#guys I have started writing a fic

[dapandapod]

Hello and sorry not sorry there is going to be so much incoherent screaming about Jaskier finally being appreciated from me for some time going forward I have spent two days SCREAMING about the new season!

I will be posting with the witcher Season 3, if you have yet to see it (I saw it twice in a day someone please save me and stop me) that is a tag I mean to use!

ALSO JASKIER MY BELOVED SEASON THREE MY BELOVED

[kiivg]

.😐.

[thekittyokat]

you ever just have a lot, a LOT of feelings all at once about a character and not even remotely enough words or brainpower to FORM the words to describe everything you're feeling. so it feels like you may explode. yeah

[zeropro]

My first fanfiction! It's Starscream's origin story, for my Trine AU. I hope you all check it out~

Full chapter below cut: (tw: abuse, assault, SA adjacent language)

Starscream: Origins

She loved Starscream, regardless of what anyone would say. It may not have been her hand that placed his spark into his frame, but she had selected the model in which that spark would be placed, and it was her credits that paid for that spark to be thawed. As a mechanoid race, Cybertronians did not form parental bonds in the way some organic lifeforms would, but from the moment she laid eyes on him, she had loved him as her own. 

Dim optics gazed down at the contract laid out in front of her. She had known this day would come, and if she felt a distinct pang in her spark, she had only herself to blame. She studied the glyphs of his designation displayed on the datapad form: Starscream. It was a beautiful name, as was everything about him; his laugh, his snark, his hunger for knowledge, all the way down to his lithe yet powerful frame.

It was a seeker frame. A warframe. Constructed cold off of assembly line blueprints like every other mecha in his class. Generic and inferior, her peers had warned her. Just another one of those mindless knock-offs. A brute. How laughable it all sounds to her now.

After all, Starscream was a perfect specimen in every way, healthy and beautiful and strong. It was a stark contrast to her own traitorous frame.

Then again, it was because of this cursed illness that she had commissioned Starscream’s creation in the first place, and every moment since then had been an absolute joy. She remembered his first flight, his excitement and how beautifully he cut through Cybertron’s sky in his jet mode. She thought fondly of the way his faceplates would scrunch up in concentration when presented with an equation he couldn't solve, and how adamantly he refused help until he had thoroughly exhausted his processor. She recalled how desperately he would plead with her to take him to Iacon, to Vos, to anywhere there were people and culture and life. He would have loved the bustle of the city. 

 Allowing herself a sad smile, she let the memory files play unbidden in her mind as she picked up the stylus. Their time together had been so short, but she had surely made it count. 

With considerable effort, Cryak sealed the contract with her glyphs. Yes, she would cherish those memories for a long time to come.

~-~-~

“Cryak… What’s going on here?”

Starscream stood gripping the frame of the medbay door, his peds planted firmly just outside the threshold. He could feel the hand on his shoulder tighten slightly, urging him forward, but he refused to budge. 

Unease had latched onto his processor the moment he realized they were heading to a different (much more isolated) location than he was accustomed to, and the feeling only compounded at what greeted him inside. Two, not one but two, medical berths were set up in the center of the tiny room, unfamiliar instruments and displays clustered around both. The doctors (he assumed they were the doctors) both wore full-cover face masks, and their paint had been blacked out. Whether as some form of safety precaution or to hide their identities, it was uncertain, but neither option felt particularly comforting at the moment.

From the way their faceless helms inclined expectantly towards him, it was clear one of the berths was meant for him.

Starscream did not like check-ups at the best of times. A sudden, unexpected, and unexplained medical procedure being sprung on him was downright unacceptable. He would at least require an explanation before he would allow them to proceed.

A digit curled under his chin, gently turning his attention away from the operating theater and onto his mentor’s face. She gave him a reassuring smile as her thumb caressed his cheek.

“Everything will be alright, love. Don’t you trust me?”

Something in his processor stalled at that. “Of course I trust you,” he said, and it had to be true because despite her non-answer, he followed her into the room.

Hesitating at the side of the berth, he stood contemplating it for a long time before he turned to his mentor.

“Where is Pharma? I would like to speak with him first.” It was a reasonable request. Starscream had a right to consult his primary physician before undergoing any sort of mystery medical practice. 

Cryak was already being helped onto the adjacent berth, and one of the doctors inclined it slightly so she could more easily converse with her ward.

“Ah, Pharma won't be joining us, but rest assured we have consulted with him on this procedure.”

“And what exactly is this procedure for?” 

“Starscream, please don’t be difficult.”

It was worth a shot.

Cryak was now hooked up to all the necessary equipment, and Starscream still couldn't quite deduce what it was they were planning to do. Once again, every optic in the room turned on him expectantly and, suddenly feeling foolish, he slowly gripped the side of his berth and hoisted himself onto it.

The moment he swung his legs up, a set of panels near his ankles sprung open, revealing a set of stasis cuffs built into the berth. Two more identical panels opened by his waist, where his hands would be. 

Starscream was immediately on his peds again, backing away from the startled doctors.

“They’re going to restrain me?!” he screeched, panic twisting in his tanks.

Cryak sighed, as if he were the one being unreasonable. “They won't have to if you just calm down.”

“I can't calm down! Not until you tell me what we’re doing here!”

“Starscream–“

“No! You know I hate medical procedures. I at least deserve to know what they’re going to do to me first!”

Cryak held him in a hard stare, which he returned defiantly, not bothering to hide his discomfort. It didn’t take too long before her expression finally, predictably, softened in resignation.

