#it's so cool that her form is so... abstract

[dovalore]

the radiance's fluffy defence

[aceyalonso]

make it rain - LEWIS HAMILTON

pairing : lewis hamilton x fem!reader kinktober day 14 - tattoos

summary : a little rain never hurt anyone... not until lewis almost breaks y/n's back (in a good way)

warnings/notes : swearing, smut, praise kink, oral (fem!receiving), unprotected sex (always use a condom guys!!!), body worship, fingering, squirting, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, use of "baby" and "good girl"

word count : 5.3k

a/n : im ovulating

main masterlist | kinktober masterlist

Y/n hurried through the rain-soaked streets, her hair plastered to her face. She pulled her red leather jacket tighter around herself, trying to shield as much of her body from the relentless downpour as possible. Beside her, Lewis was equally drenched, his shirt clinging to his muscular frame.

They reached the apartment building and rushed inside, slamming the door behind them. Y/n shook the water from her jacket before slipping it back on, her teeth chattering slightly from the cold. She ran a hand through her wet hair, pushing it out of her face.

Lewis glanced around the lobby, taking in the modern decor and sleek furnishings. "Nice place," he commented, his deep voice echoing slightly in the empty space.

She nodded in agreement, her gaze lingering on a particularly striking abstract painting on the wall. She started towards the elevators, eager to get out of her wet clothes and into something warm and dry. As she pressed the button, she couldn't help but steal a glance at Lewis from the corner of her eye.

Y/n's eyes roamed over Lewis's soaked form, taking in the way his wet shirt clung to his broad chest and defined abs. Even drenched, he looked incredibly handsome, his chiseled features and piercing gaze sending a shiver down her spine that had nothing to do with the cold.

She bit her lower lip, feeling a familiar heat pooling in her core as she imagined peeling off those wet clothes and running her hands over his glistening skin. Y/n quickly shook her head, trying to dispel the inappropriate thoughts. They had more important things to focus on right now.

The elevator dinged and the doors slid open. Y/n stepped inside, motioning for Lewis to follow. As they ascended, she could feel the tension crackling between them, the small space suddenly feeling much too intimate.

Lewis cleared his throat, breaking the charged silence. "So, uh, which floor?" he asked, his voice a little rougher than usual.

Y/n shivered as the cool air from the elevator's AC unit washed over her damp skin. "Fourteenth floor," she replied, her teeth chattering slightly. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to generate some warmth.

As the elevator began its slow ascent, Y/n couldn't help but steal glances at Lewis. The way his wet clothes clung to his muscular frame was incredibly distracting. She wondered what it would feel like to run her hands over those defined abs, to trace the lines of his sculpted chest...

She blinked, realizing she had been staring at Lewis for an uncomfortably long time. Y/n quickly averted her gaze, focusing instead on the slowly climbing floor numbers above the elevator doors.

The ride seemed to stretch on forever, the two of them standing in awkward silence as they continued to shiver from the cold and the AC's relentless blast. Y/n's mind raced with thoughts of what awaited them on the fourteenth floor, but she couldn't quite shake the distracting images of Lewis's wet, half-naked body from her imagination.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the elevator dinged and the doors slid open. Y/n practically lunged out into the hallway, desperate to escape the confines of the small space and the heated looks Lewis had been giving her.

Y/n hurried down the hallway, her keycard clutched tightly in her hand. She reached her apartment door and quickly unlocked it, stepping inside and holding it open for Lewis to follow. He entered behind her, closing the door with a soft click.

"Sorry about the mess," Y/n said apologetically, gesturing to the neatly folded clothes piled on her couch. It wasn't really a mess, just a temporary holding spot for the items she hadn't had a chance to put away yet.

Lewis raised an eyebrow, a small smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "Looks pretty tidy to me," he remarked, his eyes roaming over the pile of clothing. "Though I wouldn't mind helping you 'clean up' a bit more..."

Y/n felt her cheeks flush at the suggestive tone in his voice. She busied herself with hanging up her dripping wet jacket, trying to ignore the way Lewis's gaze seemed to burn into her back.

She shuddered as she peeled off her soaked leather jacket, the cold material clinging to her skin. She draped it over the back of a chair, not bothering to zip it up properly in her haste to get out of the wet garment.

Underneath, her thin tank top was practically transparent, molding to her curves and leaving little to the imagination. The leopard print of her bra was clearly visible through the damp fabric, the lacy cups barely containing her ample breasts.

Y/n paused as she felt Lewis's gaze on her back, his eyes no doubt drawn to the tantalizing glimpse of skin and lace. She tugged self-consciously at the hem of her tank top, suddenly very aware of how little she was wearing.

"I never knew you had a spine tattoo," Lewis remarked, his voice low and appreciative. "It suits you."

Y/n turned to face him, her cheeks flushed. She crossed her arms over her chest, acutely aware of how the movement pushed her breasts together, making them appear even fuller. "I don't necessarily advertise it," she said with a shrug, trying to play it off as no big deal. "I got it on a whim."

She smirked, a mischievous glint in her eye. "You of all people should know better than to be surprised by hidden ink. I seem to recall a certain someone having quite the collection themselves."

She sauntered closer to Lewis, her hips swaying with each step. When she reached him, she trailed a finger lightly down his chest, tracing the edge of one of his many tattoos. "What's the count up to now? Ten? Eleven?"

Lewis caught her wandering hand, his larger fingers engulfing hers. He brought her knuckles to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to her skin. "Fifteen," he murmured against her hand. "But who's counting?"

Lewis plucked the dry shirt from Y/n's grasp, setting it aside on the couch with a suggestive smirk. "Maybe you can wear your clothes later," he purred, his hands coming to rest on her hips. "For now, I think I prefer you like this."

His fingers dipped beneath the hem of her tank top, grazing the soft skin of her lower back. Y/n shivered at his touch, goosebumps rising in the wake of his exploration. She leaned into him, her hands splaying across his firm chest.

"Is that so?" she breathed, tilting her head to expose the column of her throat. "And what exactly do you plan to do with me while I'm half-naked?"

Lewis chuckled, the sound low and full of promise. His hands slid around to her front, skimming over her ribs and coming to rest just below her breasts. "Oh, I have a few ideas," he murmured, his thumbs brushing maddeningly close to the swell of her cleavage. "But I think I'll let you decide how far we take this."

Y/n smirked up at Lewis, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Oh, I'll let you go far, alright," she purred, her fingers toying with the hem of his shirt. "But we need to be equal, don't we? So maybe you should take that shirt off too."

She stepped back, giving him room to maneuver. Her gaze raked over his body, lingering on the tantalizing glimpse of skin where his shirt had ridden up. Y/n licked her lips, her tongue darting out to moisten the plump flesh.

