#help why am i feeling so endeared to the old man

[skitskatdacat63]

2009 Italian Grand Prix - Rubens Barrichello & Jenson Button

[kissitbttr]

dilf!toji who finds you sitting in the curb at one am when he’s doing a quick run to 7/11 to grab a few snacks and a six pack. wondering why on earth, a pretty girl like you is alone.

after paying, he exits through the door before walking cautiously towards you. eyes glancing left and right to find no one is around, not even a car. meaning that you may have walked here.

“hi there sweetheart, you okay?” he calls out of worries. it’s very dark outside and far too dangerous for a young thing like you to be all here alone.

the moment you turn your head around, toji swears he had never seen someone so beautiful. glossy irises looking up at him with your messy long curls framing your features. glittery makeup decorating your eyes, nose and lips.

you must be no older than twenty-five.

“huh?” so clueless, yet so pretty. “o-oh. i’m—good, sir.. thank you” shooting him a small toothy grin with a gummy worm tuck in between your teeth,

he chuckles at that, hand shoved into the pockets of his sweatpants. how adorable.

he nods his chin towards your disregarded kitten heels beside you. “rough night?”

shrugging, you tug off the stretchy sweet off your mouth before chewing. “something like that.”

he tsks at that, head shaking. “it’s not safe for a girl like you to be out here. considering it’s very late. did you walk here?”

nodding, you put a strand of hair behind your ear. “i did, yes. i needed.. food. i was hungry.”

your answer makes him breathe out a laugh. “candies aren’t food, sweetheart—i assumed you were at a party dressing like that” he points out at your skin tight pink dress that barely covers your thighs, and he has to restrain himself from thinking unholy thoughts.

“it was getting quite crowded… i didn’t like it.. suffocating” your voice coming off quiet, if not—sad—“the food there is awful too”

toji hums, taking another step closer as your eyes follow his movements. head tilting back a bit when you notice he’s only standing inches away from your small figure,

“boyfriend not around?” his head move to the side, eyes roaming down your figure. shaking your head, he asks again. “what happened?”

you reply shakily. “he dumped me.. called me nasty things” a tear escapes your eye as you begin to remember what your ex had done to you two hours prior. “t-that’s why i’m here.”

when he sees you beginning to cry, he can’t help but feel bad. what a fucking asshole he thinks. making a cute girl cry and dumped her in the middle of the night? who fucking does that?!

he crouches down to your eye level. and that’s when you finally take a good look of his appearance. breath almost hitching at just how even more handsome he looks up close. even the faint scar across his lips just makes this man even more hotter.

“i’m sorry to hear that, sweetheart. sounds to me like he’s a straight jerk, yeah?” he says with a small smile. seeing you nod as a reply. gaze isn’t moving from his. “don’t cry over him, i bet he doesn’t deserve a beautiful girl like you”

your cheeks warm at that, eyes dropping to your lap just so he won’t notice how nervous he makes you feel by that comment. however, his finger moves underneath your chin to get you to look back at him again. his thumb grazing against your soft skin,

“want me to beat his ass for you? because i will, just lead the way”

you can’t help but giggle at his offer, and it makes toji’s heart skip a beat at the beautiful sound. his lips stretch into a bigger smile when he sees you like that.

“atta girl. there she is” he chuckles, “how old are you, baby?”

“i’m twenty one”

toji mutters out a soft ‘fuck’ which earns a confused frown from you. he’s almost twice your age. “you need a ride back to the party? i promise i’m not a creep or anything. just can’t stand at the thought of you walking back alone. something bad could happen, you know?”

“i would like that very much sir, thank you” a smile pulls upon your pink glossy lips, fingers fiddling with each other,

toji finds you to be endearing, adorable and pretty when you look at him like that. it has been too long since someone makes his heart ponder like this, and all you had to do was just smile at him with a gummy packet in your hand.

“call me toji, sweetheart—c’mere. up you get” he moves the sixpack towards his left hand as the other grabs yours, helping you up on your feet. “but before that, i think you need to get better food in your system. we’ll stop by at something, yeah?”

you nod quickly, slipping your feet back into the heels with a wide smile not leaving your face. “okay!”

with that, toji smiles back at you before putting his hand on your back, guiding you towards his car.

-

will expand because in this au toji is a rich ass man and ready to give him everything for his soon to be baby <3

(look what you made me do @tojisun )

[sant-riley]

[Random Task force 141 × gen z! member headcanons]

A/N: Reader goes by the codename Teddy in my writing! Along with she/her pronouns :) I am also extremely biased with Ghost so her main pairing is more towards with him compared to the others <3. I know absolutely nothing about the military so this is not accurate I am so sorry💀.

CWs: Dark Humor, Age gaps, Simping, crude humor, cursing. (not sure what else but lmk!)

Chances are, you're the youngest in the entirety of Task Force 141. Just a good couple of years younger than Gaz.

When Laswell brought her in to meet the group, they couldn't help but stare at her in confusion. A tiny girl who couldn't have been older than any of them. Soap couldn't help but chuckle while Ghost nudged him in the side to shut him up.

"This is your new rookie on the team, her callsign is Teddy. Treat her well."

All the men nodded, watching the younger woman shyly smile and wave towards them.

First they realized that her humor was, in Ghost's words, fucked.

Any minor inconvenience had her saying she wanted to be hit by a car or some type of bodily harm, Price quickly whirling around with eyes widened. "Now, I don't think that warranted that kind of response, don't you think?" "Oh it definitely did, Captain." And she'd walk away without another word.

He swears he gets gray hairs from everytime you make casual talk of you dying. He actively tells the others to check on you bc he genuinely don't know if you're serious or not.

Ghost is not up to date with shit, man uses no social medias oncesoever so everything she spouts is wildly out of pocket. References to basic things like tiktok, Twitter, Instagram? He just silently stares at you like you're on drugs. You can't really use your personal phone on base but you try your best to explain memes to him. He sighs and rubs his forehead with a groan of "I'm too old for this shit, teds." "Oh come on! You have to at LEAST know the meme about the marines eating crayons!" "What the fuck are you on about?

The only ones who know vaguely what the fuck you're on about sometimes are Gaz and Soap, despite them still being a few years older.

Granted, they are not caught up with everything but they actively make it a point on leave to try and be up to date bc of you and your mannerisms. Plus it makes you happy when they fire back a quote they learned.

Can yall imagine Soap on tiktok, what random shit he'd have on his fyp bc he doesn't know how the algorithm works 😭.

Teddy has made every single one of them a personal playlist when she does have her phone, Soap once caught her adding songs and hasn't stopped teasing her since. Price and Ghost pretend not to care and barks at Soap to leave her alone but they're equally curious. Ghost contemplates stealing her phone to see it.

Doesn't matter how serious or dark their job may be, you simp for fictional characters, loudly. Price has learned to tune it out, Ghost although slightly jealous, finds it endearing, Gaz and Soap indulge you and will actively ask about why you like the characters you do and how much you love them bc they like to see you excited. It's a nice feeling when they're always in life or death missions.

You're the smallest one in here okay, everyone can easily throw you without batting an eye so they all take turns training you! They all despite knowing you can take care of yourself, would still like to teach you all they know so should you come against a taller/stronger opponent, you'll be okay.

You are the most protected person in the entire squad, esp when going out for drinks, Ghost will put you in the middle between him and Price and basically make a wall of muscle around you. He says he doesn't care and that he just doesn't want to be pestered by creepy people coming up to you but he will literally stare down any man or woman who even tries. He is the creepy one in everyone else's scenario. Soap just laughs and tosses back his drink.

They all notice your ticks and tells, seeing your leg start to shake when you're anxious, when you start cracking your fingers when you're restless, how you will avoid eye contact at any cost. They start to find ways to soothe you in their own ways. Price will give you a pat on your shoulder, sending you a smile.

Gaz nudges you with his body to take your attention off the situation, or he'll simply start asking you random dumbass questions just to see your face change.

Soap will, if he has gotten permission before, just pick you up and throw you over his shoulder, running around with you while you scream for him to let you go. Is also not against tickling you straight up to get you to smile.

Ghost tried to be as subtle as he can be. If yall are sitting close to each other, he'll make sure some part of his body is gently pressed against yours. Whether it be his foot, thigh, hand, some part of him will ground you. You try and reassure him that you know he doesn't care for personal touch but he just says to shut up.

Meeting Graves was a trip, for everyone involved besides you and Grave. Absolutely having no control over calling him a irl Fix it Felix. You were on Graves shitlist and honestly you wouldn't be surprised he betrayed yall for that one comment bc of how angry it made him.

Constantly being told to be quiet, but you cannot help it and will make little quips over comms. Ghost takes after you and starts to say horrible "dad" jokes that make you choke trying to hold back. Soap hates both of you and calls you unfunny.

They realize you're impulsive, especially when you show the amount of tattoos you have.

"I joined the military to fund my tattoo addiction." "You know what? That's not even a surprise."

Going home on leave is always a bitter experience, you never look excited to go home. So one of the guys (usually ghost) will offer you to come with them. It helps 3/4 all live somewhere in England so it's easy to see them/ take trips to their place.

They're all attached despite knowing better. They can't help it and they know they care for you so much more than other force members.

Ghost and Soap bristle when Alejandro makes a mention that he'd offer you a spot in his team, impressed with how you can take opponents twice your size.

"¿Te interesaría quedarte en México?"

"The Hell she will."

-

If you'd like to be tagged in future works, please comment under my rules that are pinned to my blog!

[ayyy-pee]

𝐂𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f!Reader

Day 1: Exhibitionism

Warnings: MDNI, Smut, Cheating, Exhibitionism, Creampie, Profanity bc who do you think I am, Pussy Eating, Masturbation, Exes to Lovers, Jealousy, Wasting food :(, DID NOT PROOFREAD SO SORRY FOR ERRORS LMFAO

Summary: Satoru hates the fact that you've been out of his grasp all this time. He loathes that you’ve been in the arms of another man, that you’ve had someone else warming his side of the bed, let someone else taste you, hold you, feel you the way he used to.

You may be over Satoru, but Satoru is not and will never be over you. 

❥ Gojo NSFW Week Twitter - AO3 Collection ❥

Discord 18+ - Twitter - JJK Masterlist

“You alright, sweetie?” You ask, peering through the rearview mirror as you put your car in park. The sound of whistles blowing, people cheering and clapping can already be heard from the parking lot. The nervous little face of your nine year old son behind you stares out the window. He looks about ready to ask you to turn around and go home. His stark white brows lift, his messy, just as stark white tresses swing wildly when he turns his attention to you. 

“Hmm?”

You unclick your seatbelt to turn in your seat. “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” he sighs, fidgeting with the collar of his uniform. “I just…wanna win today.”

Bright blue eyes stare into yours, searching for reassurance. Those same blue eyes that remind you too much of the one person you’d like to avoid as much as possible today. Even so, you grin, nodding.

“Honey, you’re going to do great. You’ll win the game and Daddy and I will take you out after. We’ll take you even if you don’t win.” You wink.

“Dad’s coming?!” He beams, unbuckling his seatbelt excitedly. You knew the mention of his father would help.

“Yep, he should be here soon. I’m sure you’ll see him while I’m getting your snacks together.”

“Cool!” He scoots forward, throwing his small arms around you and your seat. “I’ll see you after the game, Mom. Gotta go warm up.” Your son swings the backdoor open and leaps out.

“Good luck!”

With a sigh, you climb out of the vehicle, popping the trunk open to grab your snack cooler. It’s your son’s last soccer game of the season. He wants his dad to watch him win, wants to make him happy. It’s cute. Though there’s not much he really needs to do to make his father proud. He could do anything and he’d be happy. Because the one good thing about Satoru Gojo is that he’s incredible at being a dad.

You and Satoru have separated for a while now, per your request. Satoru is an incredible father. You’ll never argue that. But as far as being a husband goes? Well, there were a few things about him that rubbed you the wrong way during your marriage that prompted you to ask for a separation. The main issue being that he just really gets on your fucking nerves. It’s almost like he goes out of his way to get under your skin. Satoru’s always been that way. At one point in time, it was endearing, exciting.

But your personalities began to clash and Satoru began to feel more like dead weight than your partner. It was just a matter of growing apart. The decision to leave Satoru was easy. It was staying away that was hard.

That’s why you’d jumped at the chance to do snacks for the boy’s team today. You and Satoru rarely enjoyed family events together. Not because you didn’t get along. You got along fine, whether Satoru was annoying or not. More for the fact that being in the same room with each other usually led to such thick sexual tension that you’d end up texting him to sneak over in the dead of night. 

And you were seeing someone else now. Satoru knew it. You knew it, obviously. And yet, you still worried that whatever insane hold Satoru still had on you would ruin your relationship.

But this event meant a lot to your son. He wanted his father here for this and you couldn’t say no to him. Besides, Satoru would be on the sidelines, cheering far, far away from you while you prepped the fruit slices and sandwiches in the small snack shed at the end of the field.

Halfway to the shed, you set the cooler down on the grass just when you feel your phone vibrate in your pocket. A small smirk graces your features seeing the name flicker across the screen with a text.

Baby: I’m running a little behind, but I’ll be heading out soon! Baby: Wish him good luck for me! You: Drive safe babe. No rush!

You’ve been dating your current boyfriend for a few months now. Things are going well…slow. But it’s fine. You don’t need the constant rush or excitement that you had with Satoru. That’s what you like about him anyway. That he’s not Satoru. And your son likes him well enough. That’s the most important thing.

You’d let Satoru know ahead of time that your boyfriend was coming and he didn’t seem to have an issue with it. At least, as far as you could tell. Satoru never was good at being honest about his feelings.

“Ohhh, is that your new future husband?” A familiar, grating voice sings into your ear and you roll your eyes because you know exactly who it is. Next to you stands Satoru, in all of his irritating glory.

He’s got that stupid grin that you know so well on his face, cocky as ever because he knows he looks good. He’s already basking in the way the soccer mom’s heads nearly fly off their necks spinning around just to look at him. Too damn tall for his own good and conceited as hell because he’s not a fucking idiot, Satoru knows he’s attractive. Top it off with those eyes he likes to wear sunglasses over just so he can relish in the gasps he receives when people see his aggressively blue eyes?