“Yes, I suppose you’re right. You do deserve to know.”

Starscream’s stance relaxed slightly at that, but he continued to inch towards the exit.

“I didn't want you to worry, but there's no easy way to say it. I’m dying, Starscream. The doctors say I may have less than half a deca-cycle left.”

Starscream’s wings hiked up in surprise. “But that’s…I thought…”

“That we had more time? Yes, so did I, love. So did I… You see, that is the problem with science. You think you understand a mech’s function and so you command life. You think you understand an illness and so you predict death. But all science really does is scramble for a retroactive understanding of unrelated data points. The future remains indeterminable, and death forever the impatient thief.” There was a bitterness in her voice that he knew well, it was always there when she spoke of her illness. “I was so close, too, so close to finding a cure. Another few hundred vorn or so and we could have done this properly… but no. No, we won't have that time.” Her voice was so soft now, she might as well have been talking to herself.

“Of course, that is why I had you created.” Her attention snapped back onto him, and something in her optics made his plating crawl. “You see, I knew from the outset that time was against me, so my team and I have been developing this…procedure, for the better half of my dysfunction. A procedure that could grant me the time I need to finish my work…one that requires your participation.”

“I don’t understand.” He felt the door press up against his back.

“Starscream. This procedure could save my life.”

“Then why didn’t you just tell me?”

But he already knew the answer. Because Starscream loved Cryak, and if there was ever a chance to save her, all she had to do was ask and he would jump at the opportunity. There was only one reason she would have felt the need to hide, one reason she would fall silent now.

“…Cryak, what’s going to happen to me?”

“I’m so sorry, love.”

Like scrap she was.

Starscream spun around, ignoring the painful jolt as his wing smacked the door he was now trying desperately to open. It had been locked, and ripping the keypad from the wall did nothing, so he dug his claws directly into the metal and simply tore at the seams. 

One of the benefits of having a frame that was originally built for fighting wars: he was deceptively strong for his size.

Unfortunately, as a flight frame he was also alarmingly light, as he soon found out when blackened servos hauled him into the air before he could properly rip the door off the wall. Hissing and spitting and flailing his limbs, Starscream was suddenly fighting for his life. Despite being doctors (allegedly), both mechs were heavy set grounders standing at least half a head taller than Starscream, and they weren't shy about using that crushing bulk against him. Unable to think through his panic or see through his tears, he was easily wrestled into submission.

“S-stop, you’re hurting me!” he cried as they dragged him back to the berth.

“Be careful with him!” Cryak growled from where she lay, scanning his frame for damage as they strapped his wrists and legs down. The stasis cuffs emitted an energy field that burned his plating and sapped his strength, but he continued to struggle feebly against the restraints. 

The doctors immediately got to work. Starscream squirmed as he felt their hands travel up and down his frame, hooking him up with all manner of wires and invasive patch codes. Panels to access ports he didn't even know he had were forced open and thick cords penetrated his frame, giving them direct access to his systems. He had never felt so violated before in his function.

“You know I love you, right?”

Starscream whipped his head around and stared uncomprehendingly at his mentor. How could she say something like that after this betrayal? 

“You can't imagine how much it hurts me to see you like this.” 

How could she think anything could make this alright?

“But you have to understand…”

How could she…?

“I would do anything it takes to survive.”

How could she?!

A sudden strain in his systems dragged his processor back to his frame, and to his horror, his chest compartment began to transform out without his consent.

“W-what’s happening?!” It hurt, was it supposed to hurt? “What are they doing to me? Cryak, S-stop this, please! Cryak! I…I don't…ahk!” 

With a hiss, the last bit of plating forced itself apart and just like that the painful pressure in his chest gave way to the feeling of being intimately and dangerously exposed. Starscream gasped as he took in the sight of the shimmering glow emanating from his chassis for the first time. It was his spark.

“Manual spark chamber access complete. We are ready for extraction.”

Starscream exploded in a flurry of outrage, screaming profanities as he redoubled his efforts to escape. Monitors flashed red as he twisted violently against his restraints, his vents coming out in stuttering sobs as he lost himself to the blind panic.

“He’s going to hurt himself like this. Should we put him into medical stasis?” one of the doctors asked, turning to Cryak.

“No, please!” Starscream craned his neck toward his mentor, pleading optics blown wide. She frowned sympathetically. 

“It’ll be much easier on you if you were unconscious, love.” 

But then his chance of escape would go from little to none.

“Please, don’t,” he begged, “I’ll be good, I promise!“ He searched desperately for the right words. “I don’t want to be alone…!”

Cryak nodded, and told the doctors that stasis wouldn't be necessary. As they discussed how best to proceed, he lay back down in an attempt to appear calm, his processor frantically assessing all possible options. The stasis cuffs made him too weak to rip the berth itself apart like he did the door, but he still retained a certain range of motion. He could slip his legs out of the clamps if he could move his body back, but the cuffs around his wrists hindered him. No matter how hard he strained against them, neither the cuffs nor the berth would give.

Something had to give.

He chanced a quick glance at Cryak. The sorrowful expression on her faceplates made him instantly regret it, and he quickly looked away. If he were to escape, he would be condemning her to death. Despite everything, he did care for her; she was still his creator, his mentor, his friend.

“I really am sorry, my love.”

“Yes…so am I.”

It was over so fast. No one expected him to tear his own hands off, so by the time he had transformed and shot through the damaged door there was nothing left of him besides a pair of servos still held tight in the stasis cuffs, a puddle of energon dripping to the floor, and the haunting screams of his mentor echoing in his wake.