Lewis grinned, his hands moving to the buttons of his shirt. He made quick work of them, shrugging the garment off and letting it fall to the floor. His torso was a work of art, all hard planes and rippling muscle, adorned with intricate tattoos that told a story of his life.

Y/n's breath caught in her throat as she drank in the sight of him. Her fingers itched to explore every inch of his exposed skin, to trace the lines of his abs and feel the heat of his body against hers.

Lewis pulled Y/n flush against him, his lips crashing down on hers in a searing kiss. She melted into his embrace, her hands fisting in his hair as she returned the kiss with equal fervor. Their tongues danced and tangled, exploring each other's mouths with hungry abandon.

Y/n gasped as Lewis's hands slid down her back, gripping her ass and lifting her effortlessly. She wrapped her legs around his waist, clinging to him as he carried her over to the couch. The pile of clean laundry went tumbling to the floor, forgotten in the heat of the moment.

Lewis laid her down on the cushions, his body covering hers as he continued to kiss her senselessly. His hands roamed over her curves, slipping beneath her tank top to caress the smooth skin beneath. Y/n arched into his touch, desperate for more contact, more friction.

He grinned as he noticed the "Lucky You" patch on Y/n's jeans. His fingers deftly unbuttoned and unzipped her pants, tugging them down her long legs. "Looks like I hit the jackpot," he quipped, tossing the discarded jeans aside.

Y/n started to make a comment about the fallen laundry, but her words were cut off by Lewis's lips on her stomach. He pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses along the soft skin of her abdomen, his stubble deliciously abrading her sensitive flesh.

Y/n's back arched off the couch, a breathy moan escaping her parted lips. Her hands tangled in Lewis's hair, holding him close as he worked his way lower. "Lewis," she gasped, her voice thick with need. "Please..."

Lewis hooked his fingers in the waistband of Y/n's panties, which matched her bra in a delightful surprise. He slowly dragged them down her legs, using his teeth to tug them off and leave them dangling precariously from her ankle.

With Y/n's hips lifted, Lewis settled between her thighs, his hot breath ghosting over her most intimate parts. He nuzzled her inner thigh, pressing open-mouthed kisses to the sensitive skin as he worked his way closer to his prize.

Y/n's moans filled the room as Lewis's tongue delved between her folds, lapping at her slick arousal. He circled her clit with the tip of his tongue before dipping lower, thrusting in and out of her tight channel. His hands gripped her ass, holding her steady as he feasted on her pussy like a starving man.

Lewis groaned against Y/n's pussy, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure through her body. "Fuck, you taste so good," he mumbled, his words muffled by her slick folds. "Don't hold back, baby. I want to hear you."

Y/n's moans grew louder, echoing off the walls of the apartment. "Oh god, Lewis," she cried out, her hips bucking against his face. "Your ex was so lucky to have this mouth on her every day."

Lewis chuckled, the sound sending delicious vibrations through her core. He doubled his efforts, his tongue delving deeper, stroking her inner walls. His nose rubbed against her clit with each pass, adding an extra layer of stimulation that had Y/n seeing stars.

"That's it, baby," he encouraged, his voice rough with desire. "Let me hear how good I make you feel."

Y/n's moans grew louder and more desperate as Lewis continued his relentless assault on her pussy. "Oh fuck, Lewis, just like that," she panted, her fingers digging into his hair. "Don't stop, don't you dare fucking stop!"

Lewis growled against her slick folds, the sound sending a fresh wave of arousal coursing through her veins. He sealed his lips around her clit, sucking hard as he thrust two fingers deep inside her.

"You like that, baby?" he asked, his voice rough with desire. "You like feeling my tongue on your pretty little pussy?"

Y/n nodded frantically, her hips rolling against his face. "Yes, fuck yes," she gasped, her thighs trembling with the effort of holding herself open for him. "I love your mouth, Lewis. I love how you make me feel."

Lewis slowed his movements, savoring the taste and feel of Y/n's pussy on his tongue. He wanted to draw out her pleasure, to make her beg for release. Y/n whimpered, her hips bucking against his face in search of more friction.

"Lew, please," she panted, her voice strained with need. "Go faster, it felt so fucking good."

Lewis chuckled, the sound vibrating against her sensitive flesh. He placed a final kiss on her inner thigh before pulling back, leaving Y/n aching and desperate for more.

"Patience, baby," he murmured, his fingers trailing lightly over her slick folds. "I want to savor every inch of you."

Lewis peppered Y/n's pussy with feather-light kisses, his lips barely grazing her sensitive skin. Each brush of his mouth against her slick folds sent electric jolts of pleasure racing through her body, making her moan loudly.

"Lewis, please," she whined, her hips twitching with the effort of staying still. "I need more, I need you inside me."

Lewis grinned against her flesh, his breath hot and teasing. "All in good time, baby," he murmured, his fingers dipping between her folds to circle her aching clit. "I'm going to make you cum so hard, you'll forget your own name."

Y/n's head fell back against the couch cushions, her hands fisting in the fabric as Lewis worked her closer and closer to the edge. She was so close, teetering on the brink of ecstasy, desperate for the final push over the precipice.

Y/n's moans grew more desperate, almost bordering on whimpers as she begged for Lewis to put his tongue back on her aching pussy. "Please, Lewis, I need you," she cried out, her voice raw with emotion. "I need your mouth on me, I need to feel you inside me."

Lewis obliged, his tongue delving between her slick folds once more. He lapped at her hungrily, his stubble abrading her sensitive skin in the most delicious way. Y/n's panties still hung precariously from her foot, a tangible reminder of how far gone she was.

Lewis's hands gripped her thighs, holding her open for his ministrations. He alternated between long, slow licks and quick, flicking motions against her clit, driving her closer and closer to the edge.

"That's it, baby," he encouraged, his voice muffled against her pussy. "Let go, let yourself feel good. I've got you."

Y/n's body tensed, her back arching off the couch as the waves of her orgasm crashed over her. Her legs wrapped around Lewis's head, holding him in place as she rode out the intense sensations.

"Oh fuck, Lewis!" she cried out, her voice echoing off the walls. "Don't stop, please don't stop!"

Lewis doubled his efforts, his tongue delving deep inside her as her pussy clenched and fluttered around the intrusion. He lapped at her slick folds, eagerly drinking down her essence as she came undone beneath him.

Y/n's fingers tangled in Lewis's hair, holding him close as she shuddered and twitched with the aftershocks of her climax. Her chest heaved with each ragged breath, her skin glistening with a sheen of sweat.

Y/n gently pulled Lewis away from her sensitive pussy, a satisfied smile on her face as she took in the sight of him. His lips and chin were glistening with her arousal, his eyes dark with desire.

