#cue my weeping

[badolmen]

Me: I know lots of fic authors say they love people who long comment on every chapter but when I do it I feel bad especially if the author is the kind to reply to comments but none of my comments have replies - not to mention on WIP fics it feels borderline manipulative because yes I’m commenting to tell the author what I liked but I have the secondary motivation of wanting more chapters so I’m basically evil -

*email notification*

nevermind I think I’m getting a good grade in fic reader something that is both normal to want and possible to achieve

[caelestcs]

me: -wants to be an important (tm) rp partner to someone and offer variety-

also me: -doesn't write and disappears like an awkward penguin-

still me: -head empty; only Boya rattling inside-

[eusuntgratie]

gonna post tomorrow’s kinktober in a bit bc my brother-in-law is crashing in our hotel room so i won’t have an opportunity to post before post-wedding festivities and catching our flight tomorrow.

[divinestrikes]

don’t know how the booktok gorlies (gender neutral) do it but the audiobook I’m listening to got to a sex scene and I immediately had to close out of my hoopla app the second the narrator’s voice got breathy

[rtlstuff]

It took less than a month after seeing Barbie (2023) for my sister to dump her boyfriend. Impressive the power that movie has.

[nariism]

a simple mission — neuvillette

accidental confession + "say it again. please."

synopsis. oh. oh no. you were most certainly not supposed to overhear this conversation between the iudex and the duke, but now you don't even know how to act right.

wc. ~1k

— for an anon bff 🫶 | event masterlist ✉️

You didn't mean to eavesdrop.

Really, truly, you didn't. All you had come for was to deliver the new reports from Poisson, have your usual polite chit-chat, then take the rest of the night off for your date.

Really, truly, you wish you hadn't overheard the conversation on the other side of the door—the muffled voices of who you presumed to be the Duke of the Fortress of Meropide making his rare overworld appearance and the Iudex of whom you held so dear.

Really, truly, you meant to walk away when you heard the passing of your name from Wriothesley, the curious tone and the silence that followed.

"I don't get you." A sigh, indignant and frustrated, then: "You're supposed to tell people how you feel. Jeez."

"It's quite complicated."

"Complicated? Come on, I'm tired of watching the two of you make goo-goo eyes at each other."

"... 'Goo-goo' eyes?..."

You stifle your laughter at the strained voice, though you have to wonder if your crush on Neuvillette was so obvious that even the warden had noticed from afar.

"You're seriously just going to let them go on a date?"

"That is their decision to make. Not mine."

"Whatever. I'm just saying you should consider the possibility that you should pursue this."

"My feelings for them don't amount to anything, so just forget—"

The door swings open faster than you can blink and you're left flailing around pathetically with your stack of papers. Both men stand dauntingly in the doorway, peering at you in mortification (and, to your horror, a shine of amusement in Wriothesley's eyes).

Really, truly, you wanted to melt into the Primordial Sea right then and there. And perhaps you should have turned heel and bolted away to do just that, if only to miss the incriminating colour blooming on Neuvillette's cheeks.

He was right. It is complicated, and the way he can't meet your gaze makes it all the worse.

You've called off your date tonight.

It's not the first time. It certainly won't be the last if this keeps up.

Unsure of what to do or where to go, you end up soaked in the rain at the edge of the city. The bridge overlooks the flooding Court of Fontaine—a pretty, weeping sight that Neuvillette had shown you what felt like eons ago. Back when the two of you were just friends and nothing more, when his name didn't stir something scorching within your heart.

What should have remained a professional, civil relationship between you and the Iudex grew into something more as the years passed.

You noticed the glow of his lilac eyes, the way they softened when you entered a room; the undeniable fondness in his expression as it crinkled with his smile, dignified but warm; the lingering of his hand over yours as he accepted whatever you brought to him for that day, a gesture which he hadn't graced others with to your knowledge.

Wriothesley had bugged you once about it before during one of his visits, calling you a lovesick fool. As it turns out, he loved drama of all sorts and was making it his personal mission to witness this opera himself.

You hadn't expected him to bring it up with Neuvillette as well, thinking that he would be too off put by the judge's apparent indifference toward you.

The soft pitter-patter of rain hushes as an umbrella unfolds above you, shielding you from the onslaught.

"You'll catch a cold."

You visibly deflate, head burying into your arms along the stone railings. Oh, dear. You don't know how to act right now. How are you supposed to act in front of the person who admitted to having feelings for you just a few ago?

Neuvillette takes your silence as his cue to continue probing. "I wanted to chat with you about what happened today. But, if you're busy then..." He turns his head left and right, searching for any signs of the date you had thrilled about earlier this week.

(A date that you wished could erase all the feelings you had for him, to no avail.)

"I'm not busy. I canceled," you tell him quietly. You stand up straight, turning to face him but with avoidant eyes. "What is it?"

"I want to apologize if I made you uncomfortable this afternoon. I understand it is unprofessional for us to be involved with each other, and I won't bring it up again. Not even to Wriothesley."

You blink at him, half surprised yet half not. The sudden downpour of rain roars in your ears deafeningly, somber weather matching his darkening appearance.

"You don't have to apologize. I wasn't uncomfortable, just..." You look away awkwardly. "Confused."

"What is there to be confused about?"

You bite the inside of your cheek. "About why you never told me how you feel."

(Hypocrisy at its finest, honestly.)

Silence overcomes you again as he considers your words, deep in thought. You can tell just by the minute twist of his lips and the narrowing of his eyes, and it makes you sick that you can read every single tell of his emotions.

"I wouldn't want to burden you. I am unfamiliar with feelings such as these. I don't think I am fit to be your partner."

"Nobody is perfect," you remind him gently, reaching out to wipe the wetness from the rain off his cheeks. "Do you think I'm perfect?"

"Undoubtedly."

His quickness makes you snort with laughter, hand withdrawing from his space to take the umbrella.

"Wrong. Very wrong. I eavesdropped on you today, you know?"

"I know," he mutters, cheeks flaming with colour again as he remembers how flustered you seemed with the door swinging open. "How much of it did you hear?"

You hum, a soft smile spreading across your face. "Enough."

Neuvillette shrinks back in embarrassment. "And I suppose Wriothesley knew you were behind the door the entire time. Nothing escapes him."

"I'll have to thank him later," you giggle.

The Iudex stiffens. "You will?"

"Well... only if you say it again."

"That's—"

"Please?"

You watch the Adam's apple in his throat bob as he swallows, unable to regain composure.

"If I had feelings for you, would you accept them?"

You close the umbrella and shake it off, relishing in the sprinkle showering over you.

"A million and one times, I would."

He smiles, taking the umbrella from you. His hand lingers over yours for a moment, as always.

"Then I believe you do have some thanking to do."

© ALABOADOA 2023 — please do not translate or post my works to other platforms.

[girlbossblackbeard]

THOUGHTS AND LAYERS

i spent literally an hour analyzing this trailer at 0.5 speed. this post is long af and these thoughts are in no particular order and are poorly organized:

-there's a big storm (which I think was already confirmed), and ed gets swept overboard by a bucket on a rope:

he then crawls up out of the water onto the beach

then goes into the forest, creates a hut, has a journey of healing and self-discovery, meets hornigold (or his ghost??)

and kills him thus killing the part of himself that he hated the most (his violence) as a parallel to stede finally getting rid of nigel's ghost by accepting and believing in himself

-in the stede/ed split screen, the stede shot is from the first ep of s2 right after stede finds the marooned crew at the end of ep 10 in s1 (you can tell bc his hair and clothes are still clean, there's no gay bandana around his neck, and that's his lil dinghy buttons is rowing)

-they go to shore and wind up at the merchants shop where "susan" overhears they're tracking down blackbeard

and she invites stede's crew onto her ship, cue the outfit change in the BTS photos:

-the way stede makes that little swishy turn in the red coat -

makes me think this may be first time he's been in fine clothes since his "death" and i hope we get a moment of him reflecting on how he gave up everything for ed only to have him hate him :( but then obviously realizing that ed is worth it and he'd do it all again in a heartbeat if it meant getting a chance at spending the rest of his life with him

-izzy and stede team up, and izzy is clearly training either himself or stede on the revenge (?)

soooooo many questions: what caused him to leave ed and join stede's crew? is he fighting with ed and is training to take him out or is he just done having his love be unrequited so he leaves and just so happens to stumble into stede? is izzy thinking that if he can't cut out the longing he has for ed he has to kill him instead so the pain will go away? what, pray tell, the fuck is going on in here on this day

-wee john in the mermaid costume (and olu in a bunny or donkey costume?):

a fuckery? or just a weird acid trip? OR IS IT THE TALENT SHOW THEY NEVER GOT TO HAVE??

-ed really does force everyone on his crew to wear war paint

-all the tally marks scratched into the walls - is that the number of days since stede bonnet broke ed's heart?

-ed in the forest in PEARL NECKLACE HELLOW????????

-the tear in ed's eye as he moves the cake toppers closer together which he also painted to make the lady look more like him he literlaly is in love wiht stede so bad wht the FUCJ

-ed's crew is murdering SO MANY PEOPLE at the wedding wtf (pic not included bc scary)

-delusional moment but i hope anne bonny on stede's lap is looking at calico jack off screen

-stede and ed are running towards each other on the black sand beach (thank you @sluterastede for pointing this out to me wtf!!!!!!)

which evolves my theory that ed in the forest goes through his healing journey and realizes he wants to openly love stede again but then the navy attack and stede just so happens to have found ed at the same time and they're fighting to get to each other and taking out everyone in their way (what if that was okracoke lmao)

-the swede and spanish jackie hooking up in the trailer

makes me think the bts shot of ed and jackie is them looking at stede and the swede, and ed being SO in love with stede obvi but jackie is watching the swede do some weirdly hot shit so she's gotta have him (what if they got married and he became her umpteenth husband in a drunken vegas-like shotgun wedding where she wakes up the next day to realize what has happened lmao)

-also this pic is DEF from the reunited/make up era bc ed's half-up hair, no makeup, soft eyes, and buttons' clothing. i am weeping

-stede in pain - is it an injury or a tattoo? or torture as @sluterastede posits?? he looks down at his lower body before screaming so maybe he knows what's about to happen to him??

