#i might turn the bottom one into a full piece >:3

[toomanywordsnllines]

HEADCANNON TIME WITH MORE ROACH!

My favorite pass time is to look at a character and imagine what’s theyir favorite type of music is...and per consequence I also tend to love atributting them an instrument that I think fits them!

SO! Roach plays electric guitar >:3

Since he’s always been selective mute, his father feared that he wouldn’t have a way to truly express himself, so when Roach turned around twelve his father gifted him his first ever guitar. And from them he’s been jamming to his heart’s content.

When he and Ghost are home he loves bothering him with the worst songs he can think off, also doing specific sounds with the guitar as a form of communication.

[taegularities]

heaven to you (teaser) | myg & jjk (m)

Summary: A casual hook up morphs into a fierce fever dream when roommates slash best friends Min Yoongi and Jeon Jungkook bring heaven and hell to you – all at once, in one single night.

➳ pairing: Yoongi x reader x Jungkook ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ genre: kind of fwb, threesome, college au; fluff, hella smut ➳ warnings: lmfao buckle up, there'll be quite a few warnings for this one :') yoongi and oc are fwb, teasing, flirting, kissing booth stuff, jk wears glasses and has long hair (manbun beloved), yoongi and jk are both so cocky :'), but so is oc, sexual tension, mid-sex convos, threesome ofc, dom yoongi n jk, explicit sexual content, such as double penetration, degradation, spit stuff, manhandling,.. (will expand on this once the full thing drops – but it's a whole lot 😄), they do some weird ass stuff during sex lol but it's such a fun piece, aftercare, valentino yoongi and ck jk!! THE ENDINGGGGG LMFAO ➳ est. wc: 12-15k 😁 1.5k for the teaser!! ➳ a/n: so :’) this had been in planning since? december? i knew i wanted to do a lil something for the milestone, but that lil something turned into… whatever demonic hell this is LOL. back to the ruin you days, i guess. am super excited for this to finally drop. gonna give y'all the best version of it possible, love you <3

MASTERLIST | WIPS | TAGLIST

No matter how fatigued you feel, you’re determined to see this thing through.

Today’s event might have tired you out, but Yoongi’s tongue was quick to bring you back into the land of the living. You’d never admit it to him, but no college responsibility could force you away from the sins he always offers to you.

And two rooms from here, he’s waiting to send you down that spiral again.

You shudder in excitement.

You lift your body off the toilet seat and wash your hands; one last glance into the mirror as you crack your joints. You’d put a gym session into tomorrow’s schedule, but tonight might just serve as exercise enough.

Deep breath in, you step out with strengthened enthusiasm. You brace yourself for whatever’s to come, but what you don’t expect is the presence awaiting you outside the bathroom.

Your fingers halt over the door handle; a light smile creeps upon your face when you see him leaning against the wall.

Eyes shift from bottom to top slowly.

He’s gorgeous. Sculpted and tall. One of his legs is angled, heel against the wall; so you see how thick and strong his thighs are even through his baggy joggers.

And you don’t think he had his hair in this damn bun before; it presses against the wall. Combined with the glasses on his nose, he emanates some type of… innocence.

But you know Jeon Jungkook. And he’s far from the purity you’re so foolishly perceiving right now.

His head moves when he registers your light steps, meeting your eyes so nonchalantly that you trash all prior thoughts of innocence once and for all. You don’t ask what he’s thinking or what he wants. You assume he was merely waiting for his turn to enter the loo.

Jungkook’s plans for tonight, different from yours, probably consist of taking a good shit, seeking a filling meal and drowning in a good night’s sleep. That’s what you think, at least.

But as you move across the hall and towards him, he doesn’t walk past you, doesn’t target the bathroom.

Instead, he keeps looking at you.

And something in his gaze suggests that he’s not quite done talking to you; something of the awkward conversation in the living room still remains. 

Yet, he doesn’t speak.

So, you do, “What?”

“Hm?” he voices, a head tilt suggesting surprise, but you know he’s fucking with you. “Nothing. Was gonna pee.”

“Right.” You don’t move from your spot yet. Fold your arms under your chest. His pupils flit down for a second and then up to your face again; weirdly proud, you press your tits up some more. “Then go.”

“Alright, boss,” he rolls his eyes at you, pushing past you with a light brush of your shoulders, “I’ll go.”

And he does. Doesn’t mean you trust him. So you remain and wait.

Wait a minute longer. When he comes out, you’re still standing there.

He doesn’t look surprised. Just trudges towards you with half damp hands in the pockets of his sweats, sly smile on a pretty face until you speak and it drops.

“Was that off putting to you? You really don’t want it?”

There’s a rapid upward movement of one of his eyebrows, and he feigns the confusion perfectly as he asks, “Want what?”

“To join us.”

He puffs out a mocking laugh. Looks to the side, enough for you to admire his chiselled features. A jaw as sharp as a razorblade. Mole on his neck. Wanna kiss.

Then, he asks, “You were actually serious? Like, you still are?”

“Do I look unserious to you?”

Your blinking is supposed to be cute, but he doesn’t fall for it. You clench your jaw; you know he doesn’t want to reject you. You see it in his movements.

So you try, “Or are you just not made for it?”

Which seems to trigger just the right amount of ego in him. Because he laughs again, forming a circle with his lips, and lets out a little, “Ohhh,” as though you’re challenging him. Which, in some ways…

Before you know it, his scent wafts towards you. Soapy, pleasant. He’s close enough to trap you — which, to your surprise, he suddenly does.

One arm on each side of your head, he closes in. Your head moves immediately, your gaze set on his colourful tattoos. When you look at him again, the infuriating, lopsided signature smirk makes your eyes roll — a coping mechanism in a situation like this.

You won't reveal that the sudden movement sent a shiver down your spine, or that you held your breath for a moment possibly long enough for him to notice.

So eye rolling it is, disguising the wavering self-control as annoyance when he explains, “This wouldn’t be my first time, babe. Yoongi and I don’t mind sharing.”

His breath is warm, minty. Did he chew gum before?

You gulp.

“But,” he continues, tilting his head; you nearly expect him to kiss you. But he doesn’t. “You’re not exactly the type of girl I usually fuck with.”

Not his type of girl, huh?

Rude.

“Why not?” you ask. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugs his shoulders.

You see your reflection in his glasses — so far, you seem composed. Though less when he says, “You like leaving people and things broken. You get bored fast.”

Ouch. You wish he was lying.

It’s not like you do it on purpose. People catch feelings fast — you don’t. You make your intentions clear; the times things broke weren’t because you intended them to.

But…

You’re surprised he knows about this at all. You know Jungkook isn’t one to do feelings either; Yoongi told you. Perhaps he’s divulged your philosophies, too.

“So do you,” you answer.

“You got bored of Yoongi really fucking fast, too.”

“Not true. I’m still here.”

“You are now. You haven’t been for quite a while, right?”

You silence. What the hell does he mean?

Bewildered, you stare at him; if he wasn’t surrounded by this odd mystery, you’d push him away again. But he wants to rile you up, and you know you can take a lot more than that.

When you don’t answer, he pulls away, tugging back one or two escaped hair strands. Your eyes follow as he secures them behind his left ear, adorned by two earrings.

But when he raises an eyebrow in question, you awaken again, assuring him that, “You don’t have to. Yoongi and I can just do our thing and you… I don’t know. Have a good night, I suppose.”

You nod once and then push your body off the wall, glad you’re not sandwiched between it and Jungkook anymore. But before you can escape into your friend’s bedroom, a strong hand pulls you back.

You gasp, not anticipating the bold grip, flashing a glare to the veins on the back of his hand as you ask, “What? Didn’t mock me enough or—”

“You won’t ask again?” he has the audacity to inquire.

“You can’t be serious,” you scold, eyes wide. You can’t get out of his hold, so you don’t try just yet. “I’m gonna go. He’s already lighting candles or whatever.”

Jungkook chuckles. “As if. He doesn’t do that shit.”

“True,” you admit, “well, but he is waiting for me. Was waiting for you, too.”

“For me, huh?”

His grin is dorky. The following pout even more so. Horny moods make him cocky, but you remember from every other time you saw him at their dorm how freaking annoying he was.

A likeable annoying, you must admit. Capable of sweet smiles and funny jokes and absolute dumbass behaviour.

Like now.

“Awwh. Man, I saw him just this morning,” he says, loosening his grip around your wrist, pushing his glasses up his nose. “I understand if you missed me, but he really didn’t have to.”

You grimace. “You’re an idiot.”

“Yeah. Just so you know, when you call someone an idiot, you—”

“Alright. I’m leaving.”

Which you do. With absolute confidence.

Throwing your hair back and moving your hips. But what you also do is look back once you’ve taken a couple steps, nodding into the general direction of the bedroom. 

Granting him a boost of confidence as you give into his wishes and ask again.

“Are you coming or?”

“Uhm—”

“Isn’t that why you wouldn’t let me go?” If he rejects you now, you’ll walk away. End of story. “Or why you’re looking at me like that.”

He doesn’t answer. Caught red-handed.

He seems to contemplate it. Is eyeing you carefully, amused beyond imagination. What a delightful expression.

One last time, he thinks aloud and says, “You’re acting badass now, but that will backfire. And you will burn yourself.”

“So what? Fire’s fun.”

“I’m just saying.” One more. “Tonight might be a little too much for you with the two of us, you know? I’m not as easy to handle as you think. ”

“I don’t think you are,” you confess. “But I don’t want to handle you. I want the opposite.”

No matter how tired you are, you will see this thing through. With or without him, you will take what Yoongi gives. Accept if Jungkook offers anything. And you think… you think he will.

There’s a glimmer in his eyes. A hint of desire, hunger growing in the predator’s big gaze. If he wants to reject you now, you’ll walk away.

But you don’t think he will.

And once more, courageous, you say, “Handle me, Jeon Jungkook.”

okayyy. this is one glimpse of the whole sin lol. yoongi is gonna have a way bigger role, this is just a jk centric scene!! they're both prominent a lot in every other scene and they're both menaces :')

please look forward to it!! it's gonna be a fun lil piece before we go back to our lil angst/fluff corner. and support by leaving a like, reblog and comment! anddd send me your thoughts, your enthusiasm is extremely encouraging!!

if you want to be on the taglist, here you go!! love you all <3

[writeonwhiskey]

the skz house: ch 3 (18+)

a/n: thank you to all who liked, commented and reblogged. glad to have you on this ride with me.

Summary: Welcome to Sigma Kappa Zeta, the most popular fraternity on campus. When you, down on your luck and looking for a place to live, see their ad for ‘IN-HOUSE STAY’. You're one of the four girls chosen and find that your duties for the rest of the school year will be cooking, cleaning, and pleasing your assigned house members: Hyunjin & Bang Chan.

[ read chapter two here ]

Chapter Three: Of Blowjobs and Birthdays

The house becomes hectic when everyone is back home. With twelve people living here, it’s a house full of extremely different personalities and, honestly, a little overwhelming. You start to wonder how stable things will remain throughout the year. Do the guys ever fight amongst themselves? Do the girls? You’re not very confrontational, so you’ll have to hold on to hope that any disagreements can be resolved quickly. 

After dinner you have a chance to interact with Jeongin in the basement. The two of you are standing next to the bar as Lee Know and Changbin challenge each other in a game of pool. Jeongin is all smiles and dimples as he talks to you about his minor in fashion design and his plan to launch a chic streetwear clothing line after graduating. You can’t think of any other way to describe him besides adorable and pure (Han will later assure you that thought wears off over time).

“If you ever need tips, I’m the one to talk to,” he tells you. 

“I may have to take you up on that because this,” you gesture to the plain jeans and shirt you’re wearing, “is where I tend to stay.”

He steps closer to you, his hands reaching for the bottom of your shirt. 

“May I?” He asks. 

You shrug and nod.

He gathers the fabric from the back and folds it upwards, then uses the excess material in front to twist into a spiral. He wraps the end around the ball that has formed and pushes the end piece through the center. He turns you around to face the mirror against the opposite wall and you nod your approval.

“It accentuates here,” he (very professionally) gestures towards your breast while standing behind you, then moves his hands lower to your waist, “and here without you having to do much.”

“Do mine next, Innie,” you hear Changbin say from the pool table.

“It works best with bigger shirts, hyung, yours are too tight,” Jeongin retorts. 

Lee Know laughs as he calls 8 ball corner pocket and sinks it in. 

The smile on Changbin’s face drops as he tosses the pool cue on the table. He heads up the stairs without saying anything to anyone, causing the three of you to burst out into laughter. 

You all end up following after him to the main floor to see what the others are up to. 

Mostly everyone has dispersed to doing their own thing and you decide to turn in for the night. If you stay down here any longer, you may be tempted to accidentally fall asleep on the couch, if it means avoiding going up to Chan’s room. You imagine that might not play out so well as you head to the second floor to shower.  

You make a stop in Hyunjin’s room on your way to grab a few things you’ll need the next couple days while staying with Chan.

Hyunjin is seated at his desk, fiddling with a camera. 

“Hey,” you say as you enter. 

“Come to say goodbye to me?” He spins in his chair to face you and pouts. 

“Please don’t make this more awkward than it already feels,” you say with a serious look on your face. 

Seeing your expression, he drops the pout. 

“You okay?” 

“It just feels conflicting, spending last night with you, now going to Chan…” you trail off as you sit down on his bed. 

“It will for the first few weeks, I’m sure,” he tells you. “I wish I could tell you how to sort through it but I really don’t know what it’s like from your perspective.”

“What’s it like from yours?” You ask. 

“These guys are my brothers…we’ve been through so much and already share everything, so this isn’t a huge stretch for us believe it or not,” he shrugs. “Everything is transparent so there’s no room for jealousy, we follow the rules of the house and it all just works out.”

“But Chan seems…”

“He’s been that way the last week for some reason. I don’t know what it is but he’ll either get over it or open up to us about it eventually. He just likes to brood. He’s moody like that.”

You nod your head, taking some consolation that maybe it isn’t you that’s the problem after all, and get up from the bed to retrieve your belongings. Hyunjin stands to hug you on your way out and tells you goodnight, placing a kiss on your forehead. You revel in his embrace while you have it.

“You should show your figure more,” he says when you step back, looking at the shirt Jeongin has revamped for you. “It looks good.”

“Thank you,” you reply with a shy smile, covering your midriff with your arm as you slowly back out of the room. You wave one final time before turning around, wanting to retain the happiness you’re feeling right now as you’re so uncertain what awaits on the next floor up. 

Seungmin, Changbin and Han, who also stay on the third floor, warned you about how warm it gets up there. So after your shower, you decide on a pair of silk pajama shorts and top for the night. When you enter Chan’s room, it feels even warmer since he’s just had a shower, too.

He has one towel tied around his hips and is using another to dry his hair when he stops to look at you. His eyes travel from you head to toes, then back up again. He sits down on his bed and watches you as you put your things away. 

“How was your first day in the house?” He asks, breaking the silence.

“Pretty good, actually.” You say turning to face him, trying to keep your gaze on his face and not his exposed chest. Even in his relaxed sitting position you can see the outlines of his abs. 

“You think you’ll be able to stick it out?”

You furrow your brow at his question. 

“Am I allowed to leave if I feel like I can’t?” You ask. 

“You didn’t read the contract?”

Your gaze falls to the floor. Fucking contracts will probably be the death of you.

“It was, like, 37 pages, Chan. I have enough to read with my class assignments,” you tell him. 

“Yes, you can leave,” he answers. “With a proper two week notice so we have time to find a replacement.”

“That disposable, huh?” You move the blankets back on your bed and sit down on it. 

“We don’t force anyone to be here,” he shrugs, leaning back on his hands. 

“Do you want me to leave?” You ask suddenly. 

“You’re already here,” he replies. “Might as well stay.”

Part of you wants to take what he says as him encouraging you to stick around, but the way he says it makes it feel like an afterthought. You also made the mistake of thinking he was being kind to you earlier today. 

“Results are in, by the way,” he announces with his phone in hand.