"You look so pretty like that," she purred, her voice husky with satisfaction.

Lewis grinned, crawling up her body until he hovered over her. He pressed soft kisses to her stomach, her ribs, the valley between her breasts. His hands roamed over her curves, mapping out every dip and curve.

"I could eat you out for hours," he murmured against her skin, his stubble delicately tickling her flesh. "You taste so fucking good, baby."

Y/n smiled against Lewis's lips as they kissed, her hands deftly working at the button of his jeans. She popped it open and slowly dragged down the zipper, her fingers brushing teasingly over the bulge straining against the denim.

"Take them off," she whispered against his mouth, her breath hot and inviting.

Lewis groaned, his hips bucking involuntarily into her touch. He sat back on his heels, allowing Y/n to tug his jeans and boxers down his legs. His cock sprang free, hard and heavy, the tip glistening with pre-cum.

Y/n licked her lips, her eyes hungrily taking in the sight of him. She wrapped her hand around his shaft, stroking him slowly from base to tip. "Fuck, you're so big," she breathed, marveling at the size of him.

She gathered some saliva in her mouth, letting it pool on her tongue before leaning forward and spitting it onto her fingertips. She wrapped her slick fingers around Lewis's cock, using her own spit as makeshift lube.

Lewis moaned, his hips twitching at the sudden sensation. "Fuck, that feels good," he groaned, his head falling back as Y/n stroked him slowly.

"I want to feel you inside me," Y/n purred, her voice low and seductive. She released his cock, shifting her hips to align him with her entrance. "I want you to fill me up, Lewis."

Lewis pulled back, a wicked grin on his face. "I want you on all fours," he commanded, his voice rough with desire. "I want to see that tattoo while I fuck you from behind."

Y/n eagerly complied, rolling over and presenting herself to him. Her spine tattoo was on full display, the intricate design seeming to dance across her skin as she wiggled her hips invitingly.

Lewis ran his hands over her ass, squeezing and kneading the firm flesh. He positioned himself behind her, the head of his cock nudging against her slick entrance. With one powerful thrust, he buried himself deep inside her, eliciting a sharp gasp from Y/n's lips.

"Fuck, you look so good like this," Lewis praised, his hands gripping her hips as he began to move. "That tattoo is so fucking sexy."

Lewis traced the intricate lines of Y/n's spine tattoo with his tongue, his lips pressing reverent kisses to her skin as he thrust into her from behind. Each word he spoke was punctuated by a deep, powerful stroke of his hips, driving his cock deeper into her slick heat.

"So... fucking... sexy," he groaned, his breath hot against her spine. "Love... this tattoo... love how it looks... on your perfect body."

Y/n moaned, pushing back against him, meeting each of his thrusts with equal fervor. The sensation of his lips and tongue on her tattoo sent electric shivers down her spine.

Lewis continued to praise Y/n, his words dripping with lust and admiration. "Fuck, you're so good for me," he groaned, his hips snapping against her ass with each powerful thrust. "Such a perfect, sexy little thing."

Y/n's hands gripped the couch cushions, her knuckles turning white as she held on for dear life. The pleasure was overwhelming, building and building until she thought she might explode.

"Cum for me, pretty girl," Lewis commanded, his voice rough with desire. "Show me how good I make you feel."

Y/n's body obeyed, her orgasm crashing over her like a tidal wave. She came hard, her pussy clenching and fluttering around Lewis's cock as she squirted onto the couch. Her moans filled the room, her hair falling in wild disarray around her face as she shook and trembled with the force of her climax.

Lewis grinned, praising Y/n as she came hard on his cock just as he told her to. "That's it, good girl," he groaned, his hips still rocking into her as she rode out the waves of her orgasm. "You did so well, cumming just like I wanted."

Y/n's moans were loud and promiscuous, echoing off the walls of the apartment. Her body shuddered and twitched, her pussy clenching rhythmically around Lewis's shaft.

As her climax began to subside, Lewis pulled out, his cock slick with her juices. He stroked himself quickly, his hand flying over his shaft as he chased his own release. With a final grunt, he came, his seed splattering across Y/n's back and painting her tattoo in pearly white streaks.

Y/n collapsed forward onto the couch, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. She was a sweaty, disheveled mess, her hair matted and sticking to her forehead. But the satisfied smile on her face said it all - she had thoroughly enjoyed every moment.

Lewis gently rolled Y/n onto her side, concern etched on his face as he brushed a few strands of hair from her flushed cheek. "Are you okay, baby?" he asked softly, his thumb caressing her skin.

Y/n nodded, a lazy smile spreading across her face despite her labored breathing. "Mhm," she managed to get out, her voice hoarse from all the moaning. "I'm more than okay."

She shifted slightly, her leg brushing against Lewis's thigh. The contact sent a fresh wave of desire coursing through her veins, and she knew she wasn't done yet. Not by a long shot.

"I think," Y/n began, her voice low and seductive, "I think I need a round two."

Lewis gently flipped Y/n onto her back, his strong hands guiding her until she was sprawled out on the couch cushions. Y/n let out a small protest, her brow furrowing in concern.

"Lew, wait," she said, her voice breathless. "I want this, but... my couch is gonna get dirty."

Lewis silenced her with a deep, passionate kiss, his tongue delving into her mouth. When he finally pulled back, he gave her a reassuring smile.

"Don't worry about it, baby," he murmured, his fingers trailing down her side. "I'll take care of it later. Right now, all I want to do is make you feel good."

Lewis's fingers traced delicate patterns over Y/n's sensitive pussy, eliciting a soft whimper from her lips. The delicate folds were puffy and tender from their previous activities, but that didn't stop Lewis from exploring every inch of her.

"Shh, relax," he cooed, his other hand coming up to gently stroke her hair. "I've got you, baby. Just let me make you feel good."

His fingers dipped lower, teasing her entrance before slowly pushing inside. Y/n gasped, her hips bucking involuntarily at the intrusion. Lewis held her down with a firm hand on her hip, his fingers curling and stroking her inner walls.

"That's it, just like that," he murmured, his voice low and encouraging. "You're doing so well, taking my fingers so deep. Such a good girl for me."

Y/n moaned softly as Lewis's fingers continued their gentle exploration of her sensitive folds. "Your rings are cold," she whispered, her voice tinged with a mix of discomfort and arousal.

Lewis leaned down, capturing her lips in a searing kiss. "You can handle it," he murmured against her mouth, his fingers never ceasing their movements. "You're a good girl, aren't you?"

Lewis groaned, his fingers still buried deep inside Y/n's slick heat. "Fuck, I should've done this sooner," he admitted, his voice rough with desire. "I'm getting addicted to how good you feel, baby."

