#it just had an uncommon (sort of not really) coat

[two-calicos-in-a-trenchcoat]

Omg

She is absolutely not a lab lol

If I was in a place to get a dog right now tho....shes fucking cute

[starlightwritcr]

I can fix him, literally. (Android au!Sukuna)

(@poe-daydreams this is for you <3)

warning/s: Minors DNI, Smut, exhibitionism but not really? idk how to describe it, light degradation, use of "whore", Sukuna's two dicks

Imagine android!Sukuna used to be a popular fighter in an underground fighting ring. Key word: used to be. He went up against Jujutsu Technology's newest Gojo model, S4T0RU (or Satoru, as most fans call him), but suffered a humiliating defeat at his hands. This caused heavy damages on Sukuna which led to his owner throwing him out to the trash. After all, why keep the old model around when the latest model was far superior?

But you didn't believe in such. You were surprised to find a Sukuna model in the trash at the back of a dingy building. Who in their right mind would throw away a million dollar android in this economy?! You took the android in, seeing as how the previous clearly didn't want him.

It was a challenge to repair the Sukuna model but as someone who used to work for Jujutsu Technology, you were able to do it. His mind chip seemed to be working fine. It was just the external parts that suffered heavy damage, which should be easy enough to replace. All it took was ordering spare parts online and giving it a new coat of paint to match his original model's tattoos to make him look good as new!

When android!Sukuna's systems started operating again, he woke up from sleep mode and saw you. You explained that you fixed him up after finding him in the trash. There were still some tests to run, just to see if there would be any possible bug fixes needed.

In true Sukuna fashion, he wasn't very cooperative at first. This wasn't your first rodeo though and managed to convince him to do it so that it could be over with. It didn't come as a surprise to you that a fighter android would be aggressive. Plus, the Sukuna line was designed with that personality to elicit reactions from audiences when he trash talked his opponents. It was pretty much just how he was designed.

While running the tests on Sukuna, you decided to check his memory file to see what happened before he was thrown out. You saw how badly he got beaten by the S4T0RU model.

Perhaps it was a strange thing to do, but you empathised with the android. Getting abandoned and replaced would be painful for any regular human after all. Even if Sukuna was an android, it wasn't uncommon for androids to develop a capacity for human emotions. This tended to be the case for fast-learning androids.

So, you kept him around. Sukuna wasn't too pleased about it but it wasn't like he had anywhere else to go. He was rough and brash at first, blowing a hole into your finances with how much fuel he needed to consume. He calls you soft for treating him like he's human.

But despite the difficulties, despite the insults, you couldn't bring yourself to abandon him. You'd be no better than the person that replaced him so easily. You taught him how to navigate human life, dealing with human emotions, all the essentials needed. Soon enough, you noticed a change in his behaviors. Sukuna hovered around you, never leaving your side. It was almost like he was attached to your hip.

In a way, Sukuna did what he was created to do. He became a bodyguard of sorts, protecting you from creepy dudes whenever you went out. His trash talking feature especially came in handy during gossip sessions where you just had to vent about a rude coworker.

android!Sukuna found a new purpose in you. It was odd going from being a fighter android basking in cheers from the audience to being a companion android protecting his owner like a guard dog. But perhaps this life was more meaningful than his previous one. He'll never admit that though. It's only through his actions that you understand how he felt.

Feeling your touch on his synthetic skin felt even more exhilarating than all the cheers from the audience he's received in his fighting career. Sukuna cursed at himself, realising that he's become whipped for you. He was lucky that it was you, the person who's never abandoned him.

Sometimes android!Sukuna can be pretty possessive. You worked with repairing other androids so deep down, there was a fear that you'd find another android you liked more and replaced him with it. Even if he knew you wouldn't, there was a lingering fear that was deeply rooted ever since he was abandoned.

The height of Sukuna's possessiveness came to its peak when you brought home a sex android from the S4T0RU line. Its previous owners had a really good time with it and accidentally damaged it. You were baffled by this, seeing as how Jujutsu Technology usually equipped its Gojo models with tough materials. They must've went really wild with it.

While repairing it, Sukuna pulled you close. He glared at the S4T0RU model that was in sleep mode. You gasped as his fingers slipped into your clothes, going up your thighs.

Your cries of pleasure echoed against the walls as Sukuna fucked you in front of the android. His hands held you tightly, keeping you in place while he drove his synthetic cocks into you.

"When did you get two dicks?!" "Shut up and take them, whore."

You felt your brain turning to mush while he rearranged your insides with his thick cocks. Sukuna smirked in satisfaction when he knew your attention was completely on him and not that android on your work desk.

[onlyhereforthestories]

Comeback Queen - Part 2 (Alexia Putellas x Reader)

What a comeback she has had! I hope everyone enjoyed the game today, I know I certainly did. Here is the second part of the fic for our fave no 11.

You had managed to get ready on time, Alexia however was still in the bathroom, but this wasn’t uncommon. You were always the first ready out the two of you, you weren’t really a make-up person and normally opted for an easy put-up hair style so it just meant you had less to do to get ready.

You decided to put a little bit of tinted lip balm on, so you were just in the mirror applying that when Ale came out of the bathroom in a pair of trousers that hugged her waist just right, a white shirt with the top couple buttons undone which you knew was for you and a blazer hung over her arm.

You stopped what you were doing mid lip, you just stared at the woman through the mirror in awe. She never failed to take your breath away with any of the outfits she wore, comfy or formal. she glanced at you as she was putting her earrings in and noticed your stare through the mirror. “Like what you see mi amor?” The smirk on her face was also audible in her voice.

“You know I more than like babe. I swear you got hotter though, did you change your gym poutine? Get more muscle?” Your eyes roamed the Spanish star as you said this, the smirk on her face dropped a little and her cheeks flushed. Your ogling was obviously more than just appreciating, and Alexia knew what was running round your mind as much as you were imagining it.

“Okay amor wherever this libido came from save it for later.” Your cheeks burned red immediately and you averted your eyes away from your wife in favour of busing yourself sorting your bag you would be taking. Alexia chuckled at your reaction, it had been a recurring theme recently you and your increase want for sex. Not that Alexia was complaining at all, shed happily worship you every minute if she could but it was different for you.

She made her way over to you and wrapped her arms around you from behind, her large hands coming up to cover your stomach something that spread warmth through you. You leant into the contact and relished in the feeling being in her arms brought you, the moment was short lived as Alexia’s phone blared from where it was on charge next to your bed. Mapi’s face on the screen staring back at you. Alexia groaned a little in your ear before pressing a kiss to your cheek and letting you go to answer her best friends call.

Whilst she spoke in rushed Spanish you left the room to get your shoes and coat on, you knew that call meant the couple was ready to go and if Mapi was calling they really were ready to go.

The journey to pick them up was uneventful and before you knew it the four of you were walking into the function room hired out for the team dinner today. The girls cheered as Alexia walked into the room, chants of her name rang round, and you could see the joy this brought the Spaniard. She really did love this team and you could tell they loved her.

The night was amazing, you all ate great food and celebrated the return of your favourite person to the sport that she loves so very much. As the evening went on and everyone was sat chatting after the food you could feel yourself getting tired, you were trying to hide yawns behind your hand and shifting every so often as you kept getting uncomfortable.

Your hiding hadn’t gone as well as you thought, you were talking to Ingrid who was sat next to you and shifted once again. Only this time as you shifted you felt the palm of your love on your thigh, you turned to look at her and found her giving you a concerned look. “You okay bebe?”

You gentle grabbed her hand off your thigh and laced your fingers with hers, giving her hand a squeeze before you replied. “Si, don’t worry just a little uncomfortable sat in once place for a long period it’s okay though.” The woman gave you a small frown and went to stand up but before she could you gave her a tug on the hand you were still holding.

“We can go home bebe, I don’t want you to be too uncomfortable.” You were flattered by the gesture, but you knew that it wasn’t what you actually wanted. Although you were tired and a little uncomfortable you would happily be that to chat with your friends and celebrate your girl.

“Thank you, my love, but I’m okay promise. The food is finished we won’t be here a great deal longer I’ll be okay until then.” You could tell by the look she was giving you that she was making sure, so you squeezed the hand in your three times and that was enough for the woman to smile back at you knowing you meant it.

Just before she could turn back to her conversation with Irene you caught her attention once more, “But as I am making this big sacrifice to celebrate you, you can give me a foot rub when we get home.” You sent her a wink to accompany your words, both to show you were joking mostly but also wouldn’t mind it happening.

“Oh, bebe I think I can stretch to a little more than a foot rub.” Your cheeks flushed a little as you laughed at where the woman’s mind went. With a light shove to her shoulder and a kiss to her lips you let her go back to her conversation. You didn’t miss the way her eyes roamed your upper body before she turned away, you would never get used the too butterflies she brought to your stomach each and every time she looked at you like that.

This morning had been a struggle to get going, Alexia had definitely followed up on what she said at dinner which meant that you were fairly tired this morning. Luckily for you, you were still part of the injury list, so you had less work to do than your wife. Not that Alexia was fussed she wasn’t as physically tired, and it was only a recovery day after yesterday’s game anyway.

You had just finished breakfast in the canteen and were heading to the film room with the rest of the team to go over some of the plays for the game the day before when you were it with a wave of sickness. You were quick to excuse yourself from your chat with Lucy and Kiera and made a beeline for the toilets. You got there just intime to bring up the breakfast you had just eaten.

Your stomach settled right away after that, and you were quick to rinse your mouth and wash your hands before rushing to get to the film room intime and without suspicion. As you sat down in your seat next to Ale, she gave you a puzzled look which you brushed off with a smile and a squeeze to her thigh.

You sat and listened as the coaching stuff went over a few things and pointed out a few parts of the game they wanted to work on over the next few training sessions. Just before you finished, they showed Ales goal again just to get the cheer from the girls and the slight dip of embarrassment from the goal scorer.

Recovery day started with a light gym session which meant that the injured players and fit players would be together, everyone with their own things to do for the session. You were currently working with Mapi who has been stepping up her training over the last couple weeks.

You on the other hand have been staying at a fairly low level, something that hadn’t slipped past Mapi. “So amiga when are you getting back to the proper work?” You looked a little confused towards the dyed blonde who was currently in between sets.

“I’m just doing what I’m told.” Your answer was brief and vague causing the woman to frow a little, but she let it go thinking maybe you were upset that you could not progress further.

Mapi wasn’t the only one to ask you about your recovery, Aitana had too when you went to get some water and she was by the bottle too, even Irene had asked about your return date. You kept you answers as short as possible, but you knew someone soon was going to really ask what your injury was.

You were trying to get to speak to Alexia alone quickly before everyone headed out onto the pitch, but you just couldn’t catch her eye or get away from the players with you. You knew it wasn’t going to be long before you would have to tell everyone, but you needed to talk to the brunette first, make sure she is okay with telling people.

You finally caught the woman’s eye when you were all stood in a circle around Jona listening to his pretraining talk. Alexia came and stood next to you as he started speaking her hand resting on the small of your back. You were listening to what Jona said until Alexia spoke quietly in your ear.

“You okay amor? The girls have been questioning you a lot I hear.” You nodded slightly before you spoke.

“I think we need to tell them; it won’t be long until they will see anyway.” Alexias’s hand slid round to your hip to pull you into her a little more.

“Si I agree, time to tell them.” This ended the conversation, and you tuned back into the team talk just before it was concluded, and the players full training went off for warmups. You followed Mapi over the sidelines where you would be doing some light work.

After the warm-ups and the first set of drills you joined back up with the rest of the girls for a drinks break. You slotted in next to Ale and joined in the conversation there. They were obviously talking about your wife and Frido’s return to the pitch and when you were noticed Aitana directed her talk to you.

“Next up is your big return y/n.” You glanced at Ale who stepped closer to you and nodded.

Taking this as your go ahead you spoke, “You’ll have to wait for at least a year for that.” The girls around you looked at you in shock.

“What why? You didn’t do your knee; in fact we have no idea what injury you picked up.” Patri was the one to speak up first, you let her speak and looked around at the girls in your little circle right now. You saw the moment Keira understood what it meant, what you meant.

The grin on her face grew the moment you nodded. She was on you in a second, giving you a big hug and whispering congratulations in your ear. When the other girls continued to look confused you saw your wife roll her eyes.

“You are all idiotas, y/ns pregnant. We are having a baby.” It was safe to say everyone was shocked for a moment before you were in the middle of a Barca team hug, congratulations being shouted out.

“I’m going to be the favourite aunt!” You laughed at Ingrids shout which immediately brought on bickering throughout the group.

You stood in the arms of the woman you loved, watching as your football family argued about who was going be your baby’s favourite. You truly were the luckiest woman alive, and you knew your baby would be so loved.

“We did good aye.” You smiled up at Alexia as she spoke.

“We did really good, Te amo.” Alexia leaned down to press her lips to yours and brought her hands to cover your stomach.

“I love you both.”

[shyravenns]

141 Barn Cats AU

Thinking about an AU where Laswell is an unwilling participant in the cat distribution system, and the rest of 141 are just stray cats that she can't get rid of.