Satoru is a walking red flag if you’ve ever seen one.

He’s obnoxious. And yet your body still tosses all common sense out the window whenever you’re near him. Your heart stutters, your cheeks warm, your palms fucking sweat. It’s pathetic.

You scowl, tucking your phone away. “Mind your own business for once, Satoru.”

Satoru blinks, stunned for all of two seconds…and then throws his head back with raucous laughter. He slips his hands into his pockets and shrugs. "Well, I still pay the phone bill so it's not like I can't check to see who you're texting anyway."

Asshole. Your eyes narrow. "...Do you?"

There’s not a second of silence between you two before Satoru laughs again and points to the cooler, asking, "What's in there?"

His sudden redirection works, your eyes falling on to the cooler. “Oh, I’m on snack duty this week so everything’s in here.”

Satoru’s not paying much attention anymore, eyes scanning the soccer field until they land on your son. He waves, calling out “good luck!” across the field. You take advantage of his brief distraction and grab the cooler, moving toward the shed hurriedly. 

You feel Satoru’s presence trailing behind you within seconds, following you because of course he is.

“I can give you a hand with those if you want,” Satoru offers, long legs carrying him to stride next to you. You shake your head.

“I don’t want. Go watch the game and enjoy.”

You need distance. Being within a small, enclosed space with Satoru sounds like hell. Because you know it will take no time at all for him to talk you out of your pants. Satoru jogs ahead anyway, opening the door to the dingy shed for you and you move inside, setting the cooler down gently. 

“I insist.”

- - - - -

Satoru thinks it’s cute how stubborn you are. You’ve always been like that, bullheaded and impossible to move when you’re set in your ways. You always say Satoru has never changed and never will, but it’s really you. It’s one of the many things that made Satoru fall in love with you in the first place.

After your little proposal to separate, Satoru was heartbroken. He let you go, though. He was certain you’d come to senses, ask for him back eventually. It’s just been a waiting game for him. But now the game is taking too long. The more he waits, the further away you seem to be drifting from him. And now you’ve brought another man into the picture.

That’s the last thing he wants.

Satoru’s eyes track your movements across the shed. It’s fairly well maintained, albeit tiny. There’s a long table facing a small window and a single chair to sit on that you wave at Satoru to sit in. He doesn’t mind. He likes the view as he watches you bend over to open the cooler and rummage through the contents.

It reminds him of how things used to be. Reminds him of the times you’d brought your son to his games together, as a family. Reminds him of home.

The painful squeeze of his heart no longer catches him by surprise. He always feels it whenever he’s near you, whenever he hears your name, whenever he thinks of you. And he’s always thinking of you. 

It’s sick, really. Sometimes Satoru thinks he’s obsessed with you with how often he thinks of you, how often he checks his phone for a message or missed call from you, how often he fucks his hand to the thought of you. He’s not too prideful to admit it. He fucking daydreams about you, goes to sleep hoping you’ll be waiting for him when sleep carries him away.

You’d up and left him out of the blue, asking for a separation, your only reasoning being that you just don’t see a future with him anymore. Then you had the nerve to invite Satoru over only for the occasional booty call, have him damn near fuck you through the bed and slip out the door before sunrise. He didn’t mind the arrangement at first…

…But now you’ve moved on. And Satoru hates the fact that you've been out of his grasp all this time. He loathes that you’ve been in the arms of another man, that you’ve had someone else warming his side of the bed, let someone else taste you, hold you, feel you the way he used to.

You may be over Satoru, but Satoru is not and will never be over you. 

“You ever think about giving us another shot?” Satoru asks suddenly. He watches with amusement as you stand, back facing him and shoulders tense.

“Absolutely not,” you answer after a beat.

Satoru’s smile widens. “Why not? I’ve thought about it. Too much, probably.”

"Of course you've thought about it. You didn't leave me, I left you."

"And yet that still didn’t stop you from texting me to come over at 2 in the morning for months after.” Satoru leans forward in his seat, reaching one of his long fingers forward to run along the back of your thigh.

You swiftly slap his hand away and he chuckles. “Yeah, thankfully I don’t need to do that anymore.”

Satoru frowns. So easy to forget you’re seeing someone else when he has you right in front of him. Not that he gives a fuck.

Satoru’s been patient, he thinks, kind even. He’s let you have your fun and date around despite the way his blood boils listening to his son tell him what mommy's been up to lately. Lots of sleepovers with your little friend who's on his way now, apparently. Satoru can't fucking stand it. 

He rises from his seat, closing the gap between you when he slips his arms around your waist. And like always, you melt into his touch, even when you whisper “Satoru” as a warning. You inhale sharply, but don’t move his hands. You let him hold you even when he sits his chin atop your head, breathing in the sweet smell of your shampoo.

“What?”

“This is…it’s– this is just inappropriate,” you stammer. Your body is betraying you already, giving in so easily to Satoru’s touch like it always does. “You know I have a boyfriend.” You continue moving the fruit around, just to keep yourself busy to try to hide the way your heart feels like it’s about to beat out of your chest.

Satoru hums, the vibrations from his chest zipping through your body, igniting goosebumps along your skin. “Yeah, but I know it’s not serious.”

You scoff, a hand coming up to grip Satoru’s wrist when you feel his warm breath ghost across your skin.

“Is it serious?” He asks, voice barely above a whisper. He wants to know. He’ll back off if you tell him you’re really into this guy. Well, he might back off. Really depends on his mood.

“It’s…I don’t know.”

“If you don’t know, then it’s not that serious.” He chuckles, pressing a soft kiss just below your ear and you suck in a sharp breath.

“Satoru…” You try to chide, but it comes out as more of a pathetic whimper.

Satoru answers with a groan. “You don’t know what it does to me when you say my name like that.” He pushes closer to you, evidence of exactly what you saying his name like that pressed against your back. 

He’s so incredibly hard just from being this close to you again, inhaling your scent, feeling your soft body against his. God, it’s hard to not shove you down onto the table and fuck you now. But, he doesn’t want to scare you off because he knows at any moment you could change your mi–

His thoughts are cut off, a deep groan ripped from his throat when you roll your hips back, grinding your ass against his length.

“Shit…” Satoru sighs, nuzzling his face into the crook of her neck the way he knows you like. “Can you feel how much I want you?” He kisses your neck, nipping lightly at the smooth skin and you thrust your hips back harder. “You want me too, huh?”

“Yes!” You moan. You won’t even deny it. You couldn’t if you wanted to. You’re putty in Satoru’s hands and your body moves of its own accord. Satoru rolls his hips into your ass again, groaning loudly as his cock throbs within the confines of his pants. He wants you so bad, it fucking hurts.

“Let me taste you, baby,” Satoru pleads, hands slipping down to play with the waistband of your pants. “I haven’t had you in so long. I miss that pussy more than any–”

“God, you talk so fucking much. Just do it, Satoru,” you whine impatiently. Satoru laughs, kissing your cheek before he’s on his knees.

“Aaaalright.” He hooks his fingers into the waistband of both your pants and underwear and pulls them down in one swift motion.

Satoru leans back, admiring the view from his spot on his knees. Stunning is the only word appropriate to describe you. Bent over the table with your beautiful bare ass and dripping core exposed for him. His dick throbs painfully in his pants as his eyes focus on exactly where he’s been dreaming of seeing up close and personally for months now. 

And now that he has you for the moment, Satoru wants to enjoy you. He wants to savor you before his time is up. But he can’t help but want to make you squirm before he does, remind you that there will never be another man who can fuck you the way Satoru does. The thoughts only intensify as Satoru palms your ass, kneading the soft flesh just before he leans forward and places soft kisses to the backs of your thighs. He can feel the way your legs tremble in anticipation, how your breath hitches every time he inches a bit closer to where you want him the most. 

Then he’s pulling you back by your thighs, meeting you halfway to latch his hot mouth directly onto your pussy. He doesn’t waste a second, flicking his tongue over your clit right before he sucks the sensitive nub harshly, just the way he knows you like, a broken cry of his name falling from your lips.

A blend of your moans fill the room – yours from finally getting the touch you’ve been craving. Satoru’s from getting to taste you after all this time. The vibrations of Satoru’s moans shoot straight to your core, but the feeling doesn’t last long. He’s gone before you can fully enjoy his touch. You roll your hips back as you desperately search for Satoru’s mouth. You want him to do that again. You want him to devour you right where you stand. But Satoru won’t give that to you just yet. He leans back on his heels again, watching you whine needily, wiggling your ass in his face. 

“You know I love when you scream my name…” he leans forward again, kissing the soft skin of your bottom. “But you don’t want your little boyfriend to hear us, do you?”

Your eyes snap up, peering out of the small, now fogged window of the shed. Sure enough, your boyfriend is standing at the edge of the field. How the fuck did Satoru know he was here? God, he’s so annoying. It’s like he can see through walls or some shit. 

Just when you’re about to speak up, tell Satoru that this is a mistake, you find the only thing leaving your mouth is another desperate whine when Satoru gives your clit a small lick before pulling it into his mouth, sucking lightly. It has your head spinning, mouth falling open with a silent cry as he works his tongue back and forth between your folds.

“Oh my fucking godddd,” you mewl quietly, trying to roll your hips back, find more friction. But Satoru halts your movements with his hands. He runs his tongue, long and slow, over your clit. Your legs shake with every lick. Your heart races with every groan. Satoru is trying to take his time, trying to enjoy the sweet taste of your essence on his tongue. You’ve always tasted like a dream and having you again has his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he buries himself as deep as he can in your cunt and consumes you. 

“Make sure he doesn’t come over here,” Satoru mutters into your pussy. He brings a hand down to hurriedly work his pants open. He pulls his cock out, hissing into your core the moment the cool air touches it. His fingers spread his precum over his swollen length before he wraps hand around himself, stroking slowly. “Fuck.”

You stare outside the window, eyes half-lidded as Satoru absolutely loses himself in you. Your boyfriend scans the field, probably for you since you’re nowhere to be seen. You watch as he pulls out his phone, his fingers moving across the screen. Not even three seconds after he pockets his phone, yours vibrates, but you can’t focus on that when Satoru nips your clit hard and you damn near shriek his name as your orgasm tears through you.

You can hear Satoru panting, hear the way his fist pumps his cock as he drinks up every bit of your release. And then he’s on his feet, his free hand coming up to hold you by your jaw, holding your attention to your boyfriend.

You can barely make him out through the tears forming in your eyes. Satoru places sweet kisses along your face. He presses his cheek to yours, eyes locked on your boyfriend and you whimper when you feel his cock nudge your entrance.

“Be a good girl and keep an eye on him for me,” Satoru requests. “Okay?”

“Okay,” you gasp as Satoru pushes forward. 

He pushes forward, filling you so painfully slow. This is Satoru’s favorite part. He loves feeling the way your walls stretch deliciously to accommodate him, hug him so snugly inside of you. The weight of his cock inside you has you absolutely reeling, thighs shaking as you take all of him, just the way you used to.

You bite your lip, soft whimpers filling the small space as your eyes flutter shut. But Satoru nudges your cheek with his, your eyes snapping open again.

“Ah, ah. Watch him,” he commands through gritted teeth. “Need you to watch your boyfriend while I fuck what’s mine.”

Satoru kisses your cheek sweetly, then gives you about three seconds to adjust to the way he absolutely fills your pussy before he’s moving, bottoming out on every thrust that follows. 

“I could live in your pussy forever,” he groans, cock hardening as he watches you boyfriend wander like a fucking idiot around the sidelines. Satoru holds your face in his hands, squeezing your cheeks a little tighter. “Take me back. I know that fucker doesn’t make you feel the way I do.”

You whine, trying so hard to keep your eyes open while Satoru fucks into you with reckless abandon. The table bangs against the wall loudly and you hope that the noise of the game is enough to cover it up. 

“Take me back, baby,” Satoru begs. “I’ll be good this time.”

You shake your head, keeping your eyes closed. It’s so easy to lose yourself in him, to give him all of you. You want to believe him when he says he’ll change, but history has always proven you wrong. You just don’t work anymore.

Satoru pistons his hips, his cock nudging against a part of your walls that makes you keen.

“I’m so much better for you and you know it.” His hips pick up speed, his hand coming down to grip your hip so tightly you’re sure you’ll have a bruise there tomorrow. “Look at him.” He thrusts into you deeply, grunting in pleasure at the feel of you getting tighter around him as you watch your helpless partner. “He’ll never be able to give you this.” 

Your fingers find your clit and you rub in time with his thrusts and your mouths fall open together, moans escaping the both of you. It’s so hard to keep it down when it feels this fucking good.

Satoru can see your eyes have closed. It’s fine. He’s watching. He sees your boyfriend glance over to the shed, body turning as he makes his way over. His hips slam harder into yours and you bite your lip to hold in yet another scream. 

A part of him regrets asking you to keep it down. On the one hand, he'd love for your new man to hear you screaming his name while he empties his balls inside of you. But on the other hand, an all out brawl at his son's soccer game probably wouldn't look good. Not that he couldn’t take him anyway.

Your boyfriend’s about halfway to the shed when he stops in his tracks, reaching into his pocket to fish out his phone. He taps the screen, presses the phone to his ear and turns back around. He’ll probably be back soon, Satoru thinks. 

“As much as I love this,” Satoru thrusts into you hard, hitting that delicious spot again and making you whimper. “Need to wrap it up before your loser man comes back.”

You moan, fingers still working your clit as Satoru fucks you with everything he has to offer.  

“I’m never letting you go, you hear me?” He mutters between thrusts. “Your little boyfriend can’t fuck you like this, can’t give you what I can, baby.” It’s less dirty talk and more Satoru whimpering into your ear. “I love you and that’s never gonna change. You’re my wife. My wife. Mine.” 

His declaration of love shocks you, has your eyes rolling back as your orgasm shoots through you, a broken cry of his name ripping from your throat. 