It takes you a moment to realize what he means—the test you took a few days ago. Your heartbeat quickens as you check your phone and find the email. It’s not the results that are making you nervous. It’s the feel of his eyes on you and what comes next. You stand from your bed and walk towards him, hand outstretched for him to see your results. He nods his approval and shows you his.

“Did you want to…” you trail off, unable to bring yourself to say the words. 

He slowly licks his lips as he looks up at you. You’re not sure if the uneasiness you’re feeling is nerves or some kind of tormented butterflies. It feels drastically different than when you were with Hyunjin, that much you’re sure of.

He takes your phone from you and tosses it behind him on the bed before holding his hand out. You tentatively place yours in his and he pulls you so you’re standing between his legs. His hands drop to the back of your knees and his fingertips begin to lightly caress their way up the back of your thighs.  

“You don’t?” He counters. 

“I—I—“ you stutter. 

His hands creep higher and higher until they’re just barely beneath the hem of the shorts. He stops his movements, grips you and pulls you even closer to him. You place your hands on his shoulders to keep yourself from falling on him.

“It has to be consensual, y/n,” he tells you. “But I do want you first.”

Your eyes lock with his and for the first time you feel like he’s being transparent. Would it ease some of the tension you feel with him if you consent tonight? Hyunjin did mention some of the members view this as a sexual thing and others emotional. Maybe Chan just prefers the physical. 

“I’ve only ever been with one other person,” you say, looking down at the floor. 

“Then you’ll learn a lot here,” he says as his hands resume caressing you. 

Your hands move up towards his neck, fingers lightly stroking at the nape. Eyes still locked on his, you nod your consent. 

“Lesson one, then,” he says, spreading his legs a little further apart. “Get on your knees.”

Your eyebrows come together once again at his words. He doesn’t budge—doesn’t smile, no inference that he’s joking in the slightest. 

You slowly kneel on the floor in front of him. 

“Open my towel,” is his next command. 

You bring your hands to his lap to pull the two ends of the towel apart and cast them aside. He’s completely exposed but shows no sign of being embarrassed or insecure. Your eyes fall down to his cock—he has no reason to, you can see that. 

He hooks a finger under your chin and lifts your head up. His thumb lightly moves across your lips from left to right then slowly drags down the middle, pulling your bottom lip with it. 

He redirects his attention to your pajama top, undoing the buttons with ease one by one. When he moves the silky fabric to the side, you let out a shaky breath as his eyes linger on your exposed breasts. He cups both of them in each hand, gliding his thumbs across your nipples until they harden.

It feels good, you can’t deny that. You have no control over your body’s response to his actions, but there’s some discrepancy between your body and the thoughts racing through your mind. He’s handsome, but are you attracted to him? Given the way he’s been treating you…what does it say about you if you are?

His hands fall from your chest, and you instantly feel cold without his touch. He reaches down for your hand and grabs it, placing it on his cock. You wrap your hand around it, feeling how warm and hard it is. He leans back on the bed, looking down at you. 

“Spit on it,” he tells you. 

You feel your pulse pick up at his words as you move your jaw and tongue to gather up moisture in your mouth. You adjust yourself over him to do as you’re told. He guides your hand once again, helping you move the saliva around and lather until his dick is slippery. 

“It’s not that fragile, you can squeeze a little harder, y/n.” His tone is soft as he looks at you with darkened eyes. 

You tighten your grip and begin moving your hand up and down slowly. He lays back flat on the bed as you continue to stroke him. You feel a little less pressure without him staring at you and focus on what’s in front of you. The hair surrounding the base is dark and curly, yet neatly groomed. His dick is almost the same color as the rest of his body, with a redder tint. You can see, up close, all the veins at work as he becomes harder in the palm of your hand. The tip is cut, pink, and dripping. You rub your thumb around it in circles, smearing the clear fluid around. 

He lets out a soft groan and sits back up on the bed.

He cups your face in his hand and strokes your cheeks. 

“Open your mouth,” he says. 

You slowly drop your jaw. His hands move to the back of your head and guide you forward. You close your eyes and try to remain calm and relaxed as you feel the tip of his dick at your lips.

He moves one of his hands to the base, and slides the tip of his dick around your lips before sliding it inside. With his other hand still behind your head, he pushes you further down. You put your hands on his thighs and start to resist when you feel you can’t take anymore in your mouth. 

He releases the pressure on the back of your head and you breathe out of your nose, adjusting to having so much of him in your mouth. It’s not your first blow job, but he’s a lot bigger than your ex and, you know, you hadn’t even kissed this man yet.

You start to stroke the base as your mouth focuses on the upper half. You move in unison, moving your hand up as your head draws back, then down as you take more of him in again. Your ex did not enjoy ‘sloppy’ blow jobs and all the saliva, but Chan seems to like it. You use the moisture that works up in your mouth to make it easier to glide along him. He groans as you start moving faster, and continues guiding your head with more force each time you descend. 

He grips his hand in your hair and you take that as a sign of encouragement to keep going. When you move your mouth to focus on just the tip as you continue stroking him with your hand, he releases your hair and falls back on the bed again. You suck only the tip, popping it out of your mouth like a lollipop and taking it inside again. 

“Fuck, y/n,” he croaks. 

Another sign of encouragement. You’ll have to take whatever words of acceptance you can get with him. 

You take your mouth off completely and use your tongue to lick upwards from the bottom to the top, gliding across the protruding vein there. When you go back to the base, his hand is on your head again, pushing you lower. Your eyes open wide as you see what he wants you to do. You straighten up to spit on his dick again and add moisture before returning back to his balls. You take one in your mouth, lightly sucking on it, then the other. 

“I knew it,” he breathes, seemingly talking to himself.

Knew what? You wonder. But you don’t stop. 

“Put your mouth back on my cock,” he says. 

You place your mouth back on him, moving up and down in synchronicity with your hand. Both of his hands go to your head, forcefully pushing you down as he bucks his hips up, groaning. 

He doesn’t warn you, so the first shot in your mouth startles you. You feel the warmth and taste the saltiness as he continues to thrust into your mouth. When his hips fall to the bed for the final time, you sit back on your legs. You’re not sure what to do next. You want to get up and run to the bathroom.

He sits back up, breathing heavily. The way he looks at you gives you some pause. He looks satisfied, relieved. He leans forward and kisses you briefly on the lips, apparently oblivious of the load you’re holding inside or something. When he leans back, your face is contorted as you gesture to your mouth. 

He shakes his head, careless of the expression you’re making. He places a finger under your jaw to keep it shut. 

“Swallow.”

You shake your head, but he doesn’t move his finger, he pushes up on your jaw harder, staring at you intently. You concede and move your heard forward slightly to make it easier to go down in one gulp. 

“Open.”

You open your mouth and show him nothing is there. 

“Good girl.” He pats your cheek before moving back on the bed towards his pillows, leaving you on your knees at the foot of the bed. “Get some sleep.”

You feel like you’ve just been punched in the gut. So much for this situation being reciprocal. 

You shakily get to your feet, pick up your phone and retreat to your bed with the buttons of your shirt still undone. There’s no other way to describe how you're feeling—used. You slip underneath the blanket and immediately turn over to face the wall. You hear Chan get up a few minutes later and go to his bathroom. 

You let out a sigh when you believe he’s out of earshot. You signed up for this, but this…was not what you had expected. You imagine how this would have played out with Hyunjin. The two of you would have probably laughed together after your raunchy behavior and he would have held you as you fell asleep. You wish you were with him right now. You squeeze your eyes shut and will yourself to fall asleep.

You wake up the next morning once again to the sound of your alarm going off and frantically silence it. You peek over your shoulder to see Chan still sleeping in his bed. Yesterday when you were bright eyed and optimistic, you set this alarm to get up and cook for him. Even though he said he wasn’t big on eating breakfast—today is his birthday. You wanted to do something nice for him. Of course that was all prior to him blowing his load in your mouth and then sending you off to bed immediately after. You contemplate just staying in bed and not mentioning his birthday to him at all.

The way he’s treating you doesn’t just sting, it fucking hurts. If everyone in the house had the same demeanor, perhaps you could understand it better—that they all are cold. But, no, everyone else has been nothing but nice to you. 

You have to reason with yourself that you can’t take his behavior personal. You’re here to perform certain duties and you can’t force or expect him to be affectionate with you. You shouldn’t take it as an offense. Easier said than done, though. 

You push the covers off and button up your shirt—you’d fallen asleep without ever fixing it—and make your way quietly down stairs. You stop on the second floor to brush your teeth, it’s desperately needed after last night. You feel yourself start to becoming angry at the thought. Did he enjoy knowing you’d spent the night with the taste of him lingering in your mouth? Why hadn’t you spoken up and said something…anything? Perhaps it falls back on being non-confrontational, but you’re also afraid of making him angry. You push the thoughts aside once again and wash your hands and face before heading to the kitchen.

The boys told you Chan really liked spam omelets so you’ll be making that for everyone, with rice. The distraction of prepping and cooking is a nice reprieve for your mind. You can’t focus on anything other than the task at hand. Some of the others file in soon after to keep you company. Or maybe they’re just waiting to eat. 

You’re finished within an hour. You make Chan a plate—rice on one side with furikake sprinkled on top, and the spam omelet on the other. You find a serving tray in the cabinet and place the plate and a glass of watermelon punch (another one of his favorites, you had been told) on it. The other’s start making their own plates and you head back upstairs to deliver Chan his breakfast in bed. The irony in this is not lost on you. Treating him like a goddamn king after he’d made you feel like a fucking harlot. 

When you get back to the room, he’s still sleeping. 

You sit the tray down at the foot of the bed. You had kinda hoped he’d be awake by now, as you’re not sure how he reacts to being woken up. You sit behind him on the bed and lightly shake him. He wakes easily and turns to look at you over his shoulder, eyes half open. 

“Happy Birthday, Chan,” you say to him softly, forcing a smile. 

He takes a moment to adjust to being awake but promptly sits up on the bed, back against the pillows. 

“Thank you,” he replies, as his eyes fall on the tray of food. 

“I know you said you’re not big on breakfast but, I made you a spam omelet,” you say, reaching forward to grab the tray and drag it back towards him. 

He picks up the glass of juice and takes a long drink. 

“The others aren’t planning anything else today are they?” He asks warily, setting the glass back down. 

“Not that I know of…they said you’d kill them,” you shrug. 

“Good,” he nods. “You not eating?”

“There’s more downstairs…I wasn’t sure if you’d want to eat alone or not.” You can’t bring yourself to add ‘with me’ in you response. 

He brings the tray closer to him and cuts a piece of the omelet with the fork. He adds a little bit of rice too, then holds the fork out to you, one hand cupped beneath it to catch anything that falls. 

You shake your head and try to push his hand away but he resists. 

“Open,” he says. 

You find this alarming—the rate at which your mouth drops open at his behest. He puts the fork in your mouth and you close your lips around it, drawing back to take the food from it.

He smiles at you then, a real smile. For the first time that you can remember since you’ve been here. His eyes are puffy from sleep so they get even smaller with his cheeks pressed up and you see he has a deep set of dimples. Before you can stop it, you feel your eyes begin to prickle. 

You recognize the onslaught of the water works and quickly stand from the bed. You don’t want him to see you cry. You don’t want him to know that this small act of kindness felt like so much more to you after how he’s made you feel the past couple of days.

“Please, eat. Enjoy. I’ll see you later,” you say in a rush and head for the door before he can say anything to stop you. 

You don’t know if he calls after you as you speed down the hallway, wiping the lone tear that falls from your eye.

Later, you catch a ride to campus with Felix and Allie for your afternoon class, happy for another distraction to keep your thoughts of Chan at bay. You ride back home with Changbin and Seungmin who are adamant about having pizza for dinner. They advise you of Chan’s favorite place to order from—another birthday treat for him. They make a stop on the way home for beer and alcohol to celebrate. You’re wary of their choice but they tell you since it’s just those in the house in attendance, he won’t be upset about it. 

Back at the house, you lounge on the sofa watching TV with some of the others until Hyunjin arrives home around 3:00pm. He sits next to you and takes your hand in his, giving it a squeeze. You lean your head on his shoulder and place your other hand on his arm. You appreciate his consistency and how easy it is to just be yourself without second guessing anything around him.

“How was last night?” He asks quietly.

“It was fine,” you lie.

“See? You were worried for nothing." He drapes his other arm across your side, pulling you closer to him. 

You’re thankful he can’t see your face. You don’t know if the Chan you’re experiencing is different than the one he knows, or if he fully knows what you’re going through and doesn’t think it’s that big of a deal. Either way, you keep it to yourself. 

As more people start to return home, the birthday festivities begin. One case of beer is taken down to the basement to start beer pong and when Chan gets back, the alcohol bottles are cracked opened.

Everyone gathers in the kitchen to take a shot. Chan’s eyes meet yours for the first time since your awkward encounter this morning and you offer a polite smile. Hyunjin pulls you to stand between him and Chan and hands you a shot. You scrunch up your face and shake your head. 

“If I have to celebrate, everyone has to drink,” Chan says matter-of-factly. 

You grab the shot glass in one hand, and hold a can of Coke in the other. 

Lee Know loudly clears his throat before addressing the room. 

“To our fearless and humble leader,” he begins and Han snorts at his words, “We’re thankful to have spent another year with you as our chapter president. We can’t imagine anyone else in your place.”

“Speak for yourself,” Changbin pipes up, causing everyone to chuckle. 

“To another year, and many more to come.” He raises his glass in the air and everyone else follows suit before tossing back the shot. 

You grimace and groan as the burning liquid slides down your throat. 

“Good girl,” Chan says to you quietly, placing a hand on your side.

Your shirt is also tied up the way Jeongin showed you, so his fingers are able to freely roam over the exposed skin there. You tense up at the feeling—this public display. Has he gotten over whatever was bothering him? Did he really just need to release some sexual tension? Or does he just become happier when he drinks?

You don’t have to wait long to find out the answer to the latter. As the evening carries on and everyone moves down to the basement, there’s simultaneous games of beer pong and pool being played. Chan is laughing, smiling, and hugging his fraternity brothers and it’s kind of blowing your mind. 

As he stands behind Lee Know, hands wrapped around his waist and chin wresting on his shoulder as Jeongin says something that makes him laugh, you feel like you’re seeing something you shouldn’t. Who is this person? This can’t be the same guy that made you want to cry yourself to sleep yesterday.

You’re not sure if you should question it, maybe you should just be thrilled that he seems more carefree, perhaps not as weighed down by the responsibility of being the fraternity president tonight. Maybe he’ll be nicer tonight when it’s just the two of you up in his room.

You have another shot when everyone else takes one and have a mixed drink as you play beer pong with Hyunjin as your partner. The overall mood in the house is positive, everyone is having a good time. At one point you spot I.N. and his assignee, Charlotte, making out in the corner. Your eyebrows shoot up at the sight—Han was right. 

When the pizza arrives, you help Seungmin and Felix carry all the boxes down to the basement. You go through the boxes to find the one you ordered specifically for Chan and take it to him where he’s sitting at the bar. Thankfully, Seungmin and Changbin had been with you when you placed the order so you could make sure to get what he likes.

“For you, birthday boy,” you say with a smile, holding the box out to him. He takes it from your hand with a lazy smile and sits it on the bar counter. 

Chan lifts the box open, stares at the pizza inside for no more than two seconds before shutting the box and pushing it away. All traces of his previous smile completely gone. 

“Pineapple?” He forces the word out with a look of disgust, as though it pains him. 

Changbin and Seungmin burst into laughter behind you. You whip your head around and throw a glare in their direction. They played you. They planned for this moment to happen since this afternoon. As they remain doubled over in laughter you press your lips into a firm line and slowly nod your head. You will remember this.

You turn back to face Chan.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize, “there’s literally every other kind of pizza you can imagine. What can I get you?”

 “Just plain pepperoni is fine,” he says with a shrug. 

You turn to retrieve him a box, but he catches your wrist to stop you, pulling you back towards him. Since he’s sitting down, you’re right at eye level with him. 

“You can’t be so gullible,” he says softly. “That’s gonna cost ya.”