-ed in the forest wearing the pearl necklace (see above), ed saying "fuck you stede bonnet" wearing the pearl necklace (see below)

does he pick it up at the wedding??? (theory credit to @sluterastede!!!! can u tell we watched the trailer together 400 times) i can't tell if he's wearing it in the one wide shot of him in that scene:

but regardless of when he acquires it, does he take it bc he remembers stede said he wears fine things well???? and he starts to believe he may deserve them??

-side note about a LACK of something: ed isn't wearing the cravat at all in the trailer near as i can tell, and he's not wearing the pearl necklace when throwing knives at the wall (at least from what I can see, which is not much) which leads me to believe that scene is in the earlier part of the season

-lastly, the most important song lyrics from the trailer (the beautiful ones by prince):

and that's my dissertation on the ofmd season 2 teaser trailer thank you

[grandlinedreams]

hi i literally love all of ur posts u nail all of the characters its crazy.

one of my favorite tropes is hidding an injury and getting the classic “who did this to you.”

if ur still taking requests and are in an angsty mood would u plzzz write this with zoro?

Hhjg I try, thank-you!! But also mood it's just so GOOD and I hope that I can do this justice for you!!

[Heads up!: mentions of canon typical violence, blood/mention of an infected wound, angst]

Staring down at the gash in your side, you bite back a hiss as you prod at it, the weep of milky fluid from it. The split skin is puffy and an angry red, heat eminating from it ㅡ it doesn't take a genius to know that it doesn't look good.

Normally you'd have the little handful of supplies from Chopper, tucked away in your backpack ㅡ but it's gone, along with everything else beyond your weapon.

At least you're not wandering around by yourself, though. As if on cue, there's the sound of footsteps behind you, and you drop your shirt back over the poorly bandaged wound.

"What are you doing over here?"

"Just fine," you answer as you turn towards Zoro. "I wanted to see if we could reach a clearing and get a good read on where we are."

"Fair enough." Zoro studies you for a minute, and you worry that he's going to know about the wound on your side ㅡ the one you'd casually "forgotten" to mention to him. "So which way should we be heading?"

"West," you answer, glancing up at the sky. The sun has begun its slow arc of descent, and you sigh. "We need to hurry, or we'll end up needing to camp for the night."

"Right." You turn to watch Zoro go, feeling the irritated twitch of a muscle in your jaw.

"Zoro. That's east."

ㅡ

By the time the sun has set, it's clear that something is wrong.

There's a fine layer of cold sweat on your face that you scrub at, trying to ignore the heaviness of your limbs and throbbing ache of your side. "We should stop for the night," you hear yourself say, "it's useless to try and navigate after dark."

Zoro grunts his agreement and turns to look at you, brow furrowing. "Are you sure you're alright?"

You want to answer him, you really do. But your ears are ringing, mouth full of cotton when you try to answer. Dark spots dance around the edges of your vision, and you're distantly aware of Zoro's noise of alarm when your legs finally give out.

"'m fine," you finally manage before the dark spots expand, sinking you down into the silent black of unconsciousness.

ㅡ

You wake to the awkward bulk of a backpack under your head and the smell of woodsmoke. Sitting up, you blink when a damp cloth drops from your forehead into your lap.

"Finally awake?" Sitting nearby, Zoro prods at the fire with a long stick before he turns towards you. "You have a fever."

Your hand slides to your side, feeling the stiff press of bandages underneath, the answering throb of the gash beneath.

"Took care of that too." Zoro's gaze is sharp. "I'm not Chopper, but it'll do for now. Mind explaining who did that and why you didn't bother telling me?"

It's clear he's far from amused, and you look away, feeling guilty. "Happened when we all got separated," you say, "and I didn't think it was going to be that much of an issue."

Zoro wants to scold you, but he knows he'd be a hypocrite if he did given the amount of times he's blatantly ignored his injuries. Instead he sighs, watching the logs crackle for a moment. "Hope you killed the guy who did it."

"Of course I did," you answer with a hint of pride, and Zoro smirks.

"Good."

ㅡ

"I think this is a little excessive, Zoro."

"You still have a fever," Zoro says as he adjusts his grip on your legs, "and we won't get anywhere if you collapse on me again." He feels you tense, and he frowns. "How are you feeling, anyways? And don't lie."

"A little better." You rest your forehead against his shoulder, and though he won't admit it out loud, the fact he can feel warmth radiating from your skin worries him. "I'm sorry about this."

"Still should have told me," he says, though his tone is softer, his grip tightening on your legs. "Idiot. We're crewmates, aren't we? We're supposed to trust each other."

"I do trust you."

"Then act like it." He stares ahead, footsteps steady. "Don't go getting hurt and then hiding anymore, you hear me?"

"I hear you." You pause. "Zoro?" He grunts in answer, and you exhale softly. "Thank-you."

Zoro tells himself that his heart doesn't pick up a little bit at how soft your voice is, the cling of your body against his. And that he definitely isn't blushing, just a little. "Yeah, yeah. Can't have you die on me and leave me to deal with that stupid cook all on my own."

[chiaraanatra]

Intoxicating

∘₊✧────✧₊∘ ! 18+ MINORS DNI ! ∘₊✧───✧₊∘

Summary: Anakin just cant help himself.

Warnings: SMUT, dom!reader, sub!ani, mentions of male masturbation, panties (stealing, sniffing, used as gag), mild somno (kinda?[he steals your panties while your asleep]), hand job, mentions of fingering(f), overstimulation(m), orgasm control(?), scent kink(?), pet names (reader calls Ani baby, puppy & sweetheart). IDK what to tell you, Ani and reader are little perverts! No use of Y/N. (Let me know if I missed anything.)

Word Count: 1.2k

AN: Think of this as a belated May 4th gift! Apparently I think any character played by Hayden is just a panty thief. I'm not sorry. Thank you to my wonderful boyfriend for being the inspiration for this! Jay, your dirty dreams are truly an inspiration!

《 m.list || ao3 》

At what point do I just accept that sleep isn't going to happen...?

Anakin woke up next to you hard as a rock with a sheen of sweat covering his body. He wanted to just go back to sleep, he really did, but the only thought on his mind was how desperate he was to cum. How he needed to cum.

He tried to be discreet, palming himself through his boxers in an attempt to ease the harsh ache he felt while trying not to wake you. His eyes followed the streams of light coming through the curtains as they illuminated your peaceful form sleeping quietly next to him.

As if on cue, your body shifted and the sheets that once covered you now left you exposed. Anakin couldn't help but stare as the only thing covering you was a pair of cute cotton panties.

Of course, the thought crossed his mind. Maybe I could just... "Fuck..." He shook his head trying to shake the idea from his head. Little good that did.

Before he could register his movements, he slowly made his way closer to you. He didn't want to wake you just to appease his own perversions, but they were right there, squeezed against your plush hips, and he knew that your scent would send him straight over the edge.

He started to slowly ease the tight fabric off your body. He groaned when he noticed the patch of wetness left behind by your weeping pussy, the sight only causing his lust and need to grow. He continued to move the fabric over your hips, down the soft skin of your thighs, and over your pretty little legs and feet.

Finally, he had them.

Anakin wasted no time bringing the fabric to his face, inhaling deeply before moving his boxers down so he could stroke his cock.

Your scent was beyond intoxicating. No amount of alcohol or drugs could compare to the euphoria that your scent brought. Anakin could feel himself getting closer and closer, not only due to sheer sensory overload but also the perverseness of his actions.

His eyes were screwed shut feeling himself so close to reaching his peak. He was so overwhelmed that he didn't feel the bed shift under your weight as you moved. He only noticed your presence when he felt a soft hand touch his chest. His eyes shot open, a mixture of fear and embarrassment occupying his blown pupils. He was met with a devious little grin and utter delight plastered all over your face.

"You are such a little pervert. Stealing my panties to try and get yourself off..." Your voice was mocking and sultry, doing nothing to ease his embarrassment or how hard he still was. "Well... did it work?"

Anakin couldn't bring himself to meet your gaze, still embarrassed he was only able to shake his head.

"Aww, do you need help baby?" Anakin could only nod, "Let me help you."

You moved to rest your back against the headboard and spread your legs. "Lay your back against my chest." Anakin sat between your legs, strong back pressed against your chest. Your hands roamed over his skin with feather-light touches. Gods, your touch made hell seem cold.

Anakin’s breath hitched when your hand finally made its way to his dripping cock. You started slow, painfully slow.

“Faster…” His request came out more as a groan.

“What was that, Ani?” you leaned closer to his ear, “You’re not in any position to be making demands, sweetheart. A pervert like you should be thankful for what I’m willing to give.”

“I’m sorry… I-I ju- mmph!”

You cut him off, shoving your panties in his mouth, “Gods! You are making so much noise, puppy.”

At that moment, all thoughts left Anakin as he was swallowed by pleasure. Muffled moans made their way past the fabric in his mouth. Even quieted, they sounded so desperate and needy. All Anakin wanted to do was cum, he could feel himself getting so close but not able to quite get himself to fall off the edge.

You could tell he was struggling, “Aww, you're trying so hard puppy...” Your mocking tone only made his eyes roll back as his head made contact with your shoulder. “I know what will help.” He could hear the mischief in your tone. What he didn’t notice was you reaching between you, running your fingers along your slit before fingering yourself, just enough to coat your digits with your wetness, knowing that it would push him right over the edge.

