#i finally have at least one stamp of each

[demonslayedher]

Yes, indeed!!

After Hashira-ten!!

And KnY Noh/Kyogen!!

And visiting two Kamado Shrines!!

I MANAGED TO ALSO GO WATCH HASHIRA ON THE BIG SCREEN WITH MORE KIMETSU THEATER

Map app had a lot of faith in me to get there within ten minutes of being released from a highway bus, but it did not take into account how slow the elevators and escalators from the deepest subway station up to the ninth floor of a crowded department store would be. I forewent lunch (and caffeine) and get there right in time for the Aniplex, Shueisha, and Ufotable title cards and then Tanjiro waking up to see a bunch of terrifying Hashira looking down at him. Since I've been squeezing these Kimetsu Cinema visits in among a bunch of travel here and there, it was really satisfying to add a theater in a different location again. Got my stamp at the end of this one too, and this time I finally got the in-theater VR to work! Right outside the theater doors, there is a place to watch Tanjiro appear out of a magic doorway to talk to you. It's probably different each time, but this time he had a little Taisho Secret to share about the Kasugai-garasu all having their own names, like Tennoji Matsuemon.

There was also a display set up in the lobby to get people hyped for the 2-week Mugen Ressha revival coming up.

Needless to say, the dork in the Rengoku t-shirt is excited (but also relieved it will be two weeks since I already have another countryside trip coming up--but at least for a few more hours, I was still on my FANDOM TRIP).

Well, that's a wrap for this fangirl travel. I have one more personal trip to squeeze in to see a friend (and do work) until My Research really takes back over for a few months.

But there will be theaters.

And I will get my butt in them.

Especially come July.

Wherever the hell I'll be traveling in July.

Wish me luck! And good luck to you trying to make any sense of these images, much less what I'm putting myself through. Here's some links to explain some of what the hell I'm talking about:

Kimetsu no Yaiba Noh/Kyogen overview

Presentation slides about Kimetsu no Yaiba "holy sites" around Japan

Some of the stuff at Hashira-ten

Kimetsu Theater somewhat explained

[woso-dreamzzz]

Leaving: Christmas

Alexia Putellas x Teen!Reader

Summary: Christmas with Menor

It's not often that Eli gets to have all three of you in the same place, not with you off travelling the world for your tennis, practically in a different country every month.

But the winter months is one that she can almost guarantee you'll be home for.

You finish your tennis season on a high, lifting the trophy at the WTA Finals before you spend a few more weeks in Poland with your training team coming up with a rough schedule of what you want to compete in next year.

But you're home now which means that Eli has all three of her daughters in the same country. Which also means mandatory days out together on the run up to Christmas.

It's easier to get you sorted than Alexia - still playing football every week - and Alba, still teaching as the schools haven't gone on holiday yet.

You're back in your childhood bedroom and seem to delight in sleeping the day away and only getting up around two in the afternoon to migrate from your bed to the sofa.

Occasionally, you roll out of bed early in the morning to take part in some sponsorship commitments.

Your tennis season has been nothing short of extraordinary this year and you've somehow become Nike Tennis' golden girl along the way with all of your tennis gear bar your racket being supplied by them.

Like how now, you and Alexia are wearing the exact same Nike shoes as you all walk through the Christmas market together.

"Mami!" You complain over the noise of the crowd," Mami, make them stop!"

Somewhere between the stall making handmade Santas and the stall with fresh paella, Alexia has gotten you into a headlock and is none too kindly ruffling your hair while Alba pinches your cheek between two fingers.

"She started it!" Alexia yells back.

"Alexia," Eli says with a sigh," You are thirty years old-"

"Yeah, Alexia!" You butt in," You're old."

"No, y/n, that's not what I meant," Eli tries to correct you but she's interrupted yet again.

"Yeah, older than you!" Alexia says," Which means you're meant to do what I say! Listen to your elders!"

"Oh? So you're elderly now? Maybe you should sit down, Ale, and rest your old back!"

You shove her off of you, stamping on her foot before taking off down the street.

"Hey! Get back here!" Alexia yells, taking off after you as she forces her way through the crowd.

Alba shakes her head in mock disapproval. "You know, Mami-"

"No, Alba," Eli says," I will not only buy you stuff tonight. Stop trying to get your sisters in trouble."

Alba shrugs. "It was worth a shot."

By the time Eli and Alba catch up, you and Alexia have forgotten whatever argument you've been having in favour of nosing around some of the stalls together.

Somehow in the time it's taken for Eli and Alba to return, you've both gotten cups of hot chocolate with caramel sauce and marshmallows along with little Christmas ornaments to hang on the tree.

"Must you two spend so much money?" Alba complains as she points at the little paper bags that Eli hadn't even noticed.

"It's not our fault that we've got a lot of it saved up."

Alba rolls her eyes. "It's exactly your fault! You don't have to keep winning so much in prize money."

You shrug. "It's not my fault I'm good at what I do."

"It's your fault you're not spending it on me," Alba says, tongue poking out of her mouth.

"If I buy you stuff, will I get sister points?"

Alba doesn't even have to think about it. "Yes."

You grin. "What do you want?"

Eli sighs. "Alba, please stop exploiting your little sister's goodwill."

"Yeah Alba," Alexia butts in, her own tongue sticking out," Don't exploit our little sister."

"You do it all the time!"

"I'm allowed to!"

"Girls," Eli says wearily," Please stop exploiting each other."

It's a weak request, one that Eli knows will be ignored but she has to at least attempt it, if only to look like a good mother in a crowd of strangers.

She easily tunes out the bickering of the three of you as she turns to the hot chocolate stall and buys herself a cup of it.

You and Alexia have good taste, she can give you that because it's delightfully creamy and Eli takes a long gulp before turning back around.

She's not surprised that the three of you have disappeared.

In all honesty, she's surprised you all stuck around for so long.

Usually, the three of you go off by yourselves the moment you step into a market. Eli's kind of been a bit antsy for you to all disappear. She does her best Christmas shopping when none of you are around.

"Alexia!" You complain," Hurry up! Alba's saving us a spot in line."

"But..." Alexia pretends to stumble, making herself seem suddenly weak and weary. "I...I don't know if I can go on! You know, with my old bones!"

"Alexia, you're so dramatic!"

She grins. "Yes."

"Come on!" You say," I want to go on the drop ride!"

"You always want to go on the drop ride!"

"Exactly," You say, pulling her more forcefully than before," Because it's tradition! Don't ruin tradition!"

Alexia laughs, finally having stopped digging her heels in to throw her arm over your shoulder.

"You know I'll never break tradition."

[klausinamarink]

based on this hilarious video with Gianmarco Soresi whom I’ve been watching his comedy work for a few months now

read on ao3

“What do you do?” The standup of the hour - the guy had introduced himself as Eddie - points at Steve.

Flustered at the attention directing every eye in the club to his table, Steve tries not to stammer as he answers, “Well, uh, I make movies.”

“Oh!” Eddie genuinely looks interested. “So you’re a director?”

“Yeah, pretty much. At least I started out as an indie, but I have a big project that’s out and a couple more on the way.” One table nearby claps and Steve tries to wave them off to stop.

“So what was that big project? Was it something we would’ve seen?” Eddie repositions himself so he has one leg up on the stool. Steve stares at how lean they seem with the tight black jeans. He’s got them daddy long legs. His brain suddenly burps out and it nearly makes Steve lose his composure.

“Uh, ha, I did The Final Bat. It’s on Shudder.” Steve shrugs nonchalantly, perfectly hiding his internal cringe. The horror genre is way out of his league and Steve’s already seen The Final Bat being on a few critical lists damning the title as another cliche-filled mess. He only did it because he had finally caved to Dustin’s pleading to make at least one horror movie.

Eddie, on the other hand, seems ecstatic by this revelation. “No way! That’s sick, dude! So the next time you make a horror flick, you’re gonna watch Blumhouse and A24 coming in at each other with steel chairs for distribution rights.”

Everyone laughs, including Robin. She smacks on Steve’s bicep with a wide grin. He smacks her back before he turns back to Eddie and clarifies, “I don’t like horror! I’m not doing it again!”

Aghast, Eddie throws an invisible hat to the ground and stamps on his feet. “Come on! Then what’s the point of watching the studios bite each other’s dicks off when you’re slipping out to watch - I don’t know - the Barbie movie! Now they’re just fighting for the next shitty horror movie to exist!”

Steve covers his mouth but fails to hold back in the laughter. Eddie’s infectious energy is starting to get to him. It makes his chest clench with something other than the usual pains.

Eddie patiently waits for the patrons to quiet down before continuing, still attentive to Steve, “I’m just wondering actually if you ever done theater class.”

“Sure did! Two years in high school,” Steve confirms.

“Let me guess, they did Hamlet?” Eddie raises an eyebrow like it’s meant to be accusatory.

“Yep, soon after I joined.” Steve nods, the memory of that production flashing before his eyes. It had its ups and downs but it was one of the most fun things Steve had ever experienced.

“No wonder they started as soon as your handsome ass walked in the club.” Eddie says low and flirtatiously into the microphone, staring directly into Steve’s eyes. It echoes across the room and back, bringing the howling laughter with it.

Heat crawls behind his face. Steve keeps his hands on the table, forcing down the urge to hide behind them. “I-” He stops to cough, “I wasn’t supposed to play Hamlet.”

Eddie’s eyes go wide, “What do you mean?!”

Robin answers loud enough for everyone to hear, “He was the grave robber, but the other guy who did Hamlet got into a coma a week before the show and Steve knew all the lines.”

“W-Woah, woah, woah!” Eddie holds his hands out, looking scandalous. He throws looks around the club. “Everyone, shut the fuck up right now! This is more important than caring about the rest of you!” Eddie drags the stool over and perches on it like a very much invested gargoyle, almost oblivious to the audience’s reaction.

“Okay, let me go through this.” He points at Steve, still holding eye contact as if Steve’s soul would provide the answer. “You weren’t Hamlet. You were meant to be the guy who gives him the skull to monologue. The OG Hamlet got into a coma for some reason-“

“Car accident.” Robin interjects.

“Yeah, no need to elaborate, ma’am. You, Steve-” Eddie breaks off for a second, holding back a laugh of his own. “You somehow knew all the Hamlet lines because you were waiting to skin OG Hamlet’s head and make his skull yours to do the monologue.”

There’s a scandalous outcry from all tables. Even when they mostly calm down, Steve uses the growing anticipation to ‘think’ about what Eddie just said before he casually shrugs and says, “Sounds about right.”

Eddie drops his face into his arm, letting everyone laugh at him. Steve lets himself break, his laughter bubbling out of him in a way that doesn’t sound so self-deprecating or hollow. If he was in a cynical mood, he would’ve thought it was pathetic that the only person who made him laugh so lightly again was some random standup.

After a moment, Eddie finally looks up, his face broken in disbelieving grin. He chuckles into the mic and looks back at Steve, “Sorry, it’s just I hear some wild stories in the crowd some nights and I think yours takes the cake.”

Steve smiles, “Thanks, man.”

Eddie stands up back, half-leaning onto the stool. “Do you still remember those lines? To be or not to be?”

The whole damn thing. “Uh… some of it?”

Eddie’s grin shifts into something more mischievous. “Let’s see who knows more.”

A collective oooh goes around the room, including Robin. She already has her phone out for recording. Steve rolls his eyes at her and takes a quick sip of his water. He clears his throat and starts, “‘To be or not to be, that is the question.’”

“‘Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer, the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune..’” Eddie says without missing a beat.

Oh, he thinks he knows it all. The sense of competition that Steve thought had died out with his future of a sports career reignites in his chest. He sits up even straighter. “‘Or to take arms against a sea of troubles and by opposing end them.’”

“‘To die-to sleep, no more.’” Eddie slowly walks over to the edge of the stage, “‘And by a sleep to say we end the heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to.’”

“'tis a consummation devoutly to be wish'd.’” Steve almost shivers as he recites the line, uncertain if it’s from the club’s cooling temperatures or the intense gaze from Eddie’s eyes. “‘To die, to sleep.’”

“‘To sleep, perchance to dream—ay, there's the rub,’” Eddie suggestively rubs a hand on his chest as he squats down. Steve’s eyes flicker to the hand, almost hypnotized by the motion. Nay, he shakes himself out of it. No distractions!

“‘For in that sleep of death what dreams may come, when we have shuffled off this mortal coil.’” It’s getting harder to remember the following lines. That hasn’t happened before. Steve has never forgotten the damn soliloquy in years, even when other people try to challenge him.

Eddie continues, “‘Must give us pause—there's the respect that makes calamity of so long life. For who would bear the whips and scorns of time, the oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely.’”

“‘The pangs-’” Steve feels his breath catching in his throat when he realizes, for the first time, what beautiful eyes Eddie has.

Oh. 

Eddie suddenly perks up in excitement. For a second, Steve thinks that Eddie has come to the exact same thoughts for him. But then he remembers that he hasn’t completed his line, so Steve feigns defeat.

“I win!” Eddie stands up with a triumphant cry. He spreads his arms out to embrace the cheering whoops and applause. “And I’ve only got to play Hamlet in-” He spins around and crouches down so he can look Steve in the eye again as Eddie’s voice booms into the mic, “-FOURTH GRADE, MOTHERFUCKER!” 