There's Bear who's name was appropriately given by Laswell's darling wife (much to her silent aggravation). He was the first cat who appeared seemingly out of nowhere, and settled in as if he were the one paying mortgage. A great big, fluffy creature with faint scars littering his body and small nick in his ear that tells Laswell that he's as much as a soldier as she is. Amber eyes calmly staring back at her from his perch on their counter, as she startles at the sight of him in the morning, already a self made king in the home that she shares her with her wife. A small twitch to his whiskers, and she can tell (though she'd rather be tortured than say this out loud) that he's rather amused by her startled yelp. Her wife adores him given by the simple brown collar she managed to get around his neck, and Laswell knows it's rather embarrassing to be resentful of a cat when said cat strangely prefers Laswell's lap to sit on. Laswell's never been an animal lover, and cats are as much of an enigma to her as lions or tigers, but she's grown attached to the big brown cat with amber eyes that naps on her desk and purrs when she looks at him.

One cat is enough. One cat is supposed to be enough.

And then comes Ghost. A great big black cat that makes her hesitate and wonder if he's really a cat and not some sort of unknown species of feline given his size. A great big, black cat that watches her with a stillness that reminds her a little tiger. Seemingly even more scarred as Bear is, and she wonders just briefly how tough it must be to be a stray cat. A guest who Bear had seemingly brought to them. disappearing for a few days as he often does as they live in a great stretch of land that she inherited, and appearing almost out of the blue on their front porch with a cat that almost seems to fidget given the anxious twists of it's tail as Laswell stares and her wife coos at them. She sighs, rolls her eyes, and glares down at Bear as she widens her door just a bit and allows both cats to stalk inside and begins to wonder if they're even cats in the first place and not some cosmic punishment sent to fuck with her. Ghost doesn't interact much with them save for the occasional pat on the head, and allowing them to get close enough to slip a simple black collar on him. Laswell, knowing not to say anything, when he wife orders a collar with a skull design. Often spending his time prowling after Bear, or hesitantly allowing her wife to get near him while he sits on the window sill, and watches the world outside.

Two cats is more than enough, and she always gives a little sigh before adding kitty litter to her basket.

Bear and Ghost are enough. They're calm, quiet, and independent enough for Laswell to focus on other things.

Until it's 1am, and the yowling of a cat (that she knows isn't one of hers) drags her out of a sleep so blissful she'd cry if she weren't so annoyed. Soap is the name her wife gives him (and pouts when Laswell stares at her in disbelief), as they stumble downstairs to see their unwelcome visitor shaking off the excess bubbles off of his coat as he crawls out from the kitchen sink. Laswell isn't done mouthing "what the fuck" before her wife laughs, and grabs the spare towel on the counter in order to help him dry off. Ignoring the open window above the sink where they assumed he managed to sneak in. Soap is,,,everything a cat should not be in Laswell's rather unprofessional opinion, and reminds her of a dog more often than not. Energetic and noticeable as he makes their house his home within a matter of hours. Making fast friends with Bear, and oddly enough seeming to prefer the company of Ghost. It's not uncommon for her to catch them on the same window sill in the evening or grooming each other much to her own silent delight. He's a nuisance in her opinion, but a very welcome one (and her favorite, but she'd never say that out loud)

And just when she thinks that three is enough there is, of course, another expected unexpected guest.

She's not surprised in the slightest when she wakes up and spies the lean brown cat watching her as he sits beside Bear, Soap, and Ghost as if he's always been there (It's an interesting feeling to wonder if she's been gaslit by a cat) with a slight tilt to his head as if she's the one who shouldn't be here. She doesn't say much to her wife as they both give each other a tired yet amused glance towards one another and watch as he curls his tail around his paws and purrs when begin to take out another bowl. Gaz, they name his together, when gives a small chirp at the tv at the sound of the nickname. He's not as energetic as Soap (thank GOD), but he manages to worm himself into her wife's heart pretty quickly in a way that tells her that he won't be going anywhere anytime soon. He has a liking towards Bear, who often lets him nap beside him on the couch in her office. And appears to have made fast friends with Soap and Ghost as she catches all three of them curled up in the kitchen underneath a sunbeam.

They're good cats, all of them. She doesn't *quite* know where the hell they all came from, but it's hard to really want to know when she gets to fall asleep to the sound of purrs and her wife's gentle snores.

[lilac-den]

How would the RO react if they had a nightmare about the MC's death and when they wake up the MC is nowhere to be found (they just went out to get milk at night lol)

Zeus: Nightmares aren’t an uncommon thing in their line of work. They had to learn the hard way in distinguishing what is reality and fantasy. So, realistically, they know the MC is alive and well and what they saw was simply a figment of their own subconscious. But the surreal sensations and fear that sets in are enough to leave Zeus a little overprotective, like a sign of a ‘what if you fail’ situation.

So once the MC returns from grabbing milk, don’t expect Zeus to let them go out of their sight for the rest of the night (or day, if its that bad).

Hermes: Hermes would look around their room shared with MC and, after realizing that it was a nightmare, they let out a shaky sigh and pull out their phone to leave a text to MC, asking where are they. While they do possibly believe MC is alive, they still can't shake off the dread from seeing MC's death and would end up trying to get their mind off of it by overworking themselves with their tech or even just something else - anything to drive their mind away from that horrifying image.

Hermes won't even be able to greet MC home because they're that focused on their project, desperately trying to push away those thoughts again. At least, until they flinch and jerk their eyes to MC if MC touch them. Hermes lets out a breath, one that sounds as if they have been holding for so long. They just end up wrapping their arms around MC, barely getting a question (Where the fuck have you been?) out before making a noise of affirmation that they heard your reply. If they pass out on your MC...Hahahahaha, good luck carrying their ass back to bed because they won't be waking up anytime soon.

Dionysus: They wake up in cold sweats and laboured breathing, body trembling and mind whirling. They pat the bed for the familiar warmth but when they only meet an empty space, their heart practically stops.

They just cease thinking as they hastily put on whatever clothes they can put on. This sort of panic is just pure tunnel visioning - not even tripping and accidentally scrapping themselves would snap them out of it. They'll run out of the house/apartment, calling for MC, out to even the freezing cold night. Standing outside the apartment building/house, remembering the nightmare they had, they end up squatting down and grab onto their own head. Tears end up pouring out, little mumbles of 'no, no, no...' whimper out of them...

So when MC finds them, cold and wearing thin layers of clothing, and approached Dionysus with great concern, Dionysus would snap their head up with wide eyes of disbelief. Dionysus reaches out, hands shaking as they cup MC's cheeks. "A-Are...Is it you? Really you?"

MC could be confused or more worried about Dionysus - but either way, Dionysus ends up throwing themselves onto MC with arms around the neck and face buried against MC's chest, sobbing and shaking in MC's arms.

Ares: They used to have nightmares but they have become less effective to Ares - their own reality was too real to be captured in a dream. They'll be more rattled with good dreams tho - dreams they would never believe to come true.

But with a night are like that, Ares knows to rationalize and be perceptive, so they would look for clues that indicates where MC might be or if MC is really dead (They have a good memory and something like MC's death isn't something they'll ever forget). No signs of struggle? There's no kidnap or fight (and even if there had been, Ares would definitely wake up from it). Signs of recent use that Ares knows with certainty they didn't touch but its something MC used? MC is still alive and walking. If MC is not in the apartment, Ares would try to give them a call. If MC's phone is dead? They'll growl, mumble about cadets needing to charge their phone before moving to grab a coat, glancing around the apartment for mote clues as to where MC might be or racking their brain to recall if MC would need to go out for something.

But when MC comes home and Ares is there to meet them, Ares would have a stern gaze, tugging you to them and just hold you close, burying their nose into your hair and sighing. "Go out without any notice again, and I'll start doing morning military drills on you." And they mean that most seriously. . .

Dolos: The sad thing is...They always had such nightmares. It rarely comes, but it leaves them really rattled. So when they start living with MC/got into a relationship with them, and Dolos doesn't find them, they'll start going into an absolute panic to near tears, rambling MC's name. They would have gone out in nothing but PJs and their jacket (and hidden weapons in case they're in grave danger) if MC hadn't come home right then and there. Relief washes over them and they just drop everything to pull MC tightly in a hug, sobbing uncontrollably before desperately whispering, "Don't...Don't leave me again..."

[sparklepocalypse]

Director's Cut: you must know I'm gonna ask about Octo!Henry. I am who I am.

MY BELOVED OCTOHENRY -- rambling about him is a fucking gift, @kiwiana-writes, and I thank you for this.

So, two decisions happened in pretty rapid succession at the end of last September -- first, I decided that I was going to participate in Kinktober, and second, that I was absolutely not going to waste the opportunity to use the "tentacles, consentacles" tag double-whammy on Ao3. From there, I very quickly connected with a friend on Discord who, as it turns out, knows a fuckton about octopi. With their assistance, I went down my first research rabbit hole about things like:

How octopi reproduce

Which species of octopi do not yeet their octopeens (hectocotyli) at their mates and flee the scene so they don't get eaten

Of these very few species that aren't prone to flinging their dicks like wiggly, suckered javelins, which were the prettiest/flashiest

And then a deep dive into the prettiest species of non-tentacock-lobbing octopi to narrow it down to one: the blue-ringed octopus (AKA the spiciest boi).

I had a couple assumptions right out of the gate: Alex would be just as clueless in this fic as he is in canon, for one. This allowed me to have Henry drop some really obvious hints that he's Not From Around Here while Alex is still just so awestruck by how pretty his new friend is that he completely sails past the hints. For two, once he figured it out, Alex was going to have his crisis about attraction to men and men with tentacles (or at least Hentacles?) faster than Usain Bolt can run the 100m dash. This second piece was a bit of a necessity since I was cranking out a new smut fic every day during that month, so there was no time for additional world building or angsting about Alex's new partner not having legs at the time.

While writing the smut, I read a lot of Actual Scientific Research on octopi in general and specifically on blue-ringed octopi to make sure I wasn't totally making shit up. In the process, I learned so many fun facts about the blue-ringed octopus, including:

Male/male mating is not uncommon -- several sources suggest that male blue-ringed octopi have no preference for the sex of their mating partners.

Their skin is soft and very slick; it's coated in a slippery substance that protects them from bacteria and also allows them to slip into narrow spaces easily. 😏

The blue rings only really show up boldly when they're aroused (horny, excited, or scared). Otherwise, depending on the subspecies of blue-ringed octopus, the rings are either faintly visible or look sort of brownish.

You really don't want to touch blue-ringed octopi IRL unless you're super into being poisoned to death. (This translated into Henry being really into spicy human foods. 🤣)

Sperm packets (spermatophores) are an Actual Thing that's common across a lot of invertebrates, including octopi and squids -- Alex saying “You didn’t mention that your cum had texture,” is because he wasn't expecting there to be any sort of structure to Henry's octojizz.

I also flagrantly ignored the thing where once a male blue-ringed octopus has successfully mated, he dies, because again -- octoHenry is my beloved.

I'll stop here, but I could literally talk about octoHenry for hours! I'm so excited to start working on the sequel this fall. 🥰🐙

Want to learn more about my methods for one of my fics? Ask me stuff in the fic director's cut meme!

[v3nusxsky]

hi! i'm deeply in love with everything you write and reading your fics is like a daily ritual for me.

i'd like to request a larissa/reader fic, but the idea is a bit hard, so it's absolutely fine if you don't want to write it!

r is an art teacher at nevermore and she's in love with larissa. but the thing is that r is bipolar and her mood can change almost unpredictably. larissa invites her for a glass of wine and they end up spilling their feelings for each other (some smut would be nice). but the next day r is feeling depressed and starts ignoring larissa for days thinking she's not good enough for her and it was a drunk mistake. larissa finds her, r tells her the truth and larissa tells her that it doesn't change anything and she will be with her no matter what.

idk why i requested this, it's a bit personal ig. sorry for lots of details, feel free to change anything!

My flickering flame 18+H&C

*Authors note~ Bipolar is a super sensitive topic and I've done my research to try my best to handle it in a respectful and informative manner*

Trigger warnings~ Bipolar r mommy kink oral fixation for r thigh riding face riding fingering and oral sex mentions of sh

Prompt~ see ask^^^^

✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿

Teaching at Nevermore was something you'd always wanted to do, your ability made your desire for art easy. Your ability meant anything you created would provoke visions of sorts. You were often transported into the work and especially if you were creating something based off present facts or feelings. Being at Nevermore and teaching also introduced you to the one and only Larissa Weems and you were immediately taken with her, the blonde was alluring and you both struck up a great friendship.

It wasn't uncommon for Larissa to invite you for a glass of wine, in fact it also became a weekly ritual. It was something you came to love but you'd had to cancel it every so often due to your bipolar. Your depressive episodes were horrible and made even just breathing difficult but your Mania episodes were equally exhausting and even exhibiting dangerous and risky behaviour. You remember the first time you experienced a Mania episode and you completely blew through all of your savings on random items that you'd never normally buy. You remember telling the doctor, that you were seeing Lucifer and telling you what you should be doing.

You were feeling good today and the excitement of wine with your crush was really overwhelming for you. But you found yourself sat on her sofa with a glass of red wine dangling from your fingers as you drunk in her beauty. "Darling, you're staring" Larissa murmured watching the blush creep over your cheeks. "You're just so beautiful" you mumbled before gasping in shock, your didn't mean to say that out loud.