You held your glistening fingers up to Anakin’s nose. You smelled divine, so intense. “Open, puppy.” He did just that allowing you to remove your panties from his mouth before replacing the fabric with your fingers.

Anakin groaned at the taste of you in his mouth, you could feel his body tense and his cock twitching. You tasted so good, so sweet. Anakin wanted more but he was distracted by the waves of pleasure that enveloped my body and the familiar feeling of pressure build up.

You continued your brutal pace, fingering Anakin’s mouth with one hand while fucking his cock with the other. Only you got to see this side of Anakin and Gods, he was never prettier than when he was falling apart in your hands.

You kissed his neck, “You wanna cum for me, puppy?”

“Mmhmm” Anakin tried to reply, before giving you a small nod as he continued to run his tongue along your delicate fingers with fervent desperation.

You pressed one more kiss to his neck, “Cum.” As your simple command left your lips, you bit down hard on the juncture between Anakin’s neck and shoulder.

Anakin’s body tensed as his orgasm washed over him like a tidal wave, his cum spilling over your hand. You removed the hand that was in his mouth moving it to wrap partially around his throat. You angled him so you could continue to leave open mouth kisses and bites along his neck and shoulder.

The pace of the hand still on his cock slowed but you weren’t ready to stop yet, despite the soft protests that left Ani’s lips. “I can’t, I-I can't… Please I can't…” You two had a safe word for a reason, if he really wanted you to stop he would tell you. Till that word was spoken, You couldn’t help but overstimulate him just a little. Anything to hear those pretty little whimpers pass his beautiful lips.

Your torture came to an end eventually, much to Anakin’s dismay, though he would never admit it.

Anakin shifted his position so that you were no longer behind him. He watched as you moved off the bed to stand in front of him. “You did so good for me puppy,” his heart skipped at your praise and the smile that graced your features. “Why don’t we get cleaned up and get some more sleep?”

Before you could completely move away from him, Anakin gently grabbed your wrist. You looked back in confusion and worry, “What’s wrong Ani? Did I push you too hard?”

He shook his head, flushed cheeks and fucked out expression still present on his face. “Can… Can I have a kiss... Please?”

“Oh, of course, baby.” You leaned down pressing your lips against his. The kiss was soft and gentle with lips moving slowly in tandem with one another. You were the one to break the kiss, knowing Anakin would be content to kiss you like that for the next ten lifetimes at the very least. “Let’s get cleaned up and when we're back in bed, I’ll kiss every inch of that handsome face of yours.”

As always, feedback, likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

Taglist: @bimbo-baggins86 @daisydark @espinathena-17 @Ineedtosusoutmyreadinglist

𝑊𝑎𝑛𝑛𝑎 𝑏𝑒 𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑔𝑒𝑑? 𝐿𝑒𝑡 𝑚𝑒 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 💜

[incendiobrock]

Illicit Affairs {Chris Sturniolo}

Summary: fem!reader x chris imagine based on "Illicit Affairs" by Taylor Swift. (song lyrics are bolded and in red)

Warnings: ANGSTY ASF!!, language, mentions of sex

A/N: tried a little something different and i think it turned out really well hehehe + my requests are OPEN please send me some!!

Make sure nobody sees you leave Hood over your head, keep your eyes down Tell your friends you're out for a run You'll be flushed when you return

The house was dead silent as you tip toed down the hallway. Sneaking around at the dead of night was a new occurrence for you. You had convinced your friends you weren't feeling well and needed to head home from the bar early.

Instead of going home you went to the house of the boy you had been sneaking around with for almost a month. His brothers, Matt and Nick, had been asleep for at least a couple hours before you even attempted to come over. Chris had met you through a mutual friend and you both decided that things should stay between you two, no need for the public eye.

The shirt that you had worn out to the bar was now discarded somewhere on Chris' bedroom floor. His hoodie now hung over your torso, taking place of your lost garment, as you slipped back out into the night sky.

It was a long walk back to your place but nothing that you hadn't walked before. It was easier this way, or so you tried to convince yourself.

Take the road less traveled by Tell yourself you can always stop What started in beautiful rooms Ends with meetings in parking lots

Your car sat idle in an empty parking lot. Your heart raced as you waited for some indication that Chris was nearby. The late night meetings at his place were becoming too risky, Nick had asked Chris about hearing doors open and shut in the middle of the night. The only place he felt comfortable meeting you was in the confines of your car in a desolate parking lot. Away from your roommates, and away from his brothers.

A small rapping on the window made you jump slightly, cueing you to let the boy inside. He took a seat in the passenger seat, immediately pulling you in for a deep kiss. Words weren't usually spoken between the two of you, all he really wanted was your body. And so you always ended up in the backseat together, clothes discarded on the floorboards, the windows of your car fogging up.

"Same time tomorrow?" He asked with a certain rasp in his voice that always had you swooning. These were the first words he had spoken the whole night, fixing his hair in the rearview mirror. You nodded your head, watching as he got out of the car and began walking back the direction he had initially come from.

And that's the thing about illicit affairs And clandestine meetings and stolen stares They show their truth one single time But they lie, and they lie, and they lie A million little times

After months of hiding away in the car, you were finally back in the bedroom that started it all. Tears were flowing down your cheeks as Chris stood across the room, his hand over his eyes in annoyance.

“I can’t keep doing this Chris…” Your voice was weak from crying, the squeakiness made you cringe as Chris scoffed at your words.

“Can’t keep doing what y/n? You were the one who wanted this!” He said, raising his voice. The volume he was speaking in made you tremble, completely pulling you apart into a weeping mess.

“You’re leading me on Chris! What did you expect? You tell me i’m all yours one night and then the next I find out you’ve been seeing other people! You’re a fucking liar.”

"This never started as anything more than a good fuck! We agreed, 'no strings attached', remember?" He yelled, using his fingers to air quote. He was right, there wasn't supposed to be strings attached but you hadn't planned on wanting more when your affair had first begun.

After some more harsh words were shared, you were leaving his house yet again, this time with tear stained cheeks and no intentions to return. Normally you would try to be quiet, not wanting to get caught, this time you didn’t even try to slowly shut the front door, letting it slam behind you. He could deal with the questions his brothers might have for him all alone, since that's the way he was choosing to leave you. Alone.

And you wanna scream Don't call me "kid" Don't call me "baby" Look at this godforsaken mess that you made me You showed me colors You know I can't see with anyone else

After that night, you promised yourself no more Chris. A relationship was never supposed to form and you knew that now based on how he had acted. The hurt was indescribable and since no one ever knew of your affair to begin with, you had no one to talk to about it. It was your own mistake and you were reaping the consequences.

You tried your best to move on, talking to some guy you had matched with on tinder. He was sweet, loved the outdoors, and he didn’t have to hide you. But he wasn’t Chris.

“Come on kid, what are you doing with yourself?” Chris laughed, mocking you for being with another guy so shortly after things had ended with him. He could read right through your expression as soon as he had seen you two at the party, whisking you away and into a room where you could talk one on one. You felt small under his intense gaze.

“Don’t call me that Chris… And for your information we aren’t even official yet, we’ve just been talking.” You replied, trying your best to stand your ground and not fall straight back into your old habits. The way he made you feel just by being in the same vicinity as you never failed to take your breath away.

“Does he treat you well?”

Your nose scrunched up, wondering why he would even care after all the shit he had put you through.

“Yeah- I mean, I guess… He’s a sweet guy.” You stuttered out, not reassuring Chris' concern whatsoever. His body inched closer to yours, you craved nothing more than to be held by him again.

“You know he’s never going to know you the way I do baby.” Chris whispered, your bodies now chest to chest as he leaned in closer to your lips. Shivers traveled down your spine as you tried to refrain from closing the distance between you and kissing the man you had been dreaming of ever since you left him.

Don't call me "kid" Don't call me "baby" Look at this idiotic fool that you made me You taught me a secret language I can't speak with anyone else

A lot had been on your mind since running into Chris at that party. Though you never kissed that night, you still couldn't deny the fact that you were constantly thinking about him. Your little fling had taken notice to the way you seemed to always act dazed when he was over. He chalked it up to stress, knowing you had been working in overdrive at your job. Little did he know that anytime he hooked up with you, you were imagining he was someone else.

Things ended with him quicker than they had started and you felt like you were back at square one. Alone, depressed, and still longing for the one guy you couldn't have, Chris. Things in your life that once brought you joy now only brought a sense of numbness. You didn't recognize yourself, and you weren't sure who you even were at this point in time.

The hours passed by as you tried to fall asleep, a task that was nearly impossible for you to complete as of recently. You could only flip over so many times, trying to get into a comfortable enough position to lull yourself to sleep. When you were sat in bed alone and restless, for the eighth night in a row, you decided to send a text.

2:43AM

Y/N: are you awake rn?

Chris: wow what's up ma

haven't heard from you in awhile

Y/N: i can't keep missing you like this

it's going to be the death of me

Chris: come over then

you know i always have a spot for you in my bed

Y/N: be there in 20

And you know damn well For you, I would ruin myself A million little times

The next morning you woke up, tangled in sheets. Chris had his arms wrapped around your waist. It felt good to be back in his arms.

"Good morning," Chris spoke behind you, the rasp you loved so much evident in his voice. All was well and you finally felt whole again. You spent the whole morning sharing kisses, eventually turning into the afternoon, before Chris had to get up and get started on some work project.

As you snuck out of his house for what felt like the hundredth time, you realized that nothing was ever going to change. You would always be the one running back to him, no matter how many times he would hurt you. Because at the end of the day, you needed him in your life, even if he didn't need you.

