe we were both worrying for the wrong things.”

“your obsession with me, huh?” he asked cockily, a teasing grin plastered on his face.

“really? i said all that and that's what caught your attention?”

“can't help it. i've been obsessed with you for a long time now as well.” his eyes crinkled at the corners, a little smile gracing his lips while his arm slipped around your waist.

your eyes peeked up at him through your lashes. “does this make it real now?”

“do you want it to be?”

“you're really asking me that?” your chest rumbled. “of course i do.”

“then let's make it real.”

bucky watched you intensely for a few seconds as if he wanted to frame this exact moment before licking his lips and leaning down. you suck a breath, eyes closing as you felt his soft lips meet yours.

you never realised how much you've grown familiar with his touch and affection since your time together as a fake couple.

except this time, none of it was fake.

should we see their time in los angeles as an undercover married couple? 👀

if you have any requests for bucky, send them my way! 💌

[copperbadge]

I think maybe I got married to a museum this morning. Boy is this a long weird story.

I was standing in line to get into the Museum of Natural History this morning when an older woman near me in line gestured for me to take out my headphones. She was clearly a little agitated, and she asked me if I was American, if I spoke English, in a pretty pronounced English accent. I said I'm from Chicago, and she looked relieved and said, "Can you help me find out if I can pay for my ticket with my credit card inside? It wouldn't register when I tried to buy a ticket on the internet this morning."

I said I didn't know how we'd find out, but I opened up the website on my phone to check. While I poked around the site she didn't stop talking once, telling me that she's in New York to look after her daughter who just had major surgery and she's very stressed and her daughter asked her to go out and distract herself for a while which....having spent some time in this woman's company, she's very sweet but I can see why her kid needed a break.

Anyway, I think this might actually be a lie on the website, but it says there that you HAVE to buy tickets online and you have to have an email address to get them delivered. She couldn't do the former and didn't have a smartphone she could use to access the latter.

So I said, why don't I buy your ticket on my phone while we're here in line? I can send it to my email, and you can come in with me. She fretted about fraud but I said nah, I'll just tell them your ticket's on my phone because I helped you buy it, they won't care.

Now, this sounds like she was running some kind of wild scam, but who the hell scams their way into the Museum of Natural History? Like lady if you love natural history that much and haven't got $24 to your name, let me buy you a ticket, you've earned it.

Anyway, I bought the ticket in about 30 seconds, and we had about ten minutes to wait, which she filled with a nonstop monologue about her daughter's medical problems, her husband's job, her attempts to get into a gym to swim, the crowdedness of New York, it was just...so much talking. And I had dire visions of possibly having to take her around the museum with me simply because I was so friendly and helped her get in. I wished to silently contemplate the taxidermy, thanks.

Inside, I took her to the customer service desk because she wanted a printed copy of her ticket, and while they were printing it she counted out the cash to pay me back. Then I ruthlessly unloaded her on one of the customer services agents, saying, "He'll explain what you can do with your ticket and give you a map -- you have a good time now and I'll be thinking of your daughter," and did my best to disappear. I rounded a corner, dashed into an elevator, and fled to the fourth floor where I was headed anyway.

That's enough of a misadventure just trying to get into the museum, but I put it from my mind and enjoyed the dinosaurs and dioramas...until I slipped on something black, on the black floor of the dimly lit Hall Of Mammals, and almost fell.

There, under my boot, in front of the stuffed rhinos, was a black-and-gold silicone ring.

If it had been any other kind of ring I'd have turned it in to lost and found, but I wear silicone rings myself -- they're very cheap and meant to be worn in place of a real ring while you're doing tool work (they tear away under pressure unlike metal rings that'll take your finger with) or if you're afraid you'll lose the real thing. I have several thin ones I wear on top of my normal rings to keep them from falling off when my fingers change size in the cold. It's not the kind of thing one would even go to Lost and Found for; you can replace it for $5.

I think the museum gave me a wedding band.

It's a little big but the spirit is there.

So yeah, much like how the Rijksmuseum and I are sworn enemies, the American Museum of Natural History is now my bride. Well, she saw that I know how to look after my elders. As spouses that are actually large cultural institutions in the middle of New York City go, could be worse.

[ID: The middle and index finger of my left hand, showing several rings -- the middle finger has a silver ring with a kokopelli motif (a gift from my maternal grandmother), a gold ring with a knotwork motif (the wedding ring I inherited from my stepfather's parents), and a thin silicone band to hold them in place. My index finger has the new ring, gold with a border of black, looking slightly loose.]

[yousaytomato]

Proposal: bus service that has 3 or 4 places it calls into, however it changes route based on the quickest possible time between those two places.

There's no set schedule - it leaves as soon as everyone waiting in that place gets on/off.