"So are you darling, I must confess I rather like you" Larissa purred slipping closer to you, close enough your foreheads met. "Like me?" You mumbled confused. "Very much so and I'd very much like to kiss you love." Before you even verbally replied her lips were attached to yours, they felt softer than you ever imagined and the taste that was so perfectly her was invading your senses.

You both pulled back breathless wearing matching grins, "god I want you" you mumbled before tugging the blonde back to your lips, more passion seeping into this kiss. "Ris? Please" you whimpered after she sunk her teeth into your bottom lip. "Mommys gonna take such good care of you baby, you want this yes?" She murmured smothering your neck in kisses as you mewled, "oh god please never wanted anything more."

It was one night of pure passion, love radiating £!0through you both as you brought one another over the edge time and time again. Larissa riding your thigh, coating it in her slick heat, your mouth securely attached to her breasts as you nipped, sucked and licked at her point rose buds. You riding Larissa's face and suckling on your own fingers to prepare them for her needy cunt. You even somehow managed to get off by the woman's tongue alone, something you'd never done before,  her long slender fingers buried deep into your core as you begged for more, harder and faster. You just needed her. You feel asleep in the woman's arm's sucking on her fingers, moaning at the taste of yourself, just happy to sit in your bubble full of bliss.

You left before Larissa woke up the next morning, the blonde was confused and hurt, she really thought that would be the start of something beautiful but you just disappeared. You stopped teaching your lessons, the only contact you and Larissa had was you informing her of your need of a substitute teacher every morning. All sorts began to race around her mind, maybe you regretted that night, maybe you were embarrassed and didn't want anyone to know, and perhaps you just realised she didn't live up to your expectations.

Meanwhile, you were stuck in your room, no energy to do anything. Negative thoughts swirling around your brain, you'd not eaten or showered since that night and you were lucky if you managed to grab 3 hours of sleep a night. The guilt over leaving without saying anything and the feeling of emptiness and guilt knowing you hurt Larissa. Truly it was all too much and you'd convinced yourself you were better off dead, after all what purpose did you serve now? Your old coping mechanisms are back too.

No one had seen you in days, Larissa had a duty of care as your boss to check on you. So she did, anxious butterflies taking residence in her stomach. But the sight she saw caused her heart to drop, you were curled up in bed, tears flowing over the dried tracks they'd ran before your arms legs and stomach littered in scars and new cuts. You appeared to be asleep as you whimpered her name, your sobs starting to make the words sound choked. The complete opposite of what Larissa had imagined.

Hesitantly, she sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed soothing circles into your back in hope of rousing you awake safely. "Oh darling, I'm here I don't know what's wrong but I'm here" she murmured pressing a sweet kiss to your forehead. "Rissa?" You mumbled sleepily before realising the situation and scrambling away from the woman, "no no no she's not meant to be here, you said no luci!" You mumbled to what you thought was lucifer but was actually the wardrobe. "That's the whole reason why I did this" you exclaimed tugging at your abused arms, "I'm not insane! Im not crazy! I'm normal! You're real  I know you are."

"Oh darling, can you focus on me for a second? Just ignore luci for a second. Follow my voice" Larissa whispered to you and you seemed to manage that for a second, rapidly blinking as you faced the woman. "It's happening again" you whimpered before breaking down and throwing yourself into the principals arms, "just a freak with bipolar, you only slept with me because you pity me" you sobbed and suddenly everything made sense to the blonde. "I slept with you because I love you" Larissa murmured into your ear. "Luci says it's lies" you cried and Larissa hushed you, rocking you soothingly.

"Have you taken your medication darling?" You nodded and informed her it wasn't working. So together she helped you phone your doctor and ask for some advice on how to help you now. He informed the blonde as long as she was safe and not posing a risk that she could stay home and have her appointment first thing in the morning to talk about her medication. So that night Larissa slept next to you, In your bed just reassuring you and keeping you safe. She loves you so that means this part of you too, no matter what happens she'll be here for as long as you want her.

Word count ~ 1361

[otterlyfoolish]

No Smoking Indoors

(Shiba Togo x GN!Reader)

Warnings: Mentions of war, Possibly OOC, not edited

Tags: Small Age Gap, unrequited crush, its like really subtle though

Word Count: 3k

Summary:

Cafe Haru Haru has all sorts of people. Typically, you'd usually find people that's skilled in combat visiting the most for work. So it really shouldn't surprise Shiba to see a fellow war veteran there.

If you like Ao3 for reading fics more, here!

-----

Café Haru Haru is a café. Obvious, right?

You can buy coffee, you can get tea, you can get some sweet treats if the owner remembered to restock it for that day, otherwise you can settle for some sort of fruit juice she has in a little fridge under the counter. (Which is most of the time, since she tends to snack on her own products.)

From the decoration, you might think that its kind of like a bar, but there's no alcohol being served there - the wine glasses on the shelves are mostly for decoration. You can tell by the dust on the shelves - it might have been used to serve drinks once, but now it sits there solely to reflect the warm lighting and any sunlight it catches. It's probably for the best considering the main purpose of the business though.

It's not just a café, because if it was, it would be out of business extraordinarily fast. The main function is that it connects sorcerers to paying clients, and collects a fee. Typically it's yakuza looking for a little more firepower (sometimes literally,) or some blood thirsty fool that doesn't know any other way of life.

With a ring of the bell from the front of the store, it lets the owner know that someone's come in, whether it's a client looking for some protection, or a violent guard dog, she welcomes them in with a idle smile, hoping that its something more exciting this time.

"Excuse us!" The man yells out, already treating the place like a second home as he saunters in, the younger man next to him following closely as he gives him a blank stare.

"Ah, Shiba." She dejects with something of a scowl, leaning on the counter with a slump in her shoulders. "I'm busy right now, sit down and I'll get to you." She waves at him dismissively then shoots Chihiro a warmer greeting: "Hey, you look cool today as well, Chihiro!" To which she get a slow nod of confusion in response. Shiba glances between the two of them, the preferential treatment clear as day.

The two of them sit down at the stools, staying quiet as they glance over to Hinao explaining the details of a job to another customer - this was uncommon, they've never really been around seeing her handle her customers.

The customer has been served a cup of coffee (something Shiba and Chihiro had to always make themselves), and sat silently at the counter, reading over information Hinao had handed them. With a small thank you from them, Hinao nodded and then walked away, greeting Shiba now.

"So! What do you need?" She asks, leaving her customer to their own devices as she slides over to her regulars, hands flat on the table. "Need another job, Shiba? I got a couple, you might like." She says, "or just checking up on intel?"

"Just dropping by Tokyo." He answers simply, "but while I'm here, thought I'd also just ask you, how's it going on that front?"

"Bad." She sighs, looking out the window with a shoulders slumped. "I got nothing. Nada."

"Ah." He mouths back, while Chihiro lowers his gaze towards the counter, his face remaining as stoic as ever. Shiba had a feeling that the teen was pretty disappointed at the news though. "Well, let me see the job listings then. I'll check it out if it sounds promising."

"Sure, just wait 'till they're done." Hinao nods back at him, putting her hands into her coat pocket, using her head to motion towards the only other person in the room. "They've got the nice juicy ones right now. 'course, I've other ones if you're looking for something easier for a old man like you."

Shiba ignores that last jab. "Huh, really?" He utters back in response with a eyebrow raised - usually Hinao tried to pair up the difficulty to the person so her customers wouldn't be disappointed. If they've got the 'juicy' ones, that meant that they've got the high-risk, high-reward offers.

She nods back at Shiba, about to say something more before her other customer placed the papers down on the counter, waiting patiently for Hinao to speak to them again with their hands folded on the counter. Shiba glanced over again towards them as Hinao walked back over, discussing the details with the sorcerer.

"I'd like to take this one, please." They say holding one in particular. Their voice made Shiba's ears perk up.

"Okay, I'll give them a call, and we can arrange a meeting sometime." Hinao says, marking it down in a little notepad under the counter before grabbing the pile of job offers, sliding it over to Shiba. He didn't catch it, seemingly frozen as he looked across the room, leaving Chihiro to stop the pile of paper before it hit the floor.

"Thank you." They nodded back in response to Hinao who walked over to the rotary phone, humming absentmindedly as she rung the customer, one hand in her coat pocket.

"Mr Shiba," Chihiro starts out, trying to get his attention as Shiba still seemed to be frozen in his seat.

"Huh? Yeah, what's up, Chihiro?" He snapped out of it, glancing back at him as Chihiro fixed the pile of paper.

"The job listings you asked for." Chihiro answered simply, putting them in front of Shiba in a neat pile.

"Ah, thanks." He nodded, then turned his face back to the other side, looking at the only other customer again. Chihiro joined in, blinking at the two of them with a blank expression, but it was obvious he was wondering why Shiba seemed so interested in this other person. Slowly, he moved his hand to rest on the hilt of Enten, his eyes narrowing in anticipation, glancing over to Hinao, and made some mental calculations in his mind.

There didn't seem to be anything unusual about them - they seemed to be a pretty normal person overall, so Chihiro isn't sure what Shiba is picking up on. He's just trying to follow Shiba's lead. Then, there was finally movement.

The person from across the room pulled out a pack of cigarettes, pulling one out as they waited for Hinao to finish the deal for them. At the sight of them taking out the little box, she narrowed her them and shooed them out of her store, motioning towards the 'NO SMOKING' sign.

They nodded, then slowly made their way out. They seemed to have expected to be ushered out of the room. Choosing to wait outside as Hinao stayed on the phone, still discussing the details with her client.

Shiba's eyes followed them as they walked past him and Chihiro, still not even bothering to give either of them a single glance as they pulled the door open and walked out, standing outside for their smoke.

Chihiro blinked in confusion, then moved his hands back to his sides.

Shiba was quick to move after this. "Chihiro, you stay here and look through the pile, I'm going to have a smoke." He says, getting up from the stool, readjusting his shirt to look messier as he walked out.

"Mr Shiba, you ran out of cigarettes." Chihiro answers back, watching him walk out the door without another word from him. Chihiro blinked at the sight of him walking up to the stranger before turning to the pile of paper on the counter and reading through it carefully like he was told to.

-----

"There's a first for everything, huh?" A masculine voice calls out to you as you light your cigarette. You already knew who it was, so you didn't bother looking up as you took a deep breath as you let him continue speaking. "Never seen you in trouble before."

He looked at you as you slid the lighter back into your pockets, your eyes lazily turning to him as you began smoking, leaning against the cold walls of Cafe Haru Haru. You've aged, he could tell, but at the same time you looked younger - it's probably because of the fact the dark eye bags he's used to seeing on your skin wasn't so prominent anymore, unlike the past. You don't look so tired - maybe you've finally been getting some peace at night.

"Mr Shiba," you rolled his name off your tongue as you finally lifted your head up, blowing out a cloud of smoke as you spoke. You don't sound too different. "You still follow strangers into dark alleyways. Break that nasty habit, why don't you?"

He scoffed slightly at your answer, "we're not strangers, don't address me so formally."

"Apologies," you nodded back at him as you stood a little to the side, letting him stand next to you in the narrow space. He took you up on your unspoken offer, standing opposite you, back against the other wall of another building. "Oi. You brat," you verbally slap him as you let him settle near you.

"You're not old enough to start calling me a brat either!" He retorted back, but you could tell that he doesn't really care about the way you address him. He's playing around. "We're not in war times anymore either, so you're not my superior."

Shiba doesn't get angry easily, the both of you know that there's worse things to get riled up over compared to this. You somewhat miss the days where he would show you something that's a little more of a normal reaction.

"I wasn't done speaking," you say, pulling the cigarette out your mouth to speak again. He stayed quiet after that, listening to you. "You were worrying the young man by staring at me like that," you murmured out, gazing up at him with furrowed eyebrows. Your eyes seemed to catch something, as you briefly looked down. "Oh for goodness...! Fix your clothes." You grumbled, putting your cigarette back into your mouth to free up your hands. They smoothed out his collared shirt, and you pulled his suspenders back into place. "Why don't you notice these things, Shiba?"

Damn you and the eyes on the back of your head. But your observant nature was also what he was betting on. "Sorry."

He had noticed, but he knew that nothing would happen, so he didn't bother giving Chihiro any form of commutation regarding you. Though, he should have really at least gave him a wave or something. "I was just making sure that it really was you."

"Hm." You flicked your eyes up at him, not really buying his answer but chose not to linger long on it. "He looks like a young Rokuhira. But with less peach fuzz."

"...Yeah." Shiba nodded at your words, his shoulders slumping slightly at your words. His tone changed as he spoke, you noticed but couldn't place what he was feeling in response to your statement. "He's grown up a lot."

Your eyes flick over to the street and then back over to him. "Nice swords he's got." You state, taking another deep breath of your cigarette. Nonchalantly as ever, Shiba thinks, as you don't bother seeing if you're crossing boundaries you shouldn't be. "I take it that one of them is..." You say, not finishing on purpose, and Shiba is forced to mentally retrack his last statement.

"Yep." He nodded firmly at your unfinished question. If this was anyone else, he might have to reconsider sharing this bit of information, but he knew that you wouldn't do anything with it - it would just betray everything he knew about you.