He curled his fingers, stroking her inner walls in a way that made Y/n see stars. Her hips bucked against his hand, seeking more of that delicious friction.

"You like that, don't you?" Lewis purred, his thumb circling her clit. "You love having my fingers inside you, stretching you open."

Y/n let out a breathy moan, her hips rolling against Lewis's hand as he continued to work her over. "Yes," she gasped, her voice strained with pleasure. "I was so jealous of your ex, hearing you guys fucking while you were in the studio."

Lewis grinned, his fingers pumping in and out of her slick heat. "You should've been there with me," he growled, his thumb pressing down on her clit. "Should've been the one taking my cock, screaming my name."

Y/n moaned wantonly, her body writhing beneath Lewis's skilled touch. "Lewis, fuck that feels so good," she panted, her hips bucking against his hand. "Don't stop, please don't stop."

Lewis chuckled, his fingers never ceasing their relentless assault on her sensitive folds. "I won't stop, baby," he promised, his voice low and rough with desire. "I'm going to make you cum so hard, you'll forget your own name."

Y/n's moans grew louder, her body trembling under Lewis's touch. "I was so jealous of your ex," she confessed, her voice breathy and strained. "I wanted it to be me, to have you all to myself. To feel your tongue worshipping my body."

She emphasized her words with a roll of her hips, grinding against Lewis's fingers. "I wish it was me, Lewis. I wish I could've been the one to make you feel good, to hear you moan my name."

A wicked chuckle escaped her lips as she added, "It's her loss for breaking up with you. Because now, I have you all to myself."

Lewis grinned, his fingers still buried deep inside Y/n's slick heat. "Mhm, it's such a win for me," he agreed, his voice low and rough with desire. "Now I have you, all to myself. So good, so tight, so fucking mine."

He punctuated his words with a particularly deep thrust of his fingers, eliciting a sharp gasp from Y/n's lips. Her walls clenched around him, as if trying to keep him inside her forever.

"You feel so perfect, baby," Lewis murmured, his thumb circling her clit. "Like you were made just for me. And now, I'm never letting you go."

Y/n's body tensed, her back arching off the couch as her orgasm approached. "I'm gonna cum," she panted, her voice strained with pleasure. "Lewis, I'm gonna cum!"

Lewis held her close, his fingers never ceasing their relentless assault on her sensitive folds. "That's it, baby," he encouraged, his voice low and soothing. "My good girl, squirt for me. Let go, let yourself feel it."

With a final cry of ecstasy, Y/n came undone, her body shaking and trembling as she squirted onto Lewis's hand. He worked her through it, his fingers and thumb stroking her through the waves of her climax.

"That's it, just like that," he murmured, his lips brushing against her ear. "You're doing so well, baby. Such a good girl for me."

Y/n's moans grew louder as Lewis continued to pump his fingers in and out of her sensitive pussy, even as she rode out the waves of her intense orgasm. "Lewis, stop," she pleaded, her voice strained. "It's too much, I can't take it anymore."

But even as the words left her lips, Y/n found herself grinding against Lewis's hand, her hips moving of their own accord. The overstimulation was almost too much to bear, but she couldn't seem to stop herself.

Lewis grinned, his eyes dark with lust. "You're such a pretty liar," he teased, his fingers never ceasing their relentless assault. "Your body doesn't lie, baby. It knows what it wants."

As if to prove his point, Y/n came again, her pussy clenching and fluttering around Lewis's fingers as she squirted onto the couch once more. The sensation was almost too intense, but Lewis held her through it, his fingers and thumb stroking her through the aftershocks of her climax.

Y/n was still shaking from the intensity of her orgasms, her body sensitive and overstimulated. Lewis rubbed the head of his cock against her slick folds, teasing her entrance with the promise of more.

"Do you want me inside again, baby?" he asked, his voice low and rough with desire. "Do you want to feel my cock stretching you open, filling you up?"

Y/n nodded slowly, her eyes glazed with lust. Despite the sensitivity, she craved more of Lewis, more of the pleasure only he could give her.

"Yes," she breathed, her hips lifting to meet his. "Please, Lewis. I need you inside me."

Lewis slowly pushed forward, his cockhead parting Y/n's slick folds. He went inch by inch, savoring the tight heat of her pussy as it enveloped him. Y/n moaned, her walls fluttering around his length, still sensitive from her previous orgasms.

"Fuck, so good baby," Lewis groaned, his hips rocking shallowly. "You feel like heaven wrapped around my cock."

He set a slow, teasing pace, pulling out almost completely before sliding back in. Y/n whimpered, her hips lifting to meet his, desperate for more. Lewis grinned down at her, loving how responsive she was to his touch.

Y/n arched her back off the couch, her body undulating with each slow, deep thrust of Lewis's cock. "Oh god, Lewis," she moaned, her voice high and breathy. "Feels so good, so deep. You're hitting all the right spots."

Her hands fisted in the couch cushions, her knuckles turning white as she held on for dear life. Each drag of Lewis's cock against her sensitive walls sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through her body, making her whimper and praise him.

"Yes, just like that," she panted, her hips rolling to meet his thrusts. "Don't stop, please don't stop. I need more, need you deeper."

Lewis moaned Y/n's name, his hips snapping forward as he drove into her. "Fuck, baby, you feel so good," he groaned, his voice strained with pleasure. "Not even my ex could make me feel this good."

At the mention of his ex, Y/n felt a twinge of jealousy. She tightened her walls around him, clenching down on his cock. "Well, you might as well moan out her name if you keep bringing her up," she said sarcastically, her tone a bit sharp.

Lewis grinned, undeterred by her comment. He leaned down, capturing her lips in a searing kiss. "I'm not thinking about her," he murmured against Y/n's mouth. "I'm only thinking about how perfect you feel wrapped around my cock."

Lewis thrust sharply, making Y/n moan loudly. "You don't need to worry, baby," he assured her, his voice low and soothing. "I'm not thinking about anyone else but you. You're the only one who makes me feel this way."

To emphasize his point, Lewis changed his angle, hitting a spot deep inside Y/n that made her see the heavens. She cried out, her back arching off the couch as pleasure coursed through her veins.

"Oh god, right there," she panted, her nails digging into Lewis's shoulders. "Don't stop, please don't stop."

Lewis grinned, his hips snapping forward in a relentless rhythm. He could feel Y/n's pussy fluttering around his cock, her walls tightening with each thrust. He knew she was close, and he was determined to push her over the edge.

Lewis continued to thrust into Y/n, his cock hitting all the right spots inside her. Her breasts were still constrained by her bra, the lacy fabric a tantalizing contrast to her flushed skin.