They did share one thing in common.

Starscream would do anything it takes to survive.

[crsssie]

frog - jinshi x reader (Spoiler Warning for Chapter 63 of the manga)

"hng." Jinshi whimpers, face flushed as you freeze.

It's a frog. You fucking swear it's a frog. You didn't just accidentally grab and squeeze Jinshi, a fucking eunuch's, dick. You did not. You are hallucinating. That was the frog that jumped on you and knocked you off balance— nOT Jinshi's dick or whatever. He shouldn't even have one!

"Sorry." You sit up, legs still straddling Jinshi as you get off of his chest. "I saw a frog and fell."

Jinshi sits up with you, face flushed in embarrassment as you pray you can play stupid out of this one. It was hard enough that he literally witnessed you hurl a rock at the assassin with eerie precision, but you would rather die than have to die with Jinshi because you found out he wasn't a eunuch.

Every day your loyalty is tested when around this man.

"That makes this way easier." Jinshi sighs, grabbing you by the shoulder as you tense up to lean back from him. "I have a confession to make. I—"

"I think I killed the frog." You mumble, face pale. You're acting. You have to. You are not following Jinshi to the grave and cleaning up the aftermath of his ass getting someone pregnant.

"No, listen, that wasn't—"

"Oh my god, I'm not gonna make it to heaven." You mumble again, staring at your hand before wiping it on your chest. "Master Jinshi, I'm going to hell."

"No, that wasn't—"

"I'm going to hell because I crushed a frog..." You mumble.

Jinshi gets fed up with your acting, pushing you backward into the dirt as he cages you in, lifting your leg as he presses his clothed erection into you. You yelp, trying to crawl away, but he holds you in place, eyes staring through yours to your soul as you shake underneath him. Playing stupid didn't work this time.

"That was not a frog," and he rolls his hips against yours for emphasis, watching as you mentally restrain yourself from moaning. God, since when were you this lewd?! "Stop playing stupid, pretty one. You gave it a good squeeze too."

You freeze up as he lowers himself ever so slowly, and you blurt your thoughts out before you can think of what the best choice is at the moment.

"I am not having my first kiss on the dirt in a cave!" You cry, praying that it's enough. Seriously, you aren't following Jinshi to the grave. He may be hot, and women may throw themselves at him and men turn gay for him and nations go to war for him but you are not following him to the grave. Your loyalty does not lay that strong. You don't want to die just yet.

Jinshi leans in anyway, lips brushing yours as a bark sounds above you as you call back, and you sigh in relief when you hear Maomao's voice.

You're saved. Oh heavens, you're saved.

[rottenzombrainz]

When his first reaction to hearing you scream is to slice whatever scared you with a chainsaw>>>>>

[spicyet]

What are you looking for here? Scroll back up.

Just kidding, here’s a treat:

[electric-plants]

okay but LISTEN i think cyno would feel the exact same about pet names as he does about his jokes like cyhaino starts dating and his immediate thought is oh pet names would help make it less awkward and relax both of us so he tries it, calls alhaitham babe in front of both of their salads and it’s stiff and awkward and uncomfortable and they’re both just like “hm :|” because it’s SO obvious that didn’t work so alhaitham is like cool we tried it and that’s that but THEN cyno KEEPS doing it trying every pet name under the sun because he’s PERSISTENT and it NEVER works but alhaitham would find it kind of charming and very cyno-esque so of course he would grow to love it but also they’re emotionally scarring every one around them who has to listen to the most uncomfortable use of the word “sweetie” they have ever seen in their entire life

[rangersoup]

WIP Wednesday

It's 2:00AM and that means its Wednesday! Which means it's WIP WEDNESDAY!! and i am unreasonably excited. So im kicking us off bright (or dark technically cause the suns not even up yet) and early! im screaming cause i can't decide what part of this fic i want to post today but anyway! here's a bit of my current wip that's occupying ALL of my brain!

TK nearly jumps out of his skin as a hand touches his shoulders. He was so deep in his own thoughts that he hadn’t even heard anyone come into the hospital room. He whips his head around and finds himself looking up at his dad. He’s here. He finally made it. He's finally here. “Dad?” he chokes. He almost doesn’t believe it. The last thing he knew was that his dad was making a hail mary drive south of New York to find an air port that could actually get a flight out. He didn’t expect him to be here so soon. “I’m here, son,” Owen says quietly, and TK doesn’t give him time to say anything else before standing up so quickly he almost knocks his chair over and flings himself into his dad’s arms. He’s crying before his mind can even catch up with what’s happening. “I’m here,” his dad repeats, wrapping his arms around him and cradles his head. “I’m here.” “They don’t think he’s going to wake up,” TK sobs into his shoulder. “Ssshhh,” Owen whispers into the top of his head and rocks him as they stand there at Carlos’s bedside. “Everything’s going to be okay.” TK wants to believe him, he wishes with all of his might that he could force himself to believe him, but its bad. It’s so, so, so bad. “I was back there with him.” His dad squeezes him a little tighter, and he feels like a child again, tucked somewhere safe and secure, somewhere where the world seems less scary, somewhere where everything might just be okay… but not quite. Not quite. The only place on the entire planet that really truely feels like that is in Carlos’s arms, the one place he can’t be right now. “I got here as fast I could.” “I know,” TK says, swallowing and finally pulling away from his dad’s warm embrace. We wipes the tears away and steps back, ducking his head. “What happened?” TK shakes his head. “They were serving a warrant and ended up in a shoot out. He got hit. That’s really all I know, other than…” he trails off, glancing over at Carlos. “Other than what happened after.” “What happened in the ambulance, you mean?” Owen prompts, his lips pursed as he looks TK over with pitying eyes. TK nods. “I– Dad I can’t get it out of my head.” He’s crying again. “Come here,” his dad says gently, and pulls him into another hug. He knows he understands, he understands the horrors, the helplessness, the inability to purge every horrifying image from his mind. He’s been the back of an ambulance with TK more times than any father should ever have to. “What do you need?” TK shakes his head, driving it against his chest as his shoulder shake, he can’t get them to stop shaking. He can’t stop crying. He needs a million things. He wants to let the words come pouring out, he wants to spill everything pent up inside of him, but only one thing makes out. It’s broken and hoarse as it leaves his lips. “Carlos.” he needs Carlos.