You would ruin yourself a million times, just for the short amount of satisfaction you got when you could finally be "his". And so you did.

[ratsummer]

Imagine Phantom and Aurora hearing Copia growl for the first time.

They're finally all together in a full rehearsal for the first time since the newbies were summoned. Phantom and Aurora have made remarkable progress, both as musicians and as new additions to the band ghoul pack. They've gotten enough technical skill down that they can actually loosen up and have fun in rehearsal!

Copia is up at the front of the room with Cirrus, having her run through her Mummy Dust solo. This leaves everyone to their own devices for a bit, and the energy in the room is bright and silly. Aurora is practically weeping on the floor, desperately trying to catch her breath from laughing so hard at Cumulus, who is quietly performing her background vocals to Rats in her best Minnie Mouse impression. Swiss is also goofing off, doing a silly, flailing dance around Mountain's drum kit, BADLY humming the Miasma sax solo. Mountain is only kind of dancing along in his seat, most of his energy devoted to watching Swiss' hips. Dew and Rain are offering feedback to Phantom, who's insisting on showing them the many poses he wants to try holding while playing guitar.

Once Copia and Cirrus are happy with the adjustments they've made, he claps his hands to call his ghoul pack back to attention. The energy is so good, everyone is buzzing with it, and he knows how to direct it.

"Alright, alright, my lovely ghouls," he practically crows, "Mummy Dust! Let's take it from the top! I'll join in this time. Phantom, Aurora, give it your all, yes? Let's run the whole thing for Cirrus, then we'll tighten up some of those cues. Mountain, Phantom, bring us in!"

And just like that, they're off. Almost immediately, Swiss is giggling at Phantom strutting around like a little rooster. He's bouncing along so much as he watches Phantom that he's messing up his own rhythm on guitar. Copia, determined to avoid being derailed so instantly, frantically waves Swiss' attention to him and then emphatically gestures to get him back on beat. As such, he misses his first lyric, but Aurora and Cumulus nail their timing. They harmonize beautifully, holding hands and swaying their hips as they lean into their performance.

Copia is thrilled. His heart is racing alongside Mountain's drumming, Rain's bass buzzing in his bones. He opens his mouth and absolutely throws himself into the first verse, only to be drowned out a few beats in by a horrific, metallic scratching sound.

He whirls around to find both of his newest summons in apparent distress. Aurora seems to have tripped and fallen on her ass, back pressed to Cumulus' legs. Phantom is frozen in place, wide eyes, clutching his guitar so tightly his claws are surely leaving impressions. Both of them are panting, tails lashing. Neither of them will look at Copia, staring steadfastly to the side, chins tipped up. The room is dead silent, save for a tiny, reedy whine coming from Aurora.

Suddenly, Swiss and Rain are cackling. Cumulus is also giggling as she gets down on her knees by Aurora, cooing to her and scratching at the base of her horns. Dew is grinning like an idiot as he gently pets the back of Phantom's neck, where all of his fur is standing up like an agitated dog.

"Eh, what is going on?" Papa asks, frozen in place. He's not sure what went wrong, and certainly not sure what to do.

"Oh, everything is alright, Papa," Cirrus says, drumming her claws along the top of her keyboard as she smiles at the new summons. "We just... Forgot to warn the newbies."

"Warn them?"

Cirrus hums. "Your growl. When you sing like that, you sound very dominant, Papa. It can be... intense, even when we know it's coming."

"Ah. Um." All of Copia's confusion and concern for his ghouls immediately and painfully transitions to embarrassment and... something fluttering, not yet nameable, beneath his ribs.

"That's our satanic pope," Rain sighs dreamily, "Always so eloquent." He yelps when Mountain pelts a drumstick at his back, nailing him directly between his shoulder blades.

"I apologize," Copia starts slowly, wringing his hands. He feels sweat prickling along his hairline, his clothes are suddenly far too warm. "I hadn't realized my performance would have this, ah, effect. I don't recall this happening before?"

Cirrus and Swiss are suddenly flashing brilliant, pointed smiles.

"Oh, don't worry about that, Papa," Swiss purrs, "When the rest of us were new, we all had the surprise spoiled for us."

"A tragedy, really," Cirrus agrees, though her smile doesn't budge. "I remember how I felt my first time, and I knew what was coming. We wanted to make sure Rory and The Bug got the full effect!"

"A little mean," Cumulus says, "But I think you'll find they aren't too upset about it." She presses a kiss between Aurora's horns, but the breathless little ghoulette barely seems to notice. Her gaze is locked on Copia.

"Yeah," Phantom rasps, "I'm okay, Papa." Copia manages to break eye contact with Rory, only to barely choke back a moan at the sight of Phantom. The little ghoul is slumped back on Dew, who's purring and massaging Phantom's scruff. There's a healthy blush glowing across his nose and cheeks, and his hips are twitching against his guitar.

Copia coughs and adjusts his jacket. "Well. Okie dokie." He's fumbling for something to say, anything, when blessedly, Mountain chimes in.

"Well, should we take it from the top?"

"Eh, are you sure that's a good-"

"They gotta get used to it, Papa!" Cirrus says sweetly, "Just like the rest of us."

"Hmm. Okay. Yes. Yessiree Bob, even." Copia hems and haws for a moment, clapping his hands a bit as he considers whether trying again when his new summons are clearly in a state is a good idea.

"Papa? I want to do it again."

That unnamable feeling behind Papa's ribs shifts, stirring its wings at the breathiness in Aurora's voice. She at least appears to have collected herself a bit. She's clutching Cumulus' hand tightly, but she's back on her feet. Her tail is still flicking about behind her, but it's more intentional somehow, more focused. Her gaze is intense, locked on Copia. He takes a deep breath, nodding, though he can't help feeling a bit like a rat walking into an ambush.

"And you, Phantom? Shall we try once more, diavoletto?"

"Yes, Papa. I want to do it." Phantom, too, is looking a bit better. He's no longer tucked into Dew's shoulder. Instead, he's standing tall, shoulders square and grip on his guitar firm. Though his tail is wrapped tightly around Dew's thigh, he's staring at Copia with the same intensity as Aurora.

"But I think after we run it we should take a break," Phantom suggests.

"Yes!" Aurora almost shouts, "A break. A break immediately after. That's perfect. Maybe even a little walk. Papa, we should go for a walk on our break."

"A walk sounds great," Phantom agrees. "Can I come?"

Swiss cackles, air high-fiving Cirrus across the room. "Oh Bug, I think Copia and Rory will let you come. Again, and again, and ag-"

"Alright!" Copia cries, voice breaking a bit. "Alright, yes! From the top!"

He takes his place once more, front and center. He shakes and rolls his shoulders, letting the movement travel all the way down to his fingertips. He bounces on his toes, adjusts his jacket. Maybe his ghouls are fine to go again, but Copia is suddenly full of a strange, nervous tension. Or something. That feeling in his chest is ballooning, pressing hard on his lungs. The hair on the back of his neck is standing on end, his skin tingling. He's being watched, which is normal, of course, but he doesn't usually feel so... hunted. Is he getting sick? No, he's just being paranoid. Everything is fine. But... Maybe a break isn't such a bad idea after all.

"Mountain, Phantom, you know what to do," he says, hopping in place a bit to disperse the jitters.

"And then we'll take a break, of course."

-----

Yeah, I don't know c: I threw a note about writing my thoughts on Phantom and Aurora hearing Copia growl for the first time and it was based on a post I saw and @anotherbananasong was involved but for the LIFE of me I cannot find it???

Well, anyway, this happened c: The ghouls like growly Copia, what more is there to say?

[swifty-fox]

melt for the gentleness prompts? bonus points if it's gale doing it to john <3

melt - muse a holds muse b’s face gently, drawing circles into their cheeks with their thumbs

"What's happened here, huh?" Gale's voice cuts through softly.

A hand brushes through John's hair, sweaty and damp and unruly for how long it'd been since they'd been styled

"Buck," He says quietly, dropping his head back against the seat of the sofa and focusing on Gale above him. The other man's face was blurry around the edges, loose with desperate tenderness. He drops his head again, this time forward into the pillow of his shirt. He inhales sharply, a throbbing between his eyebrows forming long before it's cue.

"Long day?"

" 's just fuckin-" John gestures helplessly, "Just a day."

He isn't sure he's communicated the proper anger about that fact. But Gale hums and John thinks he probably understands.

"How long you been like this?" Gale asks softly, pulling away to look at the bottle of Four Roses, the book John had placed face down how ever many hours ago when the words had become too blurry to read..

"Dunno," John sighs.

He wants to pull Gale's head back into the shield of his body, as if he could selfishly hide the way John Egan still had one foot in the war.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

"Mmm, am though."

Gale's fingers scrunch through John's hair and it feels so viciously good he almost weeps. Bites it back because he was something like a leader once. But he wants to. Putting Gale in this house with him, sick as he was. Playing out the same routines Gale had learned before he could vote or drink or decide his life belonged to his country.

"Stop it," Gale says and John realizes somewhere the words had begun to slip out.

"You don't deserve this-"

"I said stop it, John," Gale's voice is guttural and furious, hands sliding from their careful clutch around John's shoulders to cup his face, pull it from the shameful hide of Gale's shoulder.

John fights him for a moment, then goes. Gale's eyes are blue blue blue.

"I'm not a victim," He says, low and furious, "I'm a grown man and I'm no more fragile than you. I am here reenacting some tired play from my childhood. I'm here because I want to be. I am right where I want to be."

Thumbs brush up the stubble of John's cheeks, soothing and tender and as equally good as the fingers against his scalp. He groans softly, tries to pinch back the emotion behind his lids. Circling pressure against his cheeks, slow and sweet and grounding.

"Sun rises tomorrow, Bucky," Gale says softly.