You blinked at him slowly, already understanding any implications about that statement. "...I see."

A small moment of silence fell between the two of you - he rested his back against the cold walls of the building behind him as he gave you more space to stand with him. You stared at him, watching him watch you, the two of you aware of how close you were but didn't want to move further apart either.

"I saw the little poster about the Hishaku Ms Hinao put up." You stated, looking at him in the eyes, already knowing that he was the one that requested for the information. You've never asked Hinao about who put it up, but judging by what you know right now and the time frame that poster went up on the corkboard, you took a small leap of faith. He stared back into yours, occasionally glancing down to the cigarette in between your lips. "I'll let you know if I hear anything about them."

"...Thanks. That would help." He says, now looking off to the side before slowly guiding his eyes back to you, tracing your features as he tries to read your expression. He wouldn't be surprised if you were disappointed in him - he had a feeling that Kunishige would be.

You stare back at him, not caring about the way his eyes never really left your face. "Be careful," You say to him, locking back onto his pupils as you breath out another small puff of smoke. He stays silent, no random interjections. "I know you probably don't want to, but guiding or helping teenagers to commit violence doesn't settle nicely on your soul." As you spoke, your voice grew quieter. "Don't put more on your conscience if you can help it. The both of you."

...Huh. Shiba thought for sure you'd scold him for letting Chihiro do this. There was a part of him that followed you out of Cafe Haru Haru because he needed to consult to someone with a stronger moral compass. Kunishige wasn't there anymore, Azami could only assist him so much as part of the Kamunabi, you were the only one left.

"...Speaking from experience?" He asks you, though he really doesn't need to. He was there, from the start to the very end.

"I mean, that's all I have." You say back with a light voice that's meant to clear the tension, but he doesn't latch onto it. You take another inhale, shifting your eyes away, unable to bring yourself to look at what expression he had. "Sorry. I shouldn't lecture you."

"It's fine." Shiba says, but doesn't touch on it again as he shifts to another topic as you seem like you want to leave the conversation already. "How you've been doing recently?" He asks and the simple question already makes you want to let out a small groan.

"Eh." You start off, trying to think of a way to summarise your current everyday life in a way that won't concern him, but is enough to be honest at the same time. "Good enough. I'm currently teaching sorcery though."

"Huh?" He lets his mouth hang open at your words, blinking at you repeatedly. "Like, to a class? Or are you back in the Kamunabi?"

"Don't be ridiculous." You scoffed out at his guessing. "Just this kid that ran away from home." With a chuckle, you go on. "He's got potential, but he has a tendency to stick his nose into things he shouldn't be. He's like you when you were younger."

"I didn't cause that much trouble." He says, straight up denying your words.

"Only because you got away with it." You say, "The three of you would scuttle away to pull some shit off, and I would be forced to clean up any mess you made because I was in charge of your damn group." You let out a verbal exhale, thinking back on it. "If it wasn't for the fact it was war times, I wouldn't even be put in charge of you guys, y'know...? I'm not that much older than you."

He opens his mouth to say something in response to you, but when he receives a sharp glare in response, he closes it again, noticing something in the background. You turned around, looking at whatever he was looking at.

At the sound of a bell ringing behind you, you faced Hinao who had just exited from her store, holding a little bit of paper. The two of you instantly stop talking in anticipation of her speaking to either of you.

"Yo, you still- ah, there you are!" She said, walking up to you and extending the object in her hand to you, not caring that the two of you were just standing in the alleyway. "Here, they wanna meet up with you before working, but it seems like they're willing to hire you."

"Thank you, Ms Hinao." You said, taking it from her - you could tell from the lines that it was just torn out of her notepad. As you folded it neatly, you continued speaking, "I'll give you a cut of the pay if I get it, is that okay?"

"Eh?" She glanced over to Shiba who had forced a completely blank look on his face, not daring to show anything on his face to Hinao. He tried to look serious, but she thought that he just looked like a frog. "...Yeah, I mean, you always remember to pay up so I'm not too bothered." She agreed rather easily, before walking back into the café, realising that Shiba was talking to you, and there was just some sort of weird vibe coming from him. "See you."

The two of you watch Hinao go back into the café, a pensive thought on your face while Shiba continued to try to stay stoic. It doesn't really suit him, in your opinion.

"...Hm." You mumbled, sensing that she didn't want to hang around outside for too long for whatever reason, but once again, you don't care enough and just slip the paper into your pocket. "Well, I guess I should be going now."

His eyes darted over to you, "already?"

"Yeah?" You said, raising an eyebrow back at him. "I mean, I don't have a reason to stick around."

"You could talk to me." He said, "let's smoke together a little longer."

"Quit slacking," you shot down with a light laugh, rolling your eyes at him. "You haven't even been smoking while talking to me anyways."

He let out a small huff of annoyance, but you knew that he wasn't actually offended. "...Here, let's stay in contact." He says, pulling out his flip phone and handing it over to you.

"...Yeah, sure." You agree, putting your cigarette back in your mouth as you typed with both hands. When you handed his phone back over to you, he stuck his hand out, looking at you expectantly. You stared down at his palm, trying to think of what on Earth he wanted before taking the cigarette out of your mouth and putting it in between his fingers without another word.

He gave you a incredulous look, his pupils going back and forth from the object in his hands to your dumbfounded expression. "What?"

"...Huh?" You uttered back at him.

"I'm asking for your phone," he states, giving each word time to sink in, "so I can, you know, put my number in your contacts."

"...But I'm not going to contact you." You state, crossing your arms. He narrows his eyes at you, about to say more, but you chuckle at the expression on his face. "Goodbye, Shiba. Please give the young Rokuhira my sincerest condolences." you say back to him as you begin to walk away, joining the crowd. He watched your figure slowly disappear into the flock of people.

Shiba looked down at the object in his hands, it was still burning at the cherry. His eye flicked upwards again.

He pressed the cigarette to his lips, taking one last inhale of it as he looked at the crowd of people, trying to find you once more, before snuffing it out, walking back into Cafe Haru Haru.

[spuukinightmares]

Mondo Owada Headcanons

Because I need more of these . I need more of these so badly and if no one will give them to me I’ll DO IT MYSELF DAMMIT!

These are all romantic btw . sooo it’s x reader . If that’s not what u want thennnn sorrayyy !!

I feel like I’m gonna end up regretting this later and cringing at myself … but oh well !

Let’s just get this over with so I can gaslight myself into believing that I never wrote this nuh uh no way

Just in case you’re unaware, Mondo falls into the “tough guy delinquent who’s actually a big softie” trope of character.

Which basically means, though he acts all tough and looks all scary in front of everyone else, with his S/O? It’s almost a complete 180.

Whenever you’re alone together, he’s a huge teddy bear.

At the beginning of the relationship, it may take a while for him to actually be comfortable with cuddling and stuff like that.

He may not look it, but he’s actually kinda shy!

He doesn’t wanna mess things up, he doesn’t wanna hurt you or make you uncomfortable.

Plus, his whole life he’s had to keep together his strong, tough guy image in front of everyone.

He’s never really had anyone that he could just be vulnerable with until you. It was a big change.

Once he comes out of his shell though? HUGE cuddler.

He loves to hold you in his arms, to hold your hand, kiss you…

I think that physical touch would be one of his main love languages.

But he still values his image, so when you’re in public together, he isn’t gonna be super affectionate with you.

That’s not to say he won’t be affectionate at all, though!

It’s kind of silly how he does pda, he’s too embarrassed to hold your hand but he’ll still wrap his arm around you when you walk together.

Probably because it still makes him feel strong in a sense that it feels like he’s protecting you.

As well as signalling to other people that they need to back off.

He can get jealous quite easily. There’s a part of him that believes that he doesn’t deserve someone as amazing as you.

That maybe you’d be better off dating someone else.

It makes him feel afraid. Afraid that he’s going to lose you.

I think once you can convince him that you wouldn’t do something like that, and that you don’t want anyone other than him,

He’ll start to hold your hand. :]

Here’s an uncommon headcanon for you:

I’m so sorry, but he would not let you wear the jacket.

Cute as the idea may be, I imagine that his coat is quite sacred to him, sort of like his hair.

So unless you’re a part of the Crazy Diamonds, he’s not gonna let you wear it.

On the topic of his hair though, he almost always has it in his signature pompadour.

And no, he won’t let you touch the pompadour either.

You’ve asked him before if he’s ever let his hair be unstyled, and if he’d ever show you what that would look like.

Immediate answer is “hell no.”

With a bit of convincing, he says that maybe he’ll show you one day, but only if you don’t acknowledge it when it happens.

You agree, of course, but MAN is that a difficult promise to keep.

Because when it actually happens you wanna say something so badly because he looks ??? So gorgeous ?????

But you keep quiet.

Eventually he’ll end up letting you play with it at some point, but only when it’s down.

He finds it very soothing when you run your hands through his hair, scratching gently at his scalp.

It’s so soothing in fact, that it causes him to fall asleep. Everytime.

Very adorable, just make sure to use this power wisely.

Surprisingly, he’s a quiet sleeper. Though he does drool.

If you sleep in the same bed, he’ll always be cuddling with you in some way.

Whether it be just having an arm around you, or hugging you close to him.

He is VERY warm. Great for when it’s cold, but pretty annoying during the summer.

So maybe try not to be under the covers with him in hot weather.

Good luck getting out of bed in the morning btw because he is NOT letting you go.

He’s usually out with his gang at night so he has a habit of going to bed late and not getting up until like . 12pm or something.

Which kinda works out if your sleep schedule is just as bad as his (coughs me coughs).

You help patch him up after fights !!

He gets into a lot of them, and sometimes he doesn’t even notice where he got hurt.

He’s a bit careless when it comes to that sort of thing, so you’re always the one thoroughly checking him over and bandaging him.

It would be oh so cute if you kissed some of his wounds before putting on bandages.

He begins to sort of look forward to you patching him up, so much so that he even allows himself to be hit a few times just so that you can.

He’d NEVER admit to this though. Never.

This isn’t to say that he wouldn’t try to avoid getting seriously injured, however.

He knows you care about him and he doesn’t wanna worry you, so he’s started trying extra hard to not get super roughed up.

Plus he tries to avoid fights all together when you’re with him.

Did I mention that he lets you ride behind him on his motorcycle? Because he does.

If you’re sensitive to loud noises, he’ll keep the muffler on. Or get you some earplugs.

If you’re nervous about it for the first time, he’ll promise to be careful.

Expect to be riding behind him a lot.

He’s never quite sure what to do for dates, so he usually just drives you around the city and makes a bunch of stops at places that he thinks you’d like.

He might also buy you some little trinkets if he has the money.

He’ll be especially nervous with giving gifts to you, he really wants you to like them.

Will probably end up shouting and cursing at nothing, assuming the worst if you don’t respond right away.

He’ll feel REALLY BAD if you flinch, apologizing profusely. And swearing at himself some more as he tries to quiet down.

Eventually you’ll be able to spot the signs when he’s nervous.

You’ll attempt to calm him by holding his hand or putting your hand on his arm or chest, reassuring him that it’s okay and he doesn’t have to feel so nervous.

He’s been working on his volume, for your sake.

Overall he is a very loving and gentle boyfriend, if not a little awkward.

You just need to show him a bit of patience :]

omfg this took SO LONGG and ended up BEING so long too . Oopsie . But anyways I hope that anyone who read this got some sort of enjoyment out of it because I will never be writing again goodbye forever I shall now retreat into my little hole of shame. /hj

WHY IS TUMBLR SO HARD TO USE WHY DOES IT KEEP DELETING TEXT ?? AND IT ADDS TEXT IVE ALR DELETED .. HELP?

I think I need to go to sleep .

[aeantizlkamenwati]

The Hound

So @the-kingshound updated and I dove headfirst into feelings and needed to get some feelings out...So I wrote a thing. As you do. A bit terrified to post outside of anon, but...2.5k words is too much for an ask and the discord...so...here we are.

Some moderate CW though, it contains depression, sexism (I know most people aren't going to want to delve into this sort of stuff because it's escapism, but I find it cathartic and validating when it's at least acknowledged how shitty it is to have a uterus at any point in time), and my Hound is not the nicest person around. (Arthur please don't give up on her, she'll get there)

OH and a part is inspired by a really old poll Kal asked about what color we'd like our dog-hounds to be and I know everyone went with the Christian Black Hound of Hell cause it IS iconic and spooky, but I was going...but a white hound would mean something to the Welsh. It makes a statement. SO I added it in the end to soften the angst.

Enjoy below the cut because I have no chill.

Guinevere stared across her small table at the King. Her husband, she supposed, though in the eyes of the court the title was not official. He seemed unable to meet her bright red eyes—not uncommon in her experience. Even in her own House people struggled to hold her gaze. More than once had she overheard whispers of the unsettling otherworldly heir, the one that must’ve been taken by some spirit or another.

Here was no different, only the terms changed. Annwn, Arawn, Mallt-y-Nos all were whispered as she walked past instead of Da Derga. ‘Bad omen that one’ was still the same though. ‘It’ll be the death of the Pendragons, letting one such as her share a bed with the King,’ in some form or another.