Tags under the cut!

@lonestardust @futures-tense @annoyingcloudearthquake @nisbanisba @lemonlyman-dotcom @heartstringsduet @carlos-in-glasses @welcometololaland @emsprovisions @paperstorm @captain-gillian @tellmegoodbye @henrygrass @ccgrizzy @thisbuildinghasfeelings @lightningboltreader @strandnreyes @reyesstrand @eclectic-sassycoweyes @giuhina @happilylovingchaos

and @my-beloved-lakes, I know you're writing now, so i am calling you out specifically. This tag list is a no pressure tag list for everyone except you. Lots of pressure for you! Your bitch ass better post something! im allowed to call her out like this. she's my sister.

And open tagging anyone else that wants to participate!

I may have gotten a little over excited about this one. I really really really can't wait to start posting it, but i want to be way farther along with it before i do. As is 10k words isn't "far enough along"

[myokk]

Her kisses were all-consuming and he felt his heart surrendering to her with every gentle nip, losing himself in the feeling of her. Her soft body pressing tightly against him, her breathy moans, the soft hair at the nape of her neck, her taste.

When Eloise finally pulled away from him, breathing heavily as their foreheads pressed together and their eyes locked, Sebastian was dazed and content and...happy. Merlin, he was so happy. Her cheeks were bright pink, and her lips were swollen and red and smiling up at him. His breath caught in his throat - he didn't think he had ever seen anything so beautiful as Eloise in that moment. Sebastian knew that he was grinning like a fool but he didn't care.

Happiness was bubbling up in his body and he was leaning down to kiss her again because it would never be enough and -

She started coughing.

Eloise abruptly pulled away from him, covering her mouth with her sleeve as she doubled over. A terrible, horrible, familiar wracking cough that Sebastian never thought he would hear again.

When she pulled her sleeve away from her mouth, there were little flecks of blood.

They both looked at each other in horror.

"Eloise..." he started, his voice cracking. The balloon of happiness that had filled him burst and he felt himself crashing back to the grim reality that had been his life for too long. Arms hanging limply at his sides. When his voice came out again, it was a whisper. He could barely choke the words out.

"...what did you do?"

their first kiss😇😇😇

[virgothozul]

How can anyone be normal about them is beyond me. the tragedy, the catholic imagery, the softness, the queerness, the duo of almost invincible not quite human handsome mess of individuals

This is totally from Fool in the moon by @arahir , godgodgodgod I’m not ok https://archiveofourown.org/works/44723611

the characterization ..!! NAM NAM NAM

[babychosen]

save a horse (ride a cowboy)

8pm, Friday. Red dress. Booth near the end of the bar, by the dart board.

She forgot how demanding the text felt, but it had only encouraged her to want to show up even more.

[thesunisatangerine]

against all odds (to wait for you is all i can do) – part four

alexia putellas x photojournalist!reader

warnings: explicit sexual content

(a/n in the tags) [parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve]

word count: 4.3k

It didn’t stop after the first and it sure didn’t stop after the third, either. 

Depending on her schedule, you saw Alexia once or twice at most a week; most of the time it was on the night after a Barcelona match and by the next morning, she’d be gone before you even woke up. But you’d noticed her visits had been increasing in frequency lately, not to mention that sometimes she’d still be in bed when you awakened. The first time you found her still asleep beside you, you were dumbfounded, thinking it was a dream image of her in front of you. And what amazed you even further was that it kept happening.

It wasn’t an unpleasant development. In fact, it was something you gratefully welcomed. And it wasn’t just that, either. Sometimes when Alexia came over, you didn’t even have sex you just… talked: about her training and her health, her teammates’ shenanigans–and hers, of course–her family and bits of her personal life. Meanwhile you told her about places you explored and showed her photos of where you’d been. Then she’d tell you about places you could check out, food to try, and even went ahead and promised to take you to some of the places herself when she had the opportunity.

These times were rare, sure, but you found yourself enjoying her company more and more to the point you noticed yourself craving for it–found yourself missing her presence despite your constant back-and-forth messages. And still you didn’t ask where this was going for fear of ruining whatever the two of you had; you were content and you just simply wanted to watch this unfold as it was. And anyway, it wasn’t like you weren’t used to fleeting relationships, situationships–whatever you’d like to call it–because who was to say this wouldn’t end up like your previous dalliances–ending before it could ever truly begin? Despite you hoping otherwise, a large part of you already convinced yourself that this wouldn’t be anything different: just another highlight to your getaway vacation that you’d look fondly back on a few years down the line.

You had a month left in Barcelona, maybe an additional few weeks depending on the client. What could possibly go wrong?