He lightly taps you on the ass before jerking his head in the direction of the other pizza boxes and sending you on your way. 

He’s making pineapple on pizza sound like a cryptic deadly sin. As you plate him up some pepperoni pizza, his last words linger in your mind. You turn to look back at him, his eyes are on you from across the room. A shiver runs down your spine as your eyes meet his and he smirks. What is this innocent mistake going to cost you?

[ read chapter four here ]

a/n: i may be having a little too much fun with this chan. like, comment & reblog to keep fueling my writing fire :)

[seoulmatez]

— 𝓈𝓊𝓇𝑔𝑒𝑜𝓃 𝓈𝒶𝓂𝓊 ౨ৎ

miya osamu x reader. 0.7k wc. ﾉ sfw ﾉ fluff ﾉ papa!osamuﾉ reader is referred to as mom ﾉ repost!

a/n: father's day drabbled #3! kuroo's version and atsumu's version are available to read :3 suna tomorrow!

“dad, odie got mr. stuffins.” at the voice, osamu looks down beside him as he turns off the faucet to the kitchen sink. your daughter stands with her hands held out, her favorite stuffed animal nearly in tatters. the fabric is torn open by the threads, exposing the fluffy stuffing. and the offender is nowhere to be found.

“oh no. how about i hold onto him until mom gets home to patch him up?” osamu leans down to her level after drying off his hands.

“nuh-uh. he needs surgery right away!” the girl thrusts the damaged bear into his chest.

“i know, baby. i just don’t want to ruin your toy.” well, ruin it beyond its already ruined state. despite the stuffed bear already being torn apart, osamu’s sure that if he gets his hands on it, it might just end up looking worse. it’s more than likely that your daughter is already harboring ill feelings for the poor family dog and osamu doesn’t want to be next.

“daaad, you gotta fix him now. please?” she sticks out her bottom lip in a pout, fat tears pooling in her dark eyes. osamu swears he can hear a little sniffle.

how can he say no to that face?

“okay, okay. i’ll see what i can do.”

maybe it wasn’t the best idea for osamu to offer his services so hastily. even after several youtube tutorials, he still isn’t completely confident in his abilities to mend the broken. before now, he’s never had any reason to learn to sew. to make things worse, a whole piece of the fuzzy material is nowhere to be found. at this rate, even if the tutorials were of any help, he still wouldn’t be able to sew mr. stuffins back together.

but he’ll make this work—for her.

that’s how osamu ends up cutting up an old pair of his pajama pants to stitch your daughter’s beloved toy back together. it takes longer than he imagined it would to fit all the stuffing back into the bear and he poked himself with the needle more times than he could count, but, eventually, the task is done. the plushie is in considerably better shape than when it was brought to him, but it’s far from the bear your daughter knew.

after building up the courage to present the new and somewhat improved teddy to your daughter, osamu makes his way back into the living room where the girl sits coloring at the coffee table. upon hearing her father’s footsteps, the girl drops her crayons and runs to his feet. she looks up to him with expectant eyes.

“dad tried his best, but mr. stuffins looks really different,” osamu admits. it probably won’t be much help—the warning, that is, but he wants to prepare her for the very unfamiliar version of her old friend.

she bounces on the balls of her feet, excited for the fated reunion.

“if you don’t like it, i’ll buy you a new one.” he finally pulls the bear from behind his back, presenting it to the little girl. she quickly grabs it, eyes silently taking in all of the changes to her toy. osamu waits for a reaction. he never thought he’d be one to seek his kid’s approval, but today seems to be full of surprises. this moment is more nerve-wracking than any volleyball game he’d played in high school.

“so…” osamu starts, not able to wait any longer. he’s feeling just as impatient as her now. “how’d i do?”

“mr. stuffins is wearing your clothes,” she giggles, running her little fingers over the recognizable flannel patch. the tiny smile on her face and the absence of disappointed cries must be a sign that he’d done something right, but osamu wants to know for sure.

“you like it, then?”

“mhm, i can’t wait to show mom!” she hurries back to her place at the coffee table, surely excited to update mr. stuffins on everything he missed while he was undergoing his operation. thinking better, she stops in her tracks. the girl turns on her heel to make her way back to osamu. she wraps her arms around his leg in a hug, the bear trapped between her body and osamu’s limb. 

“thank you, dad!”

he sets a hand on the top of her head, ruffling the strands of hair. “you’re welcome, sweetheart.”

thanks for reading! reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!

[the-colourful-witch]

The All the Young Dudes book covers project

I've been working on this fun project in my time off from social media. It consists of three illustrations to use as book covers for All the Young Dudes by MsKingBean89 on Ao3. This book has been the foundation of my involvement in the fandom. It's the first fic I read about the Marauders and I loved it so much! I laughed, and I cried, it was a real rollercoaster. After making the cover for A Brief History of Dragons by Eyra, I caught the bug and started thinking of more covers to illustrate. I loved working on the first cover, but I didn't love doing it on my tablet. At heart, I am a traditional illustrator and for this kind of illustration, I felt paper might work better. So I got to work. I knew I wanted to make three covers. From what I've seen online most people bind their own copies of All the Young Dudes in three parts: Year 1-4, Year 5-7 and Until the End. Therefore, I made three covers. I have not yet digitalized these illustrations, but I'll turn them into downloadable covers for binders to use for their book projects. I am working on binding my own physical copies of AtYD too :) It's fun! Right, to the covers. There's so much to say!

Book One

This is the start of Remus' life at Hogwarts and his friendship with the other Marauders. I wanted it to feel a bit like reading Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone for the first time. It's the realisation that magic is real, it's that first spark you get when picking up a book you instantly connect with. That was the feeling I wanted to incorporate in this first cover. There are a bunch of little easter eggs for the story and I hope you'll pick them all out. Let me know in the comments what you think they are. Also, for this project, I studied the language of flowers. I am not sure if all my information is correct, but in this one, I put dandelions in the top corners. Dandelions represent new beginnings :)

Book Two

The second half of the Marauders' time at Hogwarts. This part is all about love and loyalty; something I liked a lot! It's also the time when the Marauders complete their animagus transformations. The animals had to be on the cover! That, I knew for sure. I went for a forest theme for this second cover, because of all the mischief the Marauders got up to in the Forbidden Forest during full moons. I used flower language here as well. For every Marauder I picked a flower I felt represented who they are. For Peter, at the top, I chose Bleeding Heart and Belladonna. Both of them represent betrayal and death. Nice and cheery :) For Sirius, on the Right, I chose Bluebell, which represents loyalty. For Remus, on the Left, I chose Acacia, which represents secret love or forbidden love, because he's hiding his sexuality for most of the book. But it's a love flower and in his core Remus is caring and loving, despite his rough edges. For James, on the bottom, I chose violets. And violets represent love at first sight. I know we all know why <3 I like this cover a lot. The picture is a bit grainy, but like I said, I'm still working on digitalising.

Book Three

Last but certainly not least. This book is about war, love and loss. It was definitely the most challenging piece out of the three, but worth the trouble. On this cover, I put Hogwarts at the top, because that's where it all started and where it ends. On the bottom, there's a prophecy, which is about Harry and Voldemort. There are a few gravestones at the bottom. Very cheerful, I know, but if you pay attention, you see a Deathly Hallows on one of them. On the sides are my favourite parts. I like the lily flower in the arms of death, because it's obvious, but also beautiful. I like the Death Eater on the other side because it's spooky. The snakes represent rebirth and Slytherin House, which is important to the story of the Second Wizarding War, connecting good and evil. Once again I put all the flowers in this piece, scattering them around because they're all interwoven in each other's stories. Finally, I want to say something about the three central images. In the first we see Remus as a child. He's alone and scared of the big scary wolf. The three images are a timeline. It represents Remus' relationship with the wolf in him. At first, he despises it and is scared of it. And finally, he stands with it, not quite embracing it, but he's not scared anymore. In the middle, I wanted to show Remus with his friends, because they banished his fear whenever they were together. With his friends, the wolf didn't control Remus and he could control the wolf. I hope it's all clear. I loved working on these pieces and I hope you like them too!

[my-naughty-writings-and-musings]

Transformers ROTB

NSFW Reader x Mirage

Just saw ROTB and Mirage changed my brain chemistry so I had to get this down ASAP while writing many other pieces of smut I hope to post soon. Please let me know what you think <3

Mirage got you back for all your teasing the second he pulled into the garage and transformed, his engine roaring in pent up frustration as he settled you on one arm and slammed the door behind him with the other. Having expected and looked forward to such rough handling, you happily allowed yourself to be hefted upwards to face your partner, his hands cupping you possesively as his optics met your eyes. The fiery need in their depths sent an echo of desire through your entire body before he pulled you in for a desperate kiss.

Moaning into your mouth, the speedster slipped a hand behind your head to hold you close as he fumbled across the garage to his berth, which was so difficult in his current state he ended up bumping his shins multiple times along the way. Each audible thump came with a hissed curse that made you snicker, but he persevered until he finally met the edge of the padded metal slab and more or less collapsed onto it. You were still in such a giggly mood you couldn't help chuckling when he muttered a euphoric "finally" as if arriving at an oasis in a desert. 

Settling you down beneath him, Mirage got the two of you on the same page with a sudden rush of kisses down your jawline, his dentae brushing the sensitive skin before he buried his helm in the crook of your neck. You arched at the touch and moaned softly for more, which he provided in the form of an unexpected bite, his tiny canines using just enough force to leave a subtle mark claiming ownership. Crying out and grabbing hold of him for support, you shivered as his warm glossa dulled the mild sting with slow swirls. Experience told you he was savoring the taste just as much as he was providing comfort. 

"Take your pants off, I've got plans." he said suddenly, lips just beside your ear. Complying with a soft sound of wanting, you wiggled out of your bottoms in a manner most would have called desperate rather than sexy. Big blue optics watched your every move with hungry intensity, and when he beheld you naked from the waist down his engine rumbled forcefully enough to rattle the berth. Throwing away your clothes without a care, you found him sliding a hand up your shirt without warning, and obediently leaned into the touch as he purred out further instructions. "Might as well toss everything you don't want me accidentally ripping to pieces."

"You'd owe me." you replied teasingly, sticking out your tongue as you rolled your top over your head. Mirage huffed with enough force to rustle the messy spread of blankets.

"You're kidding, right?!" he replied with indignant disbelief, looking all the more frustrated when you smiled innocently whilst unlatching your bra. Pretending not to be briefly subdued by the sight of your tits, the speedster continued his mock rant, recalling how the last twenty or so minutes had been nothing but you riling him up while he was helpless in his altmode. "The way you were fiddling with my gear shift in traffic? You're lucky I didn't pop my panel on that off-ramp!"

"Just a little extra motivation." you teased sweetly, tossing your last bit of clothing to the floor below.

Your incorrigible boldness briefly left him speechless. Shaking his helm with a chuckle, Mirage moved quickly to pin you to the berth below, gentle but commandingly firm as he made it clear he planned on getting even. Having expected as much, you had to bite your lip to restrain a smile, so eager for a heated pounding you could already feel yourself getting wet. Your own wanting turned to desperation when he loomed over you and cast your naked body completely in his shadow. Voice a full octave lower than usual, the mech loudly opened his modesty plating just before he rumbled out a warning. "Oh, I'm motivated alright." 

Lips met again in a passionate kiss, but this time he went straight for what he wanted, hands taking hold of either side of your body to slide downwards and savor every detail along the way. Whimpering when your breasts were teased with only a quick circling of his thumbs, you eagerly parted your legs to grant him access, looking down just as he grabbed hold of his erect spike to mass shift it to the appropriate size. Practice had allowed you to stretch sufficiently enough that he only needed to reduce his girth by a fraction of what had initially been required, and as soon as he felt himself reach the proper measurement he brought his hips to yours.

A small sound passed his lips as his tip met the heat of your entrance, and you watched his brows arch at the pleasure while his jaw went slack, helm rolling back as he finally got to push inside. Biting your lip at the stretch, you welcomed him with a moan, wrapping your legs around his hips to assure him you were ready for more. The unique array of ridges and nodes along his spike delighted you every inch of the way. Sheathing himself in one long, smooth stroke, the speedster took a moment to savor the feeling he'd been so desperate for, as overwhelmed by your tight heat as he'd been the first time. 

Instinct and experience got his hips moving, and you welcomed the first withdrawal and thrust with an appropriately excited cry, the feeling of his massive frame over your tiny human body making it all the better. Mirage growled as he finally got a hold of himself, hands splaying on the berth as he started to rock his hips and go to town just like he'd fantasized the entire way home. Tits bouncing with every thrust, you went from moaning to crying out when he activated his vibrator mods, the tiny nodes lighting up without warning to buzz against all of your sweet spots. Your wide eyes caught a smug smirk of revenge on his lips before he lost himself to a moan of his own.

Pulling him close and grinding your hips against him, you grabbed hold of his chest and held on for dear life as Mirage began to ride you for real, his vents releasing hot puffs of steam with every pound of his hips as his frame grew heated from the exertion. Making the berth rattle near to the point of threatening collapse, the speedster lost control completely in his haze of desire. Hunching over you to be as close as possible, he scooped an arm behind your back to heft you as the beginning of an orgasm coiled in your lower body, hammering right into your sweet spot as his engine roared out in exhilaration. You rewarded his creativity with a cry of his name just the way he liked it.

"Mirage!" you moaned showily, able to feel him approaching his own overload as yours built exponentially quickly. Hearing his name made the mech shudder and briefly lose control of his powers, the scene around you wobbling as his cloaking abilities surged and warped everything you could see until he wrestled back his willpower. 

"Aw shit, babe, I'm gonna..." he trailed off to bare his dentae and moan, but you knew exactly what he meant. The length of his spike throbbed inside of you, and just like that you were pushed over the edge, a rush of warmth and ecstasy crashing over your heated body as you clamped around him in a series of powerful throbs. Feeling you clench as if milking him did the poor mech in without delay. Optics briefly snapping open in surprise, he clamped them shut as his own overload hit with an accompanying surge of his EM field, blue sparks of electricity jumping over his armor as he came in an explosive burst of overdue release. The combination of his hot ropes gushing into you and your walls clamping down on his spike reduced you both to moaning wrecks unable to do much more than cling to the other.

When you felt the surge pass and the excess transfluid dribble onto the berth, you collapsed into a sweaty heap on the padding below, ribs rapidly rising and falling as you tried to catch your breath. Mirage had enough experience to roll to the side once the afterglow reduced him to a purring kitten of a bot, his lips curled into a very pleased smile as he settled down beside you and vented the heat from his exercise. The mess wouldn't have occurred to you even if you'd been able to feel your legs.

"Wooo boy..." the mech sighed after what couldn't have been more than a minute or two. You opened your eyes just as he pulled you up the berth to face him, sliding over the bundle of bedding until your gaze met your lover's and found him looking very pleased with himself. Chuckling at the boundless ego, you scootched closer to snuggle him and fully enjoy yourself, more than a little smug at how easily this had all gone to plan. It was almost unfair how little you had to try to make him pound your brain out.

"Better?" you cooed, cupping his chin the way he liked. Mirage leaned into the touch and laid so you faced one another, far more relaxed now that his charge had been burned off. 

"Ain't nothing better than you, gorgeous." he confirmed, letting you nuzzle into his neck as he held you close and playfully stroked your hair. The softness mixed with his sass compelled you to relax as well, your naked body pressing into his to savor the touch of his warm mesh in the bliss of the afterglow. Dating a mech like Mirage was never easy, but it was certainly always worth it.

[sixpossumsinatrenchcoat]

B Plot

Isabeau still can’t confess, and Siffrin needs to clear their head. Which means it’s high time for a sidequest. 

Act 1, Scene 2. West Dormont. Isa’s hand hovers near your shoulder. You try to look inviting, but you must not be very good at it. He’s already pulling away. Okay. This is it. Go time. “You can touch me,” you blurt out. “Wh— Hwhuh???” No turning back now. “It just. Seems like you think you can’t? But—you can.”