She waited patiently, stoically for the King to sort through whatever went on in his head. She refused to let her gaze leave him. To show any sign of weakness lest he go for her throat so to speak. She watched him as any prisoner might when face to face with their judge and executioner.

Arthur, as a person, was not…terrible. Though the most she saw of him was at their wedding, to be fair. Her hackles bristled at even the memory of the word. Wedding. It was nothing more than a celebration of her family’s downfall. The handfasting, nothing more than a shackle, a collar to show the might of Camelot.

But it was not yet a total victory.

After all, there were still more humiliations the king could bring against House Venegard. One, in particular, she dreaded more than others. She understood her duty, of course, and she would bear the torment like the cliffs do the raging sea…

That did not mean her stomach did not cramp. That bile did not coat her tongue. Her fists clenched in her lap, waiting those dreadful words, the terrible command. Her throat tightened against the rising emotions. Her skin prickled.

‘It won’t come to that,’ Saraah had told her. Radel and Ghaven had tried to comfort her as well. In their own way. Ghaven told her to use their wedding present on Arthur if he tried. It…it did make her laugh despite the crushing despair. Saraah had tried to tell her she’d be safe, that they doubted Arthur would force her to do anything.

She loved her siblings, but…she also knew they didn’t understand, not truly. They were, in the judging eyes of the law, men. They had the rights to their wives—not including Saarah of course.

They did not get the lectures from their mother about how to cut one’s own throat or womanhood should they ever be captured. They did not hear old wives tell horror stories of their first nights. They were not told tricks to get through it, how to fix themselves afterwards because their husband would just leave them once he was through—or fall asleep. They did not hope to die with the birth of their firstborn so they did not have to suffer anymore violations.

After all, what could be more symbolic of the King’s victory than breaking her in their marriage bed as his father did his mother so long ago?

Guinevere bit her tongue to keep her numbness in place. Pain forced her back into the hardened warrior her House had demanded she become. She remembered her mother telling her to never let any man see her scared, see her cry, and she refused to disappoint her.

Arthur cleared his throat. He straightened in his seat. He tried his best to look calm, but there was…some kind of nervous energy. He picked at his fingers out of reflex. His mouth opened and closed a few times. “I wished to ask you something,” he started carefully.

Her stomach twisted sharply. The slight dizziness that plagued her since her betrothal sent sparks over her eyes. She could already understand where this was no doubt going. The court had been rather loud as of late, crying that the marriage was not true. She was only surprised they didn’t demand the King show them the bedsheets afterwards.

She signed without feeling, as always, “Come to take your dues, then?”

Arthur blinked, reminding her of a puppy. “Beg pardon?”

She shrugged, each motion empty of any semblance of emotion. “I’m surprised they’ve let you wait this long. They seem quite eager for you to show me my place.” Her eyes drifted around the room. She noted the places she stashed weapons…assuming Gwyar hadn’t moved them again. They seemed exasperated every time they found a new hiding place…but they also didn’t take the weapons either.

“That’s not what I…” Arthur shook their head, as though trying to shake the thoughts into line. “I’m not—”

“So, a mistress then, that’s to be my humiliation,” Guinevere nodded to herself. “Probably for the best.” Her fingers gently traced the horrific scar across her neck, hidden by her bodice. “Wouldn’t wish to sully the Pendragon line with a wraith.” It was a stark reminder he did not wed a delicate flower, she fought and bled against him. One of his people nearly took her head off.

And the sick part was…she wished they had.

She shook her head against the darkness creeping up her spine. She figured out long ago she would never be a beautiful maiden; she would not be swept off her feet, or whatever Saarah’s fantasies were. She didn’t know why it still stung at this point.

She slowly rose from her seat. The fabric of her dress pulled and tugged uncomfortably against her movements. The neckline rubbed and scratched at the scar. Almost like feeling the rough, chipped edge of the sword again.

Her fingers were cold against her neck. She put them between her skin and the stupid Camelotian garment. Gwyar had convinced her it might be wise to attempt to acclimate to…here. Apparently, some of the court were scandalized by her tattoos. They apparently made her petite-self intimidating, like a barbarian. Or some other drivel.

Maybe they just didn’t want to admit her eyes scared them. Or maybe they were just trying to test to see if the King’s new dog would bite.

She plucked the letters from the table. The seal she was beginning to recognize as Saraah’s glared up at her in accusation. She assumed the others were from various other siblings he had corralled into sending to her. Probably sometime after the fifth letter she didn’t reply to.

She blew out a breath before placing them with the growing pile on her desk. Weight pulled at her bones. The old habit of talking to Saraah begged for her to try. Her chest hurt at the pain she must be causing them.

She drifted away before she could crumble. She had already broken in front of them; she would not do it again. She was the seventh heir of House Venegard. It was time she acted like it. Her feet took her to the window as they often did. Not to stare out over her new domain, but to the sky where birds played with the clouds.

A chair scraped over the floor. Perhaps the King grew tired of her. Or, more likely, he had other arrangements. Spending time with prisoners was hardly worth his time, but still nice of him to stop by, she supposed.

“I wanted to ask how you are,” Arthur’s voice disrupted her quiet contemplation of a flock of birds. She looked to the side as if she could see him behind her. Her back tensed. “We haven’t been able to speak since…” He didn’t say the words as she wrapped her arms around herself. “Your brother asked after you, well his husband asked, but on his behalf, I’m sure.”

Slowly, she turned, smoothing her face against anything that might show the crushing weight on her heart. “I am fine.”

Arthur narrowed his eyes at the simple answer. He kept quiet as he observed her carefully, as if he could pull answers from her like a sword from a stone. “If there is something I can do to make you more comfortable…”

“You cannot.” Her hands moved like swords, cutting off the line of questioning. “As I told Morien and Gwyar, I will remain living.”

Any more than that, she could not guarantee. She would pretend she was collared and leashed, sit when told, rollover as necessary, endure whatever she had to keep House Venegard alive. She would hide what and who she was, bury it so deep down it would crush her very soul into nothingness.

The two of them engaged in a strange staring contest. Her rubies as lifeless as the gems themselves against his captured-skies bright and beckoning freedom. He tapped a finger against the table. She could see him thinking and sorting through the thoughts, or perhaps he was trying to sift through the dense mist of her façade.

“Would you accompany me this afternoon?” he asked suddenly. “I was going to take Mordred, and I know we would both delight in your company as well.”

*****

Why she went was a mystery even to her. Perhaps it was strategic? To be seen with her husband and…stepchild? Show they did have some sort of relationship to keep the nobles at least somewhat complacent.

Maybe she just had a weakness for the child. Or was curious about the destination. Maybe after weeks drifting alone inside her rooms, only venturing out in the mornings to the dead training grounds or for mandatory appearances, she was going mad.

Arthur was pleased with themselves. They had a soft smile and a spring in their step as they escorted the group to a building. A kennel if the baying of hounds told her anything. Mordred’s hand tugged on their sleeve, eyes wide in either excitement or question. Arthur smiled wider. “Yes, they sent word this morning.”

And with those cryptic words, he pushed open the door and gestured for Mordred to go through. The child hesitated, but whatever was beyond the door drew them forward just the same. Arthur turned his smile to her, holding the door for her.

Guinevere eyed him oddly as she passed—well as best she could without pulling her neck muscles. She ignored the softest brush of warmth coming off him, reminding her how cold she always felt. She looked around the humble abode instead.

It did not take long for her eyes to find Mordred…being swarmed by wriggly, wobbly puppies. The mother hound watched over her litter like a queen, but didn’t appear to mind them entering her space. Her tail wagged as Arthur stepped inside behind Guinevere.

She blinked at the one, two, three…six puppies all bounding around on their tiny legs. Two were gnawing on each other’s legs, while a third played with one’s ear. One was pulling at Mordred’s tunic. Another was getting scooped by the child.

A bit of ice inside her chest cracked. It sizzled and popped at the scene. She turned to look up at Arthur. “Puppies?” she signed in confusion. “You brought me to see puppies?”

Arthur smiled. “Yes? They are cute and these ones the houndmaster said were old enough for a visit now.” He shrugged, though the way his eyes moved over the scene made her think he was up to something.

Of course, she always thought he was up to something, she supposed. Still…unless he was going to order the bitch to tear out her throat for good this time…what harm could puppies do?

“I was once told the Irish have great reverence for their hounds,” he eyed her, “even going so far as to give their great warriors and kings the epithet ‘hound’.”

She blinked at him, the nod almost involuntary. Why did he care to know that? Why bring it up? Her chest felt…twitchy under all the ice and darkness. She gave him a probing stare, trying to find answers. “Cú,” she spelled carefully, “it shows they are worthy of the loyalty hounds give.”

“I find it rather…beautiful to think a king is only worthy of his title if he is worthy of his hound first.” He smiled again, before motioning towards the puppies.

Ignoring the strange…prickle in her chest that his cryptic words seemed to conjure, she approached carefully, keeping an eye on the mother before gathering her dress to sit on the ground. The unoccupied puppy plodded its way towards her. It gave a little whine, perhaps a practice growl, before sniffing her. It was black like its mother with wavy fur.

Still, her chest clenched tightly. She made little tongue clicks at the puppies. Her hands petted the brave one that came up to her first. It wobbled and fell to the side. Her mouth parted in a soft laugh, more audible puffs of air than anything. Tiny teeth gnawed at her fingers as she tickled the soft belly.

When the puppy had its fill of her play, it tottered off to a group that gathered near Arthur. For a moment, their eyes met. Bloody red and heavenly blue. A strange pang struck Guinevere’s chest like a shard of ice had stabbed her heart as it broke away. She pulled her eyes down to his hands.

And found a tiny white ball of fur held safely against his chest.

She blinked. A glance at the rest of the litter found only blacks and a few red or fawn ones. The mother’s ears perked as the tiny bundle squeaked. She panted before sniffing the air as if trying to decide if the squeak was distress.

Arthur followed Guinevere’s eyes and gave the tiny bundle a soft smile. He shuffled over to her side, careful to keep a distance between them. He rubbed at the little puppy’s head. “This little one the houndmaster was worried wouldn’t make it,” he spoke softly, glancing up at her. “She’s the runt—and well,” he gestured to her fur.

Guinevere knew well what he meant. Pure white animals were often abandoned by their mothers, easily spotted by predators, or were otherwise ill. Runts were much the same. Her brows pinched together. She gently stroked the soft fur of the puppy’s ear. Her own white hair fell over her shoulder as she leaned forward.

“But it appears she’s much stronger than we thought—or just stubborn,” Arthur chuckled. “Some might say she’s a bad omen, that she’s already marked for Arawn’s pack and it is best to send her on her way…” He smiled wryly at her, like he knew the insults thrown her way. “Between you and me, I think they are just scared because they have wicked souls and fear she’ll sniff them out.”

He held the puppy out to her as another attempted to climb into his lap. The little thing was warm, soft like all babies were, but oh so still. She didn’t squirm or wriggle, just gave a dissatisfied squeak as Guinevere held her to her chest. The puppy’s tiny breaths pressed against her fingers.

Her heart twisted again. The bubbling need for this thing to survive choked her breath. She rubbed her thumb against its ear again, making clicking noises again. Fight, she told the hound mentally. She tried to impart some of her own will into the small hound. Fight and remind them hounds choose their master. And give them pity if they think they have any power over you.

[vendettavalor]

@tacticalvalor said: i've been meaning to tell you the truth about my feelings. + i'm afraid to feel more than just an innocent crush. -> ghost and lupa

⚔️ "Oops, I Have a Crush On You" Prompts // ACCEPTING ⚔️

After a particularly smooth and successful mission, it wasn't uncommon for the other members of S.W.O.R.D.S. and the 141 to celebrate with some sort of celebration. And more often than not, it was very... spirited. Drinks flowed, music blared, and people crowded together to shoot the shit and engage in generally sociable merriment. Which was fine for the likes of Gaz and johnny, or Mariana and Jude, or Ellie and Marion - or any of the others really. But loud, crowded spaces weren't for them. To Lupa and Ghost, that environment was just too overwhelming on the senses. Too uncomfortable and too unpleasant.

So, rather than sit around and be miserable, drinking until they passed out or using industrial-grade tranquilizers to induce a coma-like sleep until it was over, they decided to try something else.

A walk. A long walk.

It was a lovely night after all. The moon was full and the stars twinkled brightly and clearly in the clement nighttime sky. It was chilly enough for a jacket but not so cold that a light hike through the autumn-baring trees wouldn't keep them warm. So that was just what they did. They donned their coats and headed out just as the part kicked off. They didn't go too far. The distant pounding of the bass against the walls of their secret compound lingered faintly in their ears behind the rush of the breeze. The leaves under their feet crunched as they passed by, idly glancing around between the trees for any hint of danger. Force of habit. There was nothing on this planet that could or would sneak up on them. But old habits died hard.

They spoke a little at first. Asking about how their respective ends of the mission went. There were soft words exchanged about concerns they'd had. Sometimes about their duties. Sometimes about success rates. But mostly, about each other. When they had begun to worry about what might happen when they were apart, neither of them knew. But it was a genuine concern now. Seeing each other off had become somewhat difficult. Like their hearts were intertwined with delicate strings and any motion to separate from one another pulled painfully on said strings. Made them want to follow one another to where they could not, just to make sure they were safe. They said as much - and for a moment, nothing more. Then Ghost broke the silence. He heaved a sigh and stopped in his track, watching her move ahead just a few feet before he spoke.