Satoru turns your head, slamming his lips into yours to smother your cries as he pumps into you harder, faster. He grunts loudly into your mouth as he feels his cock pulse hard inside you, a guttural groan emerging from deep within his chest as hot spurts of cum shoot from his cock and paint your walls white with his seed.

You’re both gasping for air, desperately trying to catch your breath as reality sets in.

You just cheated on your boyfriend. You just fucked your ex-husband over a plate of fruit inside of a fucking shed.

That’s how strong of a hold this fucker has on you. You want to say you don’t work together, that Satoru irritates you to the point that you can’t stand to be in the same vicinity as him. In reality, you just have no power when it comes to Satoru. You don’t know why you fight it. It’s stupid to try because you know you wouldn’t be able to resist if you tried.

You sigh, pushing back against Satoru who gently pulls himself out of you with a soft hiss. You pull your pants back up and clear your throat. Outside the window, your boyfriend has returned to the soccer field, still gazing around the area for you.

“I have to go out there.” You tell Satoru. He hums, buttoning his pants.

“Yeah…”

You glance over your shoulder, watching as Satoru takes his seat again. Would it be worth trying with him again? You don’t know, but you do know one thing. Your body calls for him, becomes weak when he’s near. Maybe you’re not actually ready to move on because it doesn’t seem like you can.

Satoru catches you watching him and he beams, running his fingers through his snowy tresses.

“Can I expect to hear from you later tonight?” He questions. He knows the answer already. He just wants to hear you say it. But his eyes widen when you give him the answer he least expected.

“Come home with us after the game. We can talk about…us.”

[joelalorian]

Fall Into Me - Chapter Nine: I'd Fall for You Twice if That's What You Wanted

dbf!Joel x f!reader

Summary: Joel is hanging on by a thread as a single father to a tenacious 10-year-old Sarah. Feeling like he's drowning, like the world is about to spit him out, he needs some help before he breaks in half. At your dad's insistence, you show up in his life and change everything.

Story is inspired by the song Fall Into Me by Forest Blakk. Chapter titles will be lyrics from the song.

Word Count: 3.2k

Chapter Warnings: Explicit, under 18 take a hike. No outbreak AU. Lots of feelings. Sarah, Tommy, Emily, and JB unknowingly banding together for the win. Joel is his own warning. Inappropriate (or entirely appropriate?) use of a massager. Age gap of about 9 years (Reader 24/25, Joel 33/34). No use of y/n. Reader has a nickname used only by her dad and Joel uses various terms of endearment (darlin', sweetheart, etc.).

Thank you so much to everyone who reads this self-indulgent story and extra thanks to those who comment and/or reblog - you all make me feel like a rock star!

Dividers by the wonderful @saradika-graphics

Chapter Eight | Main Masterlist

“Girl, you’ve got it baaad,” Emily teased, watching you eye your phone every five seconds. The pair of you were getting drinks at your favorite watering hole the Saturday before your first full week of officially teaching.

“I can’t help it, Em. He’s got this, like, hold over me or something,” you replied sheepishly, one hand tucking your phone away in your back pocket. You were starting to annoy yourself with how often you checked for texts from Joel.

“You’re in love, that’s what happens.” Emily shrugged and sipped at her fruity mixed drink. “How’d the holidays go?”

Your expression lit up as you told Emily about your first major holidays with the Millers. Having spent some holidays with them while you were still away at school, your dad already fit into their family dynamic seamlessly. You were a happy and much-loved addition to the festivities and there was plenty of laughter among the adults at how badly Tommy botched dinner for both Thanksgiving and Christmas. Why Joel and your dad ever let him try again after the wreck that was Thanksgiving dinner was beyond you. Thankfully, your dad saved the day both times with his unparalleled grilling skills.

“So, it’s safe to say that JB’s still happy about you and Joel being together?” Emily asked after your own laughter at recounting the mess died down.

“Is he ever,” you replied with a shake of your head. “He loves to rib Joel on making an honest woman out of me. Joel takes it in stride, but I’m kinda afraid that it’ll scare him off if my dad keeps it up.”

“Oh, please! That man is clearly head over fuckin’ heels for you. Hell, he’s already told you and JB that he loves you, he’s not goin’ anywhere!” After taking another sip of her drink, Emily shot you a pointed look. “When the hell am I gonna meet Joel, anyway? I feel like you’re actively hiding him from me.”

You stilled.

Were you doing that? You didn’t think so, not at first, but… If you were honest with yourself, there was an element of truth to Emily’s accusation.

“Shit, Em. I’m not doing it purposefully, I swear,” you replied beseechingly, pausing to figure out how to properly explain things. Finding a scratch in the tabletop suddenly fascinating, you stared at it while continuing. “I just have to share him so much already, between Sarah and my dad, even his brother – not that I begrudge him spending time with any of them, especially Sarah! It’s just… when I have time with him, I want to keep him to myself. You know what I mean?”

God, that made you sound so selfish. You looked up to find Emily grinning at you.

“What?” you asked, confused.

“I’ve never seen you so in love. It looks good on you.” Emily clinked her now empty glass against your half-full one. “Just promise me that I’ll get to meet him soon. We could do a double date or something, so it doesn’t take away too much of your precious alone time.”

Over another round of drinks, you made plans for a few Fridays from now, quietly hoping Joel wouldn’t mind.

Heading home, you longed to see Joel, but it was late, and he was spending time with Sarah. He went to great lengths to make sure his daughter did not feel left out or neglected while the two of you explored your relationship, setting aside time for just the two of them to hang out. You loved that about him and knew how important that quality time was for Sarah. Besides, you planned to head over there tomorrow to get a little quality time of your own ahead of the busy week ahead.

In the morning, you slept in and lazed around the house for a while, taking the opportunity to relax and ease into your day while your dad puttered around until mid-day. You hadn’t heard from Joel, but that didn’t bother you – he knew you planned to come over. Around one o’clock, you headed over to the Millers, picking up some pizza and beer on the way.  

Pulling up in front of the house, you found your usual spot in the driveway taken by your dad’s truck while Tommy’s truck blocked the remaining space. With a huff you parked along the curb. You would have ordered more pizza if you knew everyone would be here.

“Howdy boys,” you greeted as you walked in. “I come bearing pizza and beer, though I fear we’ll need lots more with this crew.”

Only one set of eyes turned away from the football game playing on TV as they all greet you in return. Getting up from his beloved corner spot on the couch, Joel took the pizza and beer from your hands and placed them on the coffee table before pulling you into the kitchen for a proper greeting.

“Hi darlin’, I’ve missed you,” Joel murmured, his voice already raspy from yelling at the TV. He pulled you close until your bodies were flush together and kissed you deeply. Like a magnet, your fingers threaded through his messy curls, tugging gently as he nibbled your bottom lip.

“Mmm, I missed you, too, handsome. Didn’t know you were having company.”

Joel flashed his big cow eyes at you, eyebrows pinched together regretfully. “’M sorry, baby. I didn’t know they were coming by to watch the game ‘til they got here. Apparently, my TV is the best, so here they are. Hope that’s ok. I’ll kick ‘em right the hell out if you want me to.”

The thought did cross your mind.

“Nah, enjoy the game with the boys. I’ll sit with you guys for a bit then hang with Sarah until they leave.” Still wrapped in each other’s arms, you nuzzled the tanned skin of Joel’s neck and he hummed.

“You gonna stay over?”

You shouldn’t, not on a school night – your first as a bona fide teacher – but you had so little time together. “Sure. Just don’t keep me up too late, Mister. Those kids are exhausting, and I need my energy for the first day.”

“Miller! Stop neckin’ with my daughter and get your ass out here!” your dad’s voice bellowed through the house, causing the two of you to spring apart.

“Jesus, Dad,” you sighed, pecking Joel on the lips one last time before following him out to the living room. When would the game be over?

Surprisingly, you enjoyed the time watching the game with everyone. Even Sarah came down to join you all at half-time, book in hand, and sat between you and Joel reading. It was a lovely afternoon and a lovelier night as Joel held you in his arms, whispering words of praise into your hair until you fell into a deep slumber.

Your first week of teaching passed in a blur. After a month of assisting the prior teacher before his official retirement, the students knew you and respected your authority, setting the stage for an overall lovely experience. You started off with earth science lessons and most of the kids were engaged and eager to learn. Of course, you had a few little challenges with difficult students testing their boundaries, but you felt good about the way you handled each situation.

You stayed later after the students were dismissed, using the time to organize the room to your liking and get the lesson plans in order. Sarah perched at one of the long wooden tables working on her homework while you completed your tasks. The pattern offered you and Sarah some quality time together and the young girl found great enjoyment in putting you on the spot, especially when her dad was the topic at hand.

“JB keeps telling dad he needs to marry you,” Sarah blurted randomly Friday afternoon. “Do you want to?”

Staring at her wide-eyed, unsure what to say, you merely shrugged. Why was everyone so focused on the two of you getting married? You only started dating a few months ago!

Tilting her head to the side with a little smirk, Sarah replied, “That’s not a ‘no’.”

She was getting to be as bad as your dad and Tommy.

“You could be my stepmom! I always wanted one since I didn’t get to have a regular mom.”

Despite Sarah’s cheerfulness at the idea, your heart ached for all the real mom-related experiences she didn’t get to have. You knew exactly how that felt. If marrying Joel wasn’t already something you hoped for in the future, it would be after hearing Sarah expressing her desire for a stepmom, for you as a stepmom.

Sarah kept talking, while you lost yourself in thought.

Would you be a good stepmom?

God, you hoped so.

You never had one, JB chose to never get too serious with anyone after your mom, but you heard enough horror stories from your friends about their own stepmoms through the years. It sounded like a thankless job. But all the people you knew with stepparents had both birth parents still in their lives, so maybe your experience would be different.

The late bell chimed, drawing you out of your ever-spiraling thoughts.

“Come on, nugget. Let’s get you home,” you said, pushing thoughts of marriage and step parenthood to the farthest recesses of your mind.

“If you’re not gonna marry my dad, could you at least move in with us? It would be so great if you lived with us!”

Jesus fucking Christ in a handbasket. This kid sure knew how to keep you on your toes.

Leaning over the bar top with hunched shoulders and an aching back, Joel picked at the label on the beer bottle. He didn’t often visit the bar after work, not since Sarah came into his life, but he finally had some extra money and felt like treating himself. You stopped letting him pay you months ago, when the two of you became more to each other than just babysitter and boss, and he stashed that money away each week, saving it for what he didn’t know.

At his side, Tommy carried on about some chick he met a few weeks ago. A pretty attorney who was way out of his league and already turned him down twice. Like a dog with a bone, Tommy showed no signs of giving up yet.

“You better be careful, brother. She may get a restraining order against you if you don’t take it easy,” Joel said, voice a rich rumble.

Tommy waved him off with a chortle. “Oh please. She’s loving it. Chicks like that like being pursued.”

“If you say so.” Joel didn’t know this woman or what she liked, but he knew for a fact that you would hate it if a guy relentlessly pursued you after turning him down, not once, but twice. He smiled at the thought of you kicking a guy like that in the fucking balls to prove that you were very much not interested.

He full on laughed at the thought of you kicking his little brother in the balls, causing Tommy to glance sideways at him.

“What’s so funny, huh?”

“Nothin’,” Joel grumbled, clearing his throat. Thoughts of you continued to invade his mind, just like they always did. You were always on his mind, and he loved it. If only you were always in his bed… Joel cleared his throat. “Hey, uh. How do you know if it’s too early to ask a girl to move in?”

Tommy groaned. “Why you always askin’ me this shit? How am I supposed to know? I have less actual relationship experience than you do.”

“Who else am I supposed to ask, huh? JB? Don’t imagine that’d go over too well,” Joel replied with a defeated shrug, but Tommy conceded the point.

“You need more friends, man.” Clearing his throat, Tommy gave it a moment’s thought. “Well, the way I see it, you love her, and she loves you, everyone knows it, and JB and Sarah are both happy for the two of you. Moving in together seems like the logical next step, right?”

Joel nodded, still uncertain.

“Only the two of you can know if the pace is right. Seems to me like you both waited long enough for the right one to come along. You’ve both been through some shit, why waste any more time?”

Damn, when did his little brother become so insightful?

“Alright, I get your point. Do you think she’ll say yes if I ask?” As secure as he was in your love for each other, Joel still floundered a bit at each new step in the relationship department.

“I dunno, brother. You’re just gonna have to grow a pair and find out.”

“Fuckin’ grow a pair,” Joel grumbled, punching Tommy in the arm, hard.

The pair bickered through another round, like brothers do, before calling it an evening. Eager to see you and Sarah, Joel didn’t want to waste away the evening in the bar with Tommy. As they walked out to their trucks, Tommy stopped Joel with a hand on his shoulder.

“Listen, brother. In all seriousness, I think she’ll say yes, so just ask, ok?”

Joel nodded his thanks and confirmed plans for watching the game at his place on Sunday, before climbing into his truck. The trip home didn’t take long, and for that Joel was grateful. His back ached after a busy week of hard labor followed by an hour sitting hunched over the bar. He’d kill for a massage.

The house was quiet when he walked in, no sign of you or Sarah on the ground floor. Kicking off his work boots and dropping the truck keys onto the hook near the door, Joel slowly climbed the stairs to the second floor.

Light flooded into the hall from Sarah’s bedroom, the sound of giggles and low voices echoing in the air. He moved slowly, quietly, until he could just peek around the door jamb. You sat on Sarah’s bed, the little girl perched in front of you, as you braided her wiry curls.

The sight melted Joel’s insides into a gooey puddle.

This. This was exactly what he wanted to come home to everyday.

He had to ask you to move in.

Just as he straightened up with a silent groan, ready to enter the room, Sarah’s sweet little voice left him frozen in place.

“I think you’d make the best stepmom.”

“This again,” you griped playfully. “You do, huh? Why?”

Was this something Sarah brought up before? Joel held his breath, waiting for Sarah’s response.

“Because you love my dad and you love me, you’re always kind even when things go wrong, you’re smart, and you like spending time with me. But most of all, because you do the things a mom does even though you’re not my mom and you don’t have to.”