Steve’s not even mad. He just throws his head back, laughing and clapping along. 

Almost too soon, Eddie moves on to heckle on another table. But he keeps glancing over at Steve, his smile widening every time. And Steve smiles back, feeling a laugh slip out of his slips at every joke. He watches Eddie more closely, feeling his heart pound faster in his chest the more Eddie stays onstage. 

By the time Eddie has to depart and thank everyone for being here, Robin announces her need to go home and snuggle with her girlfriend. 

“Man, that was the most I’ve ever laughed in this place.” Steve stretches his back, groaning at the little pops. God, being in his early thirties can be a bitch sometimes.

Robin only hums, moving her eyebrows up and down suggestively. Steve pointedly makes no further comment as he pays the tab.

Outside, the crisp night air welcomes him. Steve takes in a whiff, staring up at the light-polluted sky as he bids Robin a goodbye. Then he hears his name being called. He turns around and sees Eddie hurrying out the doors.

Steve feels a smile already on his face, “Hey, Hamlet.” 

Eddie grins at him, teeth and all, “Hey, yourself.” 

They stare at each other but it lacks the competitive intensity earlier. Steve likes this. But he already has a feeling that this won’t be the first time either one of them would challenge the other.

“Sooo…” Steve says when the silence stretches a little too long. He gestures between himself and Eddie, “Wanna restart our introductions?”

Eddie’s eyes brighten, “Yeah! Right, sorry.” He clears his throat and thrusts a hand out. “My name is Eddie Munson. Self-proclaimed comedian and musician. You may recognize me as the guy who beat you in Hamlet’s famous speech.”

Steve takes his hand. Eddie feels bony and thin, but large enough to fit perfectly into Steve’s palm. He tries not to sound so eager as he says, “Steve Harrington. Film director who doesn’t like horror. Believe it or not, I actually know the whole stupid thing.”

Eddie tilts his head, narrowing his eyes, “Really? Like, no offense, but even if you remember that much-”

“‘And thus the native hue of resolution is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought, and enterprises of great pith and moment with this regard their currents turn awry and lose the name of action.’” Steve winks with the Harrington Charm, smile and all. 

Eddie stares at him for so long that Steve feels his heart racing for a different reason. And then, Eddie turns around and muffles a loud scream into his free hand. When the man turns back to face him, he’s sporting the widest smile Steve has never seen.

“You knew the whole thing!?” Eddie’s eyes sparkle with utter adoration.

“Yep.” Steve pops the ‘p’, grinning like a little shit.

“But why did you forget that line?”

“Let’s just say,” Steve squeezes Eddie’s hand, intertwining their fingers together, “I got distracted by the pangs of love.”

Eddie bites on his lower lip as he swoons his body over so they are pressing against each other. With half-lidded eyes, Eddie whispers, “You know that part is Hamlet referring to missing his dead dad, right?”

Of course Steve couldn’t help but kiss him.

[princeguri66]

Leave a mark

MINORS DNI

Monster!John "Soap" Mactavish (with Poly Monster!141 at the end) x Male Reader

Cw: it starts off with Soap but the rest r mentioned and written but not as much as soap, marking with markers, nothing else I believe lmk

Silly thought but like imagine a monster reader who has crazy fast regeneration. Like deep cuts heal in seconds. Maybe you're a ghoul who just has crazy regen, or something like that.

Anyways,

Wouldn't a relationship between Soap, who loves leaving bites and see the aftermath due to his instincts as a werewolf and you who literally heals in seconds be interesting?

He loves getting fucked by you, but everytime he leaves a bit unsatisfied. It's not because you can't make him cum or anything, hell you can pull multiple orgasms from the guy and you have.

It's just that he can't leave satisfied knowing that he left a mark on you. He has bit you so much but the marks just won't stay. With the other members he can clearly see the marks he left on their neck and shoulders, even with Price who due to his dragon blood heals faster but the marks still stay for a day or two.

So everytime you two fuck, even if his ass if filled to the brim and his balls are empty he still whines because he can't leave his mark on you. You're a member of the 141, his pack, so it pains him that he can't put a claim on you like he has with the others.

So one day you get a bit creative.

One night in your room where he's riding on your cock, bouncing up and down while you lay your back on the bed, your hands gripping his hips and slamming him down on you as you cum. He leans down and bites as hard as he can on you as the feeling of you filling him up makes him cum. Pulling away and only being able to whine because he can't even admire his mark before it fades away.

"Aw, is puppy unsatisfied?" You tease and chuckle. And before he could insist that he was, you reached to the bedside table and picked up a red permanent marker, "why don't you mark me with this instead?" You say handing him the marker.

He huffs out a laugh at your little solution, but it's the best you got since you can't really make yourself regenerate slower. So he indulges, testing the marker on the back of your hand, the ink incredibly opaque so it stands out against your skin. Then he draws a bite mark at your neck then adds "Soap's Claim" in big letters, covering the whole left side of your neck.

He leans back, the bright red against your skin and the obvious letters, he finally sighs a sigh of relief.

It doesn't go unnoticed as well (just how he likes it)

The other members of the task force noticing Soap's eyes seem a bit brighter and his tail has been swaying peacefully the whole day. And that's where you enter, neck bare for everyone to see (it's the least you can do) Soap grins, happy to finally be able to show off his claim on you.

And now they want to have their names on your body too.

It's all color coordinated too now, Price who loves to write across your shoulder blades, with words like "Price's hoard" or just a simple "Price" with a heart next to it, it's simple but huge.

Gaz with a bright blue marker who likes to do it on your lower back (because he can also rest his head on your ass) writing something like "Gaz was here" and likes to draw wings on you. (Wing themed tramp stamp with 141 between the wings anyone?)

And Ghost with either white or black who loves to mark your chest, either a simple "ghost" or "Simon Riley" on each pec. Also likes to draw a ghost doodle on top of your heart.

And if you five fuck together, you aren't the only one who ends up having ink on you, but you'd have the most. And when you wake up to find a big arrow pointing to your dick and ass that says "Property of 141" written in multiple colors, you'd wish you could show it off.

[kkai-zen]

Hi! (please ignore this if you if you don’t like it) but if you feel comfortable, could you do childhood friend!ness x fem!reader. The idea is that they’re best friends but when ness joins bastard münchen he meets Kaiser (and because my entire personality is hating on him after chapter 289). He makes him isolate himself from his friends. As you can tell I want something really Angsty but with at least a happy ending. Other than what I said, you can do whatever you want with it and have a nice day. :)

hello!! thank you so much for the request, this one took me a while (ㅠ﹏ㅠ) hopefully ness isn't too ooc since i don't know him too well (guilty of being anime only lol), but i had a lot of fun planning the angst for this one and i hope you enjoy! 𓂃۶ৎ

as it was.

wc: 2.1k + childhood friend!reader x alexis ness + angst + implied happy ending + slight kaiser bashing + sfw

“Get out, you idiot!” 

Slam!

Even as a child, you’d put together the happenings of the house next door. On most nights, you could peer through the kitchen window, standing on your tippy-toes, and watch the front door of the house slam shut. If you squinted, you could see the curled figure of a boy your age hovering by its porch.

He seems so lonely like this, you tilt your head. You wonder what he’s thinking about, what his parents are like, why he lays down on the grassy lawn and draws invisible pictures in the air. 

Breath fogging the glass, you tap at the window loud enough for him to hear, and quietly trace a heart into the condensation. You can’t tell if he sees it.

“Time for bed, honey!” Your mother calls. Shooting a final, curious glance at the boy’s silhouette through your heart, you hop down the stairs to your bedroom. 

It’s only a couple days later when you see him wandering around outside again. He still looks sad, doesn’t he? You pinch your eyebrows together.

“Mama! Can I go outside ’n play?” 

“Sure, just don’t go too far!” 

And before you know it, with some child-like excitement nipping at your heels, you run up to the boy. 

“Hi! Would you like to play soccer with me?” 

His name is Alexis Ness, you learn.

He’s got a wild imagination, even for a child, yapping to you for hours about magic and illusions and now, soccer. You two would spend entire days kicking around a ratty soccer ball in the front lawn of your house, even on the scant few days Ness didn’t get kicked out of his.

Sun, wind, rain, snow—a day didn’t go by without you and Ness laughing and bickering, chasing each other around in the grass stamped flat from months of play. 

It wasn’t long before a year passed. 

“Hey, Ness?” You squint up at the hot afternoon sun, hand shielding your eyes as you lay back on the cool grass. 

“Huh?” 

“Magic is real, isn’t it?” 

“Course it is, dummy.” 

You frown. “How d’ya know?” 

He pauses, toying with the soccer ball in his lap. “Cuz of that feeling I get when I play soccer with you.”

You blink up at him with large eyes. “Feeling?” 

“Yeah,” he states, almost as if it were some obvious, undeniable truth. “Y’know, my chest gets all funny and my heart makes these weird sounds and my cheeks get sore from smiling so much.” Ness squishes his face in his hands, and you giggle. “That’s what magic is to me.” 

“Ness.”

“What?” 

“I think I believe in magic, too.” 

And he smiles at you—a real, wide grin that covers his whole face, and for a moment he shines brighter than the sun rays. 

“Told ya so!” 

The years slipped by quicker than you would’ve liked them to.

Subconsciously, you knew that you and Ness wouldn’t be together like this forever. It was only a matter of when it would happen, the dreaded day that he or you might vanish into adulthood, leaving behind the fond memories of flattened grass and soccer and magic. 

You still remember when he told you, with that childlike sparkle in his eyes, that he would be leaving to join Bastard München’s U-20 team. 

It was a snowy December day when he left, suitcase beside him, and you tried not to let him see the hot tears balancing on your lower lashes. You two were grown, you reminded yourself. You aren’t children anymore. This was always bound to happen. 

So why are you clinging to him, your tears spilling onto his new Bastard München jacket, holding back sobs? 

“Shh, shh, it’s okay,” Ness whispers into your hair, hand on the back of your head and a sad smile on his lips. 

You say nothing, squeezing your eyes shut.

“I won’t be gone forever, you know,” He reprimands gently, pulling your head off his chest. “Besides, won’t it be cool to see me on TV?” His smile is soft, and he wipes the tears from your cheeks with a warm finger. “Y-yeah,” you mumble, unable to meet his eyes. 

Both of you are silent for a moment longer, before Ness tilts your head up to look at him. “Thank you for showing me what magic is.” 

There’s a strange tension, a fire in his eyes, and your breath catches in your throat when he leans forward to press a delicate kiss to your lips. 

And before you know it, he’s gone. 

At first, the loneliness was bearable. You and Ness texted every day, every night, any moment he had a second to spare. It was enough to keep your sadness at bay, but it didn’t last long.

The change was gradual: the slow responses, the messages left on read, and then on delivered. At some point, days passed before a single text back. And one day, there were no more texts back. 

You justified it to yourself over and over. He’s a professional athlete now. This is his career. Of course he’s busy. 

A year ticks by without a single message. 

And when you run into him in the middle of town one day, you feel part of your heart crack open. 

“Ness? Is that you?” 

He’s noticeably taller, face sharper, and his eyes look sunken with that childlike sparkle missing. He was different, as if something had swallowed up his vitality, leaving behind only a porcelain shell that looked down at you with empty eyes. 

“Oh, it’s you.”

Ness barely noticed you. 

“Y-you’re back? In town?” You stand there, heart sinking lower, and lower again when he looks at you, wearing a slender smile that doesn’t match his cold eyes. 

“Yeah, I am, unfortunately.” 

“You could’ve- I mean- just, texted me, at least?” 

Your voice is trembling, and you’re not sure why. This is Ness, isn’t it? The boy you grew up with? Your best friend, and possibly even-

“What, am I your boyfriend or something?” 

His voice is deceivingly gentle for his sharp words, and they hit you like a slap in the face. Your heart breaks a little more.

“It would’ve been nice to at least know. Y’know, as friends?” Your voice still trembles, but this time it’s more out of anger than fear or sadness. 

“Friends?” 

Ness looks at you, quiet smile still on his face, betraying no emotion. “I don’t need friends. I have my team- no, I have him.” 

There’s no doubt in your mind that the him Ness means is Kaiser.

That blue-haired, rose-obsessed freak of a striker on Bastard München. You’ve seen all of Ness’s games multiple times, and you had to admit their chemistry was admirable. But even off the field, they’d been spotted together: after games, after practice, everywhere, with Ness trailing behind Kaiser like a puppy.  

“So- so he means more to you than someone who’s been friends with you for your whole life?” 

You can’t help the hurt and frustration that slips into your voice. But as soon as the words leave your lips, you regret it. 

Ness’s eyes narrow, and chills run up your spine. 

“Watch yourself. A nobody like you shouldn’t be insulting him.” 

And what’s left of your composure splinters apart. 

“Seriously, Ness? After all this time, you- he- ” you scramble for words, desperation and anger and fear gripping your throat. “We’ve been friends for years. Since we were children. Do you seriously not see me as a friend now?” Your hands close into fists. “For fuck’s sake, we grew up together!” 

He stares down at you with that soft cold smile.

“Kaiser was right. You’re a distraction.” 