———

A knock took your attention from your work to the door. You looked at the time–it was early evening on a Saturday and you weren’t expecting anyone. Perhaps you just imagined it? But then it came again not a minute later. You were reluctant to open it seeing as it was already dark but a ping from your phone that signalled a message from Alexia asking if you were home had you flying to the door. 

Upon opening it, you found Alexia there with Nala resting in the crook of her arm, phone in hand, and a paper bag in the other. 

“Took you long enough.” Alexia said playfully, all cool and confident but then her brows quirked upwards almost sheepishly as she said in a more tamed tone, “is this a bad time? I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

You smiled at her consideration before you ushered her in. “No, no! It’s fine, really! Come on in. Sorry, I just wasn’t comfortable opening the door when it’s dark without knowing who it was.”

“Ah, it’s my bad. I should’ve let you know before dropping by.” She bent down and let Nala loose before she untied her shoes and left them by the door. Nala bounded to the living charged with curiosity, nose to the ground, tail wagging as she carefully examined the new space. 

Alexia regarded her dog with an amused expression before she looked back at you. “I meant to bring this over after the game tomorrow but I saw the lights as I drove past so… here I am, I guess.”

You reassured her again as you locked the door behind her and you watched as she made her way to the kitchen. As you passed through the archway to the kitchen room, Alexia already situated herself by the counter taking out glass canisters from the paper bag she brought. When she took the lids off, a delicious aroma instantly filled the air, enticing your senses.

“What do you have there?” You asked as you leaned on the opposite side of the counter.

Alexia smiled at the eagerness in your tone and pride shone in her eyes as she spoke, “only the best fideuà and esqueixada in the world. Made special by my mother, of course.”

You peered into the containers and the sight made your mouth water instantly. As if it remembered that you hadn’t had any food yet, your stomach grumbled obnoxiously. Alexia definitely heard it because she fixed you with an amused smile and at that, your cheeks warmed so you tried to divert her attention. “You know what would put this all together?” 

“What?”

“Wine or champagne. Wait–are you allowed to drink?”

“I’m allowed since I’m still not qualified to play yet.” Her visage became somber for a moment–it fleeted so quickly you almost didn’t catch it–before the light in them returned again. “If you have it, white wine is the best complement for this.”

You hummed and tapped your chin, turning to make your way to the cellar. “I’ll have a look. I’m sure Derek has some wine stored in here somewhere.”

You’d mumbled the last part but it seemed Alexia’d caught it because she asked, “who’s Derek?”

Something odd in her tone stopped you and made you look back at her. Her face was unreadable, almost too neutral. She didn’t think Derek was your boyfriend, did she?

“Oh, Derek’s my brother. He hasn’t been here for a while but he owns this house.”

“Ah, I see,” Alexia cleared her throat, looking away and you could just see a hint of redness in her cheeks. “Well, I’ll lay out the plates. I suppose they’re just in...?”

“The bottom drawer to your right and the utensils are in the upper one.” You instructed as you continued towards the cellar.

“Oh, yeah, I see,” came Alexia’s muffled response. 

When you returned with the bottle of white wine, you found that Alexia managed to locate the glasswares by herself and were drying them with a tea towel. There was only one set of plate and utensils laid out though so you fixed her with a confused look.

“You’re not going to eat?”

Alexia shook her head. “I already had my fill with my family earlier. I’ll take the drink, though.”

“That’s nice that you visited your family today. How are they?” You sat at one of the high chairs by the counter, popped the wine open and poured each of you a glass. You noticed that Alexia’d heated up the fideuà for you from the steam that rose from its container which strengthened its aroma and made it all the more enticing. Alexia remained opposite you but she was close enough with her leaning forward on her elbows, her glass of wine in hand.

She sipped her wine and told you they were well, described little snippets of what’s been happening in her family life. She even told you about a prank she recently played on her sister, one that nearly made you choke on your wine. 

You listened as she talked, liking the way her brows quirked and her shoulders move as she spoke, how each gesture became more pronounced the more passionate or interested she was on a subject. You asked questions and engaged with the conversation every now and again as you savoured the rich taste of the pasta and the freshness of the salad. You’d never had anything like it and you told her as much. In response, she said she’d give the compliment to her mother when she saw her next which made your cheeks warm up again. Once you finished, you tidied up and though you insisted she didn’t have to, Alexia helped you wash up anyway. 

Afterwards, the both of you ended up in the living room with your glasses of wine. She gestured at your laptop on the couch with her glass.

“Work?”

“Yeah. Just double checking if I missed anything important and preparing for the match tomorrow.” You sat on the couch and put the laptop on your lap. Alexia opted to sit on the carpet, legs stretched and crossed, back leaned back against the couch, her head just beside your legs as Nala settled by her side.

She turned her head, looking up at you. “Can I see?”

You turned your laptop so she could see better. You flicked through the photos you were sorting through, explaining to her every now and then the thought process behind each shot. On some photos, Alexia asked you to pause so she could soak them in.

“These are great. You have a great eye.” Alexia complimented with an appraising nod as you got to the end. You thanked her as you pulled back. Then a question came to mind.

“Do you ever get used to it? The cameras, I mean.”

A pause.

“I’m not and I don’t think I ever will. I’m more comfortable with it now but if it’s possible to avoid, I’d do it. I know it’s a part of football and god knows how much more exposure women’s football needs,” Alexia released a heavy sigh, “but sometimes it just gets too much, you know? I mean, I really should be grateful, right? To have gotten to this point? But the media side of it is… not without its own set of miseries.” 