(Full disclosure, this is literally just 5k words of Siffrin trying to flirt, because he's not the only one who needed a break. Spoilers thru Act 3)

You don’t make the pun for Isa. You don’t say hi to Loop, either. You just sit on the ground and stare at the grass.

“Wow, stardust,” Loop snorts, “thanks for the warm welcome. I missed you too! But tone it down a little, will you? All that enthusiasm could get a little overwhelming!”

Near your foot, there’s a leaf growing out from a fallen branch, glossy and bright like it thinks it’s still attached to the tree. Like it thinks it’s still alive. But of course you know better. It’s already dead. It just doesn’t know it yet.

“Sooo~, what’s up? Give me the scoop! The latest and greatest, teehee!”

The leaf is always growing out of the branch, and the branch is always on the ground, splintered and slowly drying. Does the loop last long enough for the leaf to dry out, too? Does it die every day, like you do? Or will it spend the rest of eternity in a state of blissful ignorance?

“You beat the King again, right? That’s cool! You’re getting pretty tough! Keep it up and pretty soon you’ll have nothing to be scared of! Aside from, you know. All the existential dread.”

You watch your hand reach out to close around the leaf. It comes loose with a gentle pop.

“Oh, come on, at least pretend to listen. You’re good at that, teehee!” When you still don’t react, their tone sours. “The silent treatment is really not a cute look on you, you know.”

Even with nothing to hold onto, the leaf still looks offensively alive. You crumple it between your hands and then shred it into tiny little pieces. There. Now it’s just like you.

—There’s a startling clap! as Loop claps their hands about an inch from your left ear.

“Stardust,” they say firmly. “I’m a patient star, I really am, but if you keep ignoring me, I’m going to get grouchy.”

Very slowly, you look up. “She didn’t know anything.”

“...The head housemaiden?”

You nod.

“About Time Craft, you mean?”

Another nod.

“Oh,” Loop says softly. “Well. I suppose that’s to be expected. Maybe no one does, anymore.”

You shrug.

“B-But you still have leads, don’t you? Didn’t you have a few more questions for the K—”

“I don’t want to talk to the King.” The last time you tried to talk to the King, your actors looked at you like you were something monstrous. Subhuman. Like something they’d scraped off the bottom of their shoes. You wound up letting him kill you just to end the loop faster. But you’d forgotten how much the King’s final blow hurts.

“Okay, but—”

“Will you stop?” you demand. You don’t want to talk about this. You just want—

—but there’s no point finishing that sentence.

The two of you sit in silence for a while. Probably you hurt Loop’s feelings. Somehow, you can’t bring yourself to care.

“Stardust,” Loop says at last, unexpectedly gently. When you glance up, they’re looking away, picking at the—not skin—the gummy celestial membrane that covers the pads of their fingers. They don’t have a mouth, but if they did, it would be frowning. “I think you might need a break.”

“Haha!!!! Ahaha!!!!! Do you think???”

“I don’t mean from the loops,” Loop says impatiently. “I just mean… Ohh, I don’t know. From fighting the loops? Of course I can’t directly relate, but—from an outside perspective, I think that trying to break the loop is probably sort of… not-good. Ah. Psychologically.”

You stare at them in stony silence.

“So maybe you need a B plot!”

“…A what?”

“You know. A B plot! Like in plays? It’s what the side characters get up to while the important people are off dying and falling in love and things!”

Wait. “You watch plays?”

“I am a star of culture, you know,” Loop sniffs. “I just think you could use a win! Take a break from fixing the laws of physics to focus on something a little more achievable, hmm~? Just for a few loops! Just to clear your head!”

Your mouth scrunches to one side. Unfortunately, they’ve caught your interest. “Like what.”

“Like, ah… oh! What about your touch therapy? That was fun, wasn’t it? Here, look, I could hold both your hands!”

“It doesn’t count,” you mutter.

“Oh, no? And whyever not?”

“It just doesn’t.” You can’t really explain why Loop doesn’t count. You just know that they don’t. The first time they elbowed you, you didn’t even flinch. To be honest, it barely registered. Like knocking your elbow against something not alive, or trying to tickle yourself.

Loop rolls their eyes. “I’ll try not to take that personally.”

* * *

They’re right, though. You need a break. But you’re not going to get it by holding hands with Loop.

* * *

You spend the rest of the day thinking about how to take a break from a temporal prison that is categorically, explicitly inescapable.

“Umm,” Isa whispers over dinner. “Sif? Are you, um, okay? You seem a little off.”

You probably should have expected this. Isabeau is always paying attention to what you’re doing and not-doing. But it never goes anywhere, because he’s too afraid to say it.

…Oh. Is that anything? You think it might be something. You already know that Isa wants to touch you. But he doesn’t, because he thinks you don’t want him to. Because you can’t tell him, and he can’t ask. So instead you’re both stuck here, not knowing what’s true.

What would it take to make him brave enough to say it? How obvious would you have to be before he could feel safe?

Your eyes narrow. Maybe you really do need a break.

You can read the rest on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55543246

[television-overload]

of our own making: beginnings

(an X-Files fanfic)

Chapter 1/2 - puzzle pieces

[Read on AO3]

A/N: True to my word (for once) here's a fic set in my "of our own making" universe, picking up right where we left off in the chapter before the epilogue! If you haven't read "of our own making," you might be a little lost, but I can't stop you from reading it anyway. The second part will be posted tomorrow <3

This is it, the thing she’s scarcely allowed herself to hope for. Mulder—all of him. As a friend. As a partner. As a husband. Now, a lover. 

Her family.

“Your brother’s an idiot,” he says into her mouth, startling a huff of a laugh out of her before he devotes himself entirely to the kiss, giving his utmost care and attention to the fullness of her bottom lip.

She smiles and pulls back just long enough to look at him, his shining, tear-filled eyes and radiant grin making her stomach do somersaults.

“Shut up, Mulder,” she says, cupping his face between her hands.

His fingers brush her tears away, leaving only happiness in their wake.

And she kisses him again.

-.-.-

His awareness of his surroundings, at the moment—though usually rather fine-tuned—is limited only to the soft lips beneath his own, and the echo of I love you, too in his ears. He almost doesn't hear the crescendoing whimpering sounds coming from out in the hall, but she does.

“I guess we should have known that was coming,” she says with a small smile, brushing his hair from his forehead and settling her hand over his cheek to stop him.

At some point, they had wound up reclined on the bed, her hair fanned out over the pillow behind her. His head falls limply into the crook of her neck in defeat, as if he could hide there for just a moment more before their daughter’s complaining turns into full-blown tears.

“Maybe if we stay quiet, she'll…” He trails off, freezing in place. Scully follows suit, turning her ear to the door that sits ajar. It's silent. They wait, neither daring to make a move as they listen to see if the noises will continue, but they don't. It stays blissfully quiet as they both subconsciously hold their breath. The interruption gives him an idea.

“Hey, Scully,” he whispers after a moment, pressing a tentative kiss to her lips, as if testing to see if one tiny peck on the lips might disturb whatever peace their daughter is currently enjoying in her bouncy chair in the hall. “What do you think of me doing some redecorating in my room?”

He runs his hand up her side in a gentle motion, then back down, repeating this pattern like it’s second nature.

“Mm,” she hums, lost in the sensation of his touch. It's new, but at the same time, it's as old as their trust in each other. It’s been there from the very beginning, from the moment his fingertips grazed her back and declared her markings to be mosquito bites.

“I'm thinking some light pink for the walls,” he continues, looking at her intensely to gauge her response.

This gets her attention. “Pink, Mulder?” she asks, a crease appearing between her brows. He resists the urge to smooth it with his lips, laughter bubbling in his chest.

“Yeah,” he says, beaming down at her. “And I've heard they make these tiny little beds for babies. Cribs, I think they're called?”

Now, his meaning cannot be mistaken. He watches Scully's face as her brain connects the pieces of the puzzle, and her expression turns to one of surprise. “Mulder—”

“I mean, if you don't have any objections, that is,” he says, walking back his offer just a little. Has he been too forward? Too presumptive? The last thing he wants to do is overwhelm her. If she needs her space—

“Mulder…” she repeats his name again. And then she's pulling him close, her arms wrapped around his neck. He settles on his side on the bed, pulling her with him and not letting go. She buries her face in his chest, and he has an inkling that her motive might be to conceal another round of tears.

“Is that a yes?” he asks, grinning into her flaming red hair.

She springs another kiss on him in answer, and his heart gives a flutter.

This time, the cry from the hall is sharp, and Scully pulls back again, leaving Mulder to chase her lips as she grudgingly separates herself from his embrace. 

“I have a catalog you can look at in the cabinet,” she says as she gets up from the bed, discreetly wiping a tear from her eye as her lips curl up in a smile. “No hot pink. And no Teletubbies.”

She walks backwards slowly through the door, her eyes never leaving his. As soon as she's out of his sight, Madeline’s cries instantly quiet. 

Mama's here, baby girl. 

Mulder flops back onto the bed, an irrepressible smile adorning his face as he stares up at the ceiling. He can still feel the imprint of her lips on his, her hands in his hair, on his cheek. 

He wonders if he should send Bill a thank you card. Scully’s phone still lays where they had left it on top of the bed spread, mercifully silent.

He knows they haven't heard the last from the eldest Scully sibling, but they have at least earned a brief period of peace.

She loves him, and he loves her. And what everyone else thinks? 

Well, he doesn't particularly care.

-.-.-

Stepping out of Scully’s room feels like entering a parallel dimension. Fifteen minutes ago, he was a man desperately in love with his best friend, silently pining for her while coparenting the child they had adopted together. Now, things have changed. He’s seeing everything in a whole new light. There’s a lot still to be defined, yes, but things are different. Noticeably so.

That’s not his best friend over there feeding the baby a bottle. Well, it is, but it’s also his wife, who it turns out also loves him. Go figure.

There’s a photo of their wedding on the mantle. They put it there for when the representative from the adoption agency came to do a home visit, but she’d kept it up. That meant something, now that he knew. Now that the truth behind their fake relationship had been revealed, and it wasn't as fake as he'd thought.

She smiles at him as he comes to sit beside her on the couch, neither of them saying a word. He gets the sense that she’s thinking along the same lines as him, wondering what this will mean for the plans they have made. Nothing has to change, does it? Some part of him had always hoped they would end up here, he just didn’t think it would be so soon.

Starting something like this with lifelong ramifications is scary enough on its own. To do it while sleep deprived and in the midst of the biggest life change he’s ever experienced is crazy—although it’s no different than the typical Mulder and Scully level of crazy, he supposes. They’ve always done things in their own way. It wouldn’t be them if it wasn’t.

“Are you—?”

“Have you—?”

They both start speaking at the same time, chuckling awkwardly when they realize what they’ve done.

“You go first,” Scully says, her cheeks reddening as she glances down at Maddie to avoid eye contact.

He clears his throat. “Have you thought about calling Charlie?” he asks, forcing the words from his lips. The last call with a Scully hadn’t gone well at all, obviously, but he has higher hopes for the youngest. It’s the right thing to do, and they’ve already waited longer than they should have. They can’t keep putting it off forever.

“I’d be surprised if he hasn’t already gotten an earful from Bill,” Scully answers, a frown appearing on her lips. He drapes an arm over the back of the couch, his fingers coming to rest on her shoulder, massaging there lightly. “Could you burp Maddie?” she asks, starting to pass the baby off to him. “I’ll go get my phone.”

He holds Madeline by the armpits, carefully transferring her to his chest as he watches Scully get up and leave. “You don’t have to do it right this second,” he calls across the room, beginning the steady rhythm of pats on the baby’s back.

“No, you’re right,” she says, breezing back into the living room. “I want to talk to him. Now’s as good a time as any.” Before he can say another word, she’s already dialing his number, curling up with her legs crossed on the cushion beside him.

He feels like an intruder on the upcoming conversation, though he knows he’s almost certainly welcome. And after how the talk with Bill Jr. had gone, he’s not about to leave her to face this by herself again, though he doubts they’ll have a repeat performance of what had happened before.

She sits so close to him, he can feel the warmth of her body. He can hear with perfect clarity when Charlie’s voice comes across the speaker.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Charlie.”

“Hi, Dana.”

On his shoulder, Maddie lets out a burst of air, relaxing into his hold. Scully flashes him a small smile.

“So,” Charlie continues, the silence lasting just a little too long.

“I have a feeling you know why I’m calling,” Scully starts, her posture growing tense. “Has Bill spoken to you?”

Her fears are confirmed in the sigh that comes across the line next.

“Yeah. Yeah, he has,” he answers.

Scully settles back into the cushions of the couch, her shoulders slumping. “Charlie–”

“I've been wondering since Christmas what you guys were actually up to,” he says, just the barest hint of laughter in his tone of voice. “I feel like I can die happy now finally having an answer.”

She sighs, running a hand over her face in relief that he seems to be joking rather than taking it the way Bill had. “Well, don't do that. Your niece would like to meet you.”

“Niece, huh?” he asks. “Nice. Bill couldn't even tell me her name, if you can believe that.”

Mulder could. Mulder could definitely believe that. His heart broke for Scully. 

“It’s Madeline. Maddie,” she answers.

Mulder wonders what time it is, wherever Charlie is. He sounds tired. But then, so would Mulder if he’d just had an exhausting conversation with Scully’s older brother, so he really couldn’t fault him for that.

“Please tell me you gave her Mulder's last name,” Charlie pleads. “That would really send Bill over the edge.”

Scully bites back a smile, and it sends a thrill right through him. He’d never get tired of hearing her say their daughter’s full name aloud. The honor of her passing on both his sister's name and his last name is one he'll never be able to repay, no matter how much he may try. 

“Madeline Samantha Mulder,” she confirms, suppressing a laugh at the way her brother cheers.

“Yes! Oh, Dana, have I ever told you that you're my favorite?” he says. “Melissa would be so proud of you.”

Mulder watches as her eyes turn wistful, seemingly focused on something thousands of miles away. “Thanks, Charlie,” she says, biting her lip. “I wish—” The next words seem to catch in her throat, but Mulder understands, and he knows Charlie does too. He holds out his hand, delighting in the way she seamlessly slips hers into his palm without even looking. She tries to finish her thought, but it isn’t necessary. “You know, I wish she—”

“I do too.” Charlie speaks softly. 

The line falls silent for a moment, the two siblings lost in the memory of their fallen sister, and Mulder lost in the memory of his. 

“She told me about Mulder once, you know,” Charlie says eventually. “Years ago.”

Mulder shifts, intrigued. 

“She did?” Scully asks.

“Yeah, after you were…” He trails off here and whistles an eerie, spooky-sounding tune rather than finishing his sentence.

Mulder grins, and Scully rolls her eyes. Predictable like the tides in the ocean, both of them are.

“She told me she'd just met our future brother-in-law,” he continues. “I didn't think she was serious. Just another of her wild predictions that doesn't come close to coming true. When I saw you both at Christmas, though…”

“I'm sorry we didn't invite you,” Scully interrupts him.

Mulder can almost see the younger man waving off her apology on the other side of the phone. “Nah, I've been to a fake wedding before,” he says nonchalantly. “You seen one, you've seen 'em all.”

Scully shakes her head, her eyes filled with mirth instead of the sadness that had been there before. For a few moments, they sit in comfortable silence, thankful to Charlie for being his usual, understanding self. 

“Bill was pretty worked up, though,” he adds after a pause, “yelling about a “sham marriage” and all that.”  

Scully sighs—frustrated, but not surprised, by Bill's continued behavior. 

“But it isn't, is it?” Charlie asks knowingly.

Scully’s eyes flick up to meet Mulder’s, and he gives her a small smile and a nod, his fingers reaching for hers on her lap. 

“No. It's not,” she answers breathlessly, swallowing back some emotion. Tears prick at Mulder’s eyes too, and he bows toward her to press a kiss to her forehead. “Turns out we're really bad about lying to ourselves out of some misguided fear of being open with each other,” she adds.

Charlie gives an exaggerated gasp. “No, you?”

Scully closes her eyes and sighs, her lips curled up in a smile. Mulder gives her fingers a squeeze.

“I'm sorry, Charles,” she says.

“Hey, just invite me to your next wedding, ���kay?”