He caught your gasp even though you tried to hide it from Sarah. You were as affected by Sarah’s heartfelt, innocent confession as he was. His adorable, sweet little girl knew you’d make a great stepmom and he agreed with all her reasons. If possible, he fell further in love with you in that moment after seeing you through his daughter’s eyes.

“Well, you’re right, nugget. I do love you and your dad, and I hope that one day, when the time is right, I can be your stepmom. Until then, we’ll just keep doing what we’re doing, ok? I’ll still love you to pieces even without the official title.”

You choked out the words, on the verge of tears, and Joel felt his own eyes begin to water. Unable to bear it any longer, he swept through the doorway and pulled you both against his chest in a big bear hug. His precious girls. He loved you both more than words could express.

“Daddy! You’re squeezing too tight! Imma burst!” Sarah shrieked with laughter as he tossed her onto the bed and began tickling her with one hand, his other still holding your close.

“Did you…” Your eyes searched his, a hint of worry hiding in their depths, and Joel grinned, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead.

“I heard it all,” Joel confirmed, confidence bolstered knowing you wanted to marry him at some point. Conveying every feeling held in his heart through his eyes, he added, “Move in with us. Please.”

Your eyes flicked back and forth between his, searching for confirmation. “Are you sure?”

“I’ve never been surer of anything in my life, darlin’.”

The three of you celebrated with ice cream after you agreed to move in with them before putting Sarah to bed. By then, Joel’s back ached something fierce and you offered to use the message gun he forgot he had.

“Lay face down on the bed, my love,” you directed, watching with adoration as he tugged the shirt over his head, jeans hanging low on his hips. The muscles rippled in his arms and back as he settled on the soft mattress. “Ready?”

“Yes,” Joel murmured, huffing when you climbed over him to straddle his ass.

Turning on the massage gun, you put it on the middle setting and pressed the ball against the flesh of his traps. Even through the device, you could feel how tight those muscles were. It must be where he held his tension. Over the next half hour, you worked the massager over his back, soaking in the grunts that bordered on pain and relief. Somewhere along the way, the groans turned pleasurable, and Joel rolled onto his back, leaving you to straddle his thighs as the bulge in his jeans grew.

Joel’s hands moved to undo the button on his jeans, but you batted his hand away with a mischievous grin. With wide, wondrous eyes, he watched you adjust the setting on the massager and run it along the seam of his pants.

“Oh fuck,” he hissed, cock twitching with interest at the vibration. “Don’t stop.”

Hands gripping your hips, he bucked up into the delightful buzz of the massager, a steady stream of moans falling from his lips as the vibrations spread from his balls upwards to the head of his cock. Fuck, if it felt that good through his jeans, how good would it feel directly on his cock?

“Do you want me to increase the speed setting?” you purred, pressing the massager harder against him.

“Oh God, fuck. Yes… ungh. Please.” The words fell from his lips in a series of whimpers as you adjusted the settings. Within moments, he moaned a bit too loudly and came in his pants. You didn’t let up on the pressure though, the vibration drawing out his orgasm until every last drop of his load was blown and his body nearly convulsed with the overstimulation.

Chest heaving, he watched you switch off the massager and run your fingers along the large wet spot on his jeans, his cock twitching tiredly in response.

“That was fucking sexy,” you murmured, enthralled with the mess you just made of him.

“Yeah? Lemme see that thing. Think it’s my turn now, pretty girl.”

Tbc

Taglist: @mellymbee @untamedheart81 @anoverwhelmingdin @runningmom94 @leilanixx

@pedropascalfan221 @lovelyjess69 @sarahhxx03 @sofiparallel @tammythr

@lulawantmula @islacharlotte @allyourfavesinoneblog @lover-of-books-and-tea @pedropascalsbbg

@ashleyfilm @brittmb115 @lilmizmoz @loveisacowboyyy @shotgun-shelby

@deninoe @casssiopeia @caitlynsixxx @skysmiller @missladym1981

@marirxse @lizzie-cakes @tynakub

[purplestanleypinkblanket]

A Witch Hunt, Moonlit Solace (1):

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Reader

Rating: M (16+)

Summary: While on a witch hunt, you and the boys unknowingly walk yourselves into a trap. A trap that opens up old feelings you have long tried to forget.

Warnings: Minor mentions of violence and blood, supernatural elements (aka witches and hex bags), mild language, heavy angst, mild unwanted physical contact (witch taunting the reader), Implied childhood trauma (is only in the final sentence but will be marked a different color and font, as well as will have a warning leading up to it. Implied childhood trauma is spoken about 'being that little girl again' and 'feeling alone'.) Reader experiences illness. Cliff hanger!

Genre: Supernatural, action, slow burn, hurt/comfort (in a sense), angst.

Word Count: 2,923

Master list: Coming Soon!

"Find anything?" Your voice echoed in the bunker's library as you leaned over Dean's shoulder, eyes on the laptop screen. One of your hands rested on the back of his chair while the other was on the table, both supporting your weight.

Dean glanced up at you, unable to keep his eyes on you for long after your last encounter in the garage. It wasn't an awkward moment, so why did he feel so...vulnerable...looking at you now?

"Yea. Some people went missing in Salem, Massachusetts. Looks like it could be worth taking a look at." His voice was slightly rough, well, rougher than usual. Dean lifted his hand off the laptop, bringing it to run over his lower face, thumb trailing his jaw.

"Sounds like you found us a job, Dean." You smiled brightly, relieved for a reason to leave the bunker. It had been a few weeks since the vampire hunt and your itch to see something other than the same damn walls was coming back.

"I don't know if you should come this time." Dean spoke up, sighing as he leaned into the chair, his back pressing against your hand.

"Wait, what?" Your eyebrows rose in surprise, had you heard him, right? He didn't want you to come? You had been with them for almost three years! Sure, it wasn't until recently that you had taken up the stabbing side of hunting, but you worked hard to be helpful!

Dean looked up at you, a frown falling on his lips. As if he could sense every single thought in your head, he spoke, "You just haven't been in-the-field hunting for very long, sweetheart." He lied, hoping his excuse was enough to mask the concern he felt. Dean couldn't just tell you that he suspected witches to be the perpetrators in Salem. Or that everyone disappearing were women who had similar features to you. He didn't need you to stress, to worry, or worse- to insist on coming even more so. You had always been so protective of others in your gender group. Dean could remember the day a man was hitting on a woman who wasn't the least bit interested in a bar you lot were at. He had never seen you rise into action faster than that moment; your fist met the man's face before Dean could even blink.

"Dean." Your serious voice broke him from his trance, "I don't give a flying fuck whether or not I've been in the field long. If people need help, I want to be there." A mutual, unspoken need to look out for the other passed between you. God, your stubbornness frustrated him. Despite how much it aggravated him, it was also endearing. You stuck up for what you believed in. That was something he admired about you.

"We don't even know for sure what we're hunting." Dean countered.

"Do you have any ideas?" You argued back, arms crossing over your torso as you stood strong.

Dean scowled softly at you, a look you returned instantly. A beat passed between you, a silent battle raging. Non verbalized words floated between the two of you.

'You're not coming,' he adamantly straightened his shoulders.

‘Yes I am. You can't stop me.' Rising to his challenge, you also straightened your shoulders, eye’s narrowing.

'Wanna test that theory?' You watched as his eyebrow lifted in the corner just slightly, a small cue to the deep rooted determination he felt. 

Finally, Dean let out an exasperated huff. "Damn it, fine. Just don't do anything stupid, got it? Don't be a hero." A beaming smile crept onto your face at his surrender, it wasn't every day you won an argument against Dean. With a victorious stance, you eagerly leaned down and pressed a thoughtless peck to his face. You knew he didn't want you to come but, boy, were you glad you could. Perhaps you did it because you wanted to cheer him up, to show him appreciation. Or, maybe, it was because of the bad feeling burrowing itself deep into your gut. All too suddenly, you were fully aware of your lips pressed to his cheek. You were aware of how delicate the action was, how your eyes had fluttered for a split second at the contact. Your eyes widened as you froze, you wanted to pull away, you were desperate to. Your face paled just before the storm, humiliation filling you. 

Pulling away far too quickly than you should've, you brought your hand to your lips. Desperate to say anything, to relieve the suddenly uncomfortable awkwardness you felt, you started to speak.

"I...."

Your face burned red hot- a dead giveaway to the deadly embarrassment flooding you. Why on earth would you kiss him?! Why make it awkward! Why wasn't he responding? You watched his jaw clench slightly, the bones of it flexing and unflexing. Dean wasn't moving, his gaze focused ahead. Oh god, what if he tried to talk to you about it? You could only dread the possibilities. With a stutter, you ushered a quick apology, racing towards the stairs in an attempt to escape the situation. Despite having reached the top of the stairs, you paused, looking back at him for a split second, waiting- no, welcoming him to say something. When he didn't speak, or even move, you left.

Dean hadn't untensed from your touch until after you were gone, his face pale as his mind wracked any form of connotation behind the kiss. He wished you had stayed longer and had given him a chance to speak. He wanted to explain why he tensed under you. He wanted to tell you that he was terrified to move only to find out you weren't there. He wanted the kiss to mean more but he found himself scared of that. Dean was petrified of caring for you, and you getting hurt because of it…of him. He looked towards the stairs you had raced up, a frown on his lips. If he had moved, had leaned into the kiss, had grabbed you before you could leave; would you have stayed? Deep down, Dean wanted you to come back, to tell him what it meant.

The only sound in the quiet drive to Salem was Sam. You and Dean had avoided each other for the last few hours, trying to hide from the awkwardness from earlier. 

"All women victims, none have been found..." His voice drowned on, just becoming another distant sound as you stared out the window.

Pain.

Searing, red-hot pain filled your limbs.

You looked down at your shaking hand. Before your eyes, claws sprouted from your nails. Jagged, desperate pleading fell from your lips but all that all that came out was an angry, pained roar.

"Hey, sweetheart." Dean's hands shaking your shoulders brought you back to reality, "You alright?"

"I..." Your gaze was frantic as you looked around, eyes finally landing on Sam and Dean. They had opened the door you sat next to; Dean was leaning inside while Sam peaked in. Concern was evident on both of their faces. "Yea, yea, I'm fine. Sorry." You murmured, shaking your head to get the delusions off your mind. The lingering stretching pain in your limbs continued to haunt you. "Just...spaced out there for a second." You shrugged, grasping Dean's hand as he helped you out of the car. Looking around, you immediately noticed all the small mom and pop shops filled with gothic or Victorian style elements. The town really seemed to embrace they're witch-rich history.

"I'll go get us a room." Sam spoke up after a beat, his eyes moving between you and Dean who still held onto your hand. You glanced at Sam, nodding. You remained silent; your mind still focused on what you had felt in the car.

Pain.

Soul-breaking pain. Your limbs cracked and snapped every which way, followed by a howl of pain each time.

"Hey," Dean called out to you, voice soft and low. His thumb trailed over the back of your hand, grazing along your knuckles. The action was simple enough, but it was exactly what you needed to return to the moment. The warmth of his skin was the perfect reassurance, the comfort of having him so close seemed to soothe the tremble of your fingers. "What's going on?" He asked, concern evident.

"I don't know." You confided, free hand finding your head. "But my head aches like hell." Dean frowned softly, pressing the back of his hand and knuckles to your forehead.

"You're super pale, and sweaty." He observed, brows knitted together as he wiped your sweat off onto your hoodie. Dean kept your hands together, savoring the feeling of your skin against him. He hated the circumstances that surrounded it though, he hated knowing you only let him do so because you needed the comfort.

"Yea, I feel like my body's stretching past its limits." You admitted, voice shaky.

"Why don't you stay in tonight?" Dean offered in a demanding tone. It wasn't a choice he was giving you, even if it was phrased as one.

Instantly, you shook your head, "No. I'll be fine, I just need to eat something, I think." You argued, eyes watching his jaw clench in reluctance. "Really, Dean. I'll be fine." You pleaded with him, hand tightening around his. You watched the internal struggle behind his green eyes. On one hand, he wanted to be able to keep an eye on you. Dean wanted to make sure you were fine, and he couldn't do that if you were in the hotel room. However, he was also worried about you. You were acting odd, spaced out. Like your mind was in a hundred different places but nowhere all at once. He wanted you to rest, to get better.

"We both know if you don't let me come with you and Sam, I'll just wander about by myself." You informed him, as if you could read every thought in his mind.

With a sigh, he finally relented, "Fine but you're staying in the car." He watched your grateful smile form, his hand squeezing yours slightly. He was happy you were smiling, proud even. Although, as the evening went on, Dean couldn't help but wonder if the price was really worth it.

You had been getting worse by the hour. You grew paler, face sickly, your limbs ached and burned more by the minute. Your hair had begun to stick to your face from sweat despite the freezing temperature of your body. Every time Sam and Dean returned to the car, Dean instantly noticed the slight differences in you. You no longer asked about how their questioning went. You never even noticed they were back in the car until the doors slammed.

"Sweetheart." Dean called out to you, snapping you from your trance. The look of concern on his face spoke volumes. Guilt swarmed you, you didn't want to be another burden- another issue. Not when all these women were going missing.

"They tell you anything?" You flashed a sweet smile that failed to reach your sunken eyes.

"Yea, they told us a lot. It's bigger than we thought." Sam added, "Maybe we should check in for the night. It's pretty late anyway." It was late? Your eyebrows shot up in surprise as you looked out the window, it was practically night.

"When...?" You started, startled by the sudden time shift. It felt like it was daytime not even five minutes ago. The cobblestone streets and iron decorative light posts added an eerie feeling to the neighborhood. Dean began the drive back to the motel, casting occasional looks at you through the rearview mirror. He hoped that if he stared long enough then the answer of what is plaguing you would be revealed.

Sam's voice filled the silence as he told you about what they discovered, "Supposedly, these women had started acting weird before they disappeared. They would start to look super sick. Stopped showing up to work, constantly talked about their limbs hurting." Sam shared a look with Dean, both of them clearly disliking how similar the experiences sounded to yours.

"Aint I flattered." You grumbled; voice hoarse. "So, who did it? Some kind of siren? Maybe a dragon?" You listed off the first creatures that came to your mind.