There was an inflection in her tone upon her admittance–guilt. You gently carded your fingers through her hair, Alexia leaned into your touch in response, and you replied just as softly, “it must’ve been difficult. It still is and for you, especially. And I don’t know if anyone’s told you lately but you have to know: you’ve given so much of yourself already. It’s not a sin to want a little peace, Alexia, and it doesn’t make you ungrateful for wanting it, it just makes you human.” 

Alexia took a deep breathe before she rested her temple against your knee. Then you heard her whisper, “thank you.”

A silence fell upon the both of you after that but it wasn’t an uncomfortable one. She remained that way for the majority of the night, head against your knee as she watched a game of football on the TV. 

By the time you finished up your work, it was already late evening and Alexia’d dozed off beside you. You felt bad as you gently woke her up and groggy hazel eyes found yours when you did. The sight made your heart ache from how much Alexia looked younger and more at peace this way, and you told her to wash up so she could stay the night.

And she did.

Now, your cheek felt warm against her chest despite the slight dampness of her borrowed shirt from her hair. Her skin smelt faintly of the soap you were using and with her arm around your waist, you fell asleep content, lulled to a deep slumber by the steady rhythm of her heart.

———

“Hey, please don’t wear that, it’s dirty,” came Alexia’s reprimand from behind you.

You glanced at her reflection in the mirror: Alexia was propped up on the pillows against the headboard, an arm behind her head, nude except for the bundle of sheets that covered one of her thighs, the marks you’d left on her neck and chest last night and this morning generously displayed for you to behold. 

She was nothing short of glorious, you thought, looking relaxed and content like this. 

You turned your attention back to your own reflection: Alexia’s Barcelona jersey draped over your smaller frame and fell just partway down your bare thighs. It felt comfortable against your skin and the fact that it smelt just like Alexia made it feel all the more special.

When you looked at her reflection again, you found her with an affectionate smile, eyes lidded and brows inflected slightly upwards, and suddenly the attention warmed your cheeks.

“But you only wore it for a shoot, right?”

“I mean, yeah, but you know what I mean.”

You hummed, “do you need it?”

“No, I have spares,” she replied before she raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“That means I have time to wash it before I give it back since you insists that it’s dirty.” You said drily as you turned away from the mirror and padded your way to the bed, crawling on the sheets on your knees once you got there.

As soon as you got close enough, Alexia’s hands were immediately on you, guiding you to straddle her lap before she embraced you fully, resting her chin between the valley of your breasts as she looked up at you. You carded your fingers through her hair to see those fair, hazel eyes that never failed to make you shiver.

“I didn’t say you have to hurry. Plus… I kinda like seeing my number on you.” And then she was kissing your neck and you felt one of her hand creeping its way down to cup your ass. You gasped when you felt the heat of her fingers brushing against your core and you buried your own in her hair as she traced a path from your throat to your ear with her tongue, nipping at your lobe when she got there.

“Fuck… Alexia…” You moaned, “you’re insatiable.”

She kissed your shoulder and then she whispered, “only for you.”

———

Something flashed from the corner of your eye followed immediately by a string of whispered curses and a familiar whirring sound. You put your thumb over the line you were just reading so you wouldn’t lose your place before you looked over your bare shoulder to the corner of the room you knew Alexia was who you found, as expected, holding one of your Polaroid cameras. 

She was only wearing a pair of grey sweats which left her torso bare and–like all the time you saw her nude–you couldn’t help but appreciate the soft curves of her breasts and the carved muscles of her stomach. When she met your gaze, she smiled almost sheepishly at you not dissimilar to a child being caught stealing cookies from the jar.

You raised a playful eyebrow at her but instead of answering, she placed her eye over the viewfinder, aimed the camera at you, then pressed the shutter again.

The film came out with a whir and Alexia immediately tucked it into the pocket of her sweats. She then began to make her way towards you and at every other step, she’d stop to take a photo of you, carefully manoeuvring the camera to get the right angle as she did so. It was an endearing sight, really, and it was one that filled your chest full of warmth. 

Eventually, she ended up on you, turning you over on your back as she straddled your waist, leaving you at the mercy of Alexia and her camera. From this position, you couldn’t help but feel extremely vulnerable and exposed not because of your bareness, but because you knew with the way your chest surged with warmth from how Alexia gazed down at you with a satisfied grin, the dimple on her cheek showing as her tongue peeked out between her teeth at the corner of her mouth, seemingly focused on getting the right shot, that this was a woman who had the power to completely and utterly unravel you. 

As a photographer, you were well acquainted with how cameras had the capacity to capture the essence of a moment–to display in raw details the emotions of its subject and freeze them in time, readying them for the dissection and scrutiny of the viewer. You wondered then what Alexia would see written in the shadow, the light, and the colours in the photos she just took of you once she looked at them, and the thought both elated and frightened you. 

Alexia brushed away hair from your temple but as she was about to pull away, you put yours atop of hers and turned your cheek into her palm, looking directly at her behind the camera. You heard her breath catch and then she stuttered out a breath, and the flash barely registered in your mind because you were too focused on the strength and the warmth of Alexia’s hand as you pressed butterfly kisses on the inside of her palm. 

The next thing you knew, the camera was abandoned completely and you couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out from your throat when you finally felt Alexia’s lips on yours.

———

Alexia sat on one of the high chairs in the kitchen room, hair damp, a game of football on the mounted TV that was left forgotten in place of… something that you couldn’t quite see from this distance. Alexia’s shoulders were hunched over in concentration and you didn’t have the heart to interrupt whatever she was doing so you leaned on the archway, content with just observing her do her work.