"Fuck, your tits look so good from this angle," Lewis groaned, his eyes dark with lust. "Maybe later, I'll bury my face in them, suck on those perfect nipples."

His words of praise sent Y/n over the edge, her body convulsing with the force of her orgasm. She came hard, her pussy clenching and fluttering around Lewis's cock as she squirted onto the couch.

"Oh god, Lewis," she cried out, her voice strained with pleasure. "Don't stop, please don't stop."

Lewis pulled out of Y/n, his cock still hard and throbbing. He stroked himself quickly, his hand flying over his shaft as he chased his own release. With a final groan, he came, his seed splattering across Y/n's stomach in thick, white ropes.

Y/n lay there, panting and trembling from the aftershocks of her intense orgasm. She looked down at the mess on her stomach, a satisfied smile spreading across her face.

"Mmm, you made quite the mess," she purred, her voice low and seductive. "But don't worry, I'll clean it up later."

Lewis grinned, leaning down to capture her lips in a deep, passionate kiss. "I'll help you clean up," he murmured against her mouth. "And then, maybe we can go another round."

Y/n laughed, her body still trembling from the aftershocks of her intense orgasms. "My pussy can't handle another round," she admitted, her voice breathy and strained. "You've worn me out, Lewis."

taglist

for all posts; @nepobbylver @wobblymug @xoscar03 @irishmanwhore @nitiii

kinktober masterlist; @cloud-55 @emryb @sie17136 @jaimeleannavanlloman @wosof1 @wholetmewritethat @glitterbitch1 @under-seasoned-pasta @sinners-98-world @lewishamiltonismybf

[tojipie]

I love your prison bf toji series so much!! Also, in the newest installment of the series Toji says that Shiu has had a crush on the reader for a while? I’d love to see how this crush developed, how Toji found out and how Shiu dealt with his feelings!!

ughhhhgghgg i love this prompt so much :(( bless your heart you’re a genius <3

prison bf toji series linked here <3

context ! -> fic takes place very early on in reader and toji’s relationship. this is pre-prison and at a point where he hasn’t introduced him to his men yet :D hopefully this makes sense !

content: fem reader, brief piv smut, mentions of incarceration, objectification of reader by stranger, fluff, they make up dw ! jealousy, angst, unrequited love

purple hickeys bloom across your chest as toji makes his way from shoulder to shoulder, pinching bouts of delicate skin between his teeth while length ruts into you.

the drag of his cock is delicious, hitting that special spot at just the right angle from the way he has you laid out on the couch, both legs thrown over his shoulder with your head propped up on a cushion.

toji was always like this after securing a deal at work, soft, sensual, taking his time with your body as an act of celebration. half-empty glasses of champagne still lie on the coffee table where you’d left them, leaving rings of cool sweat on the glass surface.

“gonna cum,” he groans, pulling away from your neck with a pop and blowing cool air against the saliva-soaked hickey. you squirm at the stimulation, throwing your head back as your high creeps up on you t— was that a key in the door?

toji pulls out of you with unmatched speed, reaching for a couch cushion to shield his manhood. he rucks a throw blanket over your body with a string of curses, using his massive build to hide the silhouette of your body from view. 

“what’d i tell you about waltzing into my fucking house?” your boyfriend yells, staring down the suit-clad stranger with a look that screams blood-lust.

the smile that breaks out on the man’s face is nothing short of filthy, eyeing you up and down like a piece of meat

“awww didya get us a hooker boss-man?” he sneers, cigarette hanging from his lips. “could’ve waited till i showed up to start but i’m down for whatever.” he laughs, gingerly placing a pristine briefcase on the coffee table before taking your discarded bottle of champagne as a parting gift.

“don’t have too much fun, alright?” he teases, stepping out the door as quickly as he’d come in.

the two of you are speechless for several minutes, looking back and forth between each other, the door he didn’t even bother to close, and the mystery briefcase you’re not sure you want to see opened. 

toji sits up with a string of curses, stalking over to kick the door shut with a sigh. 

“that’s.. shiu,” he mumbles, clearly embarrassed. 

you sit up from your spot on the couch, letting the blanket guarding your modesty slip down to your waist. toji settles down on the opposite side of the couch, arms outstretched to let you climb onto his naked form. 

“handles money,” he clarifies, tracing abstract shapes onto your spine. “my cut from today is in the case.”

“do you trust him?” 

he nods, resting his head in the crook of your neck with a sigh.

you figure that’s all you need to know.

˚ ✧ ──────────────────────

the apology shiu gives you the next time you meet goes on for ten minutes. variations of “fuck i didn’t know” and “i’m so so sorry i really am” spill from his lips while he bows at your feet, forehead firmly pressed to the wood floor of your dining room.

toji sits at the head of the table, shoveling bites of dinner into his mouth in between heart laughs.

“mmf— tell her again i don’t think she heard ya.”

the truth is you’d kind of forgotten about your boyfriend's right hand after the incident was over. was the hooker comment uncalled for? sure, but judging by the saturated fear in the suit-clad man’s eyes you figure toji had done something to set him straight.

plus you’d both gone two more rounds after the initial embarrassment had died down, making up for the little roadblock on your path to an orgasm. 

“it’s okay, promise,” you say quietly, not entirely sure what to say at this point. the suit-clad man stands again, bowing to both of you with a sigh. 

“now give her our little present,” toji says, stalking over with his arms crossed. 

a sealed bottle of champagne— the same kind he’d so graciously swiped from your home— is placed in the palm of your hands before you’re able to question either of them. 

you shoot the other man a greatful smile, and shiu realizes he quite likes the feeling of your soft hand shaking his.

˚ ✧ ──────────────────────

toji’s annual new year party was a sight to behold. alcohol, dancers, and booming music was the typical atmosphere, though the event had taken a complete turn once you’d entered the picture. 

gone were the days of loose dollar bills and stray panties littering the floor, the smell of sex and smoke in the air.

in were the days of… a modest bar and fancy catering, much to his men’s dismay.

toji didn’t quite know how to throw a party that could be deemed “professional” but he figured not having strippers at the house might’ve been a step in the right direction. some of the guys even brought their wives this time, fun right?

and so, toji sits toward the back of the room, watching you socialize with a drink in hand, his best friend beside him. 

tension hangs in the air as both men watch you from afar. one with pride, the other with longing.

“do you want her?”

“… what?”

toji doesn’t elaborate on the cryptic question, peering at his friend over the rim of his glass.

shiu pauses, downing the rest of his drink as he thinks of what to say. a warm hand settles on the meat of his shoulder, letting him know it’s ok.