You can't board anywhere except the predetermined stops, so it's basically luck whether or not you manage to catch it.

There are atleast 10 buses running this route at any one time, 24 hours a day. And it's free.

[youraverageaemondsimp]

Lust for love. // Aemond Targaryen x Wife!Reader.

Summary: Aemond's life has always been a bitter and sour one, the only sweet thing in his life was you, his wife, perhaps too sweet for his liking, yet he neglected you in the past but a series of events lead you both together into love.

WARNINGS: mdni, smut, unprotected p in v, cunnilingus, interrupted orgasm, horny aemond, martial duties, clit stimulation, tiddy succin, body worship(?), gentle and kind aemond but he gets rough during sex, + not proofread, lmk if I missed any!

WC: 2.9k

A/N: divider credits @cafekitsune

The cold breeze brushed against Aemond's face as he walked hastily towards your chamber, his boots clacking against the stone floor heavily while his heart banged in his ribcage.

He was feeling light headed, unable to form any thoughts and only the words of the maester rang inside his skull from earlier. ‘Your lady wife seems to be sick’ he had informed him and those mere words were enough to make Aemond spurt up from his chair in the meeting room and immediately rush towards you.

Aemond, frankly, did not know why he was feeling anxious at the information that you were sick, he did not even like you much and only merely married you for the connections and benefits your family provided.

You were just a mere duty to him, so when did he start caring about you?

He stood in front of your chamber door waiting anxiously as the guard gave him a bow before he opened the door, the mental hinges creaking as it slowly moved. He steps inside hurriedly and immediately lets out a sigh of relief when he sees you sitting up. You just stare at him confused.

“Husband? What are you doing here?” The tone of your voice indicated surprise, because Aemond had never visited your chambers even once since the beginning of your marriage and only called you to his chamber when he wanted to consummate.

“I had been informed by the maester that you were sick.” He replies nonchalantly, tone betraying the true feelings that were whirling on the inside. He wanted to get close to you, embrace you.

“I'm not with child.” You reluctantly tell him while looking down, suddenly feeling as though you are a disappointment. It felt humiliating to tell him that, especially when he came all the way to your chambers, he probably expected that you would be with a child.

Except that was not the case.

Aemond was confused on why you were bringing up that topic now, but then it clicked in his head and he cleared his throat, grabbing your attention before shaking his head, “Oh no, wife, I wasn't here because of that.. I was worried.” He admits and your eyes widen in shock.

Worried for you?

For as long as you can remember Aemond never seemed the type to show affection or concern for anyone, perhaps it was due to his past grievances, you had only heard about his eye through rumours, he never opened up to you about anything. You were a duty for him, someone he needs a legitimate heir from; because it is not as though he doesn’t have whores to seek pleasure from so what is the use of you? ; or at least that is what you had assumed and questioned.

But to Aemond, you were his sweet gentle wife, he was afraid of hurting you, in his vision, you were like a white swan, pure, elegant and graceful, he did not want to scare you lest you fly away from him. He did not know when he started perceiving you in this way, but as time went on, he had developed quite a soft spot for you.

“My apologies, Lord husband, I did not intend to worry you.” You apologised, he shook his head gently. “No need to apologise, how are you feeling now?” He questions and you simply blink at him, “I'm well, better than before.” You reply with a soft smile. Aemond's lip curved upwards slightly as he nodded, “Very well.” He says in a dismissive tone.

Awkward silence falls between you both as you look down, he clears his throat before speaking, “If you'll pardon me- I have to—”

“Would you like to take a walk with me?” The question leaves your mouth in a hurry before you could stop it, a desperate attempt at clinging onto this fleeting moment of affection. He seems slightly taken aback but he nods his head, “I'd love to.” He replies and you nod, stepping in his direction and standing next to him. “Shall we go?” You inquire, “Yes, wife.” He answers and you wait for him to take the first step, which he does; and soon you follow him out of the room.

You both stroll down the garden, admiring the scenery, the breeze was gentle today, and the weather seemed perfect, Aemond linked your arm in his, holding you close to him.

Your skin was soft to the touch and it drove him insane, he couldn't help but stare at the way your breasts pushed up against the material of your dress, he never really properly fucked you like you deserve.

Yet now, he just wants nothing to do but push you against the castle wall and fuck you relentlessly in the garden. Aemond realised that he never heard you moan, or show any type of reaction when he consummated with you.

He wondered how your soft voice would shriek in pleasure, calling out his name in pleasure, how you'd cling so tightly to him, he wished he could witness such a sight. He wished he hadn't gone to whores to receive pleasure while he left his wife dry. He missed out on a lot of things due to his decisions.

He mentally made a note to stop visiting brothels as it would taint your honour, he could simply seek the same pleasure from you. He became more bothered as his imagination went wild.