“Are you just gonna stand there or would you care to join me?” You rolled your eyes and you didn’t fight the smile that graced your lips. So much for being sneaky–the fact that Alexia was an accomplished footballer who had crazy spatial awareness occasionally slipped your mind.

“Okay, Gwen Stacy, calm down.” Alexia looked over her shoulder then and stuck her tongue out at you, grinning. “How did you even know I was here?”

“Your reflection on the microwave.” She gestured to it with her chin and sure enough from this angle you were instantly visible especially with the white shirt you had on. The dark glossy surface almost made you look like a ghost.

Standing on your toes, you draped yourself over her broad back, arms wrapping loosely around her neck as you peered down. “So, what are we working on?”

“This.” 

A bracelet made of a dark-blue and red string that looped into itself with a singular, small gold diamond-shaped charm right in the middle, a vertical bar at the two corner points of the long edge of the diamond, dangled between Alexia’s fingers. She took your right hand and placed it in your palm so you could look at it: the bracelet was simple but it’s delicate nature made it all the more beautiful and elegant.

“Oh, wow, this is so pretty.” 

“It’s for you.” At that you looked at her, half-afraid that she’d feel the way your heart raced at her words against her back. 

You were so busy trying to find the right thing to say that you didn’t realise that she took the bracelet back until you felt the warmth of her fingers on your palm as she turned your hand over. You watched her as she wrapped it around your wrist, securing the tie. You turned your right wrist over and looked at the delicate bracelet, and something in your heart soared at the small gift. The fact that Alexia made it herself made it all the more special to you.

“Thank you, Alexia. I love it.”

“You’re welcome.”

That night while you were sufficiently warm nestled by Alexia’s side, naked except for the sheets, your head on her chest, a realisation hit you.

“It represents FC Barcelona, isn’t it?”

Alexia hummed in answer, the rumble from the sound a pleasant sensation on your cheek. Then she held your wrist in the space between her thumb and index finger, the width of her palm supporting your hand as she turned your hand just so so the gold of the diamond could catch the light.

“And what else?”

At that, you looked at the bracelet intently. The two bars: one and one–Alexia’s number. So she really was serious when she said she liked seeing her number on you.

You let out a small laugh, then you nuzzled her jaw as you spoke, “you little sneak.”

———

Minding her bad knee, you flipped the both of you over with a strength that even surprised yourself and with how Alexia’s brows raised high, you supposed it took her off guard, too. You settled your weight on her stomach and you bit your lip when you felt her abs tense against your core, and the desire in you blazed into a raging inferno that threatened to burn you inside out.

She grabbed your ass in both hands with a firm grip, making you gasp when her hold made you grind against her stomach, her eyes smouldering as she looked up at you. 

That look was your last straw; you couldn’t stop fighting your desire anymore so you let it swallow you whole. You fell forward, bracing your weight against your elbows as you craned your neck to kiss Alexia, rough and desperate, her lower lip between your teeth. The action rewarded you with a low moan, a delicious sound that shot heat straight down to your core.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?” Alexia gasped out between your relentless kisses.

“I like being on top,” was your simple answer whispered hotly against her ear, nipping gently at the soft skin there–teasing. 

Then it was your turn to gasp. 

Her fingers dug delightfully into your flesh, kneading your ass roughly before easing them apart with equal force. The harsh treatment caught you by surprise and the effect of it even more unexpected as you immediately melted against her, moaning her name helplessly against the crook of her neck. 

She knew just how to make a mess of you.

“Hmm, do you?” She asked coyly and then proceeded in a deliciously low voice that oozed seduction, smugness, and sex. “Too bad I’m still in control.”

“Fuck.” Your body answered for you in a full-body shiver. Her words turned you on to the brink of falling and you found no purchase as you slipped from the ledge.

It should be embarrassing how you could come without Alexia even fucking you, and it should scare you that she had this much power over your body but in this moment, when her hands were everywhere but your pussy and her filthy words were whispered hotly in your ear, you could care less. So you fell apart, shaking and weak, as you sank on top of Alexia’s firm and soft body, her name barely coherent from the sobs that came out of your lips. Euphoria lit every nerve in your body as you came, the fabric of your underwear latched deliciously on your pussy like a second skin and you were sure that you’d made a mess on Alexia’s bare stomach.

You only realised Alexia had stopped her teasing ministrations until you heard her thick voice through the haze of the afterglow which you barely caught.

“You came.”

It wasn’t a question, really, but you let out a small affirmative moan because what else could you do? You were mush–the intensity of your orgasm caught you off guard and left you floundering that no thoughts formed in your mind, just pure bliss and ecstacy. But as the veil of euphoria began to lift, embarrassment bled into the edges of your consciousness and with it the instinct to apologise. The words were poised at the tip of your tongue when Alexia moaned.

“Fuck, that’s so hot,” she breathed out and when you found the strength to lift your head to look at her, her eyes were lidded, pupils blown so wide they were almost all black.

And then she was pulling you in for a kiss, and then the wet heat of her tongue traced the edge of your ear, and she was nipping at your jaw while she dragged her palms from your ass to the side of your ribs. Your skin burnt at her touch and you could do nothing but surrender, to moan and whimper as your heat blazed anew despite having just been swept away.

“But this time, you’re going to come with my fingers in you.”