“yeah man, i do,” he admits, too ashamed to look up from the floor.

greed. the word that’d graced toji’s knuckles since the day he turned 19. black ink needled into a canvas of tan skin, bleeding into the rest of the tattoos like water flowing upstream. 

it fit him perfectly. it did then, and it does now. toji always gets what he wants, regardless of how other people feel. a man overcome by what he believes he deserves. 

the hug he’s pulled into isn't filled with malice. the threat of violence isn’t there, unlike the time toji had taken him by the collar and threatened to gut him like a fish over the comments shiu had made the first time he met you. 

this hug is.. soft. inviting. an embrace that tells him “it’s okay, i trust you.” the fact that toji hasn’t bashed his nose into his skull is a telltale sign that there’s no fault in feeling the way he does, so long as he doesn’t act on it.

shiu truly doesn’t know what to say other than yes, he does want you. he wants you to be the one he comes home to each night, he wants your soft skin on his, wants to spoil you and make you smile.

you were kind, attentive, shy at times. the complete opposite of toji and his brutish demeanor. a flower cradled in the hand of a dragon.

but you weren’t his, and you never would be. not when toji had been the one to sweep you off your feet, securing a place for himself in your heart that shiu could never fill. 

and that was ok. he was here for his job, not you. shiu was fine with you being oblivious to his feelings, in fact, it was better that way for the three of you.

that’s exactly why he breaks away from the hug as you pad over to their table, shooting you both an apologetic smile before heading over to the bar. as long as he’d still be able to catch a glimpse of you every now and then, he’d live. 

edit: forgot abt the taglist oopsies 🏷️

@honeybee54321 @m150-50up @kuryoomi @t4naiis @serendippindots @sillyalo @levixbby @powerrwa @tojishugetiddies @wheredidmycrowngo @unknownspecies @ushygushybaby @ebiharachan @hoshigray @crazychaoticizzy @denypipa @watyousayin @tempest1art @sakuraryomen01 @kariito-art @vkeyy @mxtokko @inumakiiz @rosieee491 @loveme-b4by @suguxo @namjoonsbuspass @tojis-luver @complexivelovely @dancingwithdeities @sunflwrsugar @catvader101 @ktsgrl @princessos-blog @4ut0p5y @swiftsongs-mp3 @mycocoapuffs @adrenepinephrine @na0koz @suguscape @jaswonder3 @bokutosprettylittlebimbo @getousrep @jeannieboys @darkstarlight82 @freebananabeard @vivian-555 @kentokaze @subarusuguru @aroxwq @i-literally-cant-with-this @emikokomura @moonriseoverkyoto

[alexetbishop]

THE SUN AND THE MOON

Pairing: Kate Bishop x Demigod!Reader

Summary: Kate makes a visit in your universe after weeks of not seeing eachother.

Word count: 2.5K

Pure fluff. Kate is such a dog mum. This is taking the sapphic long distance experience on a whole other level. Reader is a daughter of Apollo.

a/n: there might be a prequel of this on the workings. It's still an abstract idea but I already got something laid out.

————————————————————————

"Okay, I'll come and pick you up tomorrow morning at 10:00. And if I find you two doing cheeky stuff again you can say bye-bye to your personal multiversal taxi." America warned Kate as she was opening a portal right on the fire escape outside your bedroom window.

"Just to clarify, we were just making out." Kate points out. "We were half naked but only making out." She adds mumbling to herself. She took a step forward, finding herself in your universe. "Whatever. You own me so many pizza balls for this." America grumbles before closing the portal.

You were sitting at your desk, music was blasting through your headphones as you were finishing up an assignment on your computer.

Kate opened your window and jumped inside your room. She smiled as she saw you concentrated on your work. Her backpack slips out of her shoulder, hitting the hardwood floor. She sneaks behind you and takes your headphones off.

"Whatcha listening to?" She whispers in your ear. You jump on your seat and turn around.

"Oh my god!" You whisper shouted. "Kate? What are you doing here?" You stood up from your chair, a smile plastering on your shocked face. You weren't supposed to see her until next week, so this was certainly a very nice surprise.

"Hi, baby. 'Was just popping by. Wanted to see what my beautiful girl was up to." She shrugged as her hands found your waist, immediately connecting your lips in a sweet kiss. When you draw back you notice she has cuts and bruises all over her face and probably on her body too since her suit was all ripped and a bit bloody. You tilt your head. "Did you come here because you wanted to see me or because you want me to be your personal nurse again?"

"Both?" She raised her eyebrows and made her famous puppy eyes at you. You shake your head and chuckle. "Take off your suit." You step back, crossing your arms under your chest. "Eager, are we?" She teases as she peels off her archery suit, throwing it on the floor. Now she's left with a black tank top that accentuates her muscular form and some boxers that had purple hearts on them. Of course she was wearing something like that.

You roll your eyes. "Just stay still." Your hand reaches her jaw, where a fresh and deep cut was glaring at you.

You took a deep breath: a golden aura began to shine around your body. Kate felt your warmth streaming from your fingers to her jaw. In a matter of seconds the cut disappeared. "Who did you fight this time?" Your hand moved to her forehead. "Just some thugs that were trying to steal some kind of dangerous substance. It was a pretty cool fight, actually. I knocked out three guys with only one shot." She says proudly. You smile at her being all cocky of her actions. "That's amazing, love."

As your hands were moving all around her body, healing her from every single bruise and cut, she rambled on and on about her mission. You had to force her to stay still because she was moving around trying to demonstrate how she back flipped and knocked a guy out kicking him in the nuts with her left foot.

Once her skin was smooth again you removed your hands and returned to a normal non glowing human. "Thank you, princess." She smiled at you and gave you a quick peck on the lips. "You knows you're always so hot when you do that. Literally and figuratively."

You chuckled and sat down on the bed, reaching for a bottle of soda on your bedside table and drinking it to get your full strength back.

Kate crawled on the bed, laying on top of you. Her arms cradled around your hips and her chin rested on your midriff as she gazed up at you with her dazzling angel eyes.

"I missed you." She whispers and leans her head forward. She starts to leave a trail of butterfly kisses from your collarbone to your lips. You can't help but giggle at that sweet action.

"I missed you too, Katie." Now her face is right above yours. Your hands find the small of her back and caress her there, your touch is as soft as a feather while you draw heart shaped figures on her bare skin.

"Lucky misses you too." You could feel one of her calloused hands sliding up your back and reaching your neck. "He's always so excited whenever I say your name." She then lets go of you, and goes to retrieve her phone that was in her backpack. "I've got a few videos of that, actually." She crawled back next to you, opened her gallery and pressed play on a video of Lucky being all happy and stomping around as his tail was wagging like an helicopter. You chuckle at the adorable sight.