[0bticeo]

jonathan sims | get some rest (tomorrow is already here)

summary:

“what do you propose?”

you take in a sharp inhale. you should leave. drag him away from his desk. but jonathan sims is a stubborn man, so he must be coaxed into doing so. 

“a massage.”

"a what?"

wc: 2.5k

tw: massage, making out, reader being a horny mess, jon being exhausted and a cranky bastard, hinted at elias' voyeuristic tendencies, usual tma ominous feelings, fluff (shocking, i know)

the analog clock reads 3:27, stark red embedded upon your retina. you sigh, fingers rubbing at the back of your neck as you step into the archives, weary bones aching.

it’s not your fault if you fell asleep in a secluded corner of the archives departement, squeezed between two shelves and piles upon piles of unlabeled statements. scratch that: they’re labeled. chronologically.

they do not make sense, however, because jonathan sims’ predecessor - whose name you curse with every breath and sleepless night you spend organizing her damn mess - left the whole department in such a state of disarray you might spend the rest of your life making sense of it. damn her. and damn your boss for being so uptight about it all.

you feel the weight of the institute, a looming force of knowledge pressed at the back of your neck, sweet pinprick of pain. you’re watched. oh, orwell, how right you were.

you make your way towards your desk, stepping over sasha’s pink slippers and picking up an empty mug. grab your keys, get out, and walk home. you’re not too far away from the institute. no trouble.

as you lean forward, palm pressed flat against a manila file, something catches your eye.

light. 

thin rays of it crawl, seep out from under the wooden door of the head archivist’s office, stark golden in dull gray penumbra.

he’s there, jonathan sims, head archivist of the magnus institute. holed up in his office, recording a statement, voice poised and measured and controlled in every way he isn’t upon being confronted with his poor sleeping schedule. 

you should leave.

you hear the soft click of a tape recorder being stopped. a long, deep-suffering sigh. a drawer opening, more muttering, some shuffling, rustling papers - oh no he won’t.

in three decisive steps, you’re before his door, your sharp knocking rinnging like gunfire in the quiet of the office. 

“who-who’s there?”

unease. suspicion.

you’re quick to answer with a long suffering sigh of your own, forehead pressed against the door.

“it’s me, jon.”

a pause. an exasperated sigh.

“what do you want?"

you take it as your cue to step inside his office, dimly lit by a lone desk lamp, dust particles turning midas-gold under its rays. your foot catches on a discarded paper - another statement, this one regarding a gambling fool of a soldier. 

(he who tries to cheat death gets the fruit of his labor and weeps upon tasting it.)

you pick it up, and let your gaze roam about the place.

a cork board takes up the majority of a wall, red strings twisting and turning in a web of confusion.

bookshelves align themselves in neat rows, cramped against one another, overflowing with statements, indigestions of facts made up and real.

a cluttered desk - a switched off tape recorder, manila folders, an open computer casting its blue glow upon the sharp edge of jon’s face.

he’s glaring at you.

“have you grown deaf since the last time i saw you?”

you let out an amused breath and make a move to put the statement on his desk. finding an uncluttered space is harder than it proves to be.

jon all but snatches the damn paper from your grip. if looks could kill, you’d be in bad shape. you lean back, arms crossed over your chest, hip pressed against the edge of his desk.

“no, merely mute with shock upon your wretched appearance.” you smile, teasing edges fading into concern. “seriously, when was the last time you slept?”

“that does not concern you-”

“it does, actually. you’re my boss. i can’t let you waste away, who would pay me otherwise?”

“elias pays all of us-”

“and he probably would have me promoted as a glorified secretary if you were to overwork yourself to death. i hate accountance, jon.”

he pinches his nose with long, deft fingers, glasses riding up ever so slightly. they reveal the deep circles under his eyes, embedded in his olive skin. you can practically see the tension oozing from him, the knots in his shoulders.

“if you’re determined to waste my time-”

“i came to help, actually.”

he raises a quizzical eyebrow, the living embodiment of judgment.

you feel his gaze rake your form, the own dark circles under your eyes, the crumpled shirt, the dust that clings to your skirt, what he’s sure is the imprint of the shelf you fell asleep against on your cheek.

you raise your hands in mock surrender. (you miss the way his gaze softens a little.)

“you’re exhausted. hell, i can feel your nervous energy from here.”

he opens his mouth, frowning, protest ready on his tongue. you cut him, merciless.

“when was the last time you’ve gotten more than three hours of sleep?”

that shuts him up. his frown deepens. you want to smooth out the wrinkles on his forehead.

“that - look, if you have nothing better to do than pester me-”

“it’s three in the morning and we’re the only living souls in this institute.”

maybe. you don’t really want to know what lies in the tunnels. or in the artifact storage. or what’s watching you.

“you’re not going to sleep at all at this rate - no, i know you’re not, because i know you. kinda.”

he sighs, exhaustion crawling out of his very marrow, and leans back in his chair. you take in the wrinkles in his shirt, now exposed because lo and behold, jonathan sims’ jacket is not sewn to his body and - 

and he’s loosening his tie, two fingers digging in his windsor knot, smooth silk gliding away under skilled fingers. you wonder what they might feel like slipping under your shirt.

“what do you propose?”

you take in a sharp inhale. you should leave. drag him away from his desk and into bed. but jonathan sims is the living embodiment of stubborness, so he must be coaxed into doing so.

“a massage.”

“a- a what?”

you laugh a little.

“don’t pretend your neck isn’t stiffer than the stick up your ass.”

“i do not have-”

“jon, please let me help.”

silence. again, he pinches the bridge of his nose. at least, he’s considering it.

you eye the piles of statements on his desk, half-discarded, half-classified. there’s a pattern in the way jon operates, even if he’s not conscious of it.

he only ever calls for your help when he’s sure the statements at hand are lelgitimate. this means he rules out those he deems written by lunatics and madmen. this means he does most of the work. this means-

“all right. but under one condition."

you tilt your head to the side, curious.

“one last statement.”

“only if i massage you while you record it.”

a glare.

“we’re wasting time, jon.”

“fine. get over here.”

you smile, palms smoothing out the pleats of your skirt as you make your way behind his desk.

he pays you no mind, long fingers selecting a manila file from a pile, opening it with care. there’s a certain stiff grace with which he carries himself, you muse as you step behind him. 

you watch the ripples of tension in the back of his neck, the fine strands of auburn hair tainted penumbra-dark brushing against his nape, and gently run your knuckle against his skin. he’s warm.

“whenever you’re ready,” you breathe, fingers resting on the back of his chair.

he coughs a little. composes himself. hits record.

“continued statement of trevor herbert regarding their latter years as a vampire hunter. original statement given july 10th 2010, audio recording by jonathan sims, head archivist of the magnus institute.”

you watch with fascination as the calm, composed, formal voice slips into something… else. something between jonathan sims and trevor herbert, and it’s fascinating, because for a brief second, split second instant of Knowing, you can See him, the tramp and his collapsing lungs, writing away his youth and hunts on bland institute paper.

you blink and it’s gone. 

there’s only you, the “lofi charm” of the tape recorder, and jon. his nape is bare. intimate knowledge settles in your mind, the fragility of mortality. bury a sharp needle there and his body collapses. 

you frown. push it back. roll up your sleeves and rub your hands together, warming them up because they’re always cold, and the least you can do is give him a modicum of comfort.

slowly, carefully, you put your hands over his shoulders. he tenses at that, briefly, until you start rubbing away the years of tension gnawing at him.

slowly, surely, you knead poor, exhausted muscles. slowly, surely, he relaxes under your touch, head leaning back ever so slightly.

from this close, you can smell him, you realize. cold coffee, dusty paper, cedarwood aftershave and something like a hint of sweat. 

“good?” you whisper, almost silent, voice lost in the quiet static of the tape recorder, in the dust-soft penumbra.

he nods, cheek brushing your wrist. your heart hammers in your chest. a strand of hair brushes the back of your hand - they’re graying a little. you wonder why he exhausts himself so. why he spends nights buried in his office, burrowing himself in piles and piles of files. 

hypocrite.

the only reason as to why you’re here, massaging your fucking boss and growing desperately wet at his deep sighs of content, is because you, too, spend much more time than reasonable trying to make sense of it all. 

the only reason as to why you’re here, taking in the gentle mess that is jonathan sims, is because you both leave at ungodly hours. because he can keep his eyes on you and so he knows that you cannot be responsible for gertrude’s murder.

you think he might trust you.

his hand settles over yours, and you startle.

he’s warm, palm large enough to cover the entirety of your hand, from wrist to fingertips. you don’t know what to do with this knowledge.

you don’t want to think of what you might do in the quiet death of the night, your hand slipping under your covers, down the apex of your thigh-

he slides your hand lower. oh. oh. 

you lean forward, until your cheek brushes his, skin on skin, and unbutton the first two buttons of his shirt. you think he might be leaning into your touch. you think you might cut yourself on the edge of his jaw, on the sharpness of his words. 

your hands meet his bare skin and you feel like you’ve caught fire, breath stolen away as you feel him in a way the cotton of his shirt didn’t allow. there is a sharpness to him. you can feel his jutting clavicles under your fingertips, sharp angel wings of bone, and your heart tightens. 

he works too much.

it’s quiet, for a while.

you don’t know what sets it off. one moment, you’re massaging him, relishing in the feeling of his skin under your hands. the next, your fingers catch a particularly tight spot in his shoulders and he groans , and fuck, you should not feel familiar heat curling in your lower belly but you do. 

you should stop. bid him good night and leave him with his precious recording. 

you don’t. 

instead, you rub at that spot, tentatively, and watch as he bites his lip mid-sentence, voice catching on a word. he’s a little breathless.

you are, too, heart hammering in your ribcage, hummingbird trying to flee its bones.

his hand wraps around your wrist and tugs you forward, free hand settling on your lower back, guiding you until you’re in his lap, looking up at him.

you think you might be dying of a heart attack with the way he looks at you, with eyes so dark you can barely make out the beautiful green of them.