Now, that's an idea…

-.-.-

The rest of the day is spent looking after Madeline, marveling at her tiny features and trying to catch some sleep whenever she does—a task that Mulder, notorious insomniac, finds impossible. Scully insists he try to rest, though, and only when she puts on some kind of chick-flick period drama as background noise does he have any success. He conks out right on her shoulder before Colin Firth’s Mr. Darcy even appears on screen, his jaw hanging open slightly in his sleep.

She watches him for a moment, noting every freckle on his skin, the slope of his nose, the flop of hair hanging over his forehead now that his hair has started to grow back out. Maddie lays tucked away in her pack ‘n play already, swaddled in a pink blanket and snoozing peacefully.

She could sit like this forever, Scully thinks, listening to the even breaths of the two people she loves most in this world; But unfortunately, reason must prevail. She can almost hear the parenting class instructor’s voice in her ear reminding her to sleep when the baby sleeps, so she dutifully reaches for the knit blanket on the cushion beside her, and drapes it over herself and Mulder. 

He won’t mind, she remembers with a smile as she curls into his side, tucking her feet underneath herself. Since this morning, he’d hardly been able to keep his hands off her, personal space apparently a thing of a bygone era. They could live in an apartment half the size of this one, with as close as Mulder had stuck to her all day. His hand was practically glued to her lower back, even when she was just putting away dishes or preparing formula for Maddie.

He seemed to revel in this newly sanctioned element of their relationship, and was taking full advantage of it at every possible opportunity. Not that she was complaining; She was as guilty of it as he was, if not more so. For years, she’d had to resist the temptation to hold him. There had to be a limit to the friendly touches they could bestow, or they would’ve been forced to acknowledge that their feelings were anything but platonic.

But now, they’ve broken free of those limitations. He is hers, and she is his. In every possible way.

She sighs, leaning her cheek against his warm shoulder. The piano music coming from the TV is barely audible, but as her eyes drift shut, it relaxes her. In his sleep, Mulder shifts, nestling deeper into the cushions. His head lolls to the side, landing on top of her head, and she feels him exhale. The picture they must pose is like two pieces of a puzzle, perfectly fitted together. For the first time in her adult life, she feels complete.

She has all she needs right here. 

-.-.-

After dinner, and a sponge bath for Madeline that leaves her less than thrilled, Scully sends Mulder off to take a shower while she puts the baby to bed.

“Let’s get you all warm,” she says to Maddie as she lays her down on the changing table. She grabs an infant-sized diaper and puts it on her with practiced ease, smiling at the sound of water running and Mulder humming on the other side of the wall.

That's her husband.

“Daddy has a nice voice, doesn’t he?” she says conversationally, maneuvering Maddie’s arms and legs into the onesie. “I’ll spare you from mine.”

Before she zips up the pajamas, she bends over and tickles her tummy, pressing a kiss to her baby soft skin.

“All clean after your bath, hmm? Doesn’t it feel nice?”

Madeline blinks up at her, apparently deciding whether or not to forgive her for the cold and wet first experience in the baby bathtub. She had been cranky in the last half hour, even before the bath. It’s definitely time for bed.

She fights sleep for as long as possible, draining her bottle quickly and then crying inconsolably until her exhaustion wins out and her eyes close. Scully watches her, her face relaxed in sleep, and can hardly believe this is her life. 

She rocks her for a few more minutes, listening as the shower eventually turns off in the bathroom. A muffled swear sounds through the wall, followed by the clatter of several objects hitting the floor. Her collection of lotions, if she had to guess. Not breakable, at least, but to be fair to Mulder, they were in a spot that was just asking for them to be knocked over.

With one last glance back at Maddie, who is mercifully still asleep, she slowly rises from the rocking chair. Taking extra care not to jostle her in the transfer, she places her in her bassinet, watching as her chest rises and falls evenly with every breath.

A gentle knock on the bedroom door pulls her from her reverie, and she feels her heart give a lurch. She pulls herself away from Maddie’s bassinet, her stomach fluttering with butterflies as she approaches the doorway. Deep breaths, Dana. It’s just Mulder, she reminds herself.

Her hand clasps the doorknob, and she twists it, pulling the door open. At the sight of him, her lips curl into a smile, and she feels all traces of nervousness melt away.

He’s looking at her with that boyish smile of his, his hair all spiky from the shower. Droplets of water bead on the tips of his hair like early morning dew, every so often dripping onto the soft gray t-shirt he wears. Each one leaves a mark where it lands, absorbed into the fabric.

“Hi,” she says.

“Hi.”

He has the pillow from his bed tucked under his arm like he’s ready for a sleepover, and he fiddles with the hem of the pillowcase, waiting oh so patiently for her next move.

She makes it.

Grabbing him by the arm, she pulls him inside, walking backwards with him slowly as he grins at her.

He kicks the door shut behind them.

-.-.-

Tag List: @today-in-fic @agent-troi @angegova @baronessblixen @calimanc @captainsolocide @cutemothman @danasculls @deathsbestgirl @edierone @enigmaticxbee @figureofdismay @frogsmulder @hippocampouts @invidiosa @is-on-its-way @limnsaber @monaiargancoconutsoy @numinousmysteries @pookie-mulder @primrose19 @randomfoggytiger @skelavender @skylarksong @stephy-gold @teenie-xf @the-redhead-in-a-dress @vincentsleftear

[moonsaver]

sunday... celebrating valentines day... I beg

Ask and you shall receive. Unfortunately i am very unaccustomed to valentines traditions, so please forgive me if this writing is more words strung together than actual content.

---

Sunday isnt exactly fond of PDA, mainly because of the risks.

But it is technically for one day, despite the fact there are many things that are calculated and take place in one day, he knows its an endearing celebration that means more in action than in name.

Thus, he decides with a good minute of thinking – he shall make room in his schedule of daily affairs for you.. as long as you don't mind the fact its for barely 3 system hours.

Don't get him wrong. Unfortunately, Sunday would like to keep you out of prying eyes, so one system hour is dedicated and well planned into checking out clothing stores of all kinds. Even if it draws a bit of attention, he strategically places a few Bloodhound guards around the centres and plazas.

And the other 2 (system) hours are well spent in private behind closed doors. His schedule for the next few days is quite thoroughly packed, so he makes sure to satisfy you enough before he has to busy himself. Lovingly peppers kisses all over you. Brushes his lips against your knuckles, inciting a soft chuckle from you. He brushes through your hair, watches you model every piece of clothing you brought, suggests certain combinations, and discusses all sorts of things with you. For this moment, you have his full attention, not a single thought is spared for any other business official or representative he has to speak to. Only you.

You didn't realise how.. intense his gaze can be, as you accidentally make eye contact with him while speaking and suddenly get thrown into a trance. He asks you what's wrong and you snap out of it, laughing awkwardly and looking somewhere else, trying to hastily get back on track. Suddenly.. your legs feel like jelly under his gaze.. your palms are sweaty.. was his gaze always this.. mesmerizing? You feel almost selfish for wanting it on you for longer. You look to see if he's still staring at you, and it seems like he hasn't moved a single inch, despite the fact you've been talking for 15 minutes straight about who-knows-what, and he hasn't said a single word. You should probably go back in and try another piece of clothing for him.

And he stops you before you go in, and asks to see what you're about to try on. He stands near the door, almost expectantly as you put it on and come out. He knows you'll need help. The strings on your back won't tie themselves, after all. Especially since he requested to do it for you. You almost squeak at the feeling of his gloved hands making quick work of the string on your back, gently feeling the curve of your spine after he's done. Trailing up to the bottom of your neck, dancing across your shoulders. You can practically feel his gaze scan your body underneath the clothing. He retracts his fingers and asks you to turn around. You hope he doesn't notice your heated face.

And it might feel overwhelming and awkward at first (for the lack of a better word), not being used to his full 100% attention. He knows it, and tries to smoothly make up for it by initiating most of the conversation, but deep down does feel a tinge of guilt at not being able to do it often.

He is very adept with his fingers. Take that as you will, but for now, lets focus on the more sfw side.

He probably knows origami quite well. Makes a few small, mini figures and guides you on how to make them, praising you softly in a slightly professional tone. It may seem awkward at first, but he's trying to praise you genuinely. He makes more conversation and jokes along the way, and kisses the side of your head every time you make a successful paper figure, even if it's just as simple as a mashed up paper star. Efforts are well appreciated by Sunday.

At the end of the day, once you are thoroughly exhausted, he lays you down anywhere soft – usually the couch (as unromantic as it sounds), and sits beside you. He talks in a very soft, gentle voice, which surprisingly lulls you to sleep very well. If you focus on his sweet-nothings, you realise his casual conversation has turned into sweet, heart-melting appreciation of you. He recounts every detail – when he met you, where it was, conversations between you two that constantly spin in his head. Before you know it – you're asleep. He kisses your forehead, drapes a blanket on you, leaves your Valentine's day handwritten card on the desk with an elegant box of chocolates right beside it. Who knew Sunday was so adept at making chocolate? It's quite rich in flavor, too. Perhaps.. these are meant to be shared at night?

[pennyblossom-meta]

The curious case of Anna Green on AO3

Initially a drabble meant to be written in one or two days, this has grown into a full fledged side fic from L's POV.

Dedicated to @lunalit-river and @scar8o. Thank you for always being so supportive 💜

--

Chapters (1/3)

Summary: L frowns, biting down on his thumb as he scans the opening lines of Near’s email, “There are barely any records on the ‘Anna Green’ who enrolled this year at To-Ho university. For all intents and purposes, she might as well be a ghost.”

--

“Ryuzaki, here are the files you asked for.”

“Thank you, Watari.”

The lights are off at this time of night, save for the dim glow cast by the wide monitor resting on a table adjacent to the wall. A humming lingers. It’s faint, incessant, — comfortable, L muses as he wolfs down the last third of a chocolate cake slice — much like static filling the air. Familiar. Drowned by the intermittent snores of the two detectives staying overnight, not quite a crescendo in the strictest sense; even as it grows in energy while the hours tick by. He’s noticed the symphony — though the term cacophony might be more accurate — tends to devolve into a nasal staccato with every 3 or 4 longer exhales, sometimes echoing in obnoxious discordance that makes him more and more certain he’s being pestered by the undiagnosed sequels of mild sleep apnea.

Chewing loudly, he glances at the digital clock on the bottom right corner of the screen; it’s close to a quarter to 5 in the morning. So late it’s almost early.

From the corner of his eye, he sees that Watari stayed behind to tidy up the room. Tilting his head to the left to get a better angle, he examines the slow, deliberate movements with scepticism; they’re as fluid as they’re contrived, as if practised to stall for as long as possible. He draws conclusions from the little things happening in the background; how the delicate china barely clinks against the small coffee spoons when stacked; sugary amanattõ wrappers gathered into a neat pile, set aside; the soft, careful sweeping near the walls so as to avoid rousing the two men from their sleep.

There’s words to be had; his gut tells him there’s a very much non-trivial chance that this will be a precursor to something.

A rustling of papers invites him to glimpse at Watari’s reflection on polished surfaces. It’s closer to 63%, now. Very well.

He skims through the first 10 pages for an overview, his gaze tarrying for a few seconds too long on the picture of a young woman before he turns his attention to the screen. Behind him, the soft brushing of Watari’s coordinated sweeps pauses for a moment and he knows, it’s as evident as rain in April, he stands corrected that this is where the knots will begin to unravel. 

L frowns, biting down on his thumb as he scans the opening lines of Near’s email, “There are barely any records on the ‘Anna Green’ who enrolled this year at To-Ho university. For all intents and purposes, she might as well be a ghost."

Slurp 

He chugs half the tea sitting in his cup, focusing on the scalding hot sensation in the back of his throat as he reads on, picking out bits and pieces.

“...no record that Anna Green was ever present for the entrance exams, though, allegedly, she has scores for them. Below average at best, mediocre to the point that, under normal circumstances, no one with this poor of a performance would be considered for admission. What’s even more intriguing are the reasons why To-Ho agreed to bend the rules for the one student, allowing this woman to bypass university policy and, not only sit for highly competitive and specific exams abroad, but also take up classes from different courses…”

Strange, indeed. Definitely something to look further into. L taps his index finger on the mouse, nail lightly grazing over the ridges on the wheel. He looks up, deep in thought. All this information does beg the question: who exactly allowed this to go overlooked? The university board? A rogue member of staff?

Someone with enough influence to bend the rules?

“...doesn’t exist as a citizen of any country…no travel records in any airline or shipping company coming into or out of Japan…"

Unlawful entrance under a false identity, most definitely. Or as part of a smuggling network. 

"...the only data available is on the university enrollment process…impossible to find anything on the father; the mother’s records (kept maiden name, no mention of a husband or children) show a birthplace at a small town in Italy, 1955, right at the border with Switzerland, and nothing more of consequence...all records left blank from the age of 11 until her death in 1987…no significant medical records either, save for a short comment about the passing itself, as per the following transcription: ‘incidente, avvenuto il 18 gennaio nel Leicestershire, nel Regno Unito’, — filed by the grandfather, dead from prolonged illness by 1988 though ‘grief’ has been listed as a catalyst…”

A freak accident in Leicestershire, on January 18, 1987? What a coincidence that nothing more of substance could be retrieved from these records, save for vague and elusive information. He wonders if this secrecy is related to the father somehow, — he licks his lips to taste the faint remnants of black tea that linger on chapped skin and skims over the university records for the name, narrowed eyes resting again on the young woman's picture — this Atticus Cornelius Green. If that's even his real name.

He looks at the birthdates, realising that she would've been 6, going on 7, at the time of the supposed accident. Only one year younger than himself. It will be her 24th birthday soon, in little more than a month.

Scrolling down the email, he reads on.

"...tuition payments funnelled through Goodfellow's Bank, which appears to be a highly selective, privately owned financial institution based in Britain. Virtually unknown, with only 3 physical offices, total, in Europe and the United States, with no presence in Asia…registered under the apparently long-lived Gringotts Foundation, since the mid 1800’s. On the surface there's nothing questionable about Goodfellow's, though further scrutiny reveals said Foundation is also a major (and the only) shareholder, led by a series of individuals throughout the decades who do not exist beyond the trust…”

Sucking on his spoon thoughtfully, L tastes the dried grains of caffeine that cling to the bowl, agglomerating towards the tip. There’s a small chance that this is witness protection at work, but if so then it’s freakishly elaborate. Dead end after dead end and a myriad of red herrings meant to confuse anyone who investigates, while making it seem perfectly reasonable. Outstandingly legal. One would have to read between those creatively woven lines. 

But then there’s the shadow bank. If it looks like a duck, quacks like a duck, and acts like a duck, then it is a duck — or so the saying goes. Official police forces wouldn’t be able to resort to these underhanded tactics without a tangible need; and there would be an inquiry or requisition beforehand. Someone would have to budge. Things like these always leave a trail. Though the British Secret Services could potentiate such a scenario and there would be nothing to pursue, if they so wished. 

But to what end? For a trip abroad? It didn’t make sense. There’s abuse of the law and then there’s playing around it, dangling the threads like a puppet master.

“...there’s no system to hack and therefore no personal data to retrieve. Any bank transfers seem to be made in person, at the London office. Though To-Ho lists two different addresses for foreign students; Anna Green’s file shows one in the UK and the other in Japan. The former is registered as the sole property of one Awarnach Greengrass near Windsor, dating to the late 1600’s, and has never been updated since. Otherwise, the several acres for this plot of land are not even accounted for in modern records — or pay taxes.

The latter address points to a building just a 5 minute walk outside of To-Ho. Records for the building show that it’s registered as having only 7 floors. However, the primary plans kept at the Ministry of Land and Infrastructure display a total of 8 — approved and built. The addendum was placed without rebuttal this past month of March, 4 years after the structure had been built and all apartments sold without exception. The previous proprietor of the 8th floor died mid-February and left no family to inherit, though his name was stricken from the more recent record updates…”

This isn’t like the hunt for Morello, with knotted threads and underworld connections; not when he discovered the swindles, the under the table deals with art galleries and high class politicians, in a spectacle of dazzling lights and charming conversations. Definitely nothing like Merri Kenwood’s indiscretions as the thrill-seeking second daughter of a wealthy family.