For the next few minutes Kate proceeds to show you every single video of Lucky she had. (even the ones that you had seen a million times already) "Wait! I almost forgot." She reached in her backpack, taking out a small folder. She opened it and inside there were dozens of pictures of her, Lucky, and a couple with her team too. "I printed some more pictures for you." You melted. Kate knew you couldn't have a phone (being a demigod was really shitty sometimes.), and every time she made sure to print a lot of pictures (and yes, some of them were spicy too). You, in the other hand, were more prone to writing. So while you had an album full of pictures, she had a folder with all your letters and poems.

You couldn't help but to lean forward and kiss her on the lips. "Thank you." You looked at the pictures for a few moments and then looked up. "I got something for you too." You stretched your arm to open the drawer of the bedside table and took a small notebook, handing it to her. "It's a small scrapbook I've been making for the past couple of weeks." There's all kinds of things: poems, flowers, pictures and small things that remind you of her.

The corners of Kate's mouth reached her ears. "You're amazing, princess." She took the scrap book in her hand, starting to open it and flip through the pages. You stopped her. "Nah uh." You put your hand over hers, shutting the scrapbook closed. "That's for later. When you're back home."

Kate rolls her eyes. "Fine." She carefully puts the scrapbook in her backpack. She crawls back to you, fully laying on you and burying her face in your neck. She starts giving you little kisses on the same spot. "Come with me." She says in between kisses. "Come back to my universe."

"Katie, you know I can't." You sigh. Being long distance was certainly not easy. Especially if you both live in different universes, and don't have any type of communication besides iris messages, that you discovered can work between universes, but those can last just for a couple of minutes. (One time you left the "call" go on for the whole night. You had to toss 15 drachmas to pay for it. The inflation has reached the mythical world too apparently.)

"Please." Her soft voice was humming against your skin. You wanted to. You wanted to be with her, be close to her, falling asleep in eachothers arms and waking up to Lucky jumping on the bed and licking your faces. But you had your family to take care of. You were the oldest of the family. Your mum worked all day long, leaving you to take care of your two little siblings. And also you had college. You had missed the whole first semester due to the whole "disappearing into another universe thing" and now you had to catch up.

"I promise that I will, just not now. I have so much going on right now. I can't just disappear again after being away for months." You made her look at you, cupping her cheeks. "You promise?"

"I promise." You whisper, a small smile tugging on your lips.

She leans in and kisses you. She wants time to stop. Tomorrow morning she'll have to go back and it's going to be another couple of weeks until she can see you again. So she doesn't dare to pull away from you. She wants to be in your arms forever.

Soon her tongue slides in your mouth, sinking into you. But it's not enough. Touching you isn't enough. Her hands move up and down your sides, squeezing your waist over your sweater. Or better, her sweater that you stole the last time you went to visit her. Her fingers graze your stomach and slides her cold hands under the soft fabric. Your skin perks up, a shiver running down your spine to Kate's electric and intoxicating touch.

"Katie..." You whisper when her lips detach for a millisecond. She just hums against your mouth, her hands sliding upwards. She knows you're not wearing a bra underneath.

"Darling..." You say again a bit louder but she continues. And right when her fingertips are about to reach your breasts, you stop her. She leans back from your face, her hands don't move, they're warm, now having stolen the heat of your body. She's looking at you with her mouth agape, she's slightly panting, her pupils are blown out and tendrils tickling your now rosy cheeks. "We can't do that right now."

She furrows her eyebrows and she's about to ask why when someone knocks on your bedroom door. "Y/N?" It's your mum. You totally forgot that on Sundays she only works in the morning. Shit. She tries to open the door. This is the only time you thank the gods for having a crappy and old apartment. The handle of the door is almost broken, so it's pretty hard to open it unless you know the right mechanism to not tear the knob out.

"Quick. Hide somewhere!" You tell Kate as she panics and jumps out of the bed. She looks around and then she hears a click. The handle slightly turns and the door opens. Kate crouches down and slides under your bed right before your mum walks in your room.

You quickly put all the pictures that were next to you on the bed under your pillow and smile innocently. "Hey, mum. What's up?"

"I've made tea, do you want some?" She asks.

"Uhm- no. Thank you. I'm fine." You fold your arms under your chest.

"Are you sure? You've been in here for the whole day. You need to take some breaks from those books." She points at your messy desk.

"Yeah, I know. I'm taking one right now. You know, laying in bed and- looking at the ceiling." Kate has to hold in a laugh for your lame response. "It's very relaxing. You should try it."

"Alright." She says reluctantly. She takes a step back when she notices Kate's backpack on the floor next to your bed. Fortunately her suit was on the other side so she couldn't see it. "What's that?" She points at the black backpack.

"Oh. That's uhm- Will's. He left it here yesterday." You lie. But it was pretty effective because Will actually came to visit you the previous day. He would never own a backpack like that but your mum buys the lie and nods. "Hm. Okay. Well, if you need anything I'll be in the living room. Your siblings want to see Cars again." She states and closes the door behind her.

"Okay. Cool, thanks. Have fun!" You hold your breath until you can't hear her footsteps anymore and pat the side of the bed. "Coast is clear." Kate rolls out from under the bed and lays on your bedroom floor, a smirk on her face. You sit criss cross on the edge of the bed and look down at her. "What?"

"You're right. It is relaxing watching at that nice and smooth ceiling." She mocks.

"Shut up." You dangle down one foot and lightly kick her on her hip. She fakes a hurt face and pouts. She stands up and now she's the one looking down at you. "So, I gather you haven't told her yet?" You shake your head. You did want to tell your mum about Kate. But you know she would freak out. She's... very protective, to say the least. The first time you heard of camp half-blood or the term 'demigod' was when you were 15. You didn't even suspect anything since monsters wouldn't attack as you weren't as powerful as some other demigods. So she took that as an opportunity to keep you safe next to her. But the time comes for everyone and one day, after a big fight with her, you sneaked out, walking all the way to camp. And it wasn't a nice little promenade at all with monsters attacking you left and right every single step.

You only reconciled after the whole thing about your dad getting transformed into a teenage boy. Now you were on pretty good terms again, but her protectiveness hasn't ceased that much.

"I want to. I really do but... She'll definitely ban me from going to see you." You look down. "If she even finds out that in those months I've been in another universe and not at camp she'll probably get into a coma." You scoffed.

"Yeah, but you're an adult now. You are way capable to make your own decisions." Kate sat down next to you and wrapped an arm around your shoulder.

"I know. But the past months we became so close, more close than we've ever been and I don't want to ruin that again." Your eyes are fixed on your lap. You stop the urge to take your fingers to your mouth and bite your nails. Kate sees you getting anxious and she places her hand that wasn't around you over your hands. She speaks with a calm and smooth voice. "Hey, get those bad thoughts out of your head. In the first place, you didn't ruin anything. And secondly, I'm okay with you taking your time. I won't push you to do anything you don't want to." She kisses your temple and then presses your forehead against it.