"It's a witch. We found hex bags in the victim's purses." Dean sighed.

The car fell silent as Dean parked at the motel.

"Hex bags...?" You frowned.

"Hex bags." Dean echoed, and, with sudden determination, hopped out of the impala as he strode towards the room.

"Dean?" Sam called out; voice filled with confusion. You shared a glance with Sam, brows furrowed, before you both clambered out of the car and raced to follow him. The door to the motel room was wide open and Dean was inside, your bag in his hands as he tossed your clothing and essentials out.

"Dean!" You gasped, racing forward to stop him. "What the hell are you doing?!" You demanded.

After a few minutes of trying to wrestle your bag from Dean's ripping grip, he pulled out a small hex bag.

"That's it. We're leaving." He adamantly decided. "Sammy, back our shit up in the car. I'll go pay the receptionist." Before either of you could interject, Dean was already out the door. You and Sam shared a look, confusion and concern evident. You cast your gaze down, staring at the hex bag that Dean had thrown aside angrily.

"Sam-..." You started, voice pleading. Women were going missing here, and maybe using this situation to your advantage could help you save those who had yet to fall target.

"Dean's right." Sam voiced; lips pursed with concern. On one hand, he wanted to help prevent other women from becoming victims. But on the other hand, he refused to let you sacrifice yourself. He and Dean had lost so much to the hunting life, and he refused to let you be another name on the list. He wouldn't do that to Dean, he couldn't. Gathering his and Dean's bags, Sam turned to you. "Look, I'm going to put these in the car, then we'll wait for Dean to get back. We'll find a way to fix whatever is going on." His tone was filled with a promise to you. You nodded, guilt and relief wracked your system as he walked out of the room, leaving you alone. You wanted to help these people, wanted to stop whatever was happening to them. Yet, you couldn't deny the relief you felt at the idea of leaving the town haunting you.

It had been almost fifteen minutes since Sam and Dean had left the room. You expected at least Sam to be back by now. With protective hesitance, you stepped outside the room. Cold night nipped your skin as you looked around the parking lot, no sign of Sam near the impala.

"Sam?" You called out, voice holding a strength you currently didn't have.

No response.

Looking around, you stepped towards the impala. "Sam...?"

Still nothing.

Sucking in an ice-cold breath, you frantically looked around, "Dean?" Any strength in your voice was gone when Dean hadn't responded. You could feel your heart pick up its pace as you moved towards the main area that the front desk resided in. Stepping inside, you noticed just how trashed the room was, as if a fight had occurred. Papers and utensils were scattered, chairs flipped and torn. Blood coated the walls and wood lined floor in inconsistent splotches. You knew Dean wasn't here, but that didn't stop the frantic call of your voice. "Dean, please." You stepped into the room more, hand reaching for the small silver pocket knife in your jeans. "I swear to fucking god, Winchester..."

"I don't think God would take too kindly to that." Someone interrupted you. The voice was cold, icy. Whipping around, your eyes landed and a brunette witch with pale eyes, a grin on her lips. Her presence was overwhelming. Just her stare made you want to run away and cry for your mommy. Standing straight, you pulled out your silver pocket knife, arming yourself.

"What in hell did you do to him?" You growled out, prepared to fight. "Tell me or I'll-"

"Or you'll what? Pretty me to death?" The witch taunted. You stepped towards her, suddenly aware of how sluggish your body was. How exhaustion wracked you. With determination, you continued to move towards her despite your failing body. Your jaw clenched when you found yourself stumbling to your knees in front of her, blade falling from your hand. The ache in your limbs was overpowering, and your eyes felt as if they hadn't found solace in sleep for almost a year. "You fought pretty damn well." The witch pointed out, patting your head as if you were a new trophy, "Lasted far longer than the others. And you're still going!" She laughed. "Yes, you'll do nicely."

Darkness closed in around you as you fell to the floor, no longer able to fight back whatever charm she had put on you. You felt alone, scared. Dean wasn't there, he wasn't there to take your hand, to call you sweetheart. Sam wasn't there to tell you lighthearted stories that humiliated his brother.

(Warning: Implied childhood trauma)

It all came crashing to you how alone you truly were right now. How you hadn't felt this alone since... A sob wracked your body.

Just like that, you were the little girl you tried so hard to leave behind. 

[bullet-prooflove]

Bitter - Mike Duarte x Terry Bruno x Reader

Tagging: @crazy4chickennuggets @kmc1989 @oureternalbond  @legit9thlunaticwarrior @witches-unruly-heart @annetje @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @chavez-ashley @kiwiithecrazybird @irishavengersassemble @xoxabs88xox @rosaliedepp

Mike is a fucking mess.

A kid died in his arms today and he can’t get the fucking image out of his head. He just sits there at the bar, reliving it over and over and over again as he throws shot after shot of whiskey down his throat.

He still sees the moment the light died in that kid’s eyes. Twelve years old and struck down by a bullet right outside his own home, a retaliation attack for something his father had done. Mike hadn’t even been on duty; he’d just been grabbing a pack of smokes from the bodega on the corner when he’d heard the gun go off.

He doesn’t acknowledge you when you slip onto the barstool alongside of him. The scent of your perfume floods his nostrils, the subtle scent of jasmine and he takes a second to breathe it in. There’s a comfort in your presence but he doesn’t want it.

That darkness is rising up in him, he can taste the bitterness of it on his tongue. He wants to scream, he wants to rage, he wants to put a bullet in the head of the bastard that murdered a little kid. He’s furious right now, absolutely fucking livid and he can’t seem to temper that feeling.

“I’m sorry.” You say softly and he says nothing, he simply stares into the bottom of his glass wishing that you would just fuck off. “Why don’t you let me drive you home?”

“I’m not going home.” He tells you as he hails the bartender with his empty glass.

“Mike, I think that’s enough…”

He doesn’t know why that’s the phrase that makes him snap, it’s like something inside of him just explodes and he can’t help himself.

“You’re not my fucking mother.” He snarls at you. “I don’t fucking need you to tell me what to do.”

“You wanna be an asshole?” You snap, reaching past him to snatch up his keys. “Fine, but I’m taking these so you don’t end up killing yourself.”

His hand lashes out, enclosing over your wrist. Your clothes brush against his and he looks into your eyes, your lips barely centimetres apart.

“You need to back the fuck off.”

“This isn’t you.” You say, your voice lowering an octave as you stare into his eyes. Your grasp on his keys tightens, the jagged edges digging into your palm.

“This is me.” He spits. “This is who I really am and I’m sorry if you don’t like it Mi Vida.”

He says the term of endearment with such fucking spite it makes you flinch.

“Mike…” You say softly, your fingers coming up to brush his cheek. He slaps your hand away because he can’t stand the intimacy, the compassion in your eyes, in your touch.

“Don’t…” He can tell his voice betrays him, the way it breaks.

You pull away and he just can’t bring himself to reach out for you. It’s Terry’s hand on this shoulder that changes things, the sensation of his thumb chasing up the nape of his neck as he slides onto the stool on alongside Mike. He’s always found the other man’s presence grounding and for the first time since he washed the kid’s blood off his hands Mike feels himself exhaling.

“Maybe you can talk some sense into him.” You say, shaking your head before disappearing from the bar.

Mike doesn’t even watch you go; he simply turns his attention back to his drink surveying the amber consistency.

“You know you were an asshole to her right?” Terry says, studying the profile of Mike’s features before he picks up his beer to take a sip.

“Do I need to be an asshole to you too in order to get a little peace?” Mike asks him, his thumb chasing over the curvature of the glass.

“The difference is, I know you don’t mean it.” Terry points out, gesturing with his beer bottle.

“For fuck’s sake.” Mike rolls his eyes to the ceiling.

“You wanna drink until you can’t see that’s fine. You need me to carry you home not a problem, but let’s cut the bullshit.” Terry says, tilting his head so that can meet Mike’s eyes. “You’re upset, you’re angry, you saw something fucking terrible today and you’re lashing out because you don’t know how to cope with it.”

“I hate you.” Mike tells him, throwing the shot of whiskey down his throat.

“No.” Terry says. “You don’t.”

Silence falls between the two of them. Terry lets it hang, his gaze straying to the TV behind the bar. There’s a game on but he doesn’t care whose playing. He’s waiting for Mike, because he knows there’s something on the tip of his tongue.

“I didn’t mean what I said. I just wanted her to go away.” He says finally, shaking his head. “She cares too much, more than I deserve. She doesn’t understand that I need to sit with this, to feel it. She wants to make everything better but some stuff… You just can’t.”

“I can understand that.” Terry tells him, tapping a fingertip to the space where his heart resides. “You want to keep hold of that feeling because it fuels you, it gives you a sense of purpose but a feeling like that, it can consume you. If you let it, it will eat you up inside. I don’t want that for you and neither does Nora.”

Mike’s gaze fixes on the bottles along the back of the bar, his fingertips tapping on the surface before he inclines his head towards Terry.

“I don’t deserve her.” Mike tells him. “I don’t deserve either of you.”

Terry’s hand comes to rest upon Mike’s, his fingertips tracing over the scars that line the back of his hand before their fingers entwine.

“Captain, my Captain.” He teases as Mike turns his head towards him. “You deserve the fucking world.”

Fan of our boys? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[thethreeeyed-raven]

Hello, I don’t know if you wrote for male readers and if you don’t please ignore this request, but I would like to request an Eloise x Prince reader, he is trying to court her ever since he saw her at a ball but she is herself so it is difficult for him to court her because of her distaste for men.

Have a good day

She will not marry me

navigation | warnings : none? | a/n : if this isn’t what you wanted then i’m sorry, let me know if you want a part two :) | bridgerton masterlist | tags : @knight-of-flowerss @lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom

↠ part two | ↠ part three

Queen Charlotte had failed to find a match for her nephew, the Prince Frederick of Prussia, so she had decided to invite another one of her nephews into the country, you.

Since you had stepped foot into her palace, she had been forcing you to attend balls, with mama's throwing their daughters at you in hopes of a marriage proposal.

But you had your eye on one woman in particular.

Eloise Bridgerton had captured your eye at one of your Aunt's balls just a few months ago, her eccentric behavior from across the room drawing you in.

You had come to learn that the slightly smaller woman she was always with was Penelope Featherington, her mother was constantly bothering you with one of her other daughters.

And you had come to learn that the man she was always chatting with was her brother Benedict Bridgerton.

You quite enjoyed the company of her brother, conversing of art and architecture. But you had yet to have a chat with the beauty herself.

"Benedict!" You approached him with a smile on your face, ready to envelope him in a small hug.

"Y/n! How are you? Has the Queen introduced you to more of the eligible ladies of the Ton?" Benedict chuckled, you following after.

"Not yet, but the night has just begun."

As you both conversed, you had failed to notice the woman that was approaching you both.

"Brother! You must help me!"

"What is it now Eloise?" Benedict rolled his eyes at his sisters hysterics.

"Mother is trying to set me up with some old wrinkly lord! The man can't even carry an intellectual conversatio-" She exclaimed.

"Eloise."

Benedict's warning didn't stop Eloise from her angry rambling, you thought it was endearing.

"Eloise!"

"Benedict, I'm being serious-" Eloise exclaimed, before stuttering and turning her head towards you who stood waiting patiently.

She looked between you and Benedict. "Benedict, who is this?"

Benedict smiled apologetically at you, but you simply dismissed it with a wave of your hand.

"It is a pleasure to meet you at last Miss Bridgerton. I am Prince Y/n, one of the Queen's many nephews."

"Ah, yes. Lovely to meet you, yes." Eloise shook your hand exasperatedly and dragged Benedict away from you.

"You have that love-sick look in your eye." Your Aunt Charlotte ripped you attention away from the tiny intricate plate which sat in front of you. "I like it."

You peered at her from over your cup, watching the smirk on her face turn into a grin.

"So, my dear Y/n, who is making you feel like this?"

You set your cup down on the saucer, unimpressed. "Why does it always have to be someone?"

"So it is someone!" Charlotte clicked her fingers and ordered everyone out of the room. "Who?"

"I-" You wet your sudden dry lips before continuing. "I don't know if you would approve of her Auntie."

Charlotte reached over and grabbed your free hand which rested on the table. "I don't care who it is as long as they make you happy."

"She doesn't want to marry."

Charlotte's smile dropped.

"She certainly won't marry a Prince. Eloise Bridgerton will not marry me."

"Eloise...Eloise..." Charlotte said in thought. "She will marry you, with a little convincing.

She gave you a wink and exited the room, leaving you to shake your head in exasperation.

[circle--of--confusion]

The Cardinal and the Seamstress

Hello, all! This is my first Ghost fanfic! I have been in a Dracopia brainrot due to a knitting project I'm formulating and then I saw an edit that got my brain cogs CHURNING. Hopefully you enjoy!

Pairing: (dracopia) Cardinal Copia x OC

Summary: the Cardinal is suddenly thrust into the spotlight and finds solace in the clergy's sewing departments' assistant, Sarah

Warnings: mentions of blood, biting

Words: ~1.7k

Chapter 1 - Introductions and Intrigue

| ONE | TWO | THREE | FOUR | FIVE |

Read on AO3

MASTERLIST

banner and dividers courtesy of: gothdaddyissues AND ghuleh-recs

Cardinal Copia is a man who considers himself someone who cannot be distracted easily. Centuries on this Earth have taught him the focus he needs to bring the Clergy to great success over the years, up to the leadership of Papa Emeritus the Third. Terzo. Lately, however, Copia’s mind keeps wandering while he looks over ancient texts for future Black Mass sermons. There’s... instability brewing amongst the higher-ranking members. Sister Imperator has kept her mouth shut during this whole ordeal. Terzo is no longer going to front the Ghost project but there hasn’t been any word on who will be the next Papa.

At least, this is what Copia tells himself that this is what his mind is occupied about. It can’t help that the new clergy seamstress assistants keep coming to him with fabric samples. Why should he care? Its just a new cassock. What good would his opinion be on fabric? Though, he will admit, heightened senses do make certain material an absolute nightmare to wear.