“just what do you think you’re doing?” he growls.

you feel like you're on fire with how close you are. how his hand still encases your wrist in an iron hold. how you can feel warmth of him. how you can see the fluttering pulse of his throat, adam apple bobbing up and down as he swallows and fuck you want to take a bite.

your mouth feels dry.

“i- i don’t-” 

his grip tightens on your wrist. 

“answer me.”

somehow you’re closer. close enough to feel his breath on your lips, to find yourself staring up at him through hooded eyes, to find him staring back with parted lips. 

whatever’s left of your resolve dissolves into a puddle of desire. 

“jon, please, let me kiss you.”

a pause. the faintest glint of disbelief in his eyes.

then his lips crash on yours. 

you startle, hand shooting forward to grasp the nearest thing for purchase and find only him, him and the crisp cotton of his shirt, all exhaustion and boiling frustration.

he puts his mouth to you like one would to a lover’s and kisses you slowly, deeply, unraveling you like a beloved mystery. 

your body sings for him, and it’s so right you dismiss the ever-present pinprick pressure at the back of your neck. 

his palm cups it, your nape, warmth consuming that pinprick pain, until the only thing you can do is sigh in his mouth and press yourself closer.

his lips part from yours, briefly, a breath away, and it’s too damn far, so you tug at his cravat and pull him down. your fingers dig in his shirt, his hair, and he groans at the way your nails rake his scalp.

your lips part for him in a soft, whisper-quiet moan of his name, and he swallows it down almost greedily. you feel his tongue brush against yours and let out a low, needy sound, molten desire coursing through your veins.

his hand slips under your shirt, reaches for the soft skin of your side and presses up, up, up until it meets your breast and his thumb presses against your nipple in tight circles and you’re almost sobbing against his lips. 

you’re not aware that your hips are grinding against the hardness of him until his hand settles on your hip, slowing you down to a stop, and you part from him, breathless, and so, so needy.

there’s a thread of saliva between you, thin little spider-web intertwining your fates.

he looks at you, disheveled, glasses slightly askew, their lenses foggy, shirt half-opened for your gaze to meet tantalizing skin. a feast for the sore eyes.

“you might want to make me breakfast instead.”

“not like this,” he mumbles, thumb swiping against your bottom lip. “not- at least, let me treat you to dinner first.”

he chuckles at that, a little breathless, a little exasperated, definitely fond.

“cheeky.”

you peck his lip, sweetly. his hand tightens over your hip.

“look at the time, jon.” 

he rides up his sleeve ever so slightly to reveal his watch and with it, the tantalizing softness of his pulse, beating wildly against the tender skin of his inner wrist. almost four in the morning. you press your lips there, feel the yearning of his beating heart. 

he doesn’t think he’s seen you this beautiful. you, disheveled, on his lap, almost chest to chest with him, bringing his palm to your cheek and pressing fluttering kisses to his fingers. you, smiling up at him, exhausted, worn to the bone, but happy, and -

“oh.”

“what is it?”

your gaze lands on the tape recorder. oh.

“still recording. i should -”

“go home, get some sleep and finish what you started - me included - later.”

he sighs. there’s still a smile on his lips, exhaustion melting down to affection. 

"fine. end recording.”

[prismaticpichu]

Vincent: *peeks opens coffin after being roused from his vampiric slumber, crimson eyes narrowing at the closed door as he shouts,*

Vincent: Who dares disturbs my—

Zack: QUICK, CLOUD! The magnet!!

Cloud: On it!!!

Sephiroth: LEAVE ME BE, YOU FOOLISH SLABS OF MEA—

*cue the sound of an armored warrior crashing to the ground like a Jenga tower*

Zack: Quick!!! While he’s on the ground!!!

Sephiroth: I WILL DEVOUR THE FLESH OFF YOUR PATHETIC MAZE OF BONES AND SUCK THE MARROW DRY

Cloud: I think we should call Ed Warren

Zack: We don’t got time for that! Just cast Sleep!!

*a whole symphony of satanic growls and gurgling sounds*

Zack: Spike!!

Cloud: Uhhhhhh okay okay! I got this!!!

*an avalanche of books is heard crashing down to the floor*

Cloud: Oops

Sephiroth: Hah! You MISSED!!! No wonder you didn’t make SOLDIER, you incompetent excuse for a child!!!

Cloud:… :,(

Zack: Hey!! Not cool!!!

Sephiroth: HEH! Like some weeping canine could even—

Zack: OH SNAP THE FUCK OUT OF IT, MAN!!!

*a very loud and excruciatingly painful slapping noise is heard echoing through the walls*

Zack: Wake up wake up wake up wake up wake up wake up wake up WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP!!!!

*the slaps continue*

Zack: GIMME MY FRIEND BACK GIMME MY FRIEND BACK GIMME MY FRIEND BACK GIMME MY FRIEND BACK!!!!

.

.

.

Vincent: Sounds like a Them problem

Vincent: *closes the coffin*

[peachesofteal]

Oh sweet, sweet Peach 🥺 I just blew through your Dead Disco writing in a matter of hours and holy fucking shit I think it might seriously be one of my favorite fic series I’ve ever read in my entire fucking life. I am completely, utterly, irredeemably in love with the way you’ve captured their dynamic—I just want to snuggle up in their little world and never leave. I adore the way you’ve written about Darling’s insecurities in such a realistic way because I know if I were in her situation I’d struggle with the same issues. And the way Simon steps up as a dom to take care of his loves both in and out of the bedroom… cue open weeping. He’s perfect. Johhny’s perfect. Darling’s perfect. So perfect I can hardly stand it. And your writing overall is so beautiful; you should be beyond proud of what you’ve created ❤️

One thing I’d love to see if you’re still writing for this series is for Simon and Johnny to figure out what is going on at work that is stressing Darling out so much (maybe a coworker or superior harassing her and threatening her job if she doesn’t give in) and they just ‘casually’ stop by to bring her lunch and catch the coworker in the act and go all overprotective 🤤 God I love me some overprotective Ghost and Johnny!

Anyways, thank you for sharing your creations! You seriously should be so proud ❤️ much much love!

Hi! Thank you so much, this was so incredibly sweet of you. I've loved living in their little world so for you to say you could curl up inside of it too makes me so incredibly happy. I love them so much, sharing them with others who also loves them just turns me into a pile of sap.

Additionally, I was so happy to write this little snippet that takes place after "On a Slow Night", so thank you for the inspiration. I got to dive into Darling's life a little bit and it was so fun.

Ghost x Soap x female reader Takes place after On a Slow Night This is CANON (weird I have to say this now but I dig it) for Dead Disco. Warnings-tags: 18+ Minors DNI. No smut but this fic contains mature themes. Protective Simon and Johnny. Possessive Simon and Johnny. Darling doing darling things. Anxiety. Eating and food related issues.

It was well past five in the evening.

It was well past five in the evening, and you were still at work, eyes straining across two monitors, comparing lists and numbers across two screens, estimates and bids and evaluations all jumbled together.

A mess. You were staring at a mess, a mess that you hadn't even begun to unravel, a mess that you had to fix before even thinking about going home for the night, the realization of that fact settling like a stone in the pit of your stomach. It unsettles you, sending unease surging through your veins, making your skin crawl with anxiety.

This was your dream job. So why didn't it feel like a dream?

You knew that answer, of course. It was because your new boss, the promote-from-within, the monster that walked these halls, despised you. She regarded you the same way she regarded a piece of gum stuck to the bottom of her way too expensive heels, with disdain.

Johnny had tried, bless him, to encourage you to go over her head, to say something to her boss, even though you explained you couldn't.

"I'm just an assistant curator. I can't go over her head, her boss barely even knows my name yet." He had argued, tried to push, until Simon stomped his fight out.

"She can't violate the chain of command. You know that."

Besides, you weren't a snitch. You weren't going to behind her back, or above her head, just for her to retaliate against you later. Which she certainly would. You weren't willing to risk it. You were due to be promoted, and had been waiting. For over two years.

Your phone buzzes against the desk, the group chat lighting up your screen. It's the guys, with the usual questions; where are you, when will you be home, what do you want for dinner. It makes your heart ache, a little bit, makes your head spin, thinking about them at home without you, waiting. Standing by. Just as you do for them, all the time. You begin to type out a half hazard text, trying to explain how you're going to be late, again, when a shrill voice grates against your ears.

"Knock knock." She's standing prim and proper right in the doorway of your office, bony fingers folded around a stack of papers. Oh my fucking god, no way. "These need to be scanned and compiled along with your acquisition list from today." The pressure in your skull skyrockets and you fight the urge to pinch the bridge of your nose.

"Kelly, I've really got a lot on my plate. Is there a way I can-"

"Are you refusing?" Orange red lipsticked coated lips flex into a feline smile. A sinister smile. A smart one. Fuck.

"N-no. No, I wouldn't."

"Great. tonight then." She drops them in front of you with a thud, eyeing your taupe wool sweater with disgust.

"Okay, tonight." You slump forward in defeat. You wanted to go home. You wanted to curl up on the couch between the guys, and let run you a bath or give you a back rub. All of that... sounded a lot better than all of this.

I'm going to be really late now. You shoot off the text before putting your phone facedown and cradling your head in your hands.

How late? Johnny asks immediately and you grimace.

Have you eaten? Did you finish your lunch? You try not to wince at the direct line of questioning from Simon, who undoubtedly already knows his answer, based on how you were feeling this morning when they tried to feed you breakfast, and how busy you've been at work.