No, whatever he’s stumbled upon is much more insidious and has tendrils across the decades. 

Narrowing his eyes, L quickly reads Near’s conclusion: “...the majority of these records are fabricated with the intent to appear official, when in reality they’re nothing but a smokescreen…”

He wonders if it’s a coincidence that he’s tripped over the proverbial basket of kittens, only to find a nest of snakes. And with the murders case ongoing, does this invalidate the theory that Misa Amane might be the Second Kira? No, they’ve gathered more than enough evidence for Amane in the past few weeks, but whether this is another loose thread…

“Watari?”

He feels rather than sees Watari approach.

“Any DNA match with the bloodied gauze?” he murmurs, confident on what the answer will be.

“None at all.”

“I see. Thank you.”

There’s only a very slim chance that this is related to the Kira case, but the coincidences are too many to believe that this is entirely unrelated. Or if it is, then there’s something else happening here. I’ve met Anna Green and I’m sure she doesn’t fit the profile for the First Kira — as for the Second, there’s nothing connecting her to Light Yagami or Misa Amane…am I overthinking this?

Wiggling his toes, L starts to draw his hand towards the box of chocolates on the table. He hears a light shuffle. “There’s also the matter of M,” Watari all but whispers, voice urgent and grim.

Ah, there is it.

He swallows a bonbon. “What about him?” 

Hesitant, Watari glances over his shoulder towards the detectives sprawled on the sofas. Once he’s adequately sure that they’re still fast asleep, he continues, “It seems that M hacked into N’s server and somehow managed to decrypt your correspondence, along with all available research data on the case…”

His lips twitch ever so slightly. Behind him, Watari can’t see his amusement. 

A scattered trail of crumbs — quite possibly with Near’s veiled consent. Sounds like a move to gleefully fuel Mello’s one-sided competition — or perhaps…

An allowance?

“Predictable, if unwise,” he licks the corner of his mouth, lapping at the bits of chocolate left behind. Hazelnut — and caramel. Slightly salty, but edible. 

“— travelled to London on his own to investigate the premises of this Goodfellow’s Bank, but only found a closed shop with no visible schedule. Nearby residents confirmed they had never seen it open.”

“That would be the primary office in Charing cross Road (1), yes?”

“Indeed.”

“Then it’s a red herring, as expected.” 

“Unfortunately that’s not all,” if possible, Watari lowers his voice even further, making L cock his head to the side as he strains to listen to this secret. “Days later, M stole a car and drove by himself straight to Windsor through the motorway, where he decided to prowl the farmlands until almost running out of gas. According to M’s report, he seems to have stumbled upon the property registered under the Green family — although his findings point to a derelict mansion in the middle of the forest, not a livable estate.”

Watari sifts through the stack of papers, picking the last set in the pile with the upper left corner folded into a neat triangle. N emailed, while M chose to fax , he whispers. L pinches the top of the file, his eyes moving quickly from left to right, up and down, until he’s made a mental map of the contents.

“ ‘...ruins surrounded by crumbling gates and overgrown English ivy that claimed the entire structure a long time ago…’ — I see, so it couldn’t be it at all. Yet another red herring,” he drawls, looking up at the ceiling. Shadows dance, long-limbed and distant, illusive. “Though this does give more credence to the witness protection theory, I’m still not sure…”

Is this indeed a case of false identity? Theft and blackmail? What’s going on?

He reads the last page and frowns. “M didn’t examine the property?” 

A rhetorical question, to which Watari merely shakes his head. ‘...lost interest in a useless cat and mouse chase, not worth looking for clues here. Forgot to bring a lantern.(2)’ L puts down the file, placing it on top of the stack, thinking it’s a strange conclusion for Mello to reach, especially when he's so desperate to prove himself above Near. It pays for the overconfident to be thorough. And he knows that well enough, despite his impetuousness.

Lodging a fingernail between his two front teeth, L ponders over Mello’s words once more. The attitude itself is out of the ordinary.

Watari busies himself cleaning the crumbs under his armchair, in silence. Then, he tidies the stack, now out of order. Waiting for a follow up, no doubt; but these things can’t be rushed. L pours through photos of the landscape, scrutinising every inch of the images; any resulting from this adventure are blurry and pigmented, as if altered post-processing. An unfortunate accident, explained when the camera malfunctions shortly after Mello is — as he states in brash words, the offence visible even through writing — suddenly picked up by a police car on the motorway. The agents sputtered, perplexed that a 14 year old boy drove a stolen car. Roger had to pay a hefty fine to keep Mello out of juvenile prison. He also gets out of a damning record for underage driving, thanks to the many contacts at Wammy’s.

Lame-ass, he calls it.

As expected, Mello seems unhappy with this particular turnout. His intelligence combined with bubbling insecurities and a natural inclination towards the extreme, Mello has the makings of a fairly competent criminal.

L narrows his eyes, “Say, do we have the results on the ‘coin collection’?”

A rustle of fabric. Watari promptly pours him more tea, the robust aroma wafting upwards, “The bu is an authentic coin from the Edo Period, nowadays often on display at museums or secured by ancient history collectors. One single piece would be up for sale starting at 1.5 thousand, subject to the seller’s reputation.”

“There were at least 12 on the floor that night, some perhaps more obscure than currency from Edo if my eyes didn’t deceive me,” he taps his lips with one pale finger, looking thoughtful. “What about the other one?”

“The second coin is made of solid gold, though the minting — remarkable as it is — doesn’t match any known branch. The coinage alone is entirely unknown, even if it bears Gringott's Foundation inscriptions."

Could they really be collectibles, after all?

He nods. “Thank you for your diligence, Watari. As always,” he adds after a heartbeat, quietly slurping the remnants of his black tea, “Please file these away as soon as you’re able.”

L eyes the now neatly arranged stack. For the last time, he allows himself to stare at the picture on the first page before turning his attention back to the screen.

“Of course.”

Silent as a shadow, Watari leaves.

I have a lot of thinking to do. But she doesn’t fit the profile…and I’m certain Amane is the Second Kira, at this point. No, this is something else entirely.

Alone again save for the sleeping detectives, L finds that his fingers clench over his knees of their own accord, muscles taunt and knuckles blanching bone white as he looks out the window at the waking sun. 

Another day, another mystery.

...

TBC

[kosmokai]

okay wait.. LEMME COOK. (this is a lil snippet of a fic i was thinking of.. lmk if u want me to make a full thing to it cause idk if i like it) alsoo thought of this while listening to chase atlantic’s tidal wave, so that’s probably what it’s gonna be called ‼️

nsfw under the cut, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

so, beomgyu is at the beach with a few close friends, just for a casual outing. his friends wandered off to do something, surfing if he heard correctly, but he couldn’t be bothered to learn so he eventually found himself at the bar.

as soon as he walked in, he caught a glimpse of the prettiest girl he had ever seen… cute little two piece, skirt at the bottom, crocheted bra at the top, make up and hairstyle cute with a few accessories to top it all off was what she had on.. she— no, you, were beautiful.

of course, after seeing you, beomgyu chose to walk over to where you where, and sat a few seats away so it wasn’t… weird or anything. you saw him soon after and said hello, taking his order.

“you guys have anything interesting? something i wouldn’t find somewhere else?” you’re usual response got caught in your through as your pretty, pink lip gloss covered lips closed. “mm… well, we have a new cocktail we made a few days ago, but it’s still known beta so i’m not sure it would taste the best-” “i’ll have that. what’s it called?”

you smiled, really getting a good look at who was in front of you. his blonde locks, fluffy and covering his eyebrows, relaxed and calm expression.. he was handsome. pretty, even. but that’s besides the point. “tidal wave. cause it’s blue and stuff, and it has a kinda beach-y taste, if that makes sense. just wanted to tap into the environment, i guess!”

you smiled, taking the crinkled ten dollar note from him, smiling even more when he refused to accept the change. after a few minutes, you placed his cocktail in front of him, and he was speechless.

to sum it up, it was blue hue at the top and clear at the bottom, in a shallow like glass. there was a lemon and a little yellow striped umbrella inside, with some— uh, peach coloured shaved ice at the side of the top to resemble sand. on the opposite side along with the lemon and umbrella, was a piece of ice, somehow shaped like an ocean wave.

“it’s pretty..” he muttered a little loudly, not noticing your smug smile. pretty drink served by a pretty girl? that’s probably the first time he’s gotten the best of both worlds in one night. but little did you know, he was about to rock yours.

“thank you. enjoy!” as you were about to walk away, he shouted a little loudly. “keys! your keys.” you had left them on the counter next to him, after having to unlock the ice room for his drink. “oh my god, thank you! thanks for you i won’t get fired today.” he smiled, more of a smirk, and spoke. “don’t mention it,—“

he stopped, realising he didn’t catch your name. “oh, _______.” “pretty name for a pretty girl.. who serves pretty drinks.” you turned back to him, stopping your attempt at walking away so you didn’t have to stare into his eyes again. only because you’d find yourself staring.

“you are..?” “beomgyu. or gyu. both work.” he started sipping at his drink, a satisfied look on his face that set ease at yours. “cute. call me to clean up your drink, we can talk more.” you paused as you walked away, “gyu.” a wink flashed against your eye as you finally walked off, leaving him to smirk dumbly.

if he wasn’t feeling flattered, he would’ve been thinking about all the ways he could have you, take care, or rather, fuck you so well that you’d flush out, creating a tidal wave of your own.. right between your pretty thighs.

but oh well, guess he’ll think about that after finishing his cocktail.

THOUGHTS?? might make a whole fic abt it if u guys want :3

[softcitrus2345]

Full Tank

This is a little written piece I made after a series of doodles from a while back that I ended up liking. A lot XD I sprinkled in the doodles that inspired this written piece into the post as well for double the fun >;3c I'm NOT an experienced writer by any means and this was mostly for fun so I could explore my own characters, but ye, I figured I might as well share it here with yall TTwTT This piece includes themes of funnel feeding, stuffing, male weight gain, some squish stuff and a light dash of spice near the end And of course, a big ass scoop of FLUFF >:Dc

This little blurb features Vanessa (she/her) and Damien (he/him), my two (favorite) lovebugs TTwTT

Hope yall like it! :3

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Vanessa stirred in bed, her arms reaching out for the plush warmth that she expected to be there, only to be met with empty bedsheets

Her eyes fluttered open and sure enough, there was a sizeable indent in the bed where her partner should have been..

The clock on the bedside table marked 1:26 am <<Where could he have gone off to at this time of night??>> She thought, but the little voice in the back of her mind already knew the answer…

She felt around the nightstand before locating her glasses, which she hastily put on as she walked out of the bedroom

Tiptoeing down the long and elaborate flight of stairs, the vampire made her way toward the kitchen. Though she was still getting used to living in a mansion, she knew all too well where this room was..

As she approached the dining room, she could hear noises coming from somewhere in the kitchen. <<Found you>> She grinned, her movements slow and calculated so as not to alert the lycanthrope. The faint glow of the open fridge illuminated a small portion of the otherwise dark kitchen, painting a perfect picture of what events had occurred while she wasn't there

Several empty containers of food were strewn about the kitchen counter, picked clean and discarded while the perpetrator focused on his next course, his tall, plump frame hunched over, while his head and hands were stuck in the fridge, busy devouring whatever he could get his hands on

The back of his shirt had just begun to ride up, exposing a small sliver of pale flesh

Vanessa could hardly contain her excitement as the gap between her and her gluttonous partner grew shorter and shorter

"Hey handsome~" she purred, hugging Damien from the back, squeezing the bottom of his belly, nearly melting as she felt the warm softness between her fingers

Damien's whole body jumped, his head shooting up and slamming into the top of the fridge interior before turning around, groaning softly as he rubbed his head with his clean hand

"V-Vanessa-!!" He squeaked, his crumb-covered face red as a beet, pale skin further emphasizing the embarrassment blooming on his cheeks

"I was j-jus- uhmm.." he backed away from the fridge a bit, straightening up to his full height and wiping the evidence off his flushed face

"Hey, it's okay, you were just hungry... You know I'd never discourage you from getting something to eat~" She chuckled, watching her boyfriend's sheepish expression as he towered over her like an oversized kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar

She snuck several glances at his midsection, her own face growing warmer

An idea blossomed in her mind, making the corners of her mouth curl into a cheeky grin

"Here, I'll help you," she said, grabbing Damien by the hand before he could protest and bringing him into the dining room, where she sat him in one of the wooden chairs that she pulled from the table

The chair made a distinctive creak as he sat down, causing the pair to blush once more

"What're you-" "Shhhh, you'll love it, I promise" she interrupted his questioning, pressing a finger to his lips

"I'll be back in a bit, all you have to do is sit there and look pretty, 'kay?" She smiled, planting a small peck on his round cheek before hopping off to the kitchen again

In the kitchen, Vanessa opened the fridge to find Damien's most recent "snack", a large chocolate cake she had been saving for the next day. No matter, it surely won't go to waste..

She picked up the cake and set it on the counter, smiling as she saw the small portion that he had ripped out of the cake with his greedy hands

Then opening the freezer, she grabbed several quarts of vanilla ice cream and set them near the cake

As Damien sat in his chair, awaiting whatever surprise Vanessa was preparing for him, he heard the whirring of the blender, which seemed to go on for quite a while, before stopping and continuing the same routine a couple more times

Damien felt his stomach growl again, demanding more, despite having consumed quite a bit already

"Hhhokay.. calm down, you can wait a few more minutes.." he said to himself, noticing his heartbeat increasing in frequency as the minutes ticked by

"Alriiiight, it's ready!" She called in a sing-songy voice from the kitchen "Close your eyes for me, and no peeking, or you won't get any-"

Of course, he knew she didn't really mean that, but Damien played along, keeping his eyes closed as he opened his mouth, awaiting whatever she had conjured up for him

He was caught off guard by the cylindrical form that entered his maw, which Vanessa had pushed further back into his mouth before he realized what it was, making a small noise between a whimper and a gasp before staying seated, the chair creaking a bit more as he squirmed, flustered out of his mind

Almost immediately after the tube was positioned in his mouth, his taste buds were bombarded with a cold, rich, chocolatey liquid

Several more flustered huffs came from him as he began to hastily drink down the substance in thick gulps

"I wanted to try something new tonight, I've been saving this little tool for a.. special occasion~" Vanessa purred, her eyes focused on her partner while she kept her hands steady, pouring the cake shake into the funnel with relative ease, despite the sizeable pitcher she carried being nearly full of dense liquid

Damien couldn't respond, he could only focus on drinking every last drop of the shake, so he wouldn't make a mess of course~

As he continued to drink, he felt his shirt become tighter and begin to ride up, his growing belly pushing against the fabric while gradually occupying more space in his lap

"Hmmnh, ghmmmg…. ghlpg- ghhhhhn?" Damien whined as the flow of the shake trickled to a stop

"Oh don't you worry lovely, there's still plenty more where that came from.." Vanessa responded, picking up a second pitcher and tipping it into the funnel once more

"Hmmmmmmmmhhhhh.." Damien hummed in satisfaction as his cheeks flushed pink once more as he continued his routine of gulping down more, and more, and more

His hands slowly traveled their way up his lap and on top of his belly, lightly pressing on its cushioned surface, as he expanded more by the second

Vanessa knew him too well, she was much better at initiating these sorts of activities, where he could indulge in his own, less conventional desires, and he adored her for it

At the end of the second pitcher, he could already feel his stomach churning, trying its best to keep up with the sudden surge of calories, growling and groaning loudly while Damien panted, the tube still in his mouth

That should have been enough, but something in him wanted more

Luckily he wasn't quite finished with his task, as Vanessa picked up the final pitcher she had prepared

Damien's eyes fluttered open, panting and staring above him at his partner, his eyes almost desperate as she grinned at her greedy boyfriend They both exchanged a look, blushing as Vanessa lifted up the last of the sweet liquid

"Almost done, this is all that's left, so you might wanna savor-" she cut herself off, pouring in the last pitcher without warning, flooding his mouth once again with the sweet sludge

Damien spluttered for a second, some of the shake dribbling down his mouth and onto his shirt, before getting a hang of it, taking fast, heavy gulps to keep up with the pace while Vanessa poured, giggling as she watched her partner's efforts to keep up

He closed his eyes once more as he felt himself become fuller and fuller, rubbing his hands in soothing circles over his now-exposed belly, feeling it grow bigger with each passing moment

Vanessa held her breath as she watched the last of the precious fattening shake flow down the funnel and into her blimping boyfriend

When it was all finished, she pulled the tube out, Damien in a daze as it left his mouth, before letting out a loud belch and a small groan, still rubbing his belly in a food-drunk state

There was so much of it in him that she could hear the faint sloshing of the shake in his gut as it bubbled and churned the thousands of calories worth of shake into more wonderful softness

The vampire cooed, completely enamored and glad to finally be able to massage his engorged belly, planting several kisses on it before working her way up to his face

"You did so well hon, you finished every single drop, I bet this feels nice hm?" She smiled ear to ear, watching her partner blush, a completely flustered mess

Vanessa leaned on his belly and brought herself close to his face, the shift in weight causing another belch to come out before Damien quickly closed his mouth, face reddening

Vanessa chuffed at his reaction, leaning in further as she kissed and licked the excess shake off of his soft face and neck

She reveled in his response, his small flustered noises making her heart flutter

"Th- * hff * thank you.." he panted, leaning in for a longer kiss, wrapping his arms around her and squeezing her further into his belly. Vanessa squeaked, melting into his embrace, hearing his gut's protests to this new disturbance

Once their lips parted, Vanessa locked eyes with Damien before grabbing him by both pudgy hands and attempting to pull him into a standing position

He obeyed, though it took a second to adjust to the sloshing weight inside him, feeling like an oversized water balloon

He continued holding Vanessa's hand as she began to gently guide him out of the kitchen, leaving the cleanup for tomorrow

"V-VanesshuoOorp– Where * huff * are we g-* hic! * going..?"