The past few days have been nagging at him. He’s felt restless. Anxious, even. Copia stands and walks over to his drinks cart. A quick sip of anything to calm his mind! He has an important meeting with Imperator and Papa Nihil today, whatever that may be about.

Tape measure… pencils and eraser… notebooks… Rullers…

 The sound of a door opening broke Sister Sarah’s concentration. A big project is coming upon the clergy sewing department and the upper members have been silent about it to anyone but Sister Amelia, the head of the sewing department.

“I was curious if you were going to be getting here via trike. Ha!” Sister Amelia shouts behind her, chuckling at her joke while walking into the studio space.

A voice responds back. “Oh! Ehe.. You uh.. know about that?”

Cardinal Copia?

Sister Amelia chuckles. “Word travels fast in these hallowed halls, Cardinal Copia.”

“Ah.”  Is all the Cardinal can respond with. His mouth forms an awkward straight line. He looks down to the floor and fidgets with his hands.

Sarah can’t help but be endeared to the old cardinal. Most members of the clergy can be uptight but not Copia. In his devoted service to the clergy, he always seems to be able to bring his own sense of whimsy. His cassocks are well pressed and his hair is slicked back, barely a strand out of place, but he likes to unwind by riding a tricycle around the halls. Who does that?!

“Hello Cardinal! It’s a pleasure to see you.” Sarah says. He looks startled.

“Yes, ciao Sister…” He takes her hand. “Mi dispiace, Sister my mind has been in twenty different directions today” The cardinal responds.

“It’s Sarah, Cardinal.”

“Sarah. Bene.” he bows his head at her.

A small blush spreads to the surface of her cheeks. She stares at her hand after the cardinal lets go. It feels tingly. How odd.

Sister Amelia gestures to Copia and the small platform in the middle of the room. “Please, Cardinal, step onto this platform so we can get your measurements. Oh, Sarah, could you please go and fetch my binder of men’s suit pattern blocks? Our dear Cardinale is going to need a new wardrobe!” She looks back to Copia.

Sarah’s ears perked up. Is Cardinal Copia going to head the Ghost project? Does Papa Terzo know? Am I allowed to know this information?

“Right away!” Sarah responds, dashing to the pattern closet. Lost in her thoughts, it takes a couple tries through the binders to find the correct one. Before leaving she thinks to grab a roll of pattern paper.

“Great instincts in grabbing the pattern paper. I’m thinking we make something… different this time and it will require new pattern pieces to work with.” Amelia looks to Copia. “Cardinal? What would your opinion be if we made the pants more... fitted to you than normal?” Amelia has a smirk on her face that could only lead to mischief. Copia looks like he just might pass out.

“Sister Amelia I am not sure I can fully visualize it but I trust your judgement!” Copia responds.

Amelia nods and gets to work. Over the next 40 minutes she measures Copia while Sarah notes it down. Occasionally she’ll make a note on more fabrics to consider or colors. Copia stands as still as possible and follows the direction of Amelia on when to raise his arms. Sarah notices for this fitting that Copia’s mind seems elsewhere. His eyes wandering off only to occasionally flit back on her through the mirror’s reflection. Even through the reflection in the mirror, Copia’s eyes pierced into her soul. Occasionally the Cardinal’s hands flex in his gloves and then balls them into fists, repeating it a few times before stopping.  

Copia walks into his quarters with a deep, tired sigh. It’s been a long day. His hallway “meeting” with Sister Imperator and Papa Nihil was… enlightening. “New blood” Copia remarks to himself. How ironic. Walking into his bedroom to change he glances at the calendar and immediately his eyes widen at what he has written for the next few days. 

“Merda!” Copia slaps his hands to his face and grimaces. Today is a feeding day! He walks out of his bedroom and over to the refrigerator for the blood bags he keeps on hand for these days. Bless this clergy. His vampiric condition is well known amongst the clergy and volunteers have given their blood to help Copia when he needs nourishment. To at least feel some dignity he fetches a wine glass from the cabinet and pours the blood into it.

Wine glass now filled, he moves to a plush chair in the living room. He lets out a content sigh at the first few sips. How could I let this sneak up on me? He thinks. It’s all the work! The Ministry has asked so much of him in the last few months. And now he will lead the Ghost Project? That couldn’t possibly be what they’re thinking?

He takes another sip of the wine. Sister Sarah? Is she new? Copia ponders if he’s seen her around the halls. She seemed excited to meet him. She must be a recently inducted member of the clergy. Maybe she was just one of the several seamstress assistants Amelia recently acquired and was anxious to get started. Copia hadn’t remembered any faces of the siblings who come into his office with requests from their bosses. He’s so used to people asking things from him he seldom remembers their faces. Only their voices ever seem to register while he pours through his work.

Another sip. Copia is almost fully back to himself. The blood is working well to improve his mood after this hellish day. I wonder if I’ll be seeing more of Sister Sarah at these fittings? Copia looks at his almost finished glass of blood “wine”. Hmm. I wonder what her blood might taste like on my tongue- Cazzo! Copia sits up straighter in his chair. Where did that come from?

Sarah is making her way down to the dining area for dinner after Amelia dismissed her for the day. The Cardinal has not left her mind since their whole encounter this afternoon. His eyes. She cannot get those duo chrome eyes out of her head. Maybe this ministry is all so new still. Sarah thinks. I’ll get used it.

  Food and drink in hand she makes her way to a table to eat. A fellow assistant of Amelia’s flags down Sarah to come eat with him. Alex, she remembers. Very helpful in keeping up with Amelia’s fast paced work. Sarah smiles to Alex for keeping a seat open.

“No worries, newbie.” Alex jokes. “I could tell from across the room you were a bit frazzled.”

“Shes just so… y’know?” Sarah huffs while taking a bite of food.

“Oh. I know. Every new assistant that comes through Amelia’s studio in the beginning gets what I like to call “The Gauntlet”. Full-on chaos for the first month or so.”

 “A month?”

“Or so! Depends on the project.” He muses.

Sarah hangs her head. “I have a feeling this will be longer than ‘a month or so’, Alex.”

“Welp! Stock up on snacks. She likes to pull all-nighters towards the end.” Alex responds kindly.

For a while they sit in silence while they eat. Sarah uses this time to take in all the sights and sounds of the mundane in something as absurd as a satanic ministry. She notices the upper clergy all eating their meals together like how teachers would eat together at lunch in school. Though, she thinks someone is missing. Cardinal Copia.

She turns to Alex. “Hey, where’s Cardinal Copia? It’s dinner time. He’s gonna miss the meal window.”

“Wait. You don’t know? He doesn’t exactly, uh, eat with everyone else all the time.” Alex looks surprised.

“I’m not following.” Sarah responds.

Alex rips off the Band-Aid. “He’s a vampire.”

Sarah laughs. Loud. Some surrounding clergy members turn around in their seats at the commotion. “Oh, wait, you’re serious?” Sarah stops laughing. “He’s a vampire?” Alex nods. “Full-on, blood sucking creature of the night?” Another nod from Alex. “Well, shit.” Sarah sits back in her chair, stunned.

Alex chuckles. “Yeah it always takes new members by surprise. Somehow devils and demons are easy to believe thanks to the presence of the Ghouls. But Copia’s vampirism is drawing the line!”  Alex waives his hands dramatically.        

“So… How does he get blood? Does he ever feed off of anyone?”

“Siblings volunteer to give blood. He needs a good amount to feed off of but only has to do it every 2 or 3 weeks. Depends on his mood and let me tell you-“ Alex warns. “You do not want to be in his way when he’s getting too close to the threshold of feeding.

Sarah nods her head. “Noted.”              

A short while later dinner is done and all the siblings and clergy members head back to their rooms. Alex’s words hadn’t left her mind. Vampire. Her hand, the one Copia held, comes to her mind as well; the buzzy feeling she felt earlier today comes back. That night Sarah dreamed of a particular Cardinal in red. Two-toned eyes circled in black paint and baring sharp teeth. She had dreams of sharp teeth imbedded in her neck sending tingly feelings all over her body while she slept.

I hope you enjoyed it! Let me know what you think :) I aim to update once a week if I can get my brain to work.

[tennessoui]

Jesus shitting christ, I just finished ch 6 of weeding out our wildfires, and how is it that every time I think things cannot possibly get any more heartwrenching, there come lines like 'that love that surpasses mother and wife and freedom itself—it is not enough' holy fuck. YOUR WRITING IS SO. FUCKING. GOOD. I am crawling out of my own skin for Anakin's sake, holy shit. (God, he really will never be normal about that old man. AND I LOVE IT.)

Also I just. I read the fic last night and hours later I'm still orbiting around this line: Yeah, alright, swee—yeah, okay, Obi-Wan

THE ABORTED TENDERNESS. THE WAY MY HEART SKIPPED A BEAT AS ANAKIN CUT HIMSELF OFF. GOD. HELP. The way Anakin uses endearments (in your fic in general, and in this line specifically) makes me FERAL. I don't - i can't even describe why or how, just that it's so tastydelicious for my brain and every time it happens I get the very real urge to start chewing on concrete.

ALL OF THIS to say, holy fucking shit, thank you so much for sharing your writing! Your stories are incredible and it is such a joy to read them (including when I'm drowning in my own tears).

hello im so sorry for answering this ask late (aka after i posted chapter 7) BUT thank you so much for this i loved reading this ask (and i did multiple times) and it made me want to write chapter 8 that much faster

thank you for noticing all these things and loving them!! to talk only about one, yes!! anakin almost called obi-wan sweetheart and then i hope no one recovered

BECAUSE he choked on it!! and because he thinks (in chapter 6) that he can never truly label obi-wan as anything but 'master ' and 'obi-wan' so how can he possible say sweetheart??

i obviously love anakin calling obi-wan any number of pet names but i don't think we've spent enough time thinking about anakin feeling as if the ONLY pet name/nickname he is allowed to give to obi-wan is 'master'. it's like. either master or obi-wan? nah. we can do better.

like the consolidation of everything he wants to call obi-wan down to only his name or his title or some half-bitten off endearment??? i could write essays about that i think

[ridofme1993]

I wrote a review of aftersun for my course and thought it turned out quite well so wanted to share:

A critical review of Aftersun (2022)

For me, Aftersun (dir. Charlotte Wells) can be summarised in a series of images. The first: a young man is balancing on the edge of a balcony. Inside, his daughter is sleeping. The second: a young man has gone scuba diving without a licence. ”He told a porkie pie,” his daughter records herself saying into a 90’s camcorder. ”But he’ll be fine, I’m sure.” The third: a young man is walking alone at night in an unfamiliar city, drunk. He picks up someone else’s discarded cigarette and smokes it. He walks to the beach and keeps walking, with purpose, directly into the sea.  

Aftersun is a story told through one long, almost uninterrupted, flashback. Calum (Paul Mescal) and his 11-year-old daughter Sophie (Frankie Corio) are on a budget holiday in a Turkish resort some time in the late 90’s. They spend their days by the pool, or on guided tours of the surrounding tourist attractions, or giggling about the tacky yet endearing evening entertainment. In the present day, Sophie looks back on the last holiday she spent with her dad. She is looking through camcorder footage, searching for clues, signs that her father was about to slip away from her. Throughout, the film almost seems to audibly, gently chant: I want to remember. I need to remember. Aftersun is a story told with such sensitivity, such beauty and subtlety, that it’s impossible not to let it crawl under your skin. 

Paul Mescal and Frankie Corio are breathtaking as father and daughter. Their rapport is warm and effortless and goes beyond words. The relationship between Calum and Sophie becomes clear through subtle, physical storytelling: a touch of the hand, the tenderness with which Sophie applies sunscreen to Calum’s back, the gentleness in the way they move and talk to each other. The physical storytelling is equally strong when they are apart: Sophie’s furtive, curious glances at the older kids fondling each other by the pool; Calum’s back turned towards the camera as he sobs, his shoulders heaving, the muscles in his back convulsing. The dialogue is beautifully banal most of the time. What carries the story is the relationship between Calum and Sophie which is told through images, and through the way they simply are around each other. Mescal and Corio seem to be living and totally embodying the love between Calum and Sophie, and so as a viewer, I can’t help but believe I am watching real people.

Visually, Aftersun is stunning. It shimmers and sparkles. It’s swimming pool blue and greasy, sun-kissed skin. It’s tacky 90’s eurodance by the poolside bar. It’s arcade games and walkmen and badly-sung karaoke. It looks and feels like that awkward, blooming time at the very beginning of adolescence. Sophie secretly peruses the pages of a romance novel in the hotel reception, she hides in the bathroom and eavesdrops on the older girls’ conversations about their sexual conquests, she watches them kissing their boyfriends in the pool with that pre-adolescent mixture of fascination and disgust. The soundscape, too, feels nostalgic: the same hypnotising, bittersweet theme repeated again and again throughout, as if on a loop. As if to accentuate the fact that this is not the first time this memory has been visited. It has been carefully scrutinized. It has been visited and revisited and revisited time and time again. 

In her review of Aftersun for The Independent, Clarisse Loughry writes: ”It’s difficult to think of the moments before a heartbreak and not lace them with omens. The mind, too often, moulds memories into prophecies. Colours get dialled up. Emotions solidify. It’s a hard thing to talk about, let alone visualise. That’s why Aftersun, the debut of Scottish filmmaker Charlotte Wells, is so astounding. She’s captured the uncapturable, finding the words and images to describe a feeling that always seems to sit just beyond our comprehension.” This, to me, accurately captures Aftersun as an experience. Calum’s many close brushes with death that are pictured on screen seem to be half-imagined by Sophie; an attempt to retrospectively foresee the tragedy that was to come. 