You didn’t count the number of years that passed since then. 

Life goes on, doesn’t it? But you never realized a life without Ness would be so miserable. Quietly turning off your TV when his games aired, scrolling past news about Bastard München, about anything soccer related—it was too much for you to bear. 

It’s cold today, you quietly think, wrapping your scarf tighter around your neck as soft white petals of snow flutter over you. It doesn’t usually snow this early in the year.

With slow, deliberate steps, you dread the sight of your childhood home in the distance. It only reminds you of him, after all. Why’d you tell your parents you’d visit them? 

But you see a faint silhouette in the distance, a hunched shadow hovering by the porch next door, and a wave of nostalgia drowns you: the foggy window, the heart, and the boy. It feels like a mirage, a trick of the light, but as you approach the house, it’s exactly who you wished yet dreaded to see the most standing there, tattered soccer ball at his feet. 

“Ness?” 

Your voice is faint, as if you’re talking to yourself and not the man standing there. 

He doesn’t look real. Glowing in the cold light of the moon, snow frosts his hair, bags hanging under his eyes. He’s a ghost, an apparition, a figment of your desperate imagination. That’s what you think until he pulls you into a deep hug, and you feel the warmth of his skin on yours. 

You stand there, frozen still, his arms wrapped around you for too long a time before he pulls away. 

“I’m sorry.” 

His voice has the same light, gentle quality it always had, but something about it is different this time.

In all those years, you’d never seen Ness like this. He was a ray of sun, beaming and glowing with warmth, and then he was ice, cold and sharp and crushing your heart into pieces with its vice. 

But he was never this; haunted, trembling, almost as if he was about to splinter into pieces and out of existence. 

“How many years has it been, Ness?” You whisper. He doesn’t answer.

“How many? Since you left me for Kaiser?” There’s no bitterness in your voice, only a silent resignation that’s met with snowflakes and a whistle of wind. 

“I texted you. Every day for that whole year you were gone.” Your voice grows louder. “I watched every single one of your games on TV. I waited for you, every single day, hoping you would respond. And what did you do?” 

What feels like a lifetime’s worth of anger suddenly swells inside you, threatening to overflow, and you jab a finger into his chest. “Nothing! You did fucking nothing, Ness. I- ” you choke.

“You left me, after making those empty promises. Not even a text back? Are you fucking serio-”

“‘I hope you’re doing well, Ness. I loved your assist in that last game, it was amazing.’” 

You freeze.

“‘Take care of yourself, make sure to stay hydrated.’ ‘Look at this article I found! You and Kaiser really make a good pair LOL.’ ” 

Ness takes a breath, and keeps going. 

“‘Eat and sleep well, Ness!’ ‘Just got your jersey in the mail today!’ ‘Your form looks great, excited for your next game.’”

The words spill from his lips as if he’d been waiting his whole life to say them. And it’s several long, word-filled minutes later before he utters,

“‘Miss you lots, Ness. Come home soon.’ ”

You're speechless. “Are those…”

“Texts you’ve sent me. Every single one.” Ness says, his quiet voice hoarse. You say nothing, staring at him with shock. “I read them. All of them, a million times over and then again.” He reaches out to touch your hand. 

“It was hard to respond because of him. Kaiser. Made me feel like you were a distraction, when-” Ness swallows. “When in reality, you were the reason I started playing soccer in the first place.” 

His grip on your hand tightens the slightest bit. “I never forgot you. Not a single time. I only pretended not to because of pride and selfishness and a desire to please the wrong person.” 

You look at him and for a moment, all you see is that lonely boy from a lifetime ago. 

“I hurt you. But I- I promise you-” He clutches your hands to his chest, eyes filling with desperation. “I understand what I did, and it was wrong, and I fucked up, and I just- I regret ignoring you and treating you like that and- just, please, at least let me make it up to you.” 

There are tears sliding down his face now, and your heart lodges in your throat. 

“Will you let me back into your life? Even for just a moment?” 

And you say nothing, quietly stepping back, pulling your hands out of his. You catch the way his breath stops, the way his body freezes, the way dread settles over his face when you pull away. 

But instead of leaving, you bend over to pick up the soccer ball at his feet. 

“Hey Ness?”

“…y-yes? What is it?” 

You hold the worn ball out to him. 

“Will you prove to me that magic exists again?” 

[willreigns]

Letters from the Other Side

The sea washes over the sides of the steamship, taking with it the algae stuck to it. You almost hope the waves can take you with it, the nerves getting the better of you as you leant over the rail. Come see me, you read the letter over and over again, your stomach fluttering, I want to see you.

CW: Post-war Levi x fem!reader, civilian!reader

A/N: Some post-war Levi goodness after the angst I’ve posted this past month. ~2.5k words of fluff and romance. If this does well, I’ll probably write the super romantic smut next.

Credit to @cafekitsune for the dividers!

Three years after the Rumbling and things were starting to return to a sense of normalcy in the Stohess district. At least as normal as things can get when the twisted mentality of the Yeagerists and their seizing control of the military dominated the news. Your mother and father tell you not to worry, but you’ve been worried ever since the walls disappeared and the Survey Corps regiment disbanded.

Or rather, you have only really been worried over a single person, the man with the raven locks and the dull gray eyes, dull eyes that glittered when you spoke to him. You were still a woman, and a woman has intuition for those sorts of things like attraction, and Captain Levi couldn’t help how flustered he got whenever he saw you. Your father was the owner of a blacksmith company, and you often bumped into Levi along with Commander Smith several times a month.

Humanity’s strongest, you’d think in awe, where you had imagined a big brute, now you saw the man for what he was.

Why’d he come along was always unknown to you, but as your father and the commander spoke privately in another room, you offered small conversation and tea while he waited. Where small talk began, somehow a deep appreciation for the other bloomed, and the visits began to feel like the visits of the suitors that bombarded your home on occasion. He’d gift you single flowers, it’s all I can afford, he’d say meagerly. You’d thank him with a kiss on the cheek each and every time. And each and every time a ferocious tinge of red would adorn his face.

The timing never seemed to be right with either of you, it always seemed like when one was ready to take the leap, the other had other obligations waiting. Wait for me, were his selfish last words to you and you nodded your head as you gave him a final good-bye.

It had already been three years. You were already on the cusp of giving up.

It had been a nice breezy morning when you received his first letter. The unfamiliar stamps had caught both you and your parents off-guard, but nonetheless they gave you the privacy to open it. There, in the small garden of your home, tears welled up in your eyes as you skimmed through it.

It was a letter from Captain Levi.

Or rather Levi, just Levi, as the letter so said. I have told them to stop calling me captain, but these brats never learn. You giggled inwardly at his words, tears welling up in your eyes. You read it one more time, much slower this time, familiarizing yourself with his handwriting, the slant in his letters, his signature, everything. You familiarized yourself with the names Gabi and Falco, children you did not know but instantly loved with the way they cared for Levi.

At the very bottom, a hopeful wish that you will respond, signed next to his name.

Of course you will.

Your father stood confused as you gathered parchment and a pen to write, finding it odd that his moody daughter was suddenly so lively. Perhaps it’s the engagement, he thought, and let you be.

Your ring twinkled under the summer sun, and yet nothing has caused more glee than the very letter you were responding to. You wrote about the situation in Paradis, you wrote about the kindness of the queen, and you wrote about how business was booming for your father, despite the war having been over. The thought saddened you, but you quickly sign the letter and add a note that you excitedly await his next letter.

It’s not that you fail to mention your engagement, rather some deep part of you didn’t want to mention it. Your betrothed was a good man, hand picked by your father, you had accepted to keep his worries at bay that you wouldn’t end up husbandless and with no children.

How quickly Levi’s letters can have you questioning your familiar duties.

We restored some of the land ruined by the war, Levi writes, many foreigners are starting to settle here again.

You can’t help the sense of admiration that fills you up. It filled you up when he’d visit with the commander, and it still filled you up now. A military man, you wonder if he’s still as strong as when you met him. Humanity’s strongest, you wondered if he still thought about you and the flowers he’d gift you.

I’d like to visit it one day, you write, perhaps a change of scenery would be nice. All this yeagerist talk has me going mad.

I’d like to visit you one day, you will yourself to write, but you don’t. You had been lovestruck years ago, perhaps the captain no longer harbored the same feelings. Perhaps the captain has found someone new, perhaps the captain has married.

Sadness consumes you. After all, you were just friends back then, right?

You trash your letter and write a plainer one instead. It hadn’t even reached half a page when you sealed it, wrote his address on the front of it and set it aside for the postman to pickup tomorrow.

“Honey,” you can hear your mother call, “James is here to see you.” You force your best smile to greet your husband-to-be.

It’s weeks before the next letter arrives. The pretty orange and red tree leaves were beginning to fall, a cozy chill running through the district. Your wedding preparations were already underway when the postman calls out to you, a single letter in his hands, the stamps it bore already familiar to you.

More talk of restoration, recovery, Gabi and Falco’s shenanigans, when finally you reach the last bit of the letter. I don’t mean to bother you, Levi writes, your last letter felt abrasive. I understand if things have changed. Everything has changed.

You wonder what goes through Levi’s mind when he writes to you.

No, things have not changed. Things still felt the same, at least they did to you. Still, you couldn’t ignore your engagement anymore as you saw your mother debate through wedding ribbons in the distance and you finally will yourself to write and tell him the news.

I’m engaged, it feels awful to write it, my engagement is a long one, though, and so I’m sorry if the letter was short. I must’ve been busy.

You write of other things, of the rising tension amongst good folks like your family who didn’t want to fuel another war, and the yeagerists. You write of how the talks of peace by the ambassadors (who you found out were actually part of the same regiment as him) were falling on deaf ears.

I’d like to see you, you finally write, I’d like to see what the other side looks like.

You add the last bit in a final moment of hesitation, sign your name and set it aside, a deep breath falling from your lips.

“You’re changing the wedding date again, and to a later date might I add,” your father bellows out to you.

“Father, please,” you reply, exasperated, trying to escape the dining room and into your own, a new letter in hand, “I will get married in time, what’s the rush?”

“The rush is that you’re not young anymore, I beg you to reconsider.”

You shut the door behind you, shaky fingers coming to pry the letter open. You force yourself to read slowly, absorbing every single inked word coming from Levi’s fingertips.

You skip his polished words of annoying governmental policies being implemented on his side and go straight to the heart of the letter, his real response to you.

Congratulations on your engagement, he begins, I’m surprised you haven’t even married yet.

That? That is what he has to say? You scoff, a slight irritation blooming.

I don’t look like before—I’ve lost an eye and my right hand is destroyed, his letter continues, I look awful.

I’m not humanity’s strongest anymore.

You don’t know why these words strike you deeply. Years and a great distance separate you from what Levi is or was for that matter, yet it isn’t Levi’s exterior that ever affected you in the first place. It was the small talks and the small gifts, it was his tinged cheeks and his intrepid way of speaking around your people who have only seen the refined things in life.

You could never look awful to me, you write in your response, a wave of heat flaring up on your cheeks, you’re just trying to get me not to go.

Levi’s letters continue well into the deeper part of winter, the leaves have long since fallen, snow beginning to gather amongst the branches. The winters where he lived were harsh, and he writes of how they were causing the ache in his knee to worsen. You spend some of your money to send him some ointment you purchased from a local medic.

He writes to you of how the snow reminds him of when the Survey Corps would serve hot chocolate on the off chance. You send him chocolate you bargain off a local vendor.

The signs of Levi’s homesickness don’t escape you, even if he doesn’t admit it.

I could send you Stohess’s entire stock of goods if I can, you respond to his letters of thanks.

What would I do with all that, he responds to yours, breaking you into a fit of silent laughter.

I’ve missed your awful humor, you write casually. You wonder if you should trash this letter and begin a new one, but you don’t. I’ve missed you, you finish writing.

The budding roses in your garden remind you of your predicament.

“As much as I respect you,” James begins, “I won’t accept any other change to the wedding. If you won’t marry me then I’ll find someone who will.”

You comprehend his irritation, even if you don’t fully understand it.

He leaves you on your garden bench, exiting through the gate, just in time for the postman to arrive. Your feelings don’t subside, in fact they linger as you read Levi’s next letter.

Upon opening it, nervousness hits you as you see just how short the letter is. Policy change, annoying policy change.

The ambassadors have told me that postage to Paradis will be barred soon. Your eyes widen. Despite the nice spring breeze, your body suddenly feels so cold.

If I don’t hear from you again, I wanted to wish you a happy marriage. Your eyes well with tears, but it’s his next words that move you.

Unless you change your mind. Come see me. I want to see you. Just as you’re about to trash the envelope, a small flower catches your eye. It was dried up and rather lonely, but you hold it close to you as small tears slip down your cheeks.

The next morning, you try to give the postman your next letter but he just shakes his head in response.

“Apologies ma’am, the military has ordered a full stop for all international mail.” You thank him anyway, despite how distraught you feel.

Your wedding is within two weeks. The white dress in the corner of your room haunts you. Although lace with spring flowers were added to match the season, it only made it look like the kind of dress you wore on your deathbed.

There was no more rescheduling your wedding date, there were no more letters to look forward to, you could only look over the last letter, his final request.

You longed for Levi. Did he long for you?