"To bed, silly~! Can't really snuggle ya if you're sitting on a hard chair, now, can I~?"

"I brrrUp- guess no-ot.."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Though it took them a while to get all the way up the steps, Vanessa remained patient, giving loving words of encouragement as Damien clung to her, using his other hand to keep his belly from sloshing around too much while he walked

It was such an amazing relief when he planted himself back on the cushioned bed, his whole body sinking further into the edge where he sat, huffing and puffing

His belly was so heavy that he had to lean on his hands behind him on the bed to maintain his balance, the large mound moving up and down with each breath

The fabric of his shirt strained to contain the little bit of his belly that still remained covered, along with his plush moobs

Vanessa blushed, reaching behind her partner "This looks so tight, let me help you with that" She gingerly pulled the fabric of the shirt up, finally releasing his behemoth belly and allowing him to breathe a bit easier

Damien let out a chuffed sigh of relief as the burden was removed from him, his belly pushing out further in his lap as he relaxed

"I * hff * really needed * huff * that, thanks 'Nessa.." he sighed

"My pleasure, cutie" she hummed, giving him a peck on the forehead and ruffling his soft, white hair affectionately

There was a moment of silence as both retained eye contact before the albino spoke

"Yknow… I'm still feeling pretty hungry…" he said, a flirtatious tone in his voice as he patted his overstuffed gut with one hand, keeping the other on the mattress for balance

"O-oh??" Vanessa sputtered, her eyes widening

"* bHUurp- * Yeah… and I've got the * huff * perfect l-little morsel right * puff * hhere in front of me~" he slurred, grabbing Vanessa by the arms surprisingly fast for how full and dazed he seemed a moment ago, swinging them around and pinning her to the bed underneath his heavy gut

The vampire barely had a moment to react as she froze, her heart going at a mile a minute, processing what he had just said, and the position she was now in…

Though he held himself up firmly above her, his large belly hung low enough to still weigh her down a considerable amount

She just stared into his eyes as he smiled down at her, a very rare smug look on his rounded face

"Gotta return the * hfff- * f-favor~"

Vanessa gasped as she completely melted at his touch while his warm lips began planting sloppy kisses all over her cheeks and neck

Vanessa shuddered in delight, feeling his warm breath on her skin

Suddenly she began feeling small gentle pinches on her neck and shoulders, before realizing he had been incorporating a few little love bites in between kisses…

God, he knew just how to make her melt

She just lay there, her hands sinking into the plush flesh of his chest, feeling as if she was being enveloped in a pleasantly heavy and warm pillow

"Woah… I hadn't realized how h-eavy you'd gotten, honey-" she breathed, her face redder than she thought possible

Damien momentarily paused, looking down at his partner in concern "O-oh? Is it too much? I-I'm not * hff * hurting you am I??"

"Oh no! No, no, it feels… r-really * hff * good, actually… it's perfect~"

"Oh, that's a * hff * r-relief, cause I'm having * huff * waaay too much fun makin' ya * brup- * blush~"

The bed creaked again as Damien shifted his weight, moving an arm up to support himself as he leaned down to kiss his love's forehead

* WHUMP *

Vanessa yelped as her body was enveloped by warm, soft flesh within seconds

Damien belched loudly as all of his weight fell onto his bloated belly… and onto his partner beneath him..

His pointy ear twitched as he heard a small, slightly muffled noise of pleasure coming from beneath his mountainous body before he felt several gentle squeezes to his love handles

Damien felt his face grow hot

There was a moment of stunned silence before he snapped out of it and peeled himself off of his lover, panting

The werewolf gave a flustered, nervous laugh, seeing the vampire's bright red face and wide eyes, her body unmoving as she caught her breath

"Y-you ok down there~?" He asked, stifling a giggle

"That… was amazing…." she sighed, reaching up to hold her face in her hands

"P-please keep going.." she pleaded "Your kisses felt nice…"

Damien melted, immediately giving into her request as he continued his affectionate display, still a bit clumsily as he worked through his food-drunk state

"You're probably.. * hff * the sweetest thing I've * hic! * ever tasted, love~" he cooed between another small bite "I might just get addicted~" he gave a low mischievous laugh as Vanessa made more flustered sounds and giggles

It was rare for Vanessa to be the one to end up so flustered she was speechless...

Damien sighed before leaning in to give her a soft kiss on the lips and carefully slumping onto the bed beside her, his belly sloshing from all the shake still inside it, a small burp coming out from the sudden movement

"I love you like this…" Vanessa finally spoke, her comment making Damien blush heavily, his round cheeks accentuated by the smile that spread across his face

"…Me too.."

The two shuffled closer to one another in bed, unspeaking as they embraced, bodies turned towards each other

The werewolf gently pulled his love into his soft body, humming in delight as he felt two small, cold hands graze his belly, rubbing in gentle circles, small gurgles and groans coming from the full belly of the lycanthrope

The pair lay there in comforting silence, the sound of each other's gentle breathing and low gurgles lulling them both into a warm, dreamless sleep

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Hai :3 ABFUIJDSKGS

That's it XD Hope yall liked it, just don't expect much written stuff from me in the future, I'm much better at storytelling through a visual format than I am with written stuff, but I had fun writing this nonetheless!! Hope this blurb makes yall as feral for these two as I am BHFDSIJKGDSB

[staybabblingbaby]

Soulmate Garden AU (Prologue) a2 d4

[Caution: These are not full fics, or even full parts of fics for some, these are part of my writing progress archive!]

Concept: Growing up, you knew Soulmates weren't all that they cracked up to be. So when, on your 18th birthday, your skin is painted with a garden of flower buds, you resolve to hide it from everyone. Who had ever heard of someone with 8 soulmates, anyway?

Or; Reader has 8 soulmates and no issue avoiding all of them. It's up to SKZ to show her that while every soulbond might not be made of fairy tales, theirs certainly could be.

Word Count: 1,308

Notes: I don't like this. It's not. Bad. It's decent writing. I just don't like doing world building this way. But I'm flying by the seat of my pants and everybody need to know the base information before we're all lost as hell. Also! Prologue + Ch 1 are the longest single piece of writing I've ever done. SG lives in my brain rent free. These are also the most polished pieces on the archive, because I have a tendency to reread smthn to get back into writing it after I put it down, and these are long so they got put down a BUNCH. So. Enjoy?

Dividers by @saradika

Warnings: Fighting Parents, She/Her Reader

Leave me comments or questions or anything! Love hearing from folks <3

Masterlist <3 | Next Part

On your 18th birthday, you wake with a garden wrapped around your torso.

You analyze the unbroken ring of vivid greenery in the mirror, tracing the lengths of stems and branches with your eyes. They wind lovingly around your curves, looping all the way up your ribcage and sloping back down around your sides. It takes some maneuvering, a handheld mirror, and your phone’s camera to get a good look at your back, but your soulmark continues in the same manner all the way around.

Perhaps even worse on your back, you think, as you eye one tree that rises all the way up your spine, stopping just below the nape of your neck. The branches spread out in long, willowy tendrils along your shoulders, pale and droopy frond-like buds dripping down the expanse of your back.

You count eight types of flower bud in your explorations, noting that they’re the only things really in focus on your mark, despite the image being connected through all sorts of greenery. The implications of that make your jaw clench, and you turn around to hastily pull on a long t-shirt with shaking hands.

You study yourself in the mirror again after, lifting the bottom of your shirt to various degrees at different spots. You eventually make your choice and nod to yourself. You continue your morning routine as usual with the addition of a rapid heartbeat and unsteady breathing.

When you emerge from your room, mostly ready for the day, you’re met with the expectant gazes of your family.

Feeling sort of nauseous and like you’d rather refuse entirely, you shyly lift the part of your shirt you’d rehearsed earlier. You reveal a part of your mark on your right side. Just a small section of green, almost bush-like, from your hip to just above your waist. It trials off underneath your shirt, but not in a way where you’d think there was anything but more bushy green.

Your family celebrates for you. Your mom hugs you tightly, your father crows about how his baby girl deserved all that and more, and your sister shakes your shoulder with excited glee. They’re so proud of you for having such a large and vivid soulmark, your parents happily bragging about the small but colorful ouroboros on each of their thumbs and how they just knew their kids would be just like them.

You exchange a look with your sister when your parents somehow start an argument in the middle of their cheers for you. About something they had been enthusiastically agreeing upon moments prior, no less.

You push your sister out to your car with promises of breakfast fast food, the inevitable daily screaming match already beginning as she steps out the door. You follow her once you've left a note by your mom’s purse and take your usual food money allowance from her wallet. She wouldn’t notice until well after she’d stormed out of the house again, you knew.

Your soulmark celebrations are halted there, since you decline to show anyone at school your fresh mark. After all, while your family had just seen a bush with little droopy purple and fuzzy white flower buds, what you’d shown them was two very separate flowers on a backdrop of green.

The thing was, it wasn’t like you hated your soulmark. That’s not why you hid it, why it caused you so much anxiety. You adored your soulmark, in fact. As the years go by, there are many nights you spend feeling cradled by the comfort of being so ensconced in love that evidence of it literally always surrounded you.

Nights when tear tracks stained your face, and you could almost feel the tree branches on your back warm as if holding you.

Nights where everything seems pointless, interrupted by tall stems seeming to tickle just beneath your breast, a sound like twinkling laughter ringing in your ears.

Nights when the yelling in your house reaches a crescendo and you spiral into panic, wondering if tonight was the night someone went too far, brought out of the oceanic tides of fear only by counting little white buds across your tummy.

So yes. You love your mark. It’s just that you had no intention of ever sharing it with the world, and even less intention of seeking out the eight individuals behind those precious symbols of love.

See, you knew a thing or two about soulmates. You spent quite a while researching them when you were younger, trying to find a reason why soulmates like your parents could fight so viciously.

Turns out, while ‘love’ was the common interpretation of soulmates, all they really were was ‘destined’.

You can see this truth in action in your parents nearly every day. Always yelling, always fighting, always resentful. And yet, neither of them ever thinks to leave. It’s almost like they’re connected by the world’s strongest rubber band, constantly springing back together no matter how hard they pull apart from each other.

But even rubber bands can snap, and you don’t really want to be around when this one does.

Your parents had married, you know from your mom’s drunken ramblings one evening when you were twelve, because their families had expected them to. Their friends had expected them to. Even their coworkers had expected them to. After all, they were soulmates, and with such vivid marks at that! Surely they’d fall deeply in love, have a million babies, and live happily ever after.

You wish the reality had been that kind.

In your opinion, your parent’s ‘destined’ relationship with each other was one of enemies. Enemies with benefits maybe, but definitely not people who should live under one roof and raise children together.

But the public theory is that the bigger and brighter the mark, the bigger and deeper the love. And so your parents got married, and you were born. Lovely, really.

A research rabbit hole when you were fifteen had informed you that not only was this public theory not fact, but that it was entirely unprovable. Given that every normal relationship was different, it was only a given that every soulmate relationship would be different too. The most science could prove was that more vivid marks tended towards more intense feelings.

So yeah, no matter how much you loved your marks, you weren’t going to trust the relationship it promised you. You considered yourself the type to learn by example.

Besides your unwillingness to seek out your soulmates, your situation was also just plain weird. It wasn’t like clusters of soulmates were unheard of, rare as they may be. It was just that they were usually threesomes or foursomes, the largest on record being a whopping six person soul-cluster from South Africa. And you may be bad at math, but you’re fairly sure that having eight marks meant you were part of a nine person cluster.

You didn’t really want to be the latest study on the limits of soulmate bonds. So, you turned to what you knew, and started hiding.

Your closet filled with long camisoles of every color and pattern imaginable, and your sock drawer was quickly loaded with waterproof privacy wraps and rolls upon rolls of concealment tape matched to your skin tone. No one questions you, simply figuring you private with your marks.

It gets to the point where you wear your flimsy shields around the house, too. The only time you really get to see your marks is late at night when you’re drifting off to sleep, and early in the mornings when you’re getting dressed.

You live your life like this, flinching when your parents fight, barely acknowledging your soul marks, and pretending that everything is just fine to your little sister.

And then, freshly graduated and twenty-two, you move clear across the country. 

Perma Tag List: @mbioooo0000

[nyaagolor]

Now that you’ve played through all the episodes, how would you rank them?

Oooo this is tough, in part bc I like all of them a LOT. The designations between a few of them, especially in the middle category, are gonna be kinda arbitrary, but I'll do my best :)

Also this got stupid long so I put it under a readmore! Spoilers abound, as one might expect

8. Dawn of the Golden Witch (Episode 6)

I have some... mixed feelings on this one. I understand what Ryukishi was going for in using chick-Beato and Battler's interactions to parallel Battler with Kinzo and show Kinzo's dynamic with Kuwadorian Beatrice via analogy, but I also think it kinda fumbles a bit. There are points (cookie scene being a big one) where I feel like the characters take a backseat to the themes and the whole narrative feels off. Chapters 5 and 6 are supposed to be a perversion of the original story that Beatrice has lost control over, but there are points during 6 especially where I think it kinda loses itself. The rest of it is great (Erika's VA is a goddamn champion) but the very beginning of this chapter is easily my least favorite part of the series

7. Requiem of the Golden Witch (Episode 7)

I don't really have strong feelings on this episode. It would have been the high point in just about any other VN, but Umineko is so consistently fantastic that Episode 7 didn't really hit me as hard as the others. It did make me wish we got more Kyrie though, even if I know exactly why she wasn't as prominent as many of the others. Kind of insane that my second least-favorite arc is something I would rank like an 8 or 9 out of 10, Umineko is just that goated (get it???)