She didn’t even let the words sink in. Instead she wasted no time to slip her hand between your bodies and to push aside the fabric of your ruined underwear. Usually, Alexia liked to tease you and ease her fingers in you slowly as she sought as much reaction from you as she could, but the slick she found there must had been enough to satisfy her because she pushed two fingers in as soon as she found you. The thickness of her fingers slid in easily and you nearly screamed her name from the pleasure. 

She was relentless in her endeavour to make her words true with the way she gripped your hip steady with her free hand so you didn’t stray too far from her touch when you moved to meet her thrusts, the pace at which she worked her fingers in you left you lightheaded the same way her teeth on your neck worked to drive you insane.

“Alexia, Alexia, Alexia–” You chanted her name like a holy litany, burying your face into her hair that was now slightly damp with sweat and breathed her in: her scent of sun and freshly cut grass, of faint wintergreen, and an essence that was uniquely hers. The moment left you full with something heavy and warm, something that spoke of and hoped for forever, and clarity washed over you: this wasn’t like one of your previous dalliances anymore because you wanted more with her.

The realisation hit you hard, the gravity of it left your mind in a momentary stasis that when you came back to yourself, the shock of your orgasm knocked the breath from your lungs and you felt yourself being pulled by the tide. So strong was it that you could do nothing but pray the flood wouldn’t take you–that Alexia wouldn’t let you drown.

[meowkunas]

“You love me, right?” 

He watches your movements stop. 

Ran doesn’t do this. The eldest Haitani brother always shows up self-assured; every bone in his body reminding him that he’s right and if he’s not right, then he’ll simply make it right. And yet, he can’t help but swallow past the dryness in his throat as he asks you the question. He’s Ran Haitani. The same Ran who’s bleary eyed and still in his suit, sitting with his elbows on your shared kitchen countertop on a Tuesday night, but for some reason, he can’t seem to meet your eyes. 

This is what he’s always done – shown up late and let you care for him, breathing life back into his tired bones. It’s a cycle that never seemed to end, even now that you were both adults. He cares for you too, obviously. He’d burn the world down for you or run away with you and never look back, if you asked him to. His fingers twitch. Maybe not the second option. But you were something else to care for now, another worry added to his list that used to only consist of Rindou Haitani. 

You turn from your chopping board to face him warily. Maybe he’s asking this to tease you. Maybe he’s worried. Ran’s shaking his foot, head pointedly turned away to face the windows instead of you. 

Do you know that if you deny him or brush him aside, he’ll fall apart? Do you know that he’s absolutely ready to spend the rest of his life coming home to you? 

“Yeah, I love you.” You’ve neglected your dinner preparations now, choosing to lean over the countertop to look at him. The water simmers steadily behind you in the pot. “What’s this all about then?” 

There’s a smile in your voice, he knows it before he even meets your gaze. He turns his head and there it is: your lips curving upwards in amusement. It’s your eyes that betray a flicker of worry. Ran sighs in relief. 

“It’s nothing.” He says quickly, pushing off from his seat and wandering around your form to check on the now boiling water. To his dismay, you follow him, peeking over his shoulder as well. You’re close enough that he can feel your warmth just behind him. Maybe he should kiss you. 

“Are you jealous again?” Your question leaves him stunned, a tilt of your head lets him know you're teasing him.

“No.” A pause. “Should I be?” 

You do it first, kissing his cheek and nudging him out of the way with your hip. You’re braver than him. It’s something he realised a long time ago, but something that keeps appearing in his thoughts everyday. He wants to be brave too. But what he really does is instead is stand next to you in a frozen position, waiting for your answer. 

“Never.” There’s that smile on your face again, a cheeky one, even as you’re looking up at him to make sure he’s really listening. “I’d choose you every day.” 

“Good.” Although his heart stutters at the comment, he’s glad that his words stay calm. “There’s no one better than me.” 

Ran acts on his thoughts this time, wrapping his arms around your middle loosely. Another pause, and then he’s resting his chin on top of your head, a satisfied huff leaving him as you don’t push him away. 

This type of lifestyle has always been a pipe dream really. But it’s real now, and you’re still here after all these years so he must be doing something right. His hand reaches into his pocket, running his fingers over a small, velvet box. 

One day, much later, he’ll be brave and maybe even surprise you. But for now, he’s contented with coming home to you. 

[autisticrosewilson]

Um if you write Jason having to get drugs for Catherine I want you dead btw. Not only does it tell me you assume the average drug dealer would give the hard shit to a very small child and then not supervise them at all (classist stereotype that all drug dealers are inherently evil + lazy writing with no grasp on reality) and you genuinely think that Catherine was CONSTANTLY high, as if that's even possible without overdosing far sooner than she did. That's without even getting into the bad mom Catherine propaganda.

[fearandhatred]

to rome: a play by fearandhatred

(5k words, 1/1 chapters)

While trying to tempt Caligula, Crowley makes a discovery that renders all his efforts for naught. But then it turns out that Aziraphale is here too, so maybe his trip to Rome isn't wasted after all.

***highly recommended to read on a phone because of the Multiplicity Of Line Breaks that just look very weird on a laptop unless your font size is huge

-----

i've always loved the idea of crowley falling in love with aziraphale in rome. in some ways it really is my roman empire so i figured i might as well make it happen! featuring many shenanigans and an annoying emperor :)

any and all support is greatly appreciated <3

anyway it all started with a dream:

so this is for @eybefioro @captainblou @crowleys-bentley-and-plants who challenged me to write a fic with no angst and also, coincidentally, for that one commenter who asked me on the same day if i would consider writing something happy for once. against all odds and with much difficulty, i have done it. love u guys sm <333