" i've been meaning to tell you the truth about my feelings. "

Lupa pauses in her stride to turn and look at him. Behind her, the full moon rests like a crown upon her head, highlighting the edges of her form in vibrant silver light that cuts through the dark shadows that fall over her. Those vibrant gold eyes remain glowing and fixed on him above the cold leather and steel of her muzzle. The chilly night breeze sways her hair and the fur of her lupine ears as they swivel towards him, alert and listening. Hunched before him like this he sees her for what she is supposed to be: a wolf. The halo of the moon behind her, the light that baptizes her, and the way her pale lashes flutter when she blinks at him threaten to make his knees weak, and he has to swallow and steel himself to avoid that bone-deep aching desire he feels to let them buckle; to drop to his knees and revere her as the queen of the night she appears as before him.

How could she ever be called a monster?

She is so very beautiful.

And when she tilts her head so innocently curious, he feels a particularly compromised part of his walls crumble.

" i'm afraid to feel more than just an innocent crush. "

She blinks slowly at him, then takes a single step forward. The distance between them is that much less and he feels his breath hitch.

"Am I just an innocent crush, Ghost?"

The question hits him like a freight train. Were he a less solid and well-trained man he might have physically swayed with the force the realization strikes him with. The answer comes quickly for him, known long before the question was ever asked. No. No, she wasn't. She had long rooted herself in his mind as being something far beyond a simple, boyish crush. A flutter of the heart and butterfly wings in his guts. From the moment he had realized how alike they were - what kindred spirits they were, bonded by the traumas of their past - he had known that the feelings were serious. And it makes him sigh again as he takes a step closer and closes the gap between them completely.

Both hands slowly rise up. His fingers gently trace along the edges of her muzzle, mirroring the first time he'd pulled it from her. This time, she does not pull away though. She merely watches him for a moment, watches his eyes study hers, looking for any sort of fear or hesitation. Watch her mouth through the gaps in the metal and leather for any sign of aggression or discomfort. And after a moment, he watches her eyes flutter shut as he reaches up along the straps to find the clasps at the back of her head and neck and unlatch them, freeing her from the restrictive tightness of the restraint. It falls away easily and she draws back only a moment to stretch her jaw. He catches a glimpse of her large teeth in the moonlight, the lower canines gleaming like the edges of knives polished to the point. But he does not fear them. Rather, he admires them as he hands return to grasp her cheeks so gently, bringing her forehead down to rest against his own.

It is an act of unspoken, immeasurable trust. Of devotion. Of love.

"No." He admits, his voice soft but firm as he looks into her eyes again. "You're so much more than that."

He's dogshit with words and he knows it - so he's only going to say this once. But Lupa only needs to hear it once to know what he says is true.

Carefully, she moves her own hands to his jaw. She feels him tense at her unspoken question at first, familiar anxiety pricking at his skin beneath the cloth of his balaclava. Still, he shoves it down with a nod. He forces himself to endure the way her claws hook on the fabric and slowly draw it up and over his chin, his lips, his nose- he stops her with a hand on hers. That's far enough. She nods in understanding, pausing to simply admire the scar across his lip, the stubble of his facial, the subtle twitching of his lips betraying that he is struggling but he is enduring an immense discomfort for her. Gently, she turns her thumb to caress his cheek with the pad of her finger. It takes him a moment, but slowly, he settles into the contact. Recognizes that she won't hurt him or reject him now.

She's far too in enamored with him to do that. Perhaps even moreso than he is with her.

He squeezes her hand gently, watching her. Watching the way she glances to his lips like she wants to kiss him. Wouldn't that be romantic. Having their first kiss under the light of the full moon. It's something he would've dreamed of if he were younger and his heart wasn't so cold like it is now. She's melting it a little it seems. He nods again after a moment, his thumb caressing the side of her hand encouragingly. He's ready. For a moment, she leans closer and his lashes flutter, breath hitching in anticipation. He'd be lying if he said he hadn't imagined what their first kiss might feel like already.

But it never comes.

He watches through almost-shut eyes as she leans in, her own lips slightly parted and her eyes lidded, as if pulled in by a trance. But before they can brush, she stops. Snaps out of it. Old fear and hesitation rattle her mind, grab her by the shoulders and shake her. She remembers her claws, her fangs - and she remembers him. And the fear of what instinct might take over if she kisses him makes itself known again. She stops, and she pulls back. His shoulders slump a bit. Part of him is grateful as his anxiety dies down, but an even bigger part of him is disappointed. That's a no...

Still, he finds some comfort in the fact that she hasn't pulled away completely. Their foreheads still touch and- what's this? He catches a glimpse of her tail still wagging slowly behind! Something he hadn't caught before.

Not a no. Just a not this time then.

"You mean so much to me," she whispers, leaning in again. Simon can't help but let his eyes slip shut on instinct, lashes fluttering open once more only when he feels her nose rubbing softly against his own. A smile flickers at the corners of his lips, her soft breath tickling his facial hair, her words warming his chest. "You mean the world to me, Ghost."

"Thought I told you-" he huffs softly, an airy chuckle as he squeezes her cheeks softly, "-call me Simon."

"Okay," she laughs so softly, and it is music to his ears. Her nuzzling only grows warmer, more affectionate. She comes closer, moving to brush her cheek against his, their forehead never parting. The anxiety lingers but it is a dull buzz. He cannot help but lean back into her affections, caressing along her jaw and her cheeks with the softest touches his calloused hands can offer. She breathes an affirmation, and in an instant, he feels his heart melt completely.

"You mean the world to me, Simon."

[residentdormouse]

Hey, hi! You are on my BINGO card (like last year haha) and I was wondering if you could tell me literally whatever you can muster about Hayden and/or Stephanie (what they did before the world went to shit, their interests, hobbies, their personality, style, quotes, lyrics, colors relating to them, etc.)

Thank you so much and also eternally thankful to you for all the comments you left on Save a Prayer - I saw them and they made me really happy ❤

Hey there 👋 (and I'm still eternally grateful for last year; that gif makes me so rediculously happy.)

Most information on the 'Jumping to Wonderland' series can be found on this main post - questions/asks/playlists are towards the bottom. Granted, most of that is for Hayden (she has a full 101k story to herself before Steph and my others OCs really join in with Diving.) The best segments for her are: General History and Interview Questions.

But that's a lot of nonsense to dig through. More consise answers:

Hayden (Hadley) Flynn

Hadley worked for an organization that was constructed to help protect against supernatural elements. At first, her role was in experimental expeditions, and assisting in dimensional travel. When conflicting agendas were discovered within the, now redubbed, 'Institute', Hadley moved to a first line public safety position which better situated herself to help peaceful individuals. Shortly after, disturbances outside of their universe were picked up by her old department, and Hadley was tasked with investigating. Unfortunately, as they had found from prior missions, there was a barrier between their worlds and her knowledge was barred from her upon entry, along with most of her memories. With no recollection of her past, she could only stumble into this new world, picking up the name Hayden from one of her first companions - Stu Redman.

Hayden is naturally curious, and loves learning, but she is also a fan of the arts and relaxation. Especially relaxation. Good stories are essential. Comfy blankets, fluffy pillows, warms drinks, fires. As somebody with a higher anxiety level than others, she struggles to find a calm sometimes, and has been known to study breathing techniques and coping methods (some of a potentially questionable variety). Mediation also helps aid with setting up and maintaining an easily accessable mind library, which is a necessity for travelling. She is also an animal lover, which helps establish a light tone for her first interaction with Kojak, and in turn, Glen.

Teal is a color that is significant to her, and attached to a mental key of sorts. Her full playlist is here, although 'Smile' by Wolf Alice and 'Underworld' by Cyprss are go-tos for her. Style is more about comfort and practicality. Sweaters, jeans, sometimes a blazer for 'nicer' occasions. Layers and heavy coats are a must as she usually runs cold.

Stephanie Graham

Steph served as the 'tech guru' for her community. Working on the IT department of the hospital was primary, but she also set up her family and their friends. No, you can't just use the browser that comes with. That's your password?! Is that phone from this century? While she had her job, and was very close with her family, a good deal of her free time was spent in her apartment. A safe haven full of adopted house plants and stock piles of games. Video games, board games, multitudes of 20 sided dice. Her desk was a shrine to her fandoms and online activity. Does she have a Tumblr? Maybe, but she likes your shoelaces. Does she read fanfiction? C'mon that's not taboo anymore, right? It was a comfortable life. A manageable life. Until everybody started coughing...

Anxiety is also something that Steph suffers with, although that partly stems from her untreated ADHD. It is not uncommon to see her fixating, or obsessing over little things, and excitedly babbling on about something. There are many topics that she cannot be normal about, and expect her to really get 'in it'. Words coming out faster than they have any business being, and still not fast enough for her thoughts. This also happens when self consciousness kicks in too. Catch her appologizing for appologizing, and she appologize once more. For good measure.

Much like Hayden, Steph's color is in the green category. But while Hayden's is more of a jewel tone, Steph's is a reflection of her plants, and leans towards more of a forest shade. Her playlist is here, but her main song (and the original song I used when developing her) is 'Life is Short' by Bufferfly Boucher. Style is also a comfort concern for her. Flannels and t-shirts with jeans and chucks. Nothing fancy, she wouldn't know where to begin with any of that.

[nikolai-alexi]

Someone in the comments on this raised the hc of Tillie Finnegan having the same pyrotechnic proclivities as her son does and now all I can picture is a little blonde haired, blue eyed girl, with thick, fishbowl looking glasses that make her eyes look huge, hair plaited in pigtails with bows and singed on the ends, a streak of dirt or ash smeared over her freckled cheeks and yellow tie completely askew.

I bet you anything it was not uncommon to see her flying down the corridor before hiding around the corner, plugging her ears before a giant explosion goes off. She has the best puppy-dog eyes though, and professors believe her entirely when she blames her explosions on Peeves until the end of her sixth year, when Minnie catches her red handed.

She was roommates with Amelia Bones and Emmeline Vance, and they affectionately were dubbed “The Bombsquad”. It was well known that Amelia wanted to be a barrister or involved in some sort of magical law when she graduated, and Emmeline was obsessed with becoming an Auror. Anyone who knew of Tillie’s pyro proclivities would jokingly say that whatever fires Tillie started, Amelia and Emmeline were the only ones who could put them out and keep Tillie from starting another one while their backs were turned. And thus, “The Bombsquad” was born.

Tillie absolutely encouraged a massive prank war between The Marauders and The Skittles. Each side thought she was loyal to them, because she fed them both information on the others, but she also used their pranks as a cover to let off some insane pyromaniac steam (hence getting caught in her 6th year, because she accidentally set a glitter bomb of epic proportions off on herself, and there were only so many excuses as to why someone was covered in several kilos of ultra-fine glitter, and Minnie didn’t believe her when she said she had been invited to a Giantess’s bachelorette party).

Even after having her cover blown to bits (ha) she still manages to blow up quite a bit of shit in her 7th year. Two Slytherins had been harassing Emmeline for weeks before their NEWTs and Tillie had snuck into Slughorn’s classroom with the help of one Pandora Rosier and coated their cauldrons with dungbomb fuel. They’d both failed their potion’s NEWTs and Madame Pomfrey hadn’t been able to grow their eyebrows back for weeks.

Dumbledore tried to recruit her into the Order for the War and she blew up his office. Twice. Once for retribution, and a second because he didn’t change the password, so really he had it coming.

She and Barty Crouch Jr spent several weeks during fourth year developing a magical flash bomb so they could break into Filch’s office. He’d confiscated Evan and Barty’s supply of Zunko’s products, and Tillie was never going to turn down the opportunity to make something explode. She may or may not have also designed a slime bomb that went off just a hair prematurely and covered both an enraged Filch and a cackling Barty in bright green, neon, sticky, slime during that same incident. But she’ll never confirm that.

When Seamus was 5 she taught him how to make a (very small) homemade muggle bomb. They lived on enough land for them to take their “science experiments” out into a field and blow them up. Seamus was always excited to go home for summer because he and his mam always found a way to get into some sort of trouble involving large booms and lots of fire.

Her poor husband was constantly fielding questions about why both Shay and Tillie were missing both their eyebrows.

Minerva McGonagall approached her once, and only once, when the First War was in full swing about joining the Order where she could help fight Death Eaters with her bombs. She refused to leave her family in Ireland for a dying cause, she never once trusted Dumbledore, but when Minerva got back to her quarters in Hogwarts, there was a roll of parchment waiting for her.

At the top of the first page, scribbled in hilariously messy, bright pink and glittery ink read: “Molotov Cocktails and In-A-Pinch-Explosives: a guide to guerrilla warfare for dummies - in care of Minerva McGonagall and to Gideon and Fabian Prewitt”. The instructions had been detailed extensively, going over the processes on making several different kinds of explosives ranging from small to large, simple to complicated. The implementation of explosives in their ranks, completely off the books and hidden from Dumbledore’s knowledge, had helped even out the playing field of the War. The Prewitt twins had a, literal, blast with their sudden, top secret promotions to Bombmakers, of course.