Don't know. Yes. Half of it. You fire back, ignoring the burn of the guilt from the lie, and then put it in your drawer. Less distractions means you'll get home sooner if you can focus and just get it done.

You don't mean to fall asleep at your desk. It's just, the heat kicks on, and the room warms to a very nice temperature, and your eyelids feel so heavy that you suddenly find yourself excusing it a little if you lay your head down for a minute.

It's a mistake. It's the worst mistake, and you know it, you feel the weight of your mistake sharply when there's a crone like voice shrieking near your ear and you're jerking up in a fright, eyes wide in panic.

"-eeping? While you're getting paid? When you're supposed to be working?" She's standing inside your office now, a foot from your desk, face twisted into a macabre mask of indignation.

"I'm sorry." You croak. "Didn't mean to." You palm finds your face and you rub, trying to get with it, and quickly, before she loses her mind. Your head is spinning, dizzy and clouded, and you curse yourself for not actually eating at least half your lunch like you said you did.

"And you think you'll be a curator next year? With this kind of lazy behavior." She scoffs, nose wrinkled, and shame licks against the skin of your jaw while you grind your teeth.

"Kelly, I'm sorry. I'm exhausted and-"

"I don't want to hear your stupid excuses. I should fire you, right now. Sleeping! On the-"

"What the fuck is going on here?" Everything inside you grinds to a halt at the sound of the deep, gritted Manchester accent. Oh, fuck.

Simon's standing just inside the office, Johnny next to him, holding a bag. It's got a Tupperware in it, you can see from here, still fogged up by the warm contents inside. They've brought you dinner. Your heart melts at the sight, and then swiftly hardens and drops like a stone when you realize 1. They're not allowed to be in here after hours and 2. Simon just cussed at your boss. When you don't say anything, still sitting there slack jawed, Johnny prompts you.

"Darling? Is everything alright?" You try to put a thought together, to answer, but Kelly beats you to it, turning on a dime, taking a few steps to where they lurk just inside your office.

"Who are you? You can't be in here after hours." She hisses, and while Johnny sneers at her before looking back to you, Simon's fist visibly clenches.

"Security let us in."

"They don't have the authority to do that, you can't be-" You stand, but the floor somewhat shifts beneath your feet, walls tilting, and your fingers grip the desk. It's enough for Johnny to disregard anything she's saying, pushing past where she stands with her hands on her hips to stand at your side, a steady hand on your elbow.

"Alright love?" The blue eyes search yours and you manage a nod.

"Jus' tired. A bit hungry." He looks back to Simon, who's watching you carefully, before he turns his irritated gaze back to Kelly.

"Did I hear you threatening to fire her?" His voice is cold. It's seeking, lethal, something sharp and refined that you've never heard. Johnny keeps his hand on you, thumb stroking soothing circles into your skin.

"She was asleep."

"Because ya've overworked her, you daft cunt." Johnny snaps, and her eyes widen in shock.

"How dare you! Who do you think you are?" She caws and Simon takes yet another step, this time close enough that she jerks backwards.

"She works outside her contracted hours all the time, and she doesn't complain. At your request." Simon cocks his head. "Sounds like a labor law violation, if ya ask me."

"Aye, it does." Johnny cheerfully agrees, warm palm sliding up and down your spine. Kelly looks between the three of you, something uncertain tugging at the corners of her eyes, before she's shaking her head in protest.

"She volunteers, she-"

"She's ours." Simon snarls it, and Kelly blanches. "And we're not going to allow whatever mistreatment is going on here to continue." Something warm simmers in your stomach, even though your mortified. Ours. She's ours. The words make boulder sized butterflies thrash in your stomach. You're probably going to need to find a new job, but this is kind of worth it. Kelly is sputtering at Simon, who's now standing with his arms crossed, glowering at her from the behind the mask, looking properly terrifying, while Johnny continues to rub your back, warm palm soothing you into a big yawn, one you fail to stifle. One they both see. He dismisses her, with one more promise of a phone call to the labor advisory, or worse, the board of directors. That threat alone is enough to shut her up, scaring her into pressing her back against the wall meekly, while Simon gives Johnny a subtle nod.

"We're leaving." Johnny declares, and Simon nods. He crosses the room to pull your bag from the back of your chair, while Johnny slides your laptop into it's sleeve and grabs your coffee cup. "C'mon darling, let's go home." He coaxes, and you let them lead you from the office, Johnny with a firm hand at your waist, Simon leading the way.

You don't look back at where Kelly stands in the hallway, gobsmacked and speechless.

[xxstormyprincessxx]

A deep crimson painted your cheeks. Staring at the silent man in the door way, eyes wide, mouth open in surprise.

“I’m sorry I… I thought something was wrong that you were hurt I didn’t realize….” Aone said as he stared at the sight before him. You naked, legs spread, pussy on full display to him, arousal dripping down your pussy pooling on the sheets. He swallowed hard. Trying desperately to look away. He was no virgin he’d been pushed into enough college party’s that he’d had some fun. But this. He’d never expected to see Kenjis little sister like this.

-flashback-

“Big brothers in his room upstairs! I’m making lunch for you both! I’ve taken over cooking since Kenji sucks at it!” You said your bubbly personality spreading a warm feeling in the iron walls chest.

“How are you y/n? How’s school going?” Aone asked as he stepped inside sliding his shoes off and stepping onto the hard wood floor.

“I’m good! Schools almost done I’m excited! I’ve been studying hard for my finals!” You chirped back happily as you headed back to the kitchen Aone following for a second poking his head in seeing that you had cooked up several different dishes for the two men. “It’ll be ready soon. Will you please take these upstairs? I’ll be up in like 8 minutes with your plates!” You asked holding up a couple bottles of water and two bottles of soda to the large man.

“Mmhmm” was all he responded with that stoic face never altering. You watched his retreating form. Staring after the tall built man.

“No. Absolutely not. Off limits y/n. That’s your brothers best fucking friend. That’s like the ultimate sibling treason.” You said softly to yourself as you turned and plated the food. A soft sigh left your lips as you climbed the stairs. “OI KENJI OPEN THE DOOR MY HANDS ARE FULL!” You shouted punctuating the statement by knocking your foot against the door.

“Thanks sis. It smells incredible! After this I’m gonna go out and grab a couple things for tonight aones gonna come with me. Do you want anything special for the movie night?” Your brother asked staring down at you.

“Uhm. Could you grab f/d and maybe some f/s if it isn’t too much trouble!” You said as you looked at your brother hopeful.

“You got it y/n/n! I’ll let you know when we head out okay?” Nodding, you headed down cleaning up the kitchen and taking your plate to your room. After about an hour you heard your brother yell “leaving be back soon!” As he shut the front door. Taking that as your cue you headed for the bathroom planning on showering before the men got back.

“Why can’t you be thinner, prettier, better?” You stared into the mirror at your reflection. Shame swelling in your chest you hated what stared back. Hated how you look. You’d always been made fun of for your weight. Sighing you turned for the shower. As the water relaxed your muscles a thought drifted into your mind. A thought of your brother’s best friend. Naked. Wet from the shower. Pressing you against the wall desperately fucking you into the surface. Unconsciously your hand slowly dropped to your pussy fingers dipping in and rubbing against your tingling clit.

“Ha. Fuck.” Dropping your head against the shower wall you felt heat pooling in your belly. Turning the shower off you quickly dried and darted to your room naked as you had forgotten to grab your clothes. Unknown to you you weren’t alone.

“A-Aone f-fuck.” You groaned as your fingers returned to their early adventure. Desperately you rub at your clit sliding your finger on the other hand into your pussy moaning loudly. “F-fuck. A-Aone need you.” You whined imagining the large man’s hands wandering your body shoving his fingers into your weeping cunt. Loud moans left your lips when suddenly your door slammed open. Aone stood frozen.

-present-

Your face flushed crimson as dread suddenly filled your stomach. How much had he heard?! Oh god what did your brother hear?! These thoughts whirled around your brain when suddenly you realized how incredibly naked you were pussy still very much on display to Aone. Quickly you snatched your blanket covering your naked form.

“Did. Did Kenji hear me?” You asked cautiously. “How much did YOU hear?” Fear bubbling in your chest moving the blanket to cover your entire body shame pouring through your veins.

“He didn’t hear anything. He isn’t here. I on the other hand.” He started as he stepped into your room turning and shutting the door. “Heard you beg for me. Heard you in the shower. Heard you in here.” He grumbled still facing the door. Turmoil raging inside him. On one hand you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. He’d always wanted you. Wanted to be your everything. On the other hand you were still a year underage. Still a child. Still Kenjis baby sister. Gripping the door handle you heard him utter “no. It’s wrong. Lusting after you. Wanting you to lust for me. To love me.”

He pulled your door open moving to exit the room knowing he was doing the right thing. Knowing walking away was right. Stealing one last glance over his shoulder he saw you, shock and pain on your beautiful features, tears lining your lashes. This is right, she’s. I can’t. It’s not right. He thought painfully as he walked into the hallway. It hurt. Fuck did it hurt. He might be the iron wall but that doesn’t mean his heart is made of iron. He stopped just before the guest bedroom door. His heart ached. Ached to have you, hold you, touch you, love you. To love you as no other had, to please you as no man could.

“A-Aone” your soft voice called from your door way. Blanket still wrapped around your small chubby frame. “A-Aone. Can. Can I talk to you?” Your meek voice barely loud enough to hear but he heard you. Slowly you watched him approach your room again. Towering above you like a steel structure. Powerful muscles tense as he holds onto the top of the door frame.

“I. I’m sorry. I should have made sure you weren’t here. I thought you left. I’m really embarrassed that you heard let alone saw me doing something so shameful.” You stared at both of your feet. “I truly am sorry and if you want we can act as if this never happened.” You finished unable to meet his gaze.