6. Turn of the Golden Witch (Episode 2)

While I do love watching the worst woman ever conceived have a 48 hour progressive mental breakdown, Alliance hits every point I like about the Rosa / Maria dynamic but does it better. It's still an arc I absolutely adore, so it feels weird to rank it so low, but I think about it a lot less than the other arcs so down here it goes. Shoutout to this arc for making me laugh to the point I could no longer speak not once, but twice. Kanon chuuni jacket and leashed Battler you will always be famous

5. Twilight of the Golden Witch (Episode 8)

I know that ranking episode 8 in the bottom half sounds like sacrilege but this arc had so much Kinzo and while I understand his narrative importance I Do Not Like Him. The fact that Kinzo is in the Golden Land but Kuwadorian Beatrice isn't makes me want to throw bricks at things. Other than that though, absolutely stellar. I bawled at the ending. The next day I thought about it more, misinterpreted it, and cried more, then I thought about it more deeply and talked with friends, really started to understand the core messages, and sobbed even harder. As these things tend to go. This episode ruined my life. Would recommend.

4. Legend of the Golden Witch (Episode 1)

note: 4 and 3 are interchangeable I like them both a lot for different reasons

The first time I read this episode, I thought it was great. The further I got into Umineko, the better it got. Now, with a full understanding of the plot and knowing how this chapter serves as self-reflection through the other (Sayo via Natsuhi) it serves as probably the most raw glimpse into Sayo's mindset we get. This episode ruins me and I'm pretty sure when I inevitably reread it I am going to dissolve into a puddle of goo. Also Natsuhi is there and she's my favorite of the matriarchs so I'm a little bit biased :)

3. Banquet of the Golden Witch (Episode 3)

This is one of the funniest pieces of literature I have ever read in my life. EVA-Beatrice, the entire sob story (that I, like Battler, fell for completely), the two towers fight scene... 10/10 no notes. I don't even have the words for how much I adored this one. I wish I could read it again for the first time.

2. Alliance of the Golden Witch (Episode 4)

Ok so fun fact I thought this arc was kinda boring at first, and was a little miffed I had to constantly go through Ange's little side quests when I just wanted to see Beatrice and Battler again. Fortunately, Ryukishi has a beautiful way of changing my mind very very quickly and the more I think about this Episode the more I love it. It has some of the most powerful emotional moments, a really good rehashing of the themes, and is a lot tighter and more condensed than I gave it credit for. There's a LOT that happens in this chapter, and it's been growing on me a lot-- while it doesn't take the number one spot in terms of my favorites, I do think it's the best written of the 8 episodes. As a bonus it focuses a lot on Maria who is one of the best characters ever and my darling baby angel.

End of the Golden Witch (Episode 5)

This is the platonic ideal of Umineko to me. The layers of metanarrative, the perversion of a formula to reiterate its structure, the use of genre conventions as a dual-use in-universe and metanarrative element, Erika. End of the Golden Witch is when I changed from someone who loved Umineko to someone who was obsessed with Umineko. The ending is one of the most visceral parts of the VN and I will fully admit I cried. There is so much happening in this episode I could talk about it all day. Also Natsuhi is there. Hey girlie <3

[littlerat2]

Style Swap

This story is for @prinxietyweek

Prinxiety Week Day 1

Prompt: Style Swap/Sun and Moon

Warnings: Swearing, Food Mention. I think that’s it but if you think I should add others, please let me know <3

Words: 1351 

AO3

Virgil searched his room. Under the bed, in the hamper, even behind the bookshelf. His hoodie was nowhere to be seen.

He was halfway through searching his closet when Roman’s voice startled him half to death.

“Hey babe-”

“Fuck!” He yelped, placing a hand over his chest. He took a few deep breaths, and turned around to see Roman’s apologetic smile. Not only that, but he was clad in Virgil’s hoodie.

“Sorry for startling you,” He said with a soft chuckle. A mischievous glint sparked in his eyes. “You going back in the closet?” He teased.

“I was looking for that, actually,” Virgil growled, but without any real heat behind it.

“Oh… sorry. Again.”

“It's okay. Can I have it back?’

“Yeah.” Roman went to take it off, but stopped. “Later.”

“Wha- Princey, I'm cold!” He shot a glare Roman’s way, but smiled. It did look good on him.

Roman stuck his tongue out at him, but then his expression softened. “You can use mine.”

“Why are you using mine if you have your own?!” Virgil sputtered.

“It smells like you,” Roman mumbled, burying himself in the soft fleece of Virgil’s hoodie. Who was Virgil to deny him that? “Besides, you’re already wearing one of my shirts!”

Virgil sighed, rolling his eyes affectionately and walking up to Roman, pulling his face down to his level.

“If you insist on cosplaying me, at least let me do your makeup.”

“And look like a Hot Topic threw up on me? No thanks,” Roman teased.

“I’ll let you do mine-”

“Deal!” Roman said, running at Virgil and tackling him onto his bed.

“I gotta get the makeup first, get off!” He laughed. By god, he was smitten.

. . .

A few hours later, Virgil and Roman both had full faces of makeup. After giving Roman his signature eyeshadow, Virgil decided to go a little overboard, adding little crescent moons on the sides of Roman’s eyes. The moons themselves were erased from the shimmery purple eyeshadow Virgil had used on Roman’s top lids and blended out to the sides, and a little of the bottom. He was rather proud of the look, and may even try it out on himself sometime. He also let Roman wear his favorite matte black lipstick. The man looked stunning by the time he was done. He leaned more towards a galaxy goth vibe than Virgil’s usual scene aesthetic, but he did dabble with goth makeup and clothing from time to time.

And Roman had seemed to like it! Even claiming he wouldn’t mind if Virgil wanted to do his makeup more often. It made his heart swell with pride. Plus, he wouldn’t mind doing his boyfriend’s makeup again. The idea sent excited little spiders skittering in his stomach.

Roman was just finishing Virgil’s makeup now. Virgil was content watching him work, just mere inches from his face. Roman had this cute little concentrated expression, like when he was working on a story or an art piece. It took everything for him not to kiss him every time he got close.

Pulling away, Roman’s jade eyes examined Virgil’s face. 

“Done!” He announced, summoning a hand mirror. Virgil was pleasantly surprised that Princey didn’t go over the top. It was still extravagant compared to his usual tastes, but Virgil found that he didn’t mind.

Roman had applied a generous dusting of blush on his cheekbones, and some on his nose. He had golden graphic liner in the shape of a sun, and little golden stars littering his cheeks and nose like freckles. To top it off, he had a pale red lipliner on the corners of his mouth, blended toward the middle and finished with a transparent, pink tinted gloss. It definitely wasn’t his style, but he didn’t hate it. He dare say he might like it, though he’d definitely try it with a different color pallet on his own. He’d love to see it on Roman.

“This would be so fucking cute on your face,” he mumbled as he continued to admire the makeup.

“You think so?” Roman asked, a little smile creeping its way onto his lips. “It looks pretty gorgeous on you.” 

Virgil could feel his face warm up at the compliment, and Roman chuckled. He pulled Virgil into a hug.

“Come on, take a few photos with me.” He pulled out his phone and snapped a selfie with the both of them. Virgil gave a small smile. Roman took a few more. One where they both smiled. One where they were kissing. And one where Virgil laid against Roman’s chest.

Then Roman started taking dozens of photos of Virgil. Photos from every angle. Virgil even found himself posing in a couple of them, only to give in to the light giggles that attacked his chest a few moments after.

“I won’t show them to anyone, I promise,” he reassured. “I’ll put them in the locked folder of my phone, if it makes you feel better.”

“That’s really considerate of you, Princey,” Virgil said with a soft smile. Roman snapped another photo.

“Well, yeah. Wouldn’t want my boyfriend to be uncomfortable,” Roman said casually, taking another photo.

“Thanks,” Virgil smiled widely. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Roman snapped another photo, then gave Virgil a peck on the cheek. When he pulled back, he snickered.

“What?” 

Instead of explaining, Roman snapped another photo and showed it to Virgil. He had a big, black imprint of Roman’s lips on his cheek. Virgil found himself laughing brightly.

“Okay, okay, let me take a few photos of you before I mess up your makeup.” He pulled out his phone, and Roman launched into a series of poses, expressions, and ways of cradling his face with his hands. Virgil took about fifteen, which he would have deemed excessive about a year ago. But now, he loved having too many photos of his boyfriend, though his phone’s ‘Storage Space Running Out!’ notification didn’t share the same sentiment.

And, he’d seen Roman’s ‘Virgil Folder’ as he called it. He was surprised he hadn’t run out of space on his phone long ago.

When he was finished, he kissed Roman’s temple before nestling his face into the crook of Roman’s neck with a satisfied hum. As sappy as it sounded, any morning spent with his boyfriend was a good morning. 

The two spent the next thirty minutes pressing soft kisses to each other’s skin and basking in each other’s company, before a knock sounded at the door.

“Come in,” Virgil called. The door swung open to reveal Patton covered in flour, clad in two baby blue oven mitts. He visibly did a double take, before smiling widely.

“You two look great!” He beamed.

“Thanks,” Roman grinned. Virgil gave a sleepy hum of agreement, leaning into Roman’s side once again.

“Of course! I just came to tell you guys that breakfast was ready, but no rush to get down here,” Patton said, removing his oven mitts and fanning himself with them. Virgil guessed that he probably came straight after pulling something from the oven. 

“Thanks, Padre,” Roman beamed. “We’ll be down in a bit.”

“Alrighty!” He looked at the two of them again, before muttering, “I should have you two teach me your makeup secrets sometime.”

“Sounds like a plan, Pop-Star,” Virgil said, smiling. As Patton left, Virgil found himself pulling Roman into his arms, and resting his chin on his shoulder. “I love you,” he whispered, his lips brushing just under where Roman’s jaw met his ear. He was promptly swept into a soft, passionate kiss from his boyfriend. One that left him a bit dazed, and grinning like a fool into the crook of Roman’s neck.

“I love you too,” Roman mumbled, voice silky smooth and soft against his ears. The two shared soft, sweet kisses for a long while before Roman’s stomach reminded them they had breakfast waiting for them downstairs.

Today was going to be a good day. After a morning like this, Virgil wasn’t sure much could bring him down. Not when he had such a sweet boyfriend like Roman beside him.

Author’s Note: If this weren’t a human AU, I think it would be hilarious if Patton was like “Oh hey Virgil” to Roman cause they have the same face, and he thought Roman was Virgil, LMAO

Happy Prinxiety Week 2024!!! <33333 I am SO excited to be taking part in this event <3333

[livingdeadmlm]

good night my friend! thank you for putting up a smile in my face at 1am of this saturday night

would you ever be interested in writing a bottom male reader x polnareff, or maybe even hol horse? love those two whores fr. it doesn’t have to be NSFW necessarily if you aren’t a fan of it, though if you’re ok with writing smut, that’d be very good lol

I don’t have the best imagination so I’d say perhaps things get steamy during that ‘fake hotel’ in Pakistan, or during the Hol Horse and Boingo episode

Thank you my friend! It’d be very cool if reader was a crusader if it’s with Hol Horse, or a Dio’s servant that is not that loyal to his lord if it’s with Polnareff

Thank you for reading this! :) Ur fire🔥🔥

I'm trying a new header which i got inspo from another writer on here that i found recently

Pronouns: The reader is referred to as a man but no exact pronouns are used after that. Physical Sex: AMAB How far are things going: Things get pretty steamy but not full-on smut. Warnings: the attraction to each other is very heavily implied which is why they’re dogs with each other, mentions of jerkin it and the lack of it happening, mentions of tension with the other of age Crusaders, mentions of the young girl from part 3 that hol horse lead on, Hol horse is restrained for a lot of this. Rushed!! i am still getting used to writing steamy stuff Outline: The reader is traveling with the Crusaders and in the hotel in Pakistan reader discovers Hol Horse before everyone else, anger, and a mix of pent-up frustration cloud both men's minds as they confront each other. What inspired me to write how I did: I have been very much into the rise in popularity of the honda odyssey scene, I love gentle love but I am a sucker for a steamy fight (as well as I could write it anyway)

You wandered down the hotel halls, trying to find any sort of food area or vending machine, you had run out of packed snacks a few days ago and wanted to keep yourself stocked up. However, you have yet to find one or even staff who could help you. As you made your way back to the lobby, just then the bell had rung, and you felt the urge to hang back into the room, something didn’t feel right…

“So the Joestar party is on the third floor? Maybe me and my six-shooter outta pay them a visit.” The gruff voice was complemented by the scent of cigarette smoke giving you a harsh reminder of the blond man who must be in the room. The old woman made her way down the stairs with a gasp. “Ah Hol horse so you’ve come!” her shrill voice held some delight as he kneeled to her level and spoke.

“That's right..” his voice was almost alluring if he hadn’t threatened your lives and your friends just moments ago. As he pulled something from his pockets you felt a hand pull you back around the corner, it was a free cold, and hard hand. Quickly turning with your stand you noticed it was Silver Chariot. It covered your mouth and pointed your head to where Polnareff was on the stairs, he made a shushing motion with his hands as Silver began to lift you while climbing the wall you had just hidden behind. Your stand began to help up the wall and just in time just as Enyaba ran into the room crying. Hol Horse follows behind her. 

Each stand pressed you against the wall as your hands reached for your mouth to hush any sounds you might make. The conversation between the two was hard to follow as the piecing voice of Enyaba was hard to focus on. As they spoke you heard Enyaba mention her son and being friends with Hol Horse…Were the two of them working together? Was Enyaba a stand user of her own?

Glancing back to the duo talking very loudly it truly dawned on you how fucked you were. You couldn’t stay this high on the ceiling for much longer as both stands will get tired soon. And eventually, someone will look up.

That’s when a saving grace came as Polnareff’s voice rang out with the small bell on the lobby counter. Hol horse ran deeper into the room as Enyaba ran out to help. Silver Chariot floated you down to the ground as your stand materialized behind Hol horse grabbing his arms against his torso and holding an iron grip on him. His face twisted in shock as he stared up at you walking over. 

He coughed as your looming figure practically had a darkness radiating. “Hey! Hey, I’m sure a smart man like you is willing to work out a deal, I can give you any info you want just, ya know let me out! You’re a lot stronger than I thought…” his voice trailed off as he struggled against your stand. “You are a coward Hol Horse! Using any person possible to get what you want!” Your stand squeezed him tighter as you remembered watching him ride away on a horse from all of you after leaving behind the young girl who sacrificed herself for him.

He had thrown out comments about wishing to see you again that made you flush with anger at the coward in front of you. “What kind of deal cowboy? Just what do you think will convince me to let you go still intact?” Hol Horse stuck his leg out attempting to pull you closer, “I just wanna make you feel good, (Name)!” He tilted his head to the side scanning your face, “Won't you let me?” His voice was husky as he did his best to lean forward to your face. You scoffed, “As if I would enjoy myself with a coward like you, you seem like a selfish lover anyway.” Hol horse's face became angry before a smile began to spread.

“But you’re entertaining this whole idea anyway, it's been almost a month of not getting any kind of attention, especially the special attention I know you’ve been needin'.” Your body felt hot with anger and embarrassment he was right, sharing rooms with at least one other person the past few weeks had cut your alone time down significantly. While you threw flirty comments around with Polnareff and Avdol nothing would progress past long stare-downs in shared hotel rooms. “You wouldn’t keep toying with the idea of being with me if you didn’t need it.” Neither of you could admit to wanting the other. 

“You know you keep, ugh tightening your stand but I’m likin’ it.” In a moment of disgust, your stands grip on the man loosened and he took his chance to leap at you. You both fly backwards landing on the ground with Hol horse landing on top of you. His lips stuck to yours and just as quickly his hands went up your shirt caressing your sides. You practically melted at the contact you’ve gone a long time without someone else touching you besides getting punched a few times this trip. His hands had slight calluses that slightly scratched your skin. 

Your hands tangled in his dirty blond hair as your core burned at the feeling of his hard-on pressed against yours. Everything felt electric the hate you had for the man on top of you made everything so much more intense. His hips moved against yours as he pulled away, “Come on, a man like you deserves to just let go.” The movement got harsher as you wrapped your legs around his hips, you wanted to be selfish and feel more and more. Once more a yell could be heard as Polnareff called your name as he ran to the back room you were in. Just as fast as everything started Hol Horse grabbed his hat and made a break for a second side door you had missed. 

“Sorry there sweetheart! Maybe next time you’ll get me in full glory!” frustration bubbled in your stomach as Polnareff finally made it to the room and joined your side with a look of confusion.