Tillie had never signed those pages, but Minerva knew it was her who’d sent them. And she knew the second she laid eyes on a chubby little Irish boy with ash on his fingers and missing half an eyebrow the night of September 1st, 1991, that Seamus Finnegan was going to be every bit as firey and wild as his mother ever was. She’d had to hide a massive smile when the hat sorted him into her own house. If someone slipped Veritaserum into her drink and questioned her, she might have even said she found his pyrotechnics a wee bit endearing, just like she’d found his mam’s all those years ago.

Anyways I’m now obsessed with Tillie Finnegan. Please give me more of her tyvm

So I had a thought. Seamus Finnegan. His mams a witch.

WHERE IS SHE!?!?

SHES NOT TALKED ABOUT BY THE MARAUDERS FANDOM!! AND SEAMUS IS IRISH SO I HAVE TO ASSUME THAT HIS MUM IS ALSO, SO SHE SHOULD'VE GONE TO HOGWARTS!!

So heres my proposal; Tillie Finnegan.

Seamus' dad took her last name. She was a Hufflepuff in the year below The Marauders. She was dormmates with Emmeline Vance and Amelia Bones (I also headcanon them as Hufflepuff's in The Skittles year)

[atlafan]

“Well, go on.” He says as he spreads his legs just a little wider. “Come get what you came in here for.”

The smirk on his face and the bulge in his pants are making your race. Harry doesn’t usually wear such well-fitted slacks. He looked so fucking good today. It was almost unfair.

This had to be a trap. He’s pulling one over on you so he has a reason to go to HR and give you a demerit so you won’t be eligible for partner this year. You and Harry have always been competitive with each other, but it was fun. There was no real malice behind it. You’re friends, sort of. At the least, you’re certainly not enemies. He’s two years ahead of you and is already a partner. If anything, he’s been a mentor in a weird way.

It’s around 7:30PM. Most of you are still working. It’s not uncommon to work long days at a law firm. You usually leave around 8 most nights. You and Harry had been looking for a particular file all day. He found it, and let you know. Which is why you’re standing in his office right now. He’s never presented himself to you like this before. You always thought he was cute, but you brushed it away because work was the main priority. Never mix business with pleasure. Never.

He’s sitting in his chair, slightly reclined with his legs spread. His head is cocked to the side waiting for your response.

“H-Harry, I-“ He leans forward and taps on the file on his desk. You sigh internally with relief. “Thank you for your help today.” You mutter while you cross the room to his desk to get what you came in for.

“No thanks necessary. By helping you, you’re helping me. Can’t really trust a first year intern with this specific assignment, can I?”

“No.” You answer quietly as you shake your head.

“You should go home, it’s late.” He stands up and adjusts the waist of his pants. “I’ll walk out with you.”

“I still have a lot to do.”

“I wasn’t asking, I was telling. The work will be there tomorrow morning. You can’t do your job right or be a good lawyer if you’re running on an hour of sleep. Did you even eat today?” All you do is blink at him. “That’s what I thought.” He tuts his tongue at you (tsk-tsk sound). “What am I going to do with you? If you insist on continuing to work, why don’t we go out for dinner. We can work on things together while having a nice meal.”

“Oh, Harry, you don’t have to take me to dinner. I have some stuff at home.” Your cheeks are so hot, and your mouth is so dry. He’s never been this forward with you before. Usually your cheeky banter is back and forth, but for whatever reason, he’s making you rather nervous tonight.

“What, like a granola bar?” He scoffs. “You like pasta, let’s get Italian at Rosie’s.”

He puts his hand on the small of your back, guiding you out of his office and over to yours. You grab your coat, and he very kindly carries your bag as you make your way to the elevator.

“You know it’s funny. When I first walked into your office and you were sitting the way you were on top of what you said to me, I thought you were essentially telling me to suck you off.” You laugh as you ride the elevator down. He side eyes you, his lip curling upward. “That would be crazy, right?” A full smirk grows on his face as the elevator dings. “Harry, that would be crazy.” You follow him out, racing to keep up with him. “Right? Right?!”

[hollybell51]

can you post newt x female reader smut? i had a look at your wattpad and noticed that you already had some but it's in the old style (i'm assuming it's your old style) and i really like how you write now (the stuff you post on here). obv only if you're comfortable with it, btw i love your work!

First of all, I'm glad you like my stuff! Secondly, I sure can! I've got some brand new things I cooked up a while back, and I would be delighted to share the love xxx

Just like that

Series masterlist, masterpost

Newt x fem!Reader

Maze Runner (2009 novel - James Dashner, 2014 film - Wes Ball)

Word count: 2318

Summary: shameless Newt smut. Enjoy.  

Content: smut. Porn with like the tiniest hint of a plot. Friends with benefits type beat. Making out, blowjobs, hickeys, light praise kink (kind of), light dirty talk, masturbation (kind of), hair pulling (reader is the puller), cowgirl position (sort of??? Idk??), al fresco lol 

Notes: I’m so sorry I have no idea how to tag this stuff. Literally what’s in “content” is in it, there might be stuff that I forgot so I apologise but it’s basically just what you’d expect from smut (I’m pretty basic)

You were kissing Newt. Or maybe Newt was kissing you, since he’d started the whole thing when he had put down the now empty cup of hot tea the two of you had been sharing, sheltered behind the partially rotted corpse of a massive tree, and taken your chin between his strong fingers, turned you to face him, then very deliberately pressed his lips against your own. You’d just smiled and let him, giving as good as you got. He still tasted like the drink, the sweetness of the honey you’d insisted on adding coating his mouth. And so it was that you came to be locked in a soft embrace now, with your movements lazy and relaxed as you took your sweet time exploring each other. 

It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence; you liked Newt and he liked you, and both knew it. It was nice to have a sort of outlet every now and then, someone who you didn’t have to pretend to be anything other than yourself around, and who didn’t pretend around you. And that’s what Newt was, and what he had been for some time, ever since a few months ago when the two of you had found yourself drunkenly making out behind the homestead while the other Gladers enjoyed a bonfire. 

Now, Newt’s hand had found its way to your breast, tracing circles over the material of your shirt and making your skin prickle. You traced a line along his jaw, your finger trailing down his neck to rest on his shoulder. You shifted yourself slightly, angling your body further towards him to ease the suggestion of a stiffness threatening to grow in your neck if you kept up your current position much longer. Newt’s mouth was still soft on yours, his tongue stroking your own lazily, but something about him was saying that he wanted more – or would soon. 

“Do you want me to suck you off?” you asked, breaking the kiss. The two of you had decided a while back that being open and up front was the way to go – “candid,” Newt had stated solemnly, and you’d agreed. 

He seemed to consider for a moment, then glanced around to check for anyone in the immediate vicinity. The fallen tree trunk you were sitting against wasn’t all that deep into the deadheads, and while it was huge and had served as an excellent shelter numerous times before, it never hurt to be careful. It wasn’t that either of you were ashamed of your standing with the other – your “situationship” you jokingly called it – it was just that it would be awkward to get caught. 

Now, Newt smiled at you and nodded. “Yeah,” he said, placing another gentle kiss on your lips. 

You returned the smile, slipping your hand under the waistband of his pants, massaging his cock gently. You felt him grow hard, and when you were satisfied, you deftly unzipped his pants. You smiled again, spitting into your palm and resuming your light ministrations. 

Newt raised his eyebrows, clearing his throat. “Love, that’s wonderful, but quit teasing.” 

“Magic word?” you grinned. 

Your friend sighed, rolling his eyes. “Please,” he huffed. 

You nodded, licking your lips before gently kissing the tip of his dick and lowering your mouth over the head. Newt gave a tiny moan – well, something between a sigh and a moan – and moved his hand to your hair, his fingers tracing patterns gently over your scalp. You really liked giving blowjobs to Newt; he was always so gentle and considerate, and it never even felt like you were “giving” him anything. Sure, his dick was in your mouth, but it was more like something you were doing with him, something nice and fun and extremely gratifying. Especially when he talked to you, which he was doing now. 

“That’s it love,” he murmured as you swirled your tongue around him, your hands working what wasn’t already in your mouth. “God, you’re good at this.” 

The praise lit a warm glow inside you, and you sank your head lower. Newt’s breath caught in his throat as you hollowed your cheeks, the tip of his dick now almost touching the back of your throat with every bob of your head, your hand still taking care of the base. It was as slow and laid back as your kisses had been just minutes before, and you loved every second. 

You continued like that, basking in Newt’s grunts of “yes” and “fuck” and the occasional “God, (Y/N)” before his fingers slid from your hair to under your chin, prompting you to stop. You released him with a wet sort of “pop” sound, licking your lips delicately while still holding his throbbing cock in one hand. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes bright as he looked at you. Your own face was warm, matching the not entirely unpleasant heat you’d felt building between your legs. 

“Take your pants off and come here.” He patted his lap, kicking his own pants further down his legs. 

You grinned. “Is that an order or an invitation?” 

“An invitation, since you never do anything I order.” 

“It’s cause you never say please,” you deadpanned as you shuffled out of your pants, discarding them and your underwear to one side. You swung a leg over Newt’s hips, straddling him, and placed your hands either side of his face. “How’s this?” 

“Yeah, not bad,” he nodded, his own hands easing your shirt upwards. You let him, lifting your arms obediently as he slipped the piece of fabric over your head and sent it the way of your pants. He kissed along the line of your bra, then, watching your face carefully, reached around and undid the clasp. He caressed your breasts softly, sweetly, and slowly. That really did seem to be the theme of the day. 

“Hey,” you said after a moment when he made no move to take his own shirt off, your hand coming to rest over his. “How come I’m naked and you’re not?” 

He shrugged, twisting his hand to entwine his fingers with yours. 

“Hardly seems fair,” you breathed, sliding your hips over his. 

Newt’s breath caught in his throat once more, and he rolled his eyes at you. “If you insist.” 

“I certainly do.” You pushed his shirt up, pulling it deftly over his head and tossing it to the side before laying your palms against his warm skin. You knew there were things Newt liked more than his own body, but you’d never really understood why. Sure, he was skinnier than some of the other boys, and his leg was a continuous chip on his shoulder, but you thought he was hotter than anyone you could name off the top of your head and you made sure he was aware of the fact. 

In fact, the first time he’d expressed anything resembling insecurity, you’d been watching him get dressed after a night well spent, idly pondering how perfectly formed he was, how smooth and seamless every movement was even with the addition of his limp. You’d been so caught up in watching the dance of his lithe muscles under his skin that you hadn’t even noticed the apprehensive look on his face as he turned away from you. 

“Can you… not watch me?” he’d asked hesitantly as he pulled on his shirt. 

“Huh?” you’d frowned, sitting up. 

“You were staring, can you not do it?” 

“Oh.” You’d felt your face colour and had looked away, embarrassed. “Sorry.” 

“‘Sfine,” he’d said. 

You’d asked why, hesitantly and as politely as you could. You just couldn’t work out why this boy, who was totally comfortable making you plead his name as your thighs squeezed around his shoulders and your fingers pulled his hair enough to make him moan (which was how you’d found out he liked his hair being pulled, but that was a story for another time), couldn’t deal with you watching him get dressed. 

He’d shrugged, then turned around and spoken directly to the wall beside your head. “I don’t really like how I look.” 

You were baffled to say the least, and had very nearly burst out laughing. “But you’re so…” you’d said instead, stumbling for the right words. “You’re so hot,” you’d blurted at last. 

Newt had shrugged again, bending to lace up his boots. “Maybe to you.” 

After that, you’d taken every opportunity – ones that weren’t too obvious, of course – to subtly express just how attractive you thought he was. From outright whispers of “fuck, you’re hot” mid tryst to casually proclaiming him gorgeous in the middle of a conversation, you really did take any chance that presented itself. And now was no different. 

“Damn,” you smiled, bending to place a kiss on his collar bone. “You’re fucking sexy, you know that?” 

“Look who’s talking,” he scoffed, but you caught the tiny upward twitch of his mouth. He brought your hand to his face, gently kissing your knuckles. You let a sigh escape you, rocking your hips over his once more. He was hot against you and the sun, now beginning to sink below the walls, caught in his hair, lighting it up in gold like some kind of halo. You’d hardly have been surprised if he sprouted wings right then and there. 

“Quit teasing, (Y/N),” he half laughed, half growled. Then added “please” almost as an afterthought. 

“Since you asked so nicely,” you smiled, the hand that wasn’t being held by him sliding down over his chest, his stomach, finally coming to rest on his dick once more. You carefully lined him up, and at his nod, sank gently onto his length. 

You didn’t move right away, shifting your hands to the log either side of Newt’s head to steady yourself as you let yourself adjust. You rocked experimentally, earning a soft sigh and whispered “yes” from the boy under you. 

“Just like that,” he murmured as you moved again. Another thing about Newt that you’d learnt was that he liked when you rode him like this, liked guiding your hips over his while showering you with kisses – and the odd hickey. He was doing it now, his hands gentle yet firm where they slid over the skin of your thighs and hips and waist, his mouth warm and silken where it roamed your chest and neck. 