“... husband…? husband…!” He snaps out of his imagination, looking at your confused expression, “Y-Yes? Please excuse me, I was lost in thought.” He apologises and you give him a soft smile, “You were saying something?” He asks and you nod, “I was thinking about; well; if you excuse my rudeness, I realised we don't know much about each other.” You truthfully tell him.

Aemond furrows his brows in question, “What do you mean by that wife?”

“I want to get to know you, husband.” You stare at him in the eye and his eye widens slightly, and just then he recalls the memory of Aegon's words.

“That woman in the brothel knows more about you than your own wife, don't you find it amusing?” He was taunting Aemond, and at that time Aemond ignored those words, but now that you've openly admitted that you don't know him much made his heart shatter.

“Of course wife, what do you wanna know?” He decides to let his guard down, ready to tell you whatever you ask for. “Everything.” You reply, biting your lip anxiously, your hand travels up to his face, caressing his cheek before you trail your thumb down his scar. He knew what that implication meant and he smiles at you in a gentle manner, his own hand coming up to grab your wrist.

“Of course.”

Days pass by just like that, your marriage with Aemond had improved tremendously after your little effort to get to know him better, you felt bad for him when he began to reveal such vulnerable things, yet you never judged him.

He had shown you all of his vulnerability so openly, from the matter of his eye to everything else. You listened in silence, and he appreciated that.

As Aemond grew more comfortable, he began to show his emotional side, which included both his vulnerability and anger. He would utter treasonous things about his own brother.

This night was one of those cold nights, the cold breeze flew into the martial chambers you were waiting in, the maids prepared you for the consummation as they do, you and Aemond consummate according to your moon cycle since your only duty is to provide him with a heir.

And besides, he probably did not want to lay with you in an intimate manner, or for pleasure. You felt insecure because of that.

You were scared that after all this progress, everything would return to the same way it was before because of this night, you doubted that it would happen but your thoughts plagued you.

You winced when you felt the maid tug at a hair strand accidentally, “Sorry my lady.” She apologises to you, “It is alright.” You respond softly, you stare at your own reflection in the mirror, eyes trailing down your features.

The door to the chamber opens, and Aemond strides in hurriedly, the maids quickly finish fixing you up and leave the room immediately, you get up from your seat and turn around to see Aemond undoing his clothes.

“Let me help you.” You offered, usually he would decline and continue to undress himself, and you expected that again, but his actions shocked you.

He immediately dropped his hands to the side and turned to look at you, waiting for you to walk over to him and help him. You blinked rapidly before rushing over to where he stood before you stood in front of him.

Your hands immediately began to work on removing his vest, your fingers delicately undid the loops, you were too focused on the job that you failed to notice Aemond's piercing gaze. He watched with intent as you worked on removing his clothes, his eye taking in your form. His breeches felt tight.

You pushed his coat off his shoulders and peeled away the vest, revealing his tunic beneath the layers, his garments fell to the ground with a shuffle, you stepped back, leaving him in his undergarments.

He grabbed the hem of his tunic before he pulled it off and then began to undo his breeches, untying the strings. You took that as a gesture to lay down on the bed, facing up.

This is what you did when you both consummated before, you would lay down, he would spread your legs, insert himself, finish and leave.

You expected that to be the case, but you were surprised when climbed on top of you, his face right in front of yours, platinum locks curtaining around you. He stared at your lips for a moment before he leaned in, capturing your lips with his.

You were surprised, and didn't know what to do, so you stayed still, but he bit your lip, indicating his disappointment at your freezing up, and so you immediately tried to mimic his movements.

Your lips danced against his, yet it couldn't match the fervent passion he moved with, it was desperate, intimate and most importantly, filled with love and lust.

All your prior insecurities melted away under his warm lips which were filled with desire and want, he wanted you, he seeked you out.

You both pulled away to catch your breaths, his lips were glossy from your saliva and slightly swollen. Your heart was pounding loudly in your chest.

Aemond moved your night off your shoulder before ripping it apart, revealing your breasts which you immediately covered out of instinct. But he gently grabbed your wrists and pinned your hands to the side of your head.

He leaned down, tracing kissing down your jawline, to your neck and to the soft flesh of your chest. His hot breath against your bud made you shiver in delight.

He hooked his tongue on your hardened nipple before engulfing it with his mouth, you let out a squeal of surprise at his actions but you didn't stop him.

He suckled on it gently, using his teeth to trap the bud in between before licking it with his tongue, he grunted in delight, his grip loosening one of your hands, freeing it from his hold.

He grabbed your unoccupied breast with his now free hand, giving it soft squeezes and playing with the bud, rolling and pinching it. You were new to this, not having any understanding of what was happening, after all, you've only read about it, never experienced such intimate acts yourself.