Silence filled the room. You kept your head down as Aone stared down at your form. Your bare shoulders slightly shaking. Were you crying? Scared maybe? After a moment of hesitation he reached under your face grabbing your chin.

“Look at me.” He said. It wasn’t a statement but a command. You just shook your head, you couldn’t face him. “I said look at me. NOW.” The last word punctuated with a slight pressure under your chin. Looking up you were met with a very stoic Aone. More stoic than normal.

“Wha-“ you started but were cut off by Aone’s lips pressing against yours his hand moving to the back of your head. A look of shock crossed your face your mind momentarily blank. He pulled back looking in your eyes. “Sorry. That was wrong.” He said standing up to his full height. With zero thought your hands let go of the blanket covering your plush form and grasped the front of his shirt pulling him down into a heated kiss.

“If it’s wrong I don’t want to be right.” You mumbled against his slightly chapped lips pulling him as close as you could feeling his hands roam down your back gently cupping your ass in both hands. “Me neither.” He rumbled back voice dropping a few octaves.

Before you could say anything you felt yourself being led towards your bed before being gently pushed onto your back.

“Thought of you. For so long. Thought of what your beautiful body looked like what your sweet little pussy looked like. How it would feel wrapped around my cock. How you’d sound as you came. How you tasted.” He said with no hint of shame. This was the most you’d heard the silent man speak. It was hotter than expected.

“Me too.” Was your only reply as he dropped to his knees in front of you, pushing your thighs wide before delving into your sweet pussy. Tongue lapping at your clit and juices like a man starved. “So good” he groaned as he continued to plunder your pussy. Moaning loudly your fingers tangled in his hair desperately pushing his face into your dripping cunt. “Please. M’close. Please Aone. Need it. Want to cum for you.” You pleaded all shame gone. All you could think of was Aone.

“So good pretty girl. Taste so good. Wanna cum for me?” He watched your beautiful face contort in pleasure as he slid his large fingers into you. Curling them just inside of your entrance he watched you arc beautifully. He knew what he hit and he was gonna keep hitting it. Pressing his fingers into it he began licking at your clit quickly as he continued to work your gspot.

“So good. So so good.” You chanted repeatedly. You could feel an intense sensation hitting you. After a couple minutes of it building you realized something. It wasn’t an orgasm building. You were gonna piss. “A-AONE STOP M-GONNA MAKE A MESS STOP PLEASE!” You pleaded but he didn’t listen. Did you not realize what was happening? Had no man ever made you squirt before? Had you never been truly pleased by a partner?

“Not a chance sweet girl.” He grumbled as he watched tears form in your eyes. The look of fear was both upsetting and arousing. “Can’t control, gonna make a mess. Please please st-GAH” before you could finish your statement a loud moan was ripped from your throat. You watched as Aone was nailed in the face with what you thought was piss.

“Oh god. I’m so sorry Aone I told you to stop. I couldn’t stop it!” You began apologizing as you went to grab something to wipe him off with.

“Turn over. Face down. Ass up.” You halted in your movements as you looked back watching him lick your arousal off his fingers as he used his other hand to yank his belt out of the loops of his jeans.

“Come on pretty girl. Face down ass up.” He repeated watching as you moved, enjoying the dazed look in your eyes. “Was that your first time squirting baby?” He asked as he stared down at your cunt clenching around nothing.

“Is. Is that what I did? I’ve never done that.” You said embarrassed. Looking back best you could you saw the blush on Aones face.

“To be honest I’ve only been with one person and he was awful.” You said watching his eyes widen. “I’ve never felt this good.” You said softly whimpering as Aone ran his fingers up your slit admiring how wet you were. All for him. You were dripping for him and him alone.

“Can I take you?” He asked averting his gaze a deep crimson painting his face even his ears were tinged pink.

“After everything you just did to me, making me squirt for the first time, giving me the best orgasm I’d ever had. Now you’re asking if you can take me?” Standing up suddenly you moved in front of the tall man before shoving him onto his back. “Let me show you how much I want you” you said slyly pulling his pants and boxers down and off of him. You watched him sit up long enough to remove his shirt before laying back.

“Show me baby girl. Show me how much you want me.” He said his voice sounding so seductive it sent jolts straight down to your fluttering core. Dropping to your knees and all in one go you took half his member down your throat choking and gagging.

“Fuck. Holy shit baby. Look at you. Where’d you learn to do this? Fuck.” He moaned out as your throat constricted around his tip. Staring up at him you began bobbing your head quickly rubbing what you couldn’t choke down. Watching him fall apart was the best thing ever. Even hotter than your fantasies. Even hotter than his.

“Taste incredible” you said sliding off his dick with a very lewd popping sound. “Now. Let me show you how good I really am.” You said a silky sultry edge to your voice. Climbing up you positioned yourself directly above his dick and in one swift drop he was fully sheathed inside you.

“Fuuuuuuuck” you both moaned loudly. Giving yourself a second to adjust you whined when you felt large hands grip your hips with bruising force. Experimentally you rolled your hips watching Aones face absolutely contort with sheer bliss. Moaning softly you lifted yourself up slightly rolling your hips. A desperate whine falling from your lips. You continued this motion bouncing up and down rolling your hips as you rode Aones dick like a porn star.

“Fuck. Look at you baby. Look at your tight little cunt taking all of me. Fuck can’t believe I have you. Fuck never gonna let you go.” He said between loud moans. Your whines and moans joined his as you began grinding your hips on his. His dick filling you like you’d never been filled before.

“M’sorry baby girl.”

“Wha-“ you started before you were suddenly on your back legs on Aones shoulders and he was desperately pounding your pussy like it owed him money. A scream erupted from your lips, his name like a mantra a prayer that would save you from eternal damnation. “Fuck so good. So big. So fucking full.” You whine loudly as you dug your nails into his back.

“Who do you belong to slut.” He demanded “who owns this tight little pussy?!” He asked as he began rubbing your clit.

“Gah. You! You Aone I belong to you baby. Only you.” You said desperately wanting to cum for him again.

“Who makes you feel this good?! Who stuffs that cute little pussy, makes it squirt all over?” He growled out as he bent down sinking his teeth into the flesh of your collarbone.

“You. You make me feel this good only you fill it up so good making a mess of it!” You moaned out. The fucked out expression on your face damn near pushed Aone right over the edge, sinking is teeth into his tongue to help hold off his orgasm just a little longer he began rubbing your clit faster.

“Cum for me sweet girl.” He growled out growling as your walls seized up and your back arched off your bed a cry of his name on your soft lips. The image of you was enough and with one last deep thrust he buried his dick in you painting your insides white with his cum. Your name falling from his lips.

“So good beautiful.” He mumbled leaning down to capture your lips in a soul snatching kiss. Slowly he moved off of you standing to grab his underwear. “I’m gonna go grab my shorts okay?” He said as he walked down to the guest room. When he returned shorts on with no shirt showing his toned muscles and deep scratch marks from your nails he stopped. There you sat hair tucked into a messy half assed bun, short f/c shorts and his shirt. You were in his shirt. It clung in all the right places hugged your curves in a sinful manner.

“I know what we just did was wrong” he started, watching as your head shot up staring him in the face a flash of pain in your eyes. Before you could stop it tears began brimming your eyes.

“I’m sorry. I never should have. I should have controlled myself.” You said looking down so he wouldn’t see the hot tears threatening to spill down your red cheeks. “We can act like this never happened” you said your voice wavering as you said it. Truth be told you never wanted to forget this. It was the best thing to happen to you.

“No. That’s not what I mean. I know what we did was really wrong. Like should be absolutely ashamed wrong. As in your brothers going to kill me if he finds out wrong.” He said holding your chin so you had to look him in the eyes.

“But I’d do it again. And if you’ll have me I’d like to keep doing this with you. When you cry I want to wipe your tears, when you are hungry I want to be the one bringing and cooking food with and for you. When you say I love you I want to be the one you say it too. I love you. I have for so long. I refused to admit it. Your my best friends little sister but I can’t keep lying to myself.” He finished. A look of shock crossed your face. That’s not at all what you thought he was gonna say.

“Oh Aone. I love you so much you big softy.” You said pulling him down into a warm comforting kiss.

“You’re right. I am going to fucking kill you.” You heard an agitated voice from behind Aone. Freezing you peered around your now boyfriend’s large form as he peered over his shoulder. There stood Kenji. Looking mad as hell taking in the scene of his shirtless best friend holding his little sister in his arms. He realized you were in Aone’s shirt. “I leave you here with her and you go and sleep with my sister? Are you serious? She isn’t some toy Takanobu Aone.” Your brother seethed from gritted teeth.

“Ken-“

“You stay the fuck out of this. We will talk later.” Your brother snarled at you with a look that the devil himself would shrink under.

“Don’t speak to my girlfriend like that Kenji. I don’t appreciate you disrespecting her especially in front of me.” Aone said eerily calm as he moved to shield you.

“Girlfriend?” Kenji asked incredulously. Staring at his Stoney faced friend.

“Yes. Girlfriend. I love her. And you can’t stop us from seeing each other.” He said making it clear he wasn’t gonna let Kenji stop you two.

“Hurt her. And I’ll make good on your worry of me killing you Takanobu Aone.” Your brother said before his face softened.

“Y/n/n please tell me if he’s ever an ass and I’ll kick his ass for you.” Your brother said rather playfully as he strode away. Aone turned to face you staring at your stoic expression.

“Are you okay my love?” He asked softly. Nodding you stood.

“Let’s go get dinner made. We have movies to watch.” You said your bubbly personality bursting forth as you pulled your boyfriend by the hand. Sometimes the most unexpected things happen. This. This was one of those times.