“Fuck, Newt,” you breathed, letting your fingers tangle in his hair. You didn’t pull it as such, just hinted at it. Still, Newt’s breath hissed between his teeth and he looked up at you from a particularly dark hickey at the curve where your neck met your shoulder, his eyes dark. You gave his hair the gentlest tug, tipping his head back and kissing his lips, his jaw, and down his throat. 

Newt’s eyes were closed now, his breath shallow as you ran one hand down over his front, fingers skimming the subtle planes of muscle as a leaf skims the surface of a puddle. You kissed him again, slowly, your mouths melding perfectly together. 

“Touch yourself,” he murmured against your lips. “I want you to cum.” 

“I wanna make you cum,” you replied. It was true, you loved nothing more than watching Newt unravel because of you and only you, even if it was both of you doing the work. 

He shrugged. “And I want you to get yourself off riding my dick, I want to watch you.” 

“Ok.” You kissed him again, then slid the hand that wasn’t still tangled his hair down your own body to the heat between your legs. You bit your lip as your fingertips grazed your clit, stifling a moan. 

“Don’t keep quiet,” Newt urged. “I wanna hear you too.” 

God, this boy, you thought as you let yourself whisper a curse. Did he have any idea what he was doing to you? He probably did, actually, you reflected as your fingers rubbed tiny circles over your clit. You leant forwards to get a better angle, your chest brushing against Newt’s and your face inches from his own. He was watching you, his attention fixed only on you. You felt yourself twitch and your muscles began to tense as you found the perfect spot, the moans you let escape growing in frequency and volume. 

“Move me,” you choked as you felt yourself teetering on the brink of your climax, every fibre of your being pulled taught. 

Newt nodded, rocking your hips over his as your fingers continued their motion and you hung, suspended for a second before everything came crashing in on you. 

“Fuck, Newt, oh my god,” you groaned as the orgasm flooded over you. You were dimly aware of him moaning your name and realised that your hand had tightened in his hair and that he was still moving you. “Keep going,” you sighed, cupping his face with one hand while the other continued to card through his hair, pulling occasionally. 

“Mm, (Y/N) oh–” he broke off and you gave the handful of hair you had a firm pull, now taking over your own movements as he released inside you, bliss flooding his face. 

You continued to slide your hips over his until your legs had ceased to shake and a little of the haziness had gone from Newt’s face, settling comfortably onto his lap. Wordlessly, you placed a soft kiss on his forehead, brushing the hair from his face and tracing patterns over his cheeks and neck, all the way down to his chest. He smiled at you, bending to sooth the dark marks he’d left on your skin with kisses of his own, holding you close against him. 

“I love this,” he said at last. 

You tilted your head to the side, nonplussed. “Having sex with me?” 

He considered, nodded, then, “being with you.” 

“I love being with you too,” you whispered as you kissed him again. 

[littl3-val3ntine]

i’ve never asked anything on tumblr but i really love your writing so i was wondering if you could write some good old eddie x reader except reader is also super obsessive!! stalkers in love!!!

OMF IM CRYIN I LOVE THIS

anything for u anon ily

thank you for the ask !1!!!

《♡》

summary // as a private investigator, you weren’t often inclined to talk to the forensics guys. eventually, though, the job gets lonely, and it takes a toll on the mental state… so you find a convenient excuse to allocate your investigative skills elsewhere.

warnings // mutual stalking, small gore depiction, profanity, SFW subby!nashton

author’s note // taking a small break to answer some requests!! :D love u guys thank u so much for asking, i personally love this prompt… so gd much… AAAAA ^^

《♡》

This kind of attraction was not something you were familiar with. It wasn’t anything like love at first sight. In reality, when you first met Edward Nashton you thought he was kind of creepy, but you supposed all of the forensics guys were like that, in a way. To someone in your position, they were just a bunch of nerdy little true-crime obsessed freaks.

You preferred to… avoid the forensics team, as much as you could. They didn’t really appear in your plane of existence unless it was absolutely necessary, and much to your dismay, that case marked one of the nights it was absolutely necessary. When you arrived at the scene, jacket freshly-pressed and latex gloves snapping against your palms, they were swarming the place with an unsettling sort of excitement. No one should be so eager to see a murder site.

Suppressing a groan, you pushed through the crowd of authorities and geeks into the house. Your stomach churned at the scent of it– they hadn’t even removed the cadaver yet. You were lucky to be just a few minutes up the road. In the same vein, though, you didn’t have much time before some attorney or cranky police chief chased you out. You had to be quick.

Eyes glued to the scene, you dug in your coat pocket for your notebook and pen. Fleetingly, you glanced at the throng of people gathered in the foyer, searching for a lone gaudy orange lanyard who might be able to give you some semblance of a rundown. When you found him, he was already zeroed in on you, eyes wide with juvenile infatuation, body stilled mid-motion. It wasn’t uncommon for them to look at you like that. You’d heard the rumors– how IT and Forensics both feared you and thought you were some mythical crime-solving deity in the same fashion. But with the way he looked at you, he wasn’t just intimidated. It was the same way you used to look at that unreasonably hot Psych professor you had in college.

You waved him over. Me? he mouthed back. Brows furrowing, you nodded and waved him over again. You don’t have time for this shit.

Before the entirety of your patience slipped through your fingers, he was at your side, looking up at you doe-eyed and waiting on your call. “Give me the summary– quickly,” you told him pointedly, pen poised above your notepad. You didn’t even look at him, choosing instead to scribble some notes about the scene while he rattled on about direction of blood spatter, time of death, missing articles… more forensics babble that you didn’t understand.

When you looked up at him, he stopped completely. He looked panicked, like he was expecting you to yell at him or something. Jesus, these guys get no play… “Thank you,” you squinted at his lanyard to find his name, his forced smile and glasses painted white by camera flash catching your eye, “Edward.”

You paused. Edward Nashton. You recognized that name– he was the guy that sent you all your forensics reports. From his writing, you always thought he was sharp, pointing out patterns and signatures in your serial cases that you’re certain you would have missed otherwise. You’d sent him e-mails here and there to thank him for his input, but you weren’t ever graced by a response. Now you understand why.

“Oh, yeah, it’s… it’s no big deal. ‘s my job, yeah.”

This could be fun. You stared right at him, letting him squirm underneath your unfaltering gaze. “Are you thinking blunt object or a firearm?”

He swallowed hard. “Not sure, we hav-haven’t seen the body. From the force of the spatter on the wall, though… um, it might be a firearm.” You hummed, nodding. Mercifully, you looked to the blood on the wall, a dripping splotch some few feet above the floor. He must have been kneeling down. Definitely a firearm.

“You’re right, bud. Great work.” Tucking your notepad back into your coat, you removed your glove and held out your hand for a handshake. “Are you the same Edward Nashton who does my reports?”

Taking your hand, he nodded fervently. “Yes! I’ve gotten your e-mails, actually…”

“A response at some point would be nice,” you teased, quirking a smile. “We should work together sometime. I could definitely use you on this one.”

Oh boy, you could use him any day, as far as he’s concerned. The warm hand in yours began to shake, either with excitement or anxiety. “We should?”

Pushing a breath through your nose amusedly, you affirmed to him, “That is what I said, yes.” You took in the surrounding room again. “Rally up some of your guys to get pictures of this before they clean it up, as legally as possible.” It came so naturally, slipping back into that air of professionality. He nodded and scurried off, breathlessly telling the rest of his team, Get the cameras. The cameras.

It’s unclear what about him distracted you, but nonetheless he drew you in like a fly to honey. Your eyes followed him as he disappeared through the crowd, and not even the hollering of lawyers pulled you back to earth. Mind still foggy, consumed by questions about him, you found yourself being tugged along by two officers before you even had a chance to do your job.

Standing on the lawn, staring at the house, you cursed yourself.

What the fuck am I doing?

———

Your devotion to the case never faltered. The question became about which part of the case you were devoted to.

Never before had you been so interested in an autopsy.

Any excuse you could find to slip a few floors down and appear in Nashton’s cubicle, asking coyly, “Anything out of the ordinary in the blood samples?” or, “How’s the fingerprint processing coming along?” you shamelessly abused. That’s exactly how you found yourself there, hovering over his shoulder to look at the images his team snapped of the scene. He was rambling on about the position of the body and height of the splatter, this, that, and the other thing. You were only half-listening. You couldn’t really help it– since your time at the scene together, you’d become consumed by him, unable to think of anything else. It wasn’t quite infatuation. More so, it was an obsession, an insatiable need for his undivided attention. Sometimes when you’d get to thinking about him, you’d scare yourself. You knew it was becoming unhealthy but you couldn’t bring yourself to mind.

Tuning back in, you let your hand graze his back as you leaned forward to leaf through the photos. “Great work, Nashton… these are incredible shots.” He took in a shuddering breath at your praise, shoulders tensing beneath your touch.

“Oh, thank you. Really, it was my team…”

“But this is your analysis, no?”

“Yes!” His head snapped in your direction. “Yeah, I… they tend to let me, um, handle this stuff.”

You smiled down at him. “It makes sense, you’re the most capable.”

He looked about ready to burst, his entire body tense like a coil about to spring free. He was hardly breathing anymore, jaw hanging open with words he couldn’t yet formulate. The tips of his ears and his cheeks beneath his glasses were flushed completely pink, and if you leaned any closer you might have felt the heat radiating from his face.

Clearing your throat, you straightened. “Once you’re through with those, you should meet me in my office. There’s some things regarding this case we should discuss in private.”

He nodded again. “Okay. I mean, yes. I will.” He swallowed hard. With a squeeze of his shoulder and a reassuring smile, you were gone.

There wasn’t anything to talk about, but you were hoping to come up with something between that afternoon and the time his hesitant tapping came at your door some hours later. You were knee deep in his files when he came, notepad sprawled across your desk and absolutely defaced with information. Mailing address, full name, date of birth… marriage status. His presence both called you back to reality, shame washing over you as you closed all your tabs and shut your notebook, and thrilled you further into that obsessive haze.

You knew what you were going to talk with him about.

“It’s unlocked.”

“May I come in?”

You blinked. “That’s what I was implying, yes.”

“Oh.” The door edged open and he slipped through, offering a tight lipped grin as he shut it behind him. You motioned to the chair across from yourself, and he tentatively took a seat.

“So, I wanted to discuss some possible motives with you. Right now on the board we have a possible weapon, time of death, position of attack… but no reason.” His eyes kept dropping to your mouth as you spoke. You suppressed a maniacal grin. “What are we thinking, Eddie?”

He was thinking he’s going to explode right there in that seat, with the way you were looking at him. His mind was cluttered with anxiety, but he still had sense to pick up what you were putting down. The double-meaning. He was smart like that, picking up on the nuances of language, and you knew that. You watched it click in his head.

“Um,” he began, pausing to consider his words. “It might have been… uh, domestic, like infidelity or maybe a couple’s spat…” With your legs crossed loosely beneath the desk, you let the toe of your shoe drift across the inside of his calf.

“Go on…”

“Oh, um, that was really my main theory, actually. We haven’t seen or heard from the victim’s wife since he passed, so she might be a good starting point.” He wasn’t meeting your eyes, often glancing up at you but then, just as quickly, glancing away. His eyes were on your lips, your hands, the papers on your desk. You’d put his files away, hadn’t you?

To your relief, you had. Your heartbeat settled in your temple. You smiled at him, holding out your hand for him. “Thank you, Nashton. That’s all I needed, I’ll let you get home now.”

He took your hand in a weak shake and stood eagerly to leave. “Glad I could help.” He made his way to the door, but paused. “Hey, if you… if you ever, um, need something from me, outside of office hours, just give me a call. I do a lot of my work at home, anyway. D-Do you have my number?”

“I do.” Of course you had his number. It was on his file. You had access to all of his files. Hell, you had them memorized by now.

“You do. Okay, yeah, then… just, ahem. Just give me a call.”

You tried to maintain your stoicity, but you’re certain he picked up on how your eyes softened with amusement. “Goodnight, Nashton.”

“Goodnight.” And then he was gone. The feeling of missing him was instantaneous, a tugging in your chest that wouldn’t rest.

Your eyes drifted back to your notepad.

Snatching it from the desk, you hastily locked up your office and followed him out.

———

That’s how you found yourself where you are now. Sitting in your car, waiting outside his apartment complex. The inside of his apartment was dark– no lights on, no movement, a package un-received still sitting on his doorstep. Had he already gone to sleep? You glance around the parking lot, finding no sign of his car. No, he hadn’t even arrived home yet.

Swallowing around a guilty lump, you start your car and speed home. Your mind is relentless. Where is he? Is he with someone else? Did he see me?

You’re consumed with your thoughts as you pull into your driveway, tunnel-vision until you finally reach the warm embrace of your home. Letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in, you take off your shoes and rest them beside the door.

It’s stuffy. Your chest is tight with anxiety, and the comforting warmth from your heater quickly becomes suffocating with every second you spend inside. Trotting over to the streetview window, you throw aside the curtains and budge open the panel. Fresh air kisses you immediately, soothing your lungs with cool air.

The city sleeps before you, a sight that always calmed you to see. Despite the whirlwind of your life, the grotesque realities you are consistently presented with, the city always remains still against the black canvas of the night.

Your gaze follows the buildings down from the sky to the street, pausing on something. A car, just across the street and parked along the curb adjacent to your doorstep. A smile creeps across your face.

Found him.