I’ve read a good handful of professional reviews of Aftersun now, and curiously, none of them mention the theme of suicide. Some reviews mention death, some don’t. No explicit mention of suicide anywhere. Why this is, I don’t know. As someone who has lost someone I loved to suicide, I can’t not see it. When Calum matter-of-factly tells a diving instructor that he doubts he’ll make it to 40 and that he’s surprised he even made it to 30. When he walks off into the night on his own, drunk, carrying some pain he can’t speak of. The way his daughter senses it despite his attempts to hide it. Her fumbling, deeply loving attempts to cheer him up: how she gets the other hotel guests to sing to him on his birthday, how she invites him to sing karaoke with her when he seems low, the way she gently makes fun of him. She’s constantly pointing her camcorder at him, asking him questions, as if she knows there’s some mysterious, hidden side to him that she’ll never have access to, something dark and unspoken and unnamed. And, finally, the shot of Calum weeping in some other place, in some other time, followed by a shot of a note saying: ”Sophie, I love you very much. Never forget that. Dad.” 

We lack nuanced stories about suicide in our cultural landscape. Aftersun is a story that neither glorifies, nor demonises. It deals with grief and with the struggle to understand something incomprehensible. It portrays a person who is suicidal, and who is also kind, goofy, loving, sensitive, and an excellent dad. ”You can live wherever you want to live, be whoever you want to be,” Calum tells Sophie, stroking her hair. ”You have time.” We sense that he knows that his is running out.  

Aftersun is a sparkling gem of a film, and it resonates, not only with those who know grief, but with those who know love. Everything about it, from the cinematography to the acting to the soundtrack, feels warm. It feels to me like a meditation on love. At the end, I was left weeping – not only for Calum’s death and for Sophie’s loss, but also for the sheer amount of love between them.

[obey-my-twisted-logic]

Name-Your-Friend : You find a rather tall boy with an interesting look in your yard at Ramshackle. Despite your initial wariness, something draws you to the man and an interesting friendship blooms. Platonic!Malleus Draconia x GN!Reader

Synopsis : you make a new friend who's almost as bad at socializing as you are. He's quiet, gentle and awkward in a way that's endearing. He won't share his name, so you decide on a nickname as you confide in this mystery man. Begins the night after Riddle's Overblot.

Warnings : general spoilers about the game Disney's Twisted Wonderland. Light fluff, purely platonic and friendly, use of personal head canons and what I know about the game pre book 5. Slightly different from the in game meetings but same vibe. INCREDIBLY SELF INDULGENT BECAUSE HORNTON IS MY BEST BOY. Reader is normal font. All thoughts and musing by Malleus are italic.

Authors Note : this has been living rent free in my head since I first met Malleus in game. They can't show us every second and every interaction, so I think there's a lot of late nights he visits because he's just as lonely, and it's nice to have someone who's not groveling, calling him "my prince" or scared of him. God I love him.

---

You were physically and emotionally done for the day. Grim was passed out and dreaming of tuna all ready while you began to close the curtains. As you did, something caught your eye. Something? More like someone. You couldn't tell from this distance but because of the lighting of the moon, you could see a student of NRC just staring at your house.

It definitely startled and when you made eye contact from the window you pulled the curtains shut and dropped to the floor. Why did you feel like you'd been caught peeping? After a moment of collecting yourself, you pull on a hoodie over your pajamas and stuff on your shoes before making your way down and out of the house.

The ghost trio gave light teases as you passed. A midnight tryst?! And so soon! You'd have to introduce them. You waved them off, a little annoyed but mostly focused.

Had he run off? You can't help but wonder as you step outside into the brisk air. Scanning your surroundings you find him nearer than before. He had what you could barely call a smile on his calm and handsome features. He was so beautiful you felt inferior. Shaking off the nerves, you stepped onto the dying lawn and stood beside him, looking up to see what had caught his eye.

You weren't sure if he acknowledged your presence, but he made no move to leave or brush you off. He just continued to stare up at your roof.

"Is it the gargoyles?" You ask suddenly. It was the only thing of interest you could spy. It kind of fit his spooky yet handsome appearance. "I couldn't believe myself when I was first dumped here. Old place has a lotta very cool bits and bobs, even if it is falling to pieces..." You grumble that last bit, still frustrated that Crowley had been avoiding the topic of fixing the roof, despite all your work so far. The near perfect grades you got, handling Riddle's outburst and Overblot without dying, and just generally baby sitting some of the rowdier students.

"A child of man?" Was the first thing he said. You try not to gasp, he had such a pleasing voice. "To my knowledge, this dorm has been abandoned and forgotten for quite a while." You noticed for a split second a look of confusion. Had you not been studying his face, you may of missed it all together.

"Ah yea, I had heard that from some of the ghosts and the headmaster. My name is [Y/N], I'm Ramshackle Dorms new Prefect." You explain quickly and offer your hand.

A moment passes, and you begin to feel a fool for offering your hand to a stranger. He does however accept it within his firm gloved grasp. "A pleasure to meet you child of man. I am-" he paused and shook his head. "My name matters not, you may call me what you wish. Though careful, you may come to regret it." He gave a playful smile, exposing sharpened canines. Between the horns and his teeth, you knew he wasn't human. This didn't scare you near as much as it should, but then again three of your roommates were ghosts.

"Shy?" You ask with a shrug and give it a thought. "How about Hornton? It's a bit on the nose but it's all my brain can come up with."

He bursts into laughter, giving you his first genuine smile. "You are quite fearless child of man. Truly." He gives you one last smile. "While it's been pleasant having the ruined house to myself, I look forward to what you bring to the future." He gave the gargoyles a fond look. "Remember the gargoyles as you fix things up, and give it attention." he finished with a short bow, as he burst into a beautiful green light, leaving nothing behind but some fireflies.