Come see me, I want to see you.

Despite the spring air, a heat that resembled summer humidity burned through you.

“It’s a one way trip if you decide to head to the other side,” the hefty man tells you, “military has barred all incoming and outgoing mail, I wouldn’t be surprised if they bar incoming ships soon.”

This was it, the point of no return. You had written your last letter addressed to your parents—an apology for doing what you are doing. No, your heart hasn’t seized its rampant beating since Levi’s last letter. You need to see him.

You board without much of a glance back.

For days, sea sickness threaten to put a damper on your good (albeit nervous) mood, your only fuel the letters stored in your small suitcase, rereading them every night as the darkness of the ocean tormented you.

Finally, the crewmen announce that you will be arriving in the morning. The sun was setting off in the horizon—you clutched his last letter as you take a brief moment to absorb this feeling of resilience that surged through you. You’d get to see Levi soon, you’ve waited enough. Here, near the rails of the ship, you long for him, nerves filling your stomach.

The sea washes over the sides of the steamship, taking with it the algae stuck to it. You almost hope the waves can take you with it, the nerves getting the better of you as leant over the rail. Come see me, you read the letter over and over again, your stomach fluttering. I want to see you.

Past the plethora of persons disembarking, past the many political volunteers ushering about far-off dreams of peace that were unachievable, you navigate through unknown territory in an effort to find him. Fingers pointed, people spoke foreign directions as they glanced at the address on your envelope. It has all brought you here.

Face to face with a young girl, too young to be married.

“Ah—sorry,” you begin, “I was told Levi Ackerman lived here.”

“Yeah he does,” she begins suspiciously, “I’ll get him.” The door closes again and already you feel out of your element. Perhaps this was a mistake, you wish the ground can swallow you whole. Peering eyes look at you through a nearby window, ones that belonged to the young girl who just spoke to you, and another who you haven’t met.

“That’s her? No way,” you can hear them say. Suddenly the door opens, and dull gray eyes that bore a hint of annoyance soften and make way for a familiar glitter that reminded you of simpler times.

“Levi.”

He whispers your name, suddenly hiding his maimed hand, trying to get you to see his good side, the side with his working eye. But you don’t see that. You see the man who gifted you flowers, you see the man whose cheeks you once kissed.

You will yourself to move and you do, grabbing the hand behind him and crashing into him in an embrace. Levi’s face is red, and he glances at the window to see Gabi and Falco gawking at them. He waves them off annoyingly and they give him a thumbs-up as they pull away.

Hands come to wrap around you, lips kissing your forehead.

“You came,” he whispers into your hair.

“Of course.”

[starsinthesky5]

Do the boys ever tease Joe about the marks on his body in the locker room? Like they know Joe and songbird haven't seen each other in a while (which he was so grumpy about and he made it known he misses his girl) and then all of a sudden one day Joe comes in all smiles and giggly and everyone wondering why cause yesterday he barely spoke a word or two. then while changing they see he's all marked up. His back, biceps, maybe neck and they just know they finally got back together.

Love your work sm btw✨

a/n: thank you my love <3 also, follow up to this blurb

warnings: mentions of nfsw content below

you are in love masterlist

───────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───────

oh absolutely they do 😭 the minute joe walks into that locker room acting like a brand new man, the guys know something’s up.

the day before? he was a menace. quiet, short-tempered, barely said a word to anyone unless he had to. slammed his helmet down at least twice, snapped at the vending machine when it ate his dollar, grumbled something about how “she’s been gone for two weeks, man,” like he was dying inside, actively having the worst withdrawals known to mankind.

but the next day?

he’s humming under his breath. humming. grinning like he’s got a secret. tossing his bag down with a little bounce in his step, cracking jokes during warm-ups, even sharing his snacks—which he never does.

the guys are all like, “ohhh no. no way. he got laid,”.

and even, “nah, not just laid. she’s back. bro’s floatin’. he’s in loveeee again,”.

then he pulls his hoodie off in the locker room, and it’s game over. someone lets out a low whistle the second they get a peek at his bare skin, and then the floodgates open.

“god damn, QB1. what the hell did she do to you?”.

“ain’t no way that’s from the weight room,”.

“yo, those bite marks?”.

“not the scratches down his lats. oh my god,”.

joe just smirks, like usual, shaking his head like he knew this was coming. towel over his shoulder, trying to act unfazed even though he’s blushing like crazy. then he says, “y’all act like you wouldn’t do the same if you hadn’t seen your girl in two weeks,”.

and they lose it.

“two weeks??”.

“shit, i’d let her kill me if it meant waking up with a smile like yours,”.

“that’s not a hickey, that’s a claim,”.

“she ride you like a damn peloton, huh?”.

he laughs—quiet and low, head dipped, that familiar cheeky grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. his cheeks are pink, ears flushed, but he’s eating it up. letting them get their jokes in, letting them see the aftermath, because he knows what it means.

he’s still sore—hips stiff, back aching. he’ll feel it during drills, definitely after practice. there’s a set of crescent-shaped nail marks burned into the dip of his lower back that he had to check in the mirror this morning, just to be sure they were real. they are. so are the faint hickeys she pressed like stamps along his collarbone.

his ego’s bruised too—but in a good way. in the god, she missed me that much kind of way. the she wrecked me and i said thank you kind of way. and truthfully?

he’s never felt better. never felt more happier. never felt more hers.

and then someone—probably ja'marr because he just loves to tease his bestie, is grinning from his bench, voice all lazy and knowing—mutters, “must be nice havin’ a girl who misses you that bad,”.

joe’s already mid-reach for his water bottle when his smirk deepens, jaw flexing as he tries to hold in another grin.

“yeah,” he says, all casual, like it’s not still replaying in his head. “she missed me. missed her more,”.

and then he jogs out to practice with that loose, easy stride—the kind that says yeah, i got lucky. and then got lucky again.

smug as hell.

a little bruised.

very well-fucked.

and not a single guy dares chirp him for the rest of the day. they’re too busy trying not to be jealous.

[hxltic]

i absolutely need suna x reader having secret sex while the miya twins are a room across🫣

OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD

You had no real attraction to Suna, but it was just one of those nights where your brothers came home after a game, bringing his friends along with him to celebrate, and to avoid sitting in their sweat, they had to shower. Thank god you took yours before the boys made it. Being the last to shower when the floor is wet and it’s steamy already is literally the worst shit ever.

The problem was, Suna never really came over; therefore, he had no real way to know which room was your brothers’.

He had specific instructions to shower and take some clothes from his room. Looking back on it, he should’ve asked which door it is, but strutting back with nothing but a towel on his waist is not an option. So, he resorts to opening every door until he finds what he would think is the room of his teammate. Or rather…either of them?

Instead, the knob twists as you’re fully bent over in your walk-in closet, digging through a basket of clean clothes for a t-shirt. Of course it had to be the second you wanted to change when he walked in, and not when you were comfortably reading in bed with a little light on earlier. There’s no bra on your chest now, just a pair of navy blue lace panties.

Hey! On the bright side: they could’ve been cotton with “kiss my ass” stamped on the back.

Your arms draw up in an effort to hide your chest when you hear the twist of the knob and the door come flying open. Key word is effort, because now your breasts are pressed up against each other, which Suna believes is ten times worse for you than the position he found you in. At least when you were bent over, he had to imagine whatever he couldn’t see.

“Holy- shit!” you exclaim, eyeing the man at your door that’s actively dripping water on your carpet. His hair is fallen and sticking to his face messily, just enough for you to spot his slim eyes. He doesn’t say anything at first.

It’s mainly just him blinking blankly at you while you panic, searching the room for literally anything to provide some decency, but once you render the clear lack of any emotion (like embarrassment) you currently possessed in his body, it calms your nerves a bit.

He’s seen a woman before. It doesn’t make him any less prone to being attracted to puffy lips and nipples only covered by an arm, but it somehow soothes you to know he won’t make a big deal out of it and maybe not even mention it to your siblings.

Eventually, you throw on the nearest shirt over your head and pull your hair through, dirty or clean, still with no pants to match.

You sigh deeply, “What is it Suna?” It comes out in an irritated grunt.

“You know my name.” His eyebrows raise with surprise, but not as high as the average person’s would.

“Yeah, I do. Is there a reason you’re still here?”

He presses on: “How do you know it? Do they talk about me a lot?”

Your head drops in your palm to shake back and forth. “I can’t do this right now,” he overhears your mumble.

“My bad, I was looking for Tsumu’s room but got jumpscared instead.”

Despite saying this, he still stands in the doorway—not with it cracked, but with it wide fucking open—and it’s then when creaks from the stairs clears the air between you two. He doesn’t move, but you quickly shove him over to peek around the corner, then drag him into your bedroom before whoever it is gets the wrong idea by the view from the hallway.

While you’re turned after throwing him mindlessly into your room, he readjusts the falling towel around his waist. What he said finally hits you a few moments too late.

“Jumpscared?! You? I’m in the comfort of my own room when you barge in with nothing on!” Your hands gesture up and down as you scold him. “And don’t talk about my body like that!” Only he doesn’t really look at your eyes. When you’re done, he finds your attention.

“It was really an accident, but I’ll stay until whoever goes back downstairs,” he shrugs. “And why does it smell like sex in here?”

Your cheeks redden. There was a reason you were looking for a change of clothes. “It doesn’t.”

“Yeah, it does.” He flops back onto the bed carelessly, dipping your comforter.

“Stop! You’re getting my sheets wet.” His body has only slightly dried, but with the full head of hair he has, it hasn’t dried at all. “Suna, get up.”

“They probably already are.”

He closes his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest. His stature was not what you thought it’d be. He was tall and packed with muscle in his legs. You could tell that much by the pictures if you didn’t figure it out by the fact that when he’s sitting you’re still face to face; but on top of that, his abdomen was carved and his arms carried some weight too.

Nothing compared to the sheer size of his legs, but still up there. They had to be the size of your head. By photos he’s an average high school athlete, so it almost appears fake when he takes the uniform off.

Unfortunately, as you were looking, his eyes had opened and he’d been watching you inspect him. Suna will always preach there are benefits to being as quiet as he is, like how he can pinpoint that your fingers come to pinch the edge of your shirt.

You clear your throat in hopes it will gather your thoughts too, then rectify his past statement. “They aren’t.”

“Right… just like how all the red tabs in this book are for nothing?” He reaches beside him to take it in his hands, then he flips through the pages quickly until he comes across one. “‘I run my fingers down her trembling thighs that yearn for my touch. You’ll take it like a—’”

Before he can finish what you remember is very unfortunately highlighted, you crawl over him to rip it out his hands and throw it. You chuck the literature nowhere in particular with shame that can’t get any higher as he laughs, then you quickly retreat with a knee up on the edge of the bed. His laughter is a sweet sound. It makes sense why he’s friends with your brothers.

You don’t even notice you’re half-straddling him while you point your finger in his face. “What I read is none of your business.”

He spoke clearly and assertively when he read, and the last thing you need him figuring out was how bad your body desired he’d read the words to you again; he was already too observant.

“Of course. Forgive me for saying such vulgar things around my friend’s sister. She would never do such a thing.” Finally, he slowly sits up, which naturally makes you rise with him, so you place your hand on his shoulder to prevent from wobbling. Your thigh is beside his with your foot unstable on the floor. “She’s just so sweet and innocent, and definitely not up here alone reading book porn.”

Your breathing picks up at the proximity and the pressure of a declaration you can’t avoid. You search between both his eyes that do the same to you. He deserves a medal or something, because fuck—the shirt lifts just a little bit every time you fiddle with it and the lace sticks to your skin like glue. “I- uhm,” you stutter, removing your stability from his body and backing away from the bed.

Of course, to add to the fucking humiliation, you stumble backward, but he reaches out to you. His hand firmly wraps around your wrist and the other is hooked behind your back when he jerks you back up to him. He only releases your wrist.

“Is that all you read?”

You shake your head. “I read regular romance and fantasy too.”

He nods, “Ah, I see. So you want the prince of a faraway land to twirl you around in his field of flowers saying how much he loves you, then you want him to make you beg to come?”

Your eyes shoot wide at the comment, only stretching the lazy smirk on his face.

“N-No,” you reply, even though that does sound extremely appealing.

“But you do want someone to ‘run their fingers down your trembling thighs’ though, right?”

To emphasize his point, he lets the knuckles of his hand trickle down the back of your thigh, just barely grazing the skin. The sensation shocks you and almost sends you forward. This can’t be happening. Actually, you pray it isn’t, so your eyelids slam shut.

This prompts his other hand to pinch either side of your jaw gently and drag your face to his. “Or lay you back and tell you to take it like a good girl.” His eyes flicker from your eyes, to your lips, then back up, noting the state of disbelief your countenance holds. He flattens the hand that stops just under your ass.

You almost melt in his hold, and this he knows because of the long breath you took after his words. It’s easy to infer you’re fairly untouched by not only your responses, but how receptive you were. It was you two, only about an inch from each other now, waiting to see who would make the next move and risk something far worse than just a growing attraction. The twins flash in your head as a beat passes and you swallow.

“Yes. But that has nothing to do with you.”

Suna shines a smile with his teeth. “Your thighs are rubbing together.”