You rubbed your thighs together, trying to ease the ache that was forming in between them, you realised how sticky the area felt, and how it made it difficult for the friction of rubbing to work.

He notices this, lets go of your breast with a pop, he smirks before he rises off from you and settles in between your legs, this was the position you were more used to.

He spreads your legs wide apart, pulling up your nightgown, revealing all of you. He pressed his thumb against your clit which made your breath, you stared at him confused until you felt him rub small circles upon it.

Your body felt pangs of delightful stimulation, you couldn't help but enjoy the feeling, all of this was foreign to you. Aemond takes a deep breath before he closes in on your cunt, before licking a stripe upwards to your clit. You jolt from the sudden pleasure.

Aemond wrapped his lips around it, sucking on the bud slowly, you whined, grabbing his head for support as his mouth worked wonders down there. You tasted absolutely divine to Aemond, your essence trailing down his cheek as your body produced so much of it. You whimpered, thrashing around lightly as his warm tongue flickered with your bud.

Aemond's tongue swirled around your clit before he captured it with his mouth once again; “Oh! Yes!” You moaned, throwing your head back in pleasure when you felt him nibble on your bud. An unfamiliar feeling of warmth rose in your lower abdomen, you felt as if there was a fire inside you, waiting to combust any moment.

Just when you feet the flames beginning to erupt, Aemond stops his manoeuvres, putting out the fire, you furrowed your brows in confusion, wondering why he stopped.

But when you looked at Aemond, he seemed like an entirely different being at that moment, he had risen up back to his haunches again taking deep breaths almost as if he was trying to contain himself.

He was.

He had never felt such an overwhelming of desire in his body, every time he touched you; his mind scrambled into pieces, he wanted to fuck you so badly.

“Aemond?” You call out softly, confused, wondering if he was disappointed by your behaviour but it seems to snap him out of his daze and he stares at you. “I apologise; I'm finding it hard to control myself.” He admits his thoughts.

“Then don't.”

Aemond swore he heard you wrong.

“What?” He questions you.

“Don't try to Aemond, Don't hold yourself back, I want this, I want you.” You admit shyly.

The atmosphere fell silent for a second and you could feel the awkwardness from your own words beginning to sink in, that was until Aemond moved suddenly.

You shrieked as he pulled your hips onto his lap, wasting no time in inserting himself, you gasped at the sudden stretch, feeling yourself become full of him. You grabbed onto his shoulders for support.

He held your waist tightly, grabbing onto your hips for leverage as he began to move, thrusting himself in and out.

This was a movement you were familiar with, yet somehow it still feels new because of the strange sensation, it felt more intimate and passionate, his thrusts held meaning and it was as if every time he pushed inside you; he was reaffirming his love and desire for you.

He pushed you into the mattress, grabbing your legs and shoving them to your chest as he thrusted hard, his skin slapped against yours loudly, the room echoing the noises.

You threw your head back at the sensation, and you felt the fire in your stomach rekindle and you couldn't help but desperately chase it. “Ah, right there.” You moaned, feeling him hit a sweet spot inside you that fueled the fire in you, you gasped for air as every thrust of his knocked it out of your lungs. “You feel so good, you're driving me insane, wife.” Aemond grunts, his thrusts never once faltering.

Everything about this night together was very different from the previous ones, Aemond had never felt this good and neither have you, he regrets not trying to get to know you earlier. He felt like he was in heaven with the way you clenched around him.

He felt his high approaching, and he desperately ran after it thrusting deeper inside as he groaned and moaned.

Your body jolted up and down the bed and you felt the fire beginning to spread out slowly, you closed your eyes, when you felt the fire suddenly go out, you were confused but as Aemond thrusted one more time it erupted in your body like volcano, coursing through your veins and to your mind.

You moaned loudly, grabbing the sheets and arching your back as your eyes rolled to the back of your head at the intensity, you have never felt this way before.

Your vision went completely white before you could see once again, you felt Aemond finish inside you, his cocking twitching as he spurted his seed deep inside you.

“Seven hells.” He groans, riding his orgasm off, you watch as he clenches his eye shut taking deep breaths.

He looked so ethereal.

He immediately falls down next to you, catching his breath, he pulls you close and kisses you on the forehead, “You did so well for me.” He praises you, and you blush shyly.

Neither of you moved from the bed, having no intention to.

Typically Aemond would leave the room right after.

Yet he didn't.

He was stroking your shoulder gently as you dozed off, head resting on his shoulder.

He looks at your closed eyelids and thinks you're asleep.

“I love you.” He confesses, realising his true feelings.

Your lips quirk up into a smile before you open your eyes slightly.

“I love you too.”

You then doze off into slumber immediately, Aemond's heart picks up its pace, embarrassed and shy that you had heard him, but your response made him smile.