What a magical way to end a very long and unpleasant day. You hoped he'd visit again, he was pleasant to be near. He gave you an odd calm feeling, even though his aura screamed danger.

~~~

You intrigued Malleus Draconia greatly. Not that he had revealed his name. Despite his overwhelming aura, you approached him with little to no hesitation.

In the following months, you'd catch him admiring the quiet of your house, even going so far as to give you advice on how to deal with the OctoTrio when they had taken hold of the dorm, threatening to leave you homeless in a world that wasn't your own and was hardly kind. Especially not kind to those without magic.

Other times you'd join him in his quiet studies of the gargoyles and surrounding forest. Occasionally you would break the silence with questions or just to add your own musing to the about the surroundings and recent event. You told him about everything, from mundane classes to nightmarish Overblotting of several Housewardens.

His favorite part about you was how you genuinely treasured your time with him. You never pushed for his identity, happy to have him as your gargoyle enthusiast friend Hornton. He found himself chuckling over the name, even when not around you. Lilia had asked about you more and more as he noticed the lingering visits Malleus spent at Ramshackle. He waved it off, merely stating he needed to check on you, his "Child of Man" who was almost completely alone in a terrifying new world, full of a magic you had never seen before. Lilia would always laugh and nod along, even going so far as to deliver a holiday card when Malleus could not himself.

Not long after the winter, he was once again in front of Ramshackle, waiting patiently for his Child of Man. He was surprised when he heard your familiar footsteps. Not surprised by them exactly, more stunned by the speed and noise that you made rushing to open your door.

"Hornton!" You exclaim and practically threw yourself at him, embracing him. It felt like so long.

The embrace surprised the fae dragon, but he caught you none the less, carefully returning the embrace. "Awfully excitable tonight aren't you child of man?" He teased lightly.

You beamed up at him with a pleased grin. "Yes! Tonight is important. It's very special." You assure him, kicking your door gently open further.

Freeing yourself from his embrace, you give him a little bow and extend your hand for his. Before he could even pout, you continued to smile at him and take his hand. "Ramshackle is finally presentable enough for me to invite you in. Hornton," you begin to lead him inside. "I welcome you in to my dorm, come have a drink or something! I'm excited, you're the first person I wanted to invite in."

"You're inviting me inside Child of Man?" Malleus asked surprised, but genuine smile and delight on his face.

"Of course! You're one of my best friends, and I wanted to share this with you as soon as I could." You led him in and rambled about how you had to enlist Azul and professor Trein to finally get Crowley to get off his ass and make the place at least a safe haven from the elements.

Malleus had stopped listening from the moment you confirmed the invite. All he could do was smile and keep his hand in yours. You truly were special. His Child of Man would always remember to invite him, always remember to have him in your life. He quite looked forward to that night, and any following adventures he would have with you.

[prince-toffee]

So, I rewatched the trailer over and over again, I stepped back, organised my thoughts, and I think I get it.

So first the Bad, then the GOOD, because there's actually a lot to like here.

The Bad:

So, the trend of companies kicking actual voice actors onto the curb and replacing them with celebrities continues. I remember being really angry when they first announced the voice cast, and I still am. It's quite literally the most boring, generic casting possible. You can not get much more white bread, milk toast than a Chris and Scar - I want to play an Asian woman and trans man - jo. Also, why is Chris Hemsworth here? Do he really need the money? Did Thor 4 damage his pockets that bad? There are so many talented voice actors that could've been Orion, David Kaye is a prime example Animated Optimus and Beats Wars/Unicron Trilogy Megatron, beloved by fans, if he was announced people would've been over joyed. I love Brian Tyree Henry, and he actually has some experience with va work as he voiced Jeff Morales in Spider-Verse, my original criticism still stands.... And Kegan, oh Kegan, I love you so much, Key and Peele was my childhood, and the Toad performance was perfectly fine, endearing even. But as Bee? I'm sorry, but no, that's not BumbleBee that's just actor/comedian Kegan Michael Key, I can't hear anything else. And it doesn't help that he's handed the worst lines.

Which brings us to the comedy. First impressions are EVERYTHING. And if you fumble that that hurts your film, and the perception of your film. I think that's really the problem here, it's a bad trailer not necessarily bad content. Packing the trailer with jokes for the sake of jokes and having that samey Hollywood liscensed music cringey feel to it. Like the guitar riff that played when the 'This Fall' card came up just made me turn off the video immediately. That's why I recommend watching the trailer without sound. Bee's jokes don't really land for me, I'm sure kids with love it tho, and that's good. But I'm sure all the jokes won't be bad, the final door gag is actually really funny. So I think it was just a bad joke that soured out feel of the tone at the beginning, which is unfortunate because like I said first impressions are everything. Because this is Josh Cooly, of Up, Inside Out, Toy Story 4 fame, I'm sure the film will have an emotional core to it.

A minor thing I don't much care for is having Bee be in the same age range as Orion, in my mind he's always constructed during the war at like the half way mark or near the end, he's the little brother of the group, and now he's old enough to remember Op and Megs before the war. Also he sounds way too old.

Oh, also I don't like Orion's personality.

Good:

Now for the good; I think the animations style is gorgeous. Would have I liked something Spider-Verse/Mutant Mayhem-esk, of course, but what are you gonna do? The stand out here is the environments, a visual feast. This might already be my favourite Cybertron, it's so different yet reminisant of the Cybertron we know. The fact that the surface transformers and shifts and changes is genius, very IDW Phase 2 inspired. And the fact that Cybertron is a techno-organic hybrid world ala Beast Machines is crazy! I love that, and wildlife! I bet that's how we get the cassettes. The character models are great too, you can actually tell what emotion is happening on a person's face. Gone are the days of faces being made up of razor blades and mandibles BECAUSE THEY'RE NOT INSECTS FUCK YOU MICHAEL BAY. THEY'RE PEOPLE! There's the nose, the lips, the eyes, and I can tell where one begins and ends. The eyes are gorgeous and detailed, and the face surface detail has smuges, wear, specs of dirt, metallic texture. Like, you nailed it! It's a person but a robot, you got it!

We see what we assume are the 13 Primes, Alpha Trion being the only survivor, maybe they were killed by the Quintessons and they took over. D-16, a ref to IDW and his toys designation in the toy catalogue, he'll obviously name himself after Megatronus ala TF Prime. He seems to have the Decepticon insignia before meeting The Fallen so maybe Megatronus' face is some sort of religious iconography, the Primes are a religion on Cybertron after all. It's all so fascinating, I can't remember the last time I was so excited to learn more about a new TF continuity.

Orion and D-16 are both miners and or workers, that's a refreshing take, no coptimus here. They've suffered the same way together, I bet story will be about dealing with that pain, what justice means, how far one is willing to take it and where justice stops and injustice begins. I know people are mad that the origins are a little different, but I ask you, different from what? Which continuity are you talking about? TF has never had a consistent singular timeline, and that's what I love about this franchise! It builds on itself with each new continuity! Take a bit of the old, mix it with new ideas and create something fresh, then that old guard leaves and a new team takes over and does the same and the franchise continues to evolve or should I say transform. Like a box of chocolates, you never know what you're gonna get, and new incarnations always give second chances to improve apon what came before. No Reboots, no risks means no Skybite, or Nemesis Prime, no Stasis Pods, Sparks, Protoforms, Energon ore, no Star Saber, Hot Shot, Knock Out, Airachnid, no All Spark, no Sari, no Bulkhead, no old grumpy Ratchet, none of that. Reboots are a part of this franchise's DNA. I sense the people that are complaining are the people who only value one continuity and discard all others.

It's really neat this universe's version of The Cast System is lower class worker protoforms being denied a Transformation Cog, it seems like it's reserved for the higher classes, the very thing that makes their species special and unique is denied to them. Also I didn't notice it the first time, but Alpha actually pulls the t-cogs out of the dead Primes which kind of signifies a passing of the guard, the old Primes failed, now it's your turn, and of course history repeats itself with the downfall of Megatron.

I like how Trion is covered and intertwined with moss and vines and has a beast mode, showcasing that he's of an older era now gone and forgotten.

Some other smaller stuff:

The sun looks like a holographic simulation, which makes me wonder, Cybertron doesn't usually have a sun, but there's plant life now, so what's up?

The cave that the dead Primes and Trion are in kinda looks like a Dweller.

Megatron's black helmet is a ref to Marvel G1.

That spin kick where Elita twirls her entire waist around is sooo satisfying. I love it.

AIRACHNID!!?!!!! MY QUEEN HAS RETURNED!!!!!!!

I think that's a good point to end on. So, yeah, v excited.

[darlingkirstein]

im just curious about your headcanon for their job (for eremika and jeanpiku if that's alright)

this question has truly thrown me for such a giant loop because im super indecisive! so i thought instead of choosing one option, i could list a few plausible options for the characters! these are just the jobs that came to mind for some reason. im sure i could come up with others but this are the first that i decided on, and i tried to choose jobs that are a little more unorthodox to be unique 🩷

also sorry for how long this has taken ! i know you've been waiting for this for a while 🫶

Eremika

— Eren Jaeger!

Physical/recreational therapist: I can imagine him wanting to help people but not wanting to be a hospital doctor or anything like that. He seems like he'd be a pretty active guy so I think a job where he gets to help people and also move around and help clients move around and recover from injury would be both fulfilling and fun for him at the same time! Or even recreational therapy, getting to help people through different activities!

Small business owner: I can see him taking the charge and owning his own business, maybe with the help of his parents with a small investment to get it started. Mikasa might also help with this when she has spare time because she wants to support him! I'm thinking something that incorporates his love of cooking, like a bakery or food shop?

Stuntman/stunt coordinator: This one is more for fun but I love picturing him as a stunt man for movies. He would get a kick out of the thrill it gives him if he's actively participating or he'd find it satisfying to coordinate really interesting stunt work. Mikasa would always be fearful that he's gonna injure himself.

— Mikasa Ackerman!

Bookstore employee: I don't know why, but I think Mikasa would love working around a quiet environment with books. Getting to provide recommendations and organize the shelves makes her feel accomplished without over-stressing her. She loves reading so the employee discount is definitely a big benefit.

Speech-language pathologist: I'm biased here because this is what I'm studying! But I think Mikasa could thrive in this job! Getting to help people struggling with communication is really fulfilling and she gets to challenge herself to find creative solutions. I think she would love working with children, helping them fix their speech sounds, or even with adults, helping with different disorders.

Daycare owner/lead employee: I think a lot of us agree that even in our modern AUs, Mikasa didn't have the happiest childhood. So, I think she tries to make sure that other children have the best possible childhood around. She would be very attentive to all their needs because she's naturally great with kids. Eren would find this so endearing and it would really give me lots of baby fever when she comes home and talks about the kiddos.

Jeanpiku

— Jean Kirstein!

Gonna start off by saying that I feel like Jean initially settles for an office job because he feels like he has to be a big breadwinner and have a stable, high-paying job but it ends up making him rather miserable so he quits to pursue other jobs.

Art restoration: I know the idea of Jean being an artist is kinda overplayed since he only draws once but I am so attached to it. But here I'm specifically thinking of him restoring old/damaged paintings for museums or for people's personal collections. He probably finds comfort in seeing the pretty paintings come back to life after being so dull. He takes it super seriously since it's so technical so he's very proud of his work and the results!

Something in the restaurant/food industry: Jean loves cooking so much! He would want to share his cooking with others. He might work at a restaurant making good or maybe even as a cooking instructor? I think that even if his job isn't in the food industry that he still volunteers his time to cook for people in need because it's something he's passionate about.

Art therapist: In a similar vein to art restoration, I am imagining him as an art therapist, trying to help people with their struggles through various forms of art. It's probably therapeutic to him, so sharing that therapy with others is so sweet to me. I think would love to work with children especially, just getting to see them smile after they've gone through some rough things :)

— Pieck Finger!

Something in journalism: Pieck would get a kick out of writing small articles for different papers or magazines, or even in the newspaper (even if it's a dying medium). She gets to show a more creative side while making a living and she also gets to work from home which is great because she's kind of a homebody! She gets to be comfortable while writing her fun articles :)

Accent/dialect coach: This is also kind of a half-serious one like the stunt coordinator one for Eren. I feel like Pieck would be weirdly good at accents, like stupidly good. So she might have fun working with actors either in bigger shows/movies or in local theatre productions to change accents.

Editor: Another job that could be done from home, I think she would like editing people's books or articles or anything to make them better. She finds it fun and satisfying to correct mistakes and make suggestions, and it's so fun because she can work on stuff from her bedroom if she so desired. Maybe she both writes and edits and just switches off depending on the day/helping out her writer friends by editing their work for them.

[smolthealmighty]

Spinaraki Week 4 Day 4: Cracks and Home

Old Hag Look at My Life (I'm a Lot Like You Were)

As Tomura’s world falls apart, his grandmother’s vestige comes to his unlikely rescue. It turns out they’re a bit more similar than he thought.

When Tomura Shigaraki came back to himself, his mind was achy from his mater’s reveal, his voice was hoarse from screaming, his body was scattered to the wind with barely any pieces left, and to his surprise the woman who everyone called his grandmother was holding him in her muscular arms. While he appreciated the sentiment, he couldn’t help but wish a certain someone he actually got along with (and who’s arms held the same strength) was comforting him, instead of this hero lady he’d never met but who dictated his fate in absentia.

“I know you’re not happy to see me,” Nana said, “But I hope you’re willing to put up with me long enough to keep you alive. One For All and All For One did quite the number on you, the quirk and the man I mean.”

“If you call getting smashed into bits and having my entire worldview torn into just as many pieces ‘having a number done on me’,” Tomura sarcastically threw back, “Then I’d hate to see what you’d consider to be worse!”

“No, no, I’m not sure anyone could’ve survived that combination. But you’re not just anyone, are you?” Tomura started at that, but his grandmother gently aimed his face to look at her sincere -and maybe proud?- expression as she continued.

“You’ve been through so much, you’re so very strong. And even with everything All For One has put you through, all the lies he spun and all the strings he pulled to mold you into what he wanted, you still managed to untether yourself enough to find your own goal and make your own connections. You found friends, and you dedicated your aspirations to them. You loved them, you helped them. It’s not what I’d call hero work, but in a vacuum I can’t deny it’s heroic. I only wish someone better could’ve been around to guide you, so you had the opportunity to try your brand of heroism, and for that I am sorry.”

Tomura was speechless at the apology that came two decades too late, but when he thought about it, he was -begrudgingly- at least a little bit glad someone had finally told him that not only could he be a hero after all this time, but that he was a hero for the people who mattered to him the most (and if it also flew in the face of everyone who wanted him to fail then that made it all the better).

“Wait,” Tomura asked, horror taking over as an idea of starting to dawn on him, “how the hell do you know any of that?”

“Well,” Nana squirmed, “we are currently in a vestige world residing in your mind, and you’ve got a lot stored up in here. What you’ve touched, what you feel, what you’ve destroyed, what you create, what you hate, what you love…”

“Oh no, please tell me you didn’t see anything weird.”

“Of course not,” Nana reassured, “Falling in love with a close friend isn’t weird at all.”

“Grandma!”

“I can see why you adore him, such a sweet and earnest boy.”

“Grandma!”

“And beautiful eyes and scales to boot.”

“Grandma!”

“Sorry, sorry, I can’t help it,” she snickered in a way that betrayed she wasn’t sorry at all, “It’s just that I can understand how you fell for him, after all I fell in love with your grandfather in very similar circumstances.”

“… Grandpa tied with you in Smash Bros after joining your criminal organization, then endeared himself to the point you didn’t think twice about wiping Mount Fuji off the map for him?”

“No not like that,” she corrected, “We started as friends too, but our shared love was astronomy instead of video games. One time he blind-folded me and had me use my quirk with him steering, and when the blind fold was off, I realized he floated me into an area of sky with zero light pollution, just in time to watch the nova explosion of T Coronae Borealis. My impulsive ass proposed to him on the spot, skipped the dating phase entirely.”

Tomura went bug-eyed at that, but didn’t interrupt as Nana continued to reminisce, “You know, even when we exchanged our vows and eventually had your father, I knew that marrying him automatically put a target on his back. It was only a matter of time before he would get caught in the crossfire of my line of work, and in the end, even all the safety measures we took didn’t keep him safe, but I entangled us anyway. I figured that a life with him in it, however tragic and brief, was worth living more than one where I never knew just how loved and cherished I could be. Especially if that meant I could give that same amount of love back to him.”

“…Grandma,” Tomura mused, “I feel like you’re trying to tell me something.”

“I think you might’ve inherited that outlook from me,” Nana suggested, “Seeing as you were initially on the fence about undergoing the shadiest surgery known to man for the sake of power, only to decide it was worth it literally moments after your sweetie confessed that he ‘loved those warped horizons you made’, thinking that a power upgrade was just what you needed to make him even happier! You’re just as impulsive and intense when it comes to love as I was!”

“Don’t call Spinner ‘my sweetie!’ We didn’t even get the chance to pick out pet names!” Tomura cringed, then cringed harder and pouted after realizing he outed himself.

“Well, maybe you’ll get that chance,” Nana supposed, surprising Tomura with her switch to a serious tone.

“My hands, my son’s hands, your family’s hands have been holding you back for so long. So please, let me use my hands properly this time,” she whispered, moving her arms to cradle him a bit more firmly now that he wasn’t falling apart at the seams, “Let me be the hands that hold you together, that push you forward, that guide you as you take your next steps, and support you now when you need help the most.”

As she spoke, Tomura felt multiple hands slightly nudging him. Looking down, he watched as the other vestiges of One For All pressed the gathered up pieces of him together. A man wearing goggles on his head held one leg, another with a high-collared jacket handled the other. He watched as arms were positioned by two men in similar-looking combat gear, his torso aligned with his head by someone with cracks running down his face.

Once every particle was in its place, a vestige that appeared remarkably similar to Tomura placed his hands over the cracks on his chest, and suddenly that crack began to heal. The cracks did not disappear, but instead were welded together, leaving golden scars in their place. As the other vestiges repeated the process on the rest of his body, Tomura noticed a golden, foggy vestige carefully fusing each finger of his destructive hands to his palms, thankfully without the telltale holes of All For One’s quirk, but also saw that vestige slowly grow dimmer with every piece he fixed.

“You’re not really making them all give up their souls and fade away just to keep my destructive ass alive…” Tomura joked as he turned to his grandmother, who he realized was also fading away as his peripheral vision took on more of a golden hue, “…are you?”

“It’s a shame you think destroying is all you can do, when you know that you’ve had a fair share of creating things too,” Nana remarked, “and I’m willing to bet that the bonds you created with your friends are something not even your hands can obliterate.”

Tomura knew he couldn’t say a thing to disprove that statement, he wouldn’t even dare to entertain the thought of purposefully getting rid of them. “I can’t promise I won’t start another fight when I wake up, especially not if my friends are the ones in trouble. Sorry grandma.”

“That’s alright,” Nana chuckled, the grin on her face identical to the maniacal one Tomura sometimes saw in the mirror, “What kind of Shimura’s would we be if we didn’t act intensely for the people we love, just as intensely as we love them in the first place? Can you promise me something else then?”

“Depends, what is it?”

Nana bent down to whisper in her grandson’s ear, and though her final request made his face erupt into a blush, he readily agreed as they faded into darkness and whatever lay beyond this realm.

“See if you can make that delightful Player 2 of yours my grandson-in-law.”

[catboygirljoker]

*crashes through the ceiling* Hi, hello! 💜 I saw you have a KH OC and I love listening about people's OCs, so I have questions:

How did Lamia fall in love with Xigbar? How do their relationship look like? Do they live together and have any domestic life? What does Xigbar think of Lamia?

!!!!!!!!! ourghghghh thank you!! :o) !!!!!!!!!!!!!

i am in the process of writing a novel-length fanfiction that answers all of these questions tee hee. i am clinging on to bitter hope that i will actually be able to write and finish it because i just. really love lamia and xigbar and i really love their relationship in my brain. like im way too verbose to pitch "xiglam" in a way that feels satisfying to me so i have to just write a 100k+ fic and gesture at that and say THAT. THEM. THEY

(though my lamiaposting tag has some art by me and my lovely partner that illustrates at least some of why i love them. smile.)

also oops i hyperfocused and made a xiglam moodboard (featuring art from my partner, depicting them multiple years into their mutual loving relationship). i just. smiling at them and kicking my feet.

long long answer under the cut tee hee

broadly they fall in love because they are both fucked up in ways that happen to mesh together really well. lamia is depressed, self-destructive, prickly, and isolated, and though he has friends who love him dearly (and who he loves dearly!) they try to get him to take care of himself by being like "you have people who care about you" "youre a person and that means you deserve to be happy" etc. and that just. doesnt compute for lamia. he has a million reasons why none of that works for him.

then along comes some fuckin weird old guy in a black coat, a pragmatic and cynical asshole who just laughs at lamia and goes "if you dont get some sleep or eat something soon youre going to straight up die. then what'll you do. idiot" and it works. it shortcuts all of the usual walls they have up against any well-meaning advice and enables them to actually take care of themself in basic ways.

on the flip side, lamia is the first person in a very long time who has sincerely surprised xigbar. xigbar believes that the universe is inherently cruel, indifferent, miserable, painful. and that friendship, hope, altruism, goodness, kindness, all of that, is a result of people either not understanding the true nature of the universe or willfully ignoring it. he clocks lamia immediately as someone who understands firsthand how miserable and painful the universe can be and that their self-destructiveness is a result of that trauma. and he thinks he understands them completely because of that.

however. despite the Horrors, despite being the Bearer of a Curse, despite his Tragic Backstory, despite despite despite—lamia still believes that there is goodness in the world worth fighting for. he may be in many ways pragmatic and cynical like xigbar is, but he also believes fundamentally in friendship. hope. altruism. all of it. that (and a few other Lore things) are deeply intriguing to xigbar.

it also really helps that lamia's into dilfs and xigbar's into blond twinks. and that lamia's pissy argumentative streak (a paper-thin veil for his genuine affection for the old man) is fun and endearing to xigbar. they complement each other in Themes ways but they also just have a dynamic i really like thinking about. :3

they wouldnt have an opportunity to even consider living together or having a domestic life until both of their personal arcs are resolved (they both have to Deal with their Pasts and having been abused/abandoned/neglected by their guardians). "post-canon" i imagine xigbar isnt really capable of settling down and having a "normal life." he lives with lamia but hes frequently gone without warning, wandered off somewhere, like a stray cat you can get to eat on your porch but can never get to come inside.

but theyre happy. they Heal. xigbar eventually moves into a replica once his current body starts failing on him. lamia gains a bunch of weight (positive) and goes on T. they get a cat or something. but they never get married (lamia doesnt see the point) and never have kids (these two should NOT be parents it would be a catastrophe)