You look him up and down. “So?”

“Can I tell you a secret?”

You don’t look him in the eyes, they drop to your pillows. Before you can separate the thighs in question that are only disconnected by his fingertips, he nudges you forward onto him, bringing your hands back to his shoulders. You’re completely straddling while attempting to keep your eyes locked on his when his entire torso is on display. He leans forward to speak just above a whisper in your ear as if this is a normal occurrence.

“I can feel you dripping all over my hand.” The cool of his breath tickles your neck, only worsening as he continues. “Why is that?”

You’re at a loss for words at first, but you suck it up, holding your own. “Nothing to do with you. Maybe I went too hard earlier.”

He wholeheartedly chuckles at this response. “So you admit it?”

“Admit what?”

“That you were up here fucking yourself to your book?” His voice is an echo behind you since he’d decided to rest his chin comfortably on your shoulder.

“Yeah. Yeah—I guess I do. It’s not like you didn’t come in here and figure it out yourself,” your eyes roll.

“Which part were you reading?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes.”

There’s a moment of silence. “She’d just decided to drop her toxic ex-boyfriend and his sister came to console her. The way she did it was kind of fucked up, and I think the slow burn is what made me look past it, but anyway—she brings her to a party, the boy she meets there happens to be the barista at the place she orders from every day, and he has a history with the main character’s ex. He hates him even though he’d gotten over it as years passed, but she really wants to get back at him, so they send an anonymous short video of them, um… together, and he gets really pissed off.”

Suna is quiet as he reviews what you just said. He admires your perception of the book and the passion to read. He goes, “You’re into that?” and then it’s your turn not to say anything, even with the amusement lacing his tone. You grow fidgety, and just when you don’t think any more words will be exchanged, he suddenly demands, “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“That. What you just did.” You shifted your weight from leg to leg as the silence grew longer. Just to see, you do it again.

“You’re grinding against me when you do that by the way.”

You giggle maliciously, continuing to go back and forth. It’s payback for teasing you the entire time. He comes to hold your hips still to prevent further movements, but in protest, you create an arch in your back to actually roll your hips down instead, ensuring he felt it.

“Okay, really, unless you want to move like that with my nine inches inside of you, I suggest you choose your battles now.”

You finally halt at the words. He was dead serious. He feels scratching along his shoulder blades at your fingers curling up in response, but not removing yourself. He still rests his head beside yours. “Oh, don’t tell me you’re into that too?”

So that’s how he ended up with his back to your headboard, head tipped up, looking at you through his pretty eyelashes as you wrap your hand around his slick length and reposition it to line up. You lower your body down, allowing your walls to open up for him. The stretch hurts only a little just because he’s so big.

You hadn’t kissed him the entire time, so he groans desperately when you wrap your fingers tightly around his neck and lean in. He allows you to no matter how hard you squeeze.

This drives up your confidence with your pretty lace panties pushed to the side, making you raise to your feet.

“Shit,” he grabs ahold of your ankles between half-lidded eyes, and his mouth slightly dropped like he can’t believe what the fuck he’s seeing. “If Atsumu could see you now.”

The mention of your brother at all should turn you off, but it doesn’t. It only fuels you knowing that you’re actively riding his teammate. In fact, you must tighten around him, because he knows immediately.

“What? Does that turn you on? Fuckin’ slut.”

You whimper at the words, pressing your lips forward to his. You kiss him the best you can as he hungrily reciprocates.

The bed moves forcefully, but Suna knows the other guys are probably too busy downstairs to hear it, and whoever is in the other room may only potentially be a problem. So up and down you go, now slamming your ass against him and reddening his slightly tan, freckled skin.

“Poor thing was up here by herself. If dick was what you really wanted, you know you could have always asked.”

“Hhhmmm,” you whine, breathing shallow.

The brunette lets you go until your legs burn and you’re slowing pace. It’s driving him insane watching you chase your orgasm, using him like he was the perfect replacement for your fingers, in your own little world with your face twisted up in ecstasy and muscles straining. You were too stubborn to stop when he offered it to you, but he doesn’t mind. Not everyone has legs like his.

He instructs while inching his hips up the bed, “Fall back to your knees.” You do, and he grabs one wrist in each hand before digging his heels into the blanket and pounding up into you at a pace you don’t think you could ever meet. It’s rough and loud and you can feel his balls coming up to strike you from behind. Quite literally, it takes your breath away.

“Fuck fuck fuck yes,” tendrils of your hair fall over your face when you lay your head down over his head for stability. Aside from not being able to move, this is the best angle for the both of you. Your tits move over his face, which would allow him to suck and bite as he pleases while holding you still, and with the tilt of your body his fat tip reaches your most sensitive part.

You bounce over and over and he wishes he would have pulled your shirt up first. He’s grunting in your ear dangerously.

“Was this in your book too? Is this when he told her to take it like a good girl?”

You try to answer but it’s incomprehensible with the speed of his thrusts.

He commands, “Again.”

“Y-Yes,” you retry, finally getting something out. He’s satisfied with this, so he lets go of your wrists and pushes you upright, only slowing for the moment. This time, he wraps his fingers around your neck, just enough for you to breathe, while rolling his thumb across your revealed clit. The veins of his forearm show themselves and he peers up at you with a glare as if you were the most irritating thing to him.

How hard you were holding him is nothing compared to how hard he is holding you, and just that thought has your eyes threatening to fall closed.

“Then be a good. Fucking. Girl,” he punctuates each word with a harsh upwards cut of his hips, “and take it.”

“Oh God,” you connect your own weak hands around his, your mouth falling open with every moan that floats into the air. He holds your gaze with his threatening eyes, and if you tried to look anywhere but him, he’d pull you right back. “Suna, I’m coming,” you rush it out like there’s no stopping now. And honestly, you’re currently wishing you didn’t say it at all, because you know if he told you not to, your body would try its best to comply.

“No the fuck you’re not.”

Godammit.

Removing his finger from your nub, he moves the hand to meet the other at your throat. You couldn’t speak even if you wanted to, which you did want to, just to let him know that this would only make it worse. There’s a movement: you’re coming down on him yourself with the force of the thrust driving you up.

Your mouth creates the words, but they don’t come out. Suna knows anyway. “Please.”

“No.” And it’s as simple as that, because then he says, “Do you hear that?”

Of course you don’t, he just asked to see if you were sane enough to come back to your senses and focus your hearing. His tight hold on you is enough to leave a mark, but not enough to prevent your head from slowly shaking back and forth.

“On the other side of that wall is your brother. Both of them.” Your eyes shoot wide at the same time his thrusts calm down. He still continues, it’s just with a deep grind to prevent the hard slapping of skin, and he brings your forehead to his as he speaks to you. “Come now and both of us are in trouble.”

He has valid reasons to infer that it is specifically the twins, but he’s sure you don’t want to hear those right now. If it was up to him, you would have been throwing your head back and showing that arch he imagines you had before he intruded in on you changing, but holding it above your head like meat to a starving dog was fine too.

“Please let me come Rin, please. I’ll be quiet,” a chaste kiss to the tip of his nose ends your pleading, hoping it softens him up with the use of his first name.

And maybe it worked, because his eyebrows curl upwards with pity when he explains, “We both know you’re too vocal for that, princess. How about we try something else?”

You nod frantically, raising off his length and letting him lay down completely while you wait for directions. He gets situated by moving pillows out of the way. “Come here.”

You realize now the pity he expressed was fake. Swinging your leg over his waist, you begin to line yourself up.

“No. Come here.”

You stare at him dumbfounded.

“Up here, towards me,” he ushers his hands. You scoot closer towards his chest with your hands on his pecs, not sure how much closer the two of you can get.

“My face, baby.”

Instead of getting angry with you, he kept his tone. It was little but it made you feel good. “Oh.”

You come to a hover over his lips, contemplating a lot and nothing at the same time, mainly if this man was really under you telling you to do what you’re doing.

“Sit.”

“Are you sure?” You clarify.

“Yes. Sit before I make you read your porn to me.” This brings your eyebrows in with a crease and you drop with no remorse on his lips. His face is smothered somewhere between your thighs. The only thing visible is his damp hair.

Unfortunately for you, he enjoys the thrill of not being able to breathe.

You’re less than two minutes into absolutely grinding on his tongue, chasing the vibrations of his grunts and groans by tugging on his hair. Your other hand is covering your mouth.

Thankfully, because there’s a quick knock, and Osamu’s voice passes through the door. “Pizza’s here. You okay in there?”

You nod as if he can see you. You then realize he cannot.

Shakily, you call out, “Yes.” The only way to not moan while Suna slides the muscle between your lips to taste all of your slick is by biting your lip. His fingers grip the fat of your thighs.

“Okay.” In the background there’s another voice, presumably your other brother. Finally, they become faint until you hear the stairs, and you allow yourself a little freedom.

“Rin,” you look down fully expecting to meet his eyes, but you can’t see him at all.

“Hmphh?”

“I’m close…can I?” On cue, he pushes in as far as his tongue can go inside your hole. He nods yes, simultaneously flattening it to lick all of you in one stripe before deliberately sucking your clit.

To muffle your sounds, your hand comes to cover your mouth once again and you’re somehow managing to prepare for your eyes squeezing shut at the same time as your muscles tensing. Suna can feel you dripping, literally this time.

this was kinda rushed

©️hxltic

[italoniponic]

Dear Freckles | Rook Hunt

Synopsis: When you have to help Rook clean his face, you finally discover that he has freckles underneath his foundation. It was simple but also a very nice little detail about him. One of a lot of reasons why you loved him.

Rook Hunt x gender neutral reader / established relationship / fluff / mention of science club / 750 words / use of “you” pronouns 

Notes: The problem when some mutuals love a character is that you slowly understand why that character torments them night and day. In this specific case, I'm looking directly at you @pandoa dear! Dedicated to you <3 Hope you all enjoy this short story! 

Dear Freckles

“How are you, lovely Trickster? I hope you don’t mind but this humble hunter is seeking your services at the moment. How can I say this? I’m in trouble,” Rook said, his chuckle soft like the song of a nightingale in the morning.

You would’ve laughed along if he wasn’t covered head to toe by a strange and unknown liquid, recently dismissed from the Science Club day’s activities. It was by chance that you met your boyfriend in the hallway.

But, maybe, it was actually really fate. Probably because he was at risk of being attacked in Pomefiore before he could step foot in the dorm state — and you couldn’t even blame them for this. In that moment, Rook was the stamp face of dirtiness, despite his own good humor. 

As you two took shelter in a bathroom that was rarely used in the castle’s tower, Rook told you about the experience he was conducting at the club and the fantastic yellow explosion it caused.

He went on a narration detailed enough that you could almost see the scene as if you were there. Though, honestly, that was making it difficult to help clean his clothes and face without you constantly breaking into chuckles. And Rook didn’t even understand why you wanted to stay stoic-ish like that.

Were you trying to reprimand him for being a dreamy scientist? He was just a little curious by nature. Science knows no limits to the imagination. And, last but not least, you looked much prettier with a free, big smile playing on your lips.

At one point, you both sat down on the floor — shiny and clean, just like the room around — and you continued with the hour-long task of running wet cloth over Rook’s face to remove the yellow liquid remains. 

Surprise surely hit you when a bit of his skin foundation came off along with it. Lucky for you, he kept his eyes closed, leaving you alone to enjoy the fascination of the moment.

Underneath the yellow liquid and hidden by one of Twisted Wonderland’s best skincare products were some freckles. You swallowed hard to complete your work until his face was completely clean. Every passing second you discovered new spots in Rook’s cheekbones that were splattered with the natural ink of the Hunt family’s genes. 

Nothing but small freckles, yet it gave Rook a special touch that you had never imagined he could have. And you already thought him to be the most handsome man in the whole world.

You were brave enough to throw hands with a combo attack of Vil and Neige’s fans if you had to!

Perhaps the discovery was the greatest advocate for the intensity of your fascination. You wondered how long it would take before you found out that Rook had other secrets beneath his surface. At the same time, taking things slow seemed more fun and productive. You would have more time to enjoy each little revelation as if it were the most important thing of your day. 

You could play around comparing and imagining two or more versions of Rook in your head, all to come to the inevitable conclusion that you loved him in every possible way. Any and every Rook was your Rook. 

“Trickster? Any problem?,” the boy in question suddenly inquired, still with his eyes closed.

However, you had a feeling that Rook could see better beyond your momentary pause than if he was with his eyes wide open.

“Nothing, mon cher,” you replied, glad the use of French had melted and distracted him soon enough. Always worked just fine. “Um, actually... Rook?”

“Oui?,” Rook opened his eyes and smiled.

But his gaze grew in surprise when you suddenly held his face in your hands. A delicate and careful gesture, full of devotion. It no longer seemed right for any of you to simply act as if all that was nothing.

“I just want to say that… you’re very handsome. In any way and shape. I’m glad the Beautiful Queen is dead, or I would have to duel with her to have your heart, o’ handsomest of all,” you declared, gallantly.

You felt a little embarrassed to put those thoughts into words, but Rook’s smile didn’t fail to elicit in you a giggle. He held your hand and kissed the back of your palm, invigorated by your sudden surge of romanticism, feeling a little warm in his freckled face himself.

“And you’re all that I’ve been wishing most, my amour.”

Special Notes: I’m wishing~ for the one I love~ my trickster~ my dear~ Ok Rook. Now get out of my head!! And remember, Savana Rook and Pome Rook are just two sides of the same coin. It’s just a matter of outfits at this point, so pls love him dearly. If not for him, for me!

[oni-gory]

Genshin Boys as your Valentine!

ᡣ𐭩 Characters: Chongyun, Gaming, Gorou (afab reader), Scaramouche x gn reader

ᡣ𐭩 cw: minor writing smut, sfw, fluff, gn reader, praise, tsundere Scaramouche, bondage, dom reader, nsfw on the Gorou section!!

ᡣ𐭩notes: My first sfw post! (kinda) ૮꒰⸝⸝> ̫ <⸝⸝꒱ა☆⋆｡

Not proofread!

Chongyun

Chongyun stood in front of you, holding out a small letter with a heart stamped upon it. His face was slightly red and he was avoiding your gaze, staring at the floor. You stood in front of him with wide eyes, shocked to see your friend so flustered. He was usually so calm and relaxed… You couldn’t help but snicker softly.

“Hey, don’t laugh at me..” He said quietly, hiding his red face with one hand. You smiled softly and took the letter, looking down and examining it curiously. “Sorry, sorry… You’re just being so cute.” You chuckled before ripping the letter open, eager to read whatever he had written. Your eyes skimmed over the letter, your smile widening as you continued to read. Chongyun wrote a very heartfelt and sincere letter confessing his love to you and asking to be your valentine.

He was still staring down at the floor, nervous to see your reaction. You looked back up at him before dropping the letter on the floor and pulling him into a hug. Chongyun’s body was so… cold as he slowly wrapped his arms around your body. He shyly felt over your soft body, closing his eyes and dropping his head on your shoulder. “I’ll be your valentine, Chongyun.” You whispered, smiling. His eyes lit up and Chongyun smiled slightly. “Thank you…Thank you very much.”

Gaming

Gaming, one of your best friends was spending Valentine’s day at work. Which was sad, for you at least. You invited him to come over to your family’s place for a bit to hang out so he could relax after work. You made him a cup of tea and a little treat for the both of you. After about thirty minutes of waiting and continuously reminding your family that he was going to come, Gaming arrived.

He knocked on the door politely, and you eagerly let him inside. The both of you went into your bedroom, sitting down and drinking the tea. (or water if u don’t like tea!) “Soo, Gaming, did anyone ask you to be their valentine?" You asked him curiously, a slight anxious look in your eyes as you glanced at Gaming. He sipped his tea before shaking his head and responding enthusiastically, "Nope! I’m all alone this Valentine’s day. But that’s alright~!" When he said that you got kinda hopeful, blushing as you looked down at the teacup in your hands. Gaming didn’t notice your face, obviously eating the treats you had made for him.

You were having a hard time finding the words to ask Gaming to be your valentine. The day was almost over already… but you couldn’t wait. "Well… Gaming, could I be your valentine.. maybe-?" You asked quietly, preparing yourself for rejection. But… instead of getting the reaction you expected, Gaming looked over at you, his cheeks stuffed with food and his eyes sparkling. He swallowed the treat and nodded happily. "Sure… You can be my valentine, {name}. I wanted to ask you the same question honestly.." You and Gaming spoke for about another hour, before you both climbed up in your bed and cuddled. Gaming figured he could just spend the night because he didn’t have work tomorrow. He had his arms wrapped around your waist, rubbing circles on your back as both of your breaths synced.

Gorou

Your sweet boyfriend, Gorou, hadn’t been findable at all on Valentine’s day. The prior night you had both agreed to be each other’s valentine but all day he hadn’t been available at all. You figured he just decided to go to work, which was a bit disappointing, but okay. By the end of the day, you were getting ready for bed and still waiting for Gorou to come back home when he finally arrived. Your lover came inside of the house quietly, trying to shut the door without it making a sound. But you heard him.

Gorou walked into the bedroom, holding a paper bag. You were lying in bed, playing with the bottom of your pajama shirt when you saw Gorou. You walked up to the light orange-browned haired boy, staring at him sternly. "Uhm… Happy Valentine’s day, my love. I-I got you something." He stuttered, knowing you were annoyed because of him. You grabbed the bag from Gorou, opening it up and looking through the bag. Your eyes widened when you saw he had bought.. lingerie and red, skin safe rope. You stared at your lover before speaking, "Darling… Happy Valentine’s day."

Gorou was tied up on your shared bed, looking at you with big, teary eyes as his ears twitched. He was wearing the lingerie that he had bought for you as a gift. His mouth was stuffed with chocolate he had bought for you as well, acting as a mouth gag. You were sitting in front of him, flicking his nipples to tease him endlessly. Every time you did so Gorou would flinch and let out a muffled whimper. "Such a cutie… but this is what happens when you ignore your lover for a whole day." You whispered, leaning forward and reaching your hand down to his cock while your other one rubbed his cheek lovingly.

You grabbed the lace panties that Gorou had on, moving it to the side and watching as his cock sprung out. His cock twitched and his face reddened when you began to rub only the tip. Gorou started drooling when he tried to eat the two heart medium sized chocolates so he could speak, failing. A bit of precum coming out of him and lubricating your hand. You smirked and leaned down, kissing all over the General’s cock. To think, someone with such a powerful position acting so submissive in front of you, his sweet lover. He was sweating and arching his back, already feeling as if he was losing his mind thanks to your teasing.

Eventually, after edging Gorou for almost thirty minutes, which left him crying and his hips desperately rutting into your hand. He needed more friction, he needed to cum. "Mmh… I just can’t stay mad at you." You finally decided to give Gorou what he wanted so desperately. You removed your own panties and climbed on top of your boyfriend, grinning at his expression. He looked so happy and relieved. You slowly lowered your cunt onto his cock, making Gorou whimper loudly as he tried to hold you, but the rope held him back. You started to ride Gorou’s cock, letting out quiet moans when you felt his cock hit your g-spot over and over. The chocolates in his mouth began to fall out, but you leaned forward and grabbed one of the pieces, eating it. You made Gorou eat the other piece of chocolate.

"L-lo—luhve~.. p-pleasee… W-want chu.." He manage to stumble out a few words along with desperate whimpers, making you bite your bottom lip and smile. His ears were starting to twitch more rabidly, a sign you knew meant he was on the verge of cumming. You pulled up your shirt and grabbed Gorou’s head, having him lean down and worship your gorgeous body. You were about to cum too. "Can you cum with me, darling~..?" You whispered to him, making Gorou nod frantically. He wanted to cum with you, and as you continued to ride him, both of your orgasm’s neared. The both of you came together, Gorou’s eyes rolling into the back of his head as he moaned and your body shivered when you felt his cum filling up your pussy.

Scaramouche

Scara wasn’t very fond of people. He preferred to be left alone so he could focus on his own things. But… then there was you, who couldn’t seem to leave him alone. At first Scaramouche hated you, but as time passed… He found himself secretly growing fond of your presence. On Valentine’s day, you were following Scara around like a puppy, basically begging him to be your valentine. Every time you’d ask, he’d try to distract you in some way so he didn’t have to give an answer. But you were beginning to get exhausted, and eventually Scaramouche decided to accept. he couldn’t make it look like he actually liked you though…

"Please, please, pleaseee Scara.. Just be my valentine!" You begged, tugging at his arm a little and looking at Scaramouche. His face began to redden and he quickly looked away before you could see. "Ugh, you’re so annoying.. Fine. I’ll be your stupid valentine. The day’s almost over anyways." The puppet stated, rolling his eyes but feeling a tingle in his chest. Your eyes lit up with joy and you excitedly hugged Scara, clinging to his arm happily. "Don’t get ahead of yourself, I still despise you." He murmured. Yet you knew he was warming up to you.

[klownfuckery]

.*✩ Franco ‘il Bambino’ Barbi🍼/Reagent!Reader ✩*.

Just a little blurb that I’ve been wanting to write for Franco. I’ve also opened the ask box so if you’d like to req some hc’s or anything,,, y’know 👉👈 I’d love to write more of this dummy-dumb and see what other stuff y’all’d want to see.

.✩* Chances are, if you’ve managed to survive in Murkoff’s demented little playscapes long enough, you’re bound to be noticed in some form or another. To survive a trial is already a rarity, but to consistently come out on the other side largely unscathed? It’s asking to be acknowledged. Either by Dr. Easterman himself, or by his beloved Assets. Unfortunately— or fortunately, you’ve somehow garnered the attention of one Prime-Asset in particular. Franco ‘il Bambino’ Barbi. Murkoff’s newest pet-project; and Dr. Easterman’s seemingly newfound pride and joy.

.✩* Being on opposing ‘sides’, Franco and you are rarely granted the pleasure of each other’s company. Naturally, you’re housed in entirely different buildings, with no real way to communicate outside of ‘therapy-sessions’. Sometimes you’d go months without ever catching a wink of your beloved psychosexual deviant. Given the circumstances, when you finally do manage to stumble across one another mid-trial, it’s an occasion Franco warrants worth dropping anything he’d have been doing prior.

“Ow— Th’ fuck!? What kinda son of a whore lobs a bottle at a fuckin’ baby?”

Abruptly, you drop the gas canister held in hand, ears straining at the sound of glass shattering— or more importantly, its target. Your head whips around so fast, you’re half-surprised you hadn’t broken your neck. “Franco!” You shout, leaping over traps and wickedly sharp shards of glass. Completely uncaring of your volume as you scrabbled towards the familiar voice. There’s a muffled noise of surprise in the next room over, a quick shuffling of feet that ordinarily would’ve automatically sent you into a panicked crouch, before the door you’d been reaching for slams open inches away from your grasping fingers. The sheer force of the figure barreling through the frame has the wood splintering, near completely broken off the hinges as they barge through.

“Marone— Sweetness? That you?”

An ear-splitting grin threatens to erupt across your face, and it takes all of your will-power to stamp it down and keep some semblance of dignity— rare as it was here.

“Got any other sorry schmucks out here hollerin’ your name to high heaven that I should be worried about?” You jest in a simpering tone, heart hammering in your chest. Maybe it’s just a residual fear response from the early days, but the mobster still has a way about him that sets your nerves skyrocketing. The feeling only multiples by tenfold when he saunters forward into the gloom, all cocky swagger befitting of his profession. Realistically you know he wouldn’t hurt you— mortally, at least. But old habits die hard and the reagent in you, the part that’s kept you alive, instinctively takes a half-aborted step backwards.

Franco’s lips quirk in an unabashed, crooked grin. Surely about to pounce on the opportunity to make some dirty little quip about how you could go screaming his name all night. Hell, you’d practically gift-wrapped the delivery for him. Yet to your immense surprise, he doesn’t.

“Nah, my broad’s not too fond’a sharin’… ‘Sides…”

You can’t fight the reflexive yelp that escapes you this time as gloved hands snags you by the hips, greedily catching you flush against his buttoned-up front. Already you can feel his dirty mitts wandering, pawing blindly to undo the straps of your ESOP’s harness. Eager to feel the plush flesh underneath, unobstructed.

“I ain’t either.”

[the-ace-with-spades]

(you really are my enabler, @redfurrycat)

Slightly unserious AU with trans ftm Bradley - or more like 2 AUs, with one being kind of an AU of the just hold my hand fic - who transitioned after the USNA fiasco, which Mav doesn't know about

Version A

Bradley transitioned after Mav pulled his papers - he got rejected by USNA in 2001 but by the end of 2002 he had his name changed and had been on T for about 5 months, all while also simultaneously studying at UVA. When he changed his name, he change everything - social security number, insurance, driving licence, etc. There is literally no trace of his deadname in his documents and what else was there got sealed.

Now, there's one thing - Mav doesn't know any of this. He tries to do anonymous donation for Deadname Bradshaw to pay for her college - gets refunded. Tries to send parcels to her - all returned, stamped 'sender not at address'. Finally, he requests to have the uni check if his daughter (foster/adoptive but still daughter) is up to date on her tuition and grades and gets an email saying Sorry, sir, there's no student under this name currently, never was.

And obviously Mav panics, which in turn makes Ice panic. They go on a trip across the country, but answer from the dean is still the same - there's no student under that name, they only have her admission/offer records and nothing else. They inform the police but since they weren't in a good relationship and their daughter was an adult, travelling across states, they couldn't do much. Thley hire a private detective but the times were different - it was all on paper, easily lost when Bradley changed his name, so the last note of him is his arrival at UVA campus. They never stop looking for her but they'd been told again and again that she is most likely dead.

By the time Bradley enters the Navy, he's been on T for about 4 years and had top surgery done in the summer after second year at uni.

By 2013, eleven years since he changed his name, Bradley changes his surname to Seresin. There's literally no connection to Mav's daughter on paper, at least at first glance. There are things he had to disclose to the Navy but they're all behind a privacy wall that only allows the hire ups and direct command to see it.

By the time Bradley is at Top Gun for the second time, he and Jake are about a year after finalizing their divorce - they broke up because Bradley married him and all (and Jake fully believed he did love him, no doubt about it) but Jake still didn't know much about his past and Bradley couldn't open himself up fast enough for Jake and Jake felt like they were moving nowhere.

Bradley never changed back his surname. Jake didn't know until they met again at Top Gun. Bradley can lie to himself all he wants, but the truth is that he didn't keep it just to avoid connections with his previous name completely.

When Mav is met with Bradley Seresin and Jake Seresin, he at first assumes they're brothers. And then he sees Bradley's face and nothing else matters.

He is so weirded out - Bradley looks like he'd imagine his daughter to grow up to look, but male (because you know, mustache). And he can't stop staring and Bradley having some kind of problem doesn't help. He sees Bradley and he can't stop thinking about anything else.

Meanwhile Jake can see Bradley is acting equally weird around Mav (and maybe assumes things and gets a bit jealous... Sorry I love that trope) and confronts him about it, in private. And for the first time, Bradley opens up to him about his past - about how Mav was his adoptive dad, about how he pulled his papers, about how the last time they've seen each other Bradley was pre-transition and about how Mav doesn't know.

Eventually though Mav catches up with the Seresins actually being exes/husbands and checks for Bradley's maiden name. And once he sees it's nee Bradshaw, he finally feels a little less crazy, enough to tell Ice about the whole thing and ask him to check if Bradley is their daughter's long lost cousin or if Goose had a long lost brother or cousin.

By the time Ice digs deep enough into the files to find the truth, Mav and Bradley had already been shipped out.

Version B (contains trans pregnancy)

Most of the stuff still happened but this is slightly more realistic take. Bradley does change his name in 2002 but this disqualifies him from ever serving in the Navy. He transitions as he studies aerospace engineering and earns his commercial plane licence.

He and Jake meet by accident, in an aeroclub Bradley had a side job at. They fall in love and struggle through the remaining DADT era.

Jake knows about Bradley everything - and he means everything. From what he likes to eat, through his preferred pain meds, to his whole family history.

Fast forward to the Top Gun return. Mav meets Jake and it seems that Jake, for some reason, hates him. It is a common feeling among the Navy men but usually it comes from the higher ups, not Mav's subordinates. The kid is so angry with him that he can't even absorb anything Mav is trying to teach him and if this goes on like this, he's going to get himself killed.

Mav tries to do an intervention but the second he says something along the lines of your family would like to see you in one piece, Jake kinda explodes at him, saying all those things about how Mav knows jack shit about family and has absolutely nothing to lose because he's already lost everything and he should shut his mouth.

Mav is... stunned. So stunned he doesn't say anything and just lets him walk away.

And Phoenix, who has been friends with Bradley and Jake for years, tries to soften the situation and tells Mav a little bit of what she thinks it's going on - that Jake has a heavily pregnant spouse at home and they're expecting their first baby and the timing of the detachment couldn't be worse. Which isn't really untrue, it does get Jake more irritable, but Mav is the biggest problem.

Because Jake knows. Jake knows about how Mav spent every other weekend since Bradley turned fourteen in a plane with Bradley and then every other weekend teaching Bradley to pilot the minute he turned sixteen. He knows how Mav was supposed to teach him all he knew and then pulled the rag from underneath him silently, and pulled his application to USNA like it was nothing. He knows all about how Mav never explained, never apologized, never even tried to fix what he had done. He knows how much it cost Bradley - the trust, the vulnerability, the ability to feel loved unconditionally. And he is damned pissed at him.

Things do go on. Jake does acknowledge that he has to calm down if he wants to come back home.

He and Mav bump into each other on the parking lot before the shipment, the only two not having a loved one sending them off. Mav stupidly asks where Jake's wife is and Jake tells him that his husband can't really drive anymore, especially in his old car where the suspension is too high to get in smoothly with the baby bump in the way. Mav is a bit confused but connects the dots pretty soon - obviously, Seresin's husband must be trans in some way. Asks if there's anyone who can drive him around when Jake is away and Jake just looks him in the eyes and tells him, he's only got me.

(Mav might or might not ask Ice to check on Seresin's husband when they're gone and Ice might or might not give Bradley a heart attack by calling him...)

Jake never told Bradley who his instructor was. At least not before the mission. He is in a separate room in a hospital after the whole thing is and Bradley insists he is going to come and visit him to see with his own eyes he's okay. Once he's at the hospital, Jake tells him he'd prefer Bradley stay home until he comes back and obviously Bradley who is feeling very unsure and insecure at the moment gets upset.

So Jake tells him that his instructor and the guy he flew the mission with is Mav.

Bradley does leave because he doesn't want to bump into him. They pass each other on the corridor briefly as Mav is being wheeled back from x-ray and Mav feels like he's hallucinating - like he's seen a ghost because you know, Bradley looks like his daughter but also not really because he's a guy.

It all comes to a head when the whole squad celebrates at the Hard Deck. Bradley is feeling up like going even if he can't drink and most of the people there know about Jake having a husband and that he's trans and pregnant and are being normal about it. So they're having nice little evening with Jake plastered to him at all times out of protectiveness, clinginess and just missing him.

Jake didn't know Mav was invited.

Mav comes in ready to greet the daggers and is met with a ghost's face. Jake tries to pretend all is normal for about a minute but it's obvious that Mav can't stop staring and that Bradley is panicking, basically hyperventilating in Jake's arms so they just--up and go, really. Jake leads them out of the bar without even a glance back, whispering Bradley apologies about how he didn't know Mav would be there.

Meanwhile, once they stood up - Bradley with some of Jake's help - Mav gets hit with the very visible reminder that Bradley, the guy with his daughter's face, is trans and pregnant. And he is not a hundred percent sure, but he's pretty damn sure the odds are already so weird, there's no way this is another guy who looks like his daughter, it's gotta be his daughter, but after transitioning.

And on the off chance that he is making it all in his head, he tells Ice and hopes he would know how to intervene.

Maybe, eventually, Mav just goes to their house. Maybe Jake is still on the defence and tries to get rid off him when Bradley comes to the door in all the heavily pregnant glory - barefoot, wearing a t-shirt that is too small and in an oversized cardigan and Jake's Navy sweatpants that are too short at the ankles - and tells him it's okay and that he'll talk to Mav alone, on the porch.

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

Correct me if I'm wrong, but the whole contract between Gabriel and Tomoe that demands that Adrien and Kagami be together wasn't established earlier or it was only established in S5? Because that'd explain why Gabriel and Tomoe are obsessed about Adrigami while Tom and Sabine don't bat an eye to Lukanette.

(Post that spawned this ask)

We're never actually told why Tomoe and Gabriel are obsessed with Adrigami. The best we get are the following two bits of dialogue from Protection:

Dialogue 1

Kagami: Looks like your doubts are finally gone. Adrien: Yes, Kagami. I'm ready. Tomoe: (to Gabriel) Made for each other. Just as planned. Gabriel: Perfection calls for perfection. Kagami: (to Adrien) What are you doing? Adrien: (typing on his phone) I'm going to prepare a special picnic, for just the two of us, no friends around, no outside pressure. And I'm inviting Marinette right now. Hopefully she can be herself, (Tomoe and Gabriel gasp in shock in the unexpected turn of events.) and finally open her heart and soul to me, free of her fears.

Dialogue 2

Tomoe: All of our plans are falling apart! You were supposed to control your son, Gabriel! Gabriel: And you, your daughter! Tomoe: My daughter's so perfect she doesn't need me to control her! (points her bokken at Gabriel) Gabriel: (pushes away Tomoe's bokken with his finger) Well, it appears she does. Tomoe: It's not my child who's falling for someone completely wrong for her! Gabriel: But she seems to be the one encouraging him!

As you can see, these don't mention a contract. They just imply that Gabriel and Tomoe want Adrigami to be a thing because... reasons?

The contract thing you're referring to comes from the season three episode Animaestro which briefly showed Gabriel and Tomoe signing a contract:

[Image description: a contract with Gabriel's signature and Tomoe's stamp of approval]

As of season six, we still don't know what exactly this contract was about. We just know that it exists and even that is only true if you remember this brief moment from Animaestro. It's totally fair if you forgot about this five-second scene because I don't think that the contract was ever discussed in a later episode. (Please correct me if I'm wrong about that!)

The writers have claimed that this contract scene was here to hint at Gabriel and Tomoe having some sort of master plan, but that's incredibly lackluster writing. A scene of two business people signing a contract is not foreshadowing mutual villainy because signing a contract is not weird behavior. It obviously is here to mean something since the writers chose to include it, but nothing about this scene screams "villainy!" At least, it doesn't on Tomoe's side. Gabriel's a known villain so anything he does may be villainous.

Business contracts happen all the time, this contract was signed in an incredibly public setting, and we later see Gabriel using Tsurugi tech in his house, a thing that's introduced long before Tomoe is revealed to be evil! Because of Animaestro's spot in the timeline and because the contract is signed so publicly, it's perfectly logical to see this brief contract moment and read it as the writers setting up Gabriel having the Tsurugi robots in later episodes. You could also see this and assume it's setting up for Tomoe to be akumatized later the way Audrey Bourgeois was purposely set up for all of her akumatizations.

This contract being about the mansion's robots thing is still the only solution that makes any sense because - as far as we know - the only evil collaborations between Gabriel and Tomoe were the sentikids and the alliance rings. The sentikids obviously happened pre-canon so the contract can't be about that and the alliance plan only existed after Gabriel got the miraculous so the contract clearly wasn't related to that either. It also probably wasn't related to Gabriel and Tomoe being the world's most obsessive Adrigami shippers. The contract was never mentioned during that arc, the arranged-marriage plot didn't show up until season five (two season post contract), and there are some subtle implications that Adrigami may have always been the plan in which case any related contracts would have been signed when these two were kids unless the arranged marriage is a new thing in which case why was this suddenly a thing? What benefit did it give Tomoe? She's already rich and Gabriel was a fashion designer! That's not very useful to a tech guru nor is it an elite skill set she couldn't find without selling out her daughter.

If this contract was supposed to be related to the Adrigagmi stuff, then the writers needed to start the arranged marriage plot in season three or four so that a viewer could logically tie the two events together because there was no reason for Tomoe and Gabriel to delay on the arranged marriage plot once the contract was signed.

That's not what the writers did, though. Gabriel and Tomoe had nothing to do with Adrigami getting together in season three and season four wrote Adrigami like some sort of secret relationship. Lies has Kagami straight up state that she had to lie to be with Adrien which makes no sense if Gabriel and Tomoe wanted this relationship to happen:

Kagami: You know, I lied too. I lied to my mother so that we could see each other. I even lied to her when I said you came here with me tonight. I lied at every fencing lesson so we could spend more time together. You see, we're both a couple of liars. Except I lie because I want to be with you. (points at him accusingly) You lie… because you don't want to be with me.

I was genuinely shocked when season five revealed that Tomoe and Gabriel knew about Adrigami. I thought they were either totally oblivious or actively against it because they clearly did nothing to support it. They didn't even know that their kids broke up!

In other words - like many things in this show - the arranged marriage plot was either a last minute addition or terribly written.

[harmonic-intervention]

Please find me, I'm hungry

Well.

Tommy has a tramp stamp now. Buck kinda goes insane over it.

We're past the fix-its! Have some smut instead! This is the complete version of this post. Moving further in my mission to give Tommy things I think are hot - like eyebrow scars and tramp stamps. Have fun.

Word count: 13,147 - PWP, tattoos, dom/sub undertones, possessive behavior, cum play

Excerpt:

When they got back together, Hen, with a sly little grin, had teased Buck about them being all over each other. Buck had rolled his eyes, dropped his head, and knocked his knuckles into her shoulder. He got razzed all day by the others, because yeah, he and Tommy had a pretty active sex life before, and Buck had come into work with hickeys on his throat more than once.

Only it was different this time. They’d decided to take their time, and work their way up again. Buck was too giddy about holding Tommy’s hand again, he didn’t think he could handle anything more.

They did dates, and dinners, and hang outs. They didn’t even sleep over at each other’s places when they met up there. When they kissed, they kept it strictly above the waist.

His friends would never believe him if he told them. Hell, Buck wouldn’t have believed himself a couple of months ago! But all in all, Buck didn’t mind this. They had agreed to slow it down, not to rush ahead like they did the last time, where they’d skipped so many steps. It was nice, actually, really nice to do it like this.

Buck found out more and more about Tommy, saw things Tommy hadn’t shown anyone before, and he only loved Tommy more for it.

They navigated through their re-budding relationship, and Buck had never been this happy before in his life. And things were moving, steadily, felt so natural and easy in a way Buck had never thought it could. Even the harder conversations they finally had with each other seemed easy, their words flowing and miscommunication left behind.

Slowly, they made their ways through the stages and bases. Touching above clothes, getting below the belt. Tommy didn’t take his shirt off around Buck, and Buck would admit that was surprising. Tommy really didn’t have any qualms showing off, at least he hadn’t used to.

But then things got a bit suspicious when Buck noticed that Tommy didn’t seem to like him touching the small of his back all of a sudden. He was subtle about it, Buck had to admit. Like when he put his hand there, Tommy took his wrist and pushed it further down, and Buck was always up for that. Tommy had a great ass. But he also had a really nice back, and Buck liked pushing his hands under his shirt and trace along the line of his spine, and after the fourth time that Tommy shied away from the touch, Buck finally voiced his suspicions.

“Are you okay?” he asked, taking a step back from the kiss they had shared in his kitchen.

Tommy looked a little dazed, and okay, maybe it’d been more than just one kiss. Maybe it was more, maybe Buck had pushed Tommy up against the counter and thought about how he could convince him to climb up so Buck could stand between his legs, feel the insides of his thigh press against his hips.

“What?” Tommy asked, and Buck, for a moment, got distracted by how red and full and spit-slick his mouth was.

“Don’t you- you don’t want me touching your back? That’s okay, but is everything alright? Did you get hurt?” Buck got momentarily worried. He hadn’t thought about that. But they had agreed to be honest with each other, so if he was doing something that hurt Tommy, he needed to know. If Tommy had gotten hurt, he needed to know.

There was a blush high on Tommy’s cheeks when he shook his head. “Uh, no, I’m good. Not hurt.”

Which was a relief. “Then what’s going on? Is this a new thing? If you don’t want me to touch you there, that’s fine, but- it wasn’t a problem before, right? Did you not like it?”

“God, baby, calm down,” Tommy said with a slight laugh. “No, I liked it fine. But, uh … something changed.”

Buck furrowed his brows. “Like what?”

If anything, Tommy blushed harder. He pushed off the counter, made Buck take a couple steps back. He put his hands on the collar of his shirt as if to pull it up, but before he did that, he locked eyes with Buck.

“Okay, but you have to promise not to laugh.”

“O-okay, I-uh, I promise?” Buck said, but it came out more like a question.

It seemed to be good enough for Tommy who pulled the shirt over his head, and Buck would be lying if he didn’t immediately try to look his fill. It had been a while since he’d seen Tommy shirtless. And God, those pecs, the hair between them, that fucking happy trail …

Then, Tommy turned around, and Buck’s mouth dropped open. He blinked, stared, tried to form words. He felt frozen, because he had not expected this, because well.

Well.

Tommy had a tramp stamp.

[continue on ao3]

[muqingfx]

Heyyyy

Idk why I'm sharing this with you specifically but...

Can you imagine a scenario where mu qing gets cursed where he gets like super cold and after a certain amount of time will turn to ice (think of frozen) but he'll survive if he warms up. Aka fengqing cuddles ♥️♥️

gonna write a short drabble

Metal meets rotten flesh as Mu Qing flings his zhanmadao at the infernal ghost.

"Got you," Mu Qing whispers under his breath. He's fatigued after endless pursuits and perpetual clashes; the ribbon that usually holds his dark hair in place has fallen off, resulting in messy strands carpeting his head and obscuring his line of vision. His breathing is rough and robes tattered, but finally, finally, he has the damn ghost beneath him, shuddering and seething under his blade.

Mu Qing's eyes widen as he's propelled meters back by a gush of frigid wind that chills his godly skin. Ah, nevermind. He spoke too soon. When has it ever been easy?

His precious zhanmadao is pulled away from his grip, flying off and plummeting to the ground with a loud thud. Although Mu Qing had tried to keep his eyes on the ghost, the pest had somehow evaded his vigilance. From behind him, Mu Qing hears footsteps of not one, but at least a hundred creatures closing in on him. His head rivots to look behind and there's a whole damn army of ghosts.

"Shit," Mu Qing curses. He takes in his wearied state and distant saber. "Shit, shit," he curses some more. The little nuisances jump around, squealing and yelling as they make their way to Mu Qing.

Mu Qing, a martial god. What the hell? He's a martial god, dammit. Who do these little shits think they are?

He lifts his arm and creates a swirl of spiritual energy on his palm, the golden orb illuminating the dark sky. He thrusts his hand forward, watching gleefully as the little shits scream in agony. To finish it off, Mu Qing scurries to retrieve his zhanmadao and slices through multiple ghosts at once. The rest is suspiciously uncomplicated, considering the hassle he had to go through to get here, and the ghosts are all eliminated in moments.

The silence is deafening after Mu Qing stamps out the last one, excluding the soft hoots of an owl. But then Mu Qing realizes something fairly unusual: he's really fucking cold.

"What the fuck are you wearing, nutcase?" Feng Xin snorts out a laughter as soon as Mu Qing walks into his work chambers. Through the spritual array, they had decided on a meeting regarding the Southern region's welfare.

"Shut up," Mu Qing hisses, "I'm cold."

"Yeah? It's the middle of summer."

"Get to business, Ju Yang. Where are the reports?" He fixes the cloth around his neck. It's been two days since his encounter with the army of ghosts, and each hour since then felt like his body heat was being sucked out of him. "And get me some hot tea."

Feng Xin glares at him but says nothing, reaching for the unorganized scrolls on his worktop. He hands them over to Mu Qing, who accepts it with shaking hands. When Feng Xin's gaze lingers a second too long, Mu Qing swats at his face with the scrolls.

"Motherfucker," Feng Xin mutters, but still has decency to invite Mu Qing to sit down on his divan. "It's tranquil. For now."

Mu Qing nods. "Villages are undisturbed. Temples aren't being messed with. Ghosts are out of sight. Prayers are not too bothersome." He shuffles the scrolls. "Is that all?”

Offering a hum of confirmation, Feng Xin lays out the teapot and cups on the table. The warm steam from the served tea has Mu Qing resisting the urge to hover his hands over the spout. He doesn’t. Obviously.

“Have you been on any missions recently?” Feng Xin asks around a mouthful of wafers.

“What? That’s none of your concern. Yes. A few days ago. Don’t speak with your mouth full.”

Feng Xin swallows down his food quickly. “You did? How did it go?”

“Stop prying. It went fine.” He closes his eyes and sips his tea, indulging in it’s heat.

A stupid pout forms on Feng Xin’s face. “I haven’t been on a mission in ages—”

“I do not care.”

“—so I’ve been cooped up in here, answering prayers.”

Mu Qing sets his half-empty teacup down and glares at the oaf sitting in front of him. “Why is it so cold in here?”

Said oaf’s eyebrows scrunch into a frown. “Cold? Mu Qing, it’s fucking sweltering. Are you sick?”

“I don’t get sick.”

“Stubborn prick. You’re wearing like, four robes.”

Instantly, Mu Qing’s hands raised up to clutch at his layers of clothing. “Judging bitch.”

But Feng Xin doesn’t get riled up and start yelling and cursing like he usually would. His brows draw in together as if he were concerned, and his eyes rake over the length of Mu Qing’s figure. “Are you cursed? Just what type of ghost did you fight?”

“I’m not cursed.” He’s not. Yes, his symptoms started, strangely, after his confrontation with the ghost. So what? Coincidences happen. And he’s just cold. That's literally it.

“Mu Qing.” Feng Xin’s own tone leaves no room for argument. Both official are no less obstinate than the other.

“I’m not cursed! The ghost I fought with used the element of snow. There. Happy? Cretin.”

Feng Xin’s jaw clenches, an impatient glint in his eyes. “Snow? You’re not usually this fucking stupid, Mu Qing.”

Mu Qing jumps to his feet, already grabbing his zhanmadao from his side. “What did you just say?”

“Fucking hell, Mu Qing!” Feng Xin holds his hand up and effectively stops Mu Qing from swinging his saber. “Where the fuck was your head when Ling Wen was explaining this shit?”

“What…”

“She clearly described a savage ghost who could fucking freeze a heavenly official to death.”

Mu Qing pauses. In the back of his head, he indistinctly remembers a warning from Ling Wen.

“Fuck,” Feng Xin cusses, seemingly more stressed than Mu Qing’s himself. “Fucking fuck.”

He grasps Mu Qing’s hand—and then flinches back. “You’re a fucking icicle! Come here.” Carefully, Feng Xin pulls Mu Qing closer to his body, coercing him into a hug. Brawny arms wrap around Mu Qing’s torso and a palm pushes Mu Qing’s face into a warm shoulder,

He sighs in relief when he feels the temperature shoot up.

“Still cold?” Feng Xin mutters right into his ear and Mu Qing fucking shivers.

“What do you think? Moron.”

“Don’t be a bitch or I’ll just let you fucking die.”

“Then let me.”

“I need to shut that mouth of yours.”

Mu Qing tears himself away, face flaming. “I’m fine now.” He turns and stomps away, determined to go elsewhere.

Feng Xin doesn’t let him though, snatching his arm and tugging him hard so Mu Qing’s back slams against a firm chest.

"Like fuck you are."

"Let me go." Mu Qing struggles against Feng Xin's vice grip, though his efforts as futile as the bigger man deftly hauls him around the Nan Yang Palace and into his bedchambers.

Feng Xin's bedchambers.

He--considerably gently--tosses Mu Qing onto the soft duvet and throws a sizeable quilt at him. "Get comfy, general."

Mu Qing glowers, though it's half-hearted. But his fury fades into alarm as Feng Xin joins him on the bed.

"What the--what the fuck are you doing?!" he yelps, horrified. He scrambles away, making space between the two bodies.

And once again, Feng Xin effortlessly pulls him back under the quilt. "Shut up and stay still."

Mu Qing freezes, letting Feng Xin maneuver him around as if he were a doll.

"Warm up, fucker." Feng Xin pats both of Mu Qing's cheeks, trying to give it some colour.

"Stop it," Mu Qing hisses. Feng Xin encircles his limbs around Mu Qing's middle, and Mu Qing can only exhale as he lets him.

He lets Feng Xin nuzzle his face into the curve of Mu Qing's neck.

He lets Feng Xin's fingers draw slow, soothing circles on his palm.

He let's Feng Xin warm him until he's a ball of fire, melting away his frosty fraud exterior.

[milliesfishes]

⋆౨ৎpeacekeeper coriolanus takes you to a haunted house⋆౨ৎ fem reader x coriolanus snow

There were ten more people touching Coriolanus than he'd like, and the line was long, stuffed with bodies of all shapes, sizes, and ages. It was hot for this time of year, and he was regretting his choice of dress- having put his long-sleeved uniform shirt over the white tee. He was about to politely nudge the person behind him at least an inch away when you reappeared, settling in your place under his arm again. "They're getting it started now. I guess there was a problem with one of the actors."

Instantly a rare smile lit his face as he rubbed your shoulder, even the sight of you enough to brighten his mood. "Good. I was getting worried."

"I'm sorry I left you for so long," you chattered, and he swore your bubbly demeanor was lifting you off your feet. "I saw Mary and I wanted to ask about her garden, and then Jenny joined in and she was telling me about her boyfriend, and then he showed up and I had to meet him too."

Coriolanus pressed a kiss to the top of your head as the line started to move. The progress was slow, but it was better than standing still. "It's okay. I can handle ten minutes by myself, sweetheart."

You leaned against him just a little as you moved forward with the line at a snail's pace, content to stay with him. It was a funny thing- when Coriolanus had met you, you'd hardly been able to stand still, always flitting from place to place, person to person like a hummingbird. But with him, your impulses were quieted, and you were happy to just be with him. He'd worried at first that it was a sign that you didn't like him or that he was boring you, but you'd told him sweetly it was just the opposite.

Playing with your fingernails, painted bright red (his favorite), you seemed to just be taking in everything surrounding. Children ran wild, their faces painted like creatures of the night. Groups of friends laughed and clung to each other in anticipation of the fright ahead.

The haunted house was set up in an abandoned building formerly used for canned food assembly, and for once, there weren't slews of Peacekeepers crawling the area. In fact, Coriolanus was sure he'd seen his head officer here with his wife and child. You'd told him about this tradition, that it only happened a few weekends in October, and a person was only likely to get in on one.

Leaning up, you kissed his cheek, holding one of his hands with both of yours. "I'm happy you wanted to do this with me."

He felt a slight flush color his cheeks, suddenly glad for the darkness so nobody could see. "Of course I'd do this with you."

"Hmm," you hummed fondly, rubbing his chest. Finally you were at the front of the line, and the friendly woman at the front stamped both of your hands, ushering you in.

The beginning corridor was pitch black, and Coriolanus held tight to your hand, smiling at your nervous giggles. "Alright, sweetheart?"

"Uh huh," your hair touched his shoulder, body taut with premonition.

The first actor jumped out with a bloodcurdling scream. Coriolanus jolted, and a cute little yelp escaped you. He chuckled, squeezing your hand. "Are you still okay?"

"Uh huh," you laughed, clinging to his arm. "It was the first one that got me, that's all-" another person leapt from the darker shadows, flashlight under their chin, and you shrieked.

The rest of the haunted house went very similarly, with you jumping at every scare, gripping him tighter and tighter. With anybody else, he might have found it bothersome, but with you it was adorable.

When you could see the light at the end, you heaved a sigh of relief. "We made it through-" You didn't even finish your sentence before someone was bounding in front of you, sending you flying into Coriolanus' arms, nearly knocking him over.

He half-walked, half-carried you out, unable to help his laugh. "That last one was scary, huh?"

"Uh huh." Your mumble was punctuated by giggles, and he shook his head, dropping his lips to your hair again.

"You're too cute to be true," he mumbled, and you lifted your head, standing on tiptoes to peck his lips. Hanging onto him around his neck, you tilted your chin back, a mischievous little grin on your face.

"Can we go again?"

tagging @kellielovesmovies because <3