You lean into her touch and exhale deeply. Then you turn your head, your eyes fix on her collarbone, the sun necklace you gave her is shining on her toned skin. You had a matching one, but with a little moon charm instead of the sun ("That way, it's like we will never be apart." Kate said when she gave it to you.). Then your gaze travels along Kate's features until you meet two oceans rumbling in front of you. "I really love you."

She smiles. "I love you too, baby." She pauses and her sweet smile turns into a cheeky grin. "So no head?"

You chuckle and shake your head. "Can't risk having my whole family hearing your pretty sounds." You peck her nose, making her scrunch it in an absolutely adorable way. "Those are only for me I'm afraid. I can propose some cuddling with a little make out session if you'd like." You suggest.

"Okay. That's fair." She nods in agreement. "Let's get started then, we have so little time and I have to tell you so many things." She climbs on top of you and gently pushes you down the bed. You giggle and your lips press together.

You stayed up all night. Talking about random stuff, taking breaks to make out, and chat again trying to maintain your voices and giggles as quiet as possible.

And it's in these moments where you understand that whatever happens, you won't ever let go of eachother. Because despite the distance you need eachother. The sun and the moon will always need eachother.

[the-s1lly-corner]

Sorry to bother ya again, but my brain is literally on overdrive with this show and this clown who hws beckme my first kin and lives in my head rent free as she quietly sits there with a cup of hot chocolate and a warm blanket like she deserves, buuut

What if the gang found out the reader could abstract at will, including restricting it to certain parts of their body, ooor what if they found out you were a shapeshifter when you accidentally sneeze and turn into Wario or something

TADC cast x reader who can shapeshift!

i have returned from eating my silly dinner (sweet n sour chicken with rice!) it was very scrumptious i went ahead and did the shapeshifter idea since i feel that would be more fun to write (we can pretend they can still shift to mimic an abstracted body shhh) these ones are a little short i hope thats okay!

CAINE:

its not totally unheard of people getting unique abilities when they enter the digital world, its just not very common (this is a hc!), so when caine found out you could manipulate your appearance he wasn't all that surprised! i think he was more intrigued more than anything, because its not everyday you see something like that! he would be absolutely thrilled if you shifted into him; both from being amused of it and this man probably loves himself as much as someone can

will try to pop you if you mimic bubble, kind of feels bad for a second but your disguise was just so so convincing! say, were you by any chance an actor in your past life in the real world? you totally had him fooled!

POMNI:

pomni would be a little freaked out, especially if you just. suddenly sneezed and OH! now it looks like you're abstracting in front of everyone! first response is to run away before the transformation is complete, but when she notices no one else is freaking out (ragatha even blesses you!) shes more than a little confused

you offer to demonstrate your abilities to her, but she probably politely turns you down; she understands... for the most part... really its mostly just her trying to become used to the digital world as a whole

RAGATHA:

ragatha makes sure that you know that she thinks its cool; and as long as you're not morphing into a giant bug shes encouraging you to hone in on that cool power of yours! compliments whatever form you choose for the day

oh? you changed your hair color! she likes it, the new look is amazing on you! oh? you made yourself a little taller and gave yourself some new characteristics! points out nearly every detail shes noticed, no matter how small. ragatha pays attention, ragatha cares

JAX:

tries to drag you off to the dark side (ie being a menace to the others), whether or not you agree to be his partner in crime and 'use your power for evil' is fully up to you!

makes random requests to see just how far you can take your shapeshifting, usually listing off things at lightning speed to see if you can catch up.. if your shapeshifting takes a toll on you (like lets say it takes energy out of you) he might let up when he realizes how tired and pale you look all of a sudden.. at least for now

KINGER:

speedrunning to kinger for a moment before i forget this idea but imagine shapeshifting into him and hes just totally confused. leads to him making weird movements and you copying him (he thinks caine added a new mirror in the middle of the room for a solid minute before you break the illusion)

unless you have a set 'base form' hes going to keep thinking youre a new person if you drastically alter your appearance.. which, fair, since i think if you made yourself look unrecognizable, people would think youre a new person entirely. has probably introduced himself to you multiple times before realizing it was you

kinger gets a technical third bullet point but its not fluff. i just remembered the scene from steven universe where amethyst shapeshifts into rose in front of greg. but instead its kinger and instead of rose is queener/queenie. i hurt my own feelings. im gonna stew over this now

ZOOBLE:

honestly if you look just a mixmatched as them they would be into it and say you look cool. i had an idea that zooble has spare pieces and sometimes switches out their pieces for a new look, so imagine the two of you make matching looks or something, i think that would be cool

otherwise i dont think zooble would treat you any differently than if you were friends and couldnt shapeshift... though... i will admit, they think its funny when jax annoys you and change yourself in order to get him to back off. serves him right!

GANGLE

imagine she asks you to be a model for her art.. asking you to do different poses as well as different figures so she can better her craft. i absolutely love the idea of gangle being really into art, and this idea is just so cute to me

you have probably shapeshifted into her and pretended to be her when she needed someone to stand up for her... imagine how jarring it would be to see 'gangle' snap back at jax after he does something particularly mean

[wellnoe]

This is aperture au: an AU made up by Will (@boo-cool-robot, who did most of the plot and writing) and me (visuals) where Magneto takes a teen Scott in before Xavier, and Scott’s subsequent radicalization causes him to undergo a schism with x-men leader/lover jean after he eventually joins the team. Because if you really love characters, you just want them to have an ideological divorce! 

The au is named after the code-name scott is given by magneto, which he returns to after the events of this comic (Aperture–like an opening for light to pass through, a focus in a lens.) 

[Image description: Full color comic. Whole comic has a layout where each page has 3 columns. Jean is in the left column, and scott is in the right.

Page 1

Panel 1: Scott and Jean explore a grim, industrial, apparently abandoned basement lab. Jean inspects a peeled back vent cover. Scott bends down to open a filing cabinet drawer. Jean: "This is too clean to have been opened by a crowbar. Almost looks like how I would have used my TK a few years ago."

2: Scott leans back, back of his fist to his mouth in shock. He says: "Marvel Girl, you need to see this. Use my eyes. Please."

3: Jean turns, using her telepathy to look at the file Scott has found. Her telepathic eyes see what he sees. There is a Polaroid of young Scott and Alex. Alex smiles at the camera, while Scott holds his brother and glances away. Alex's file describes him as 'Yearly tag and release'.

The other page in the file has a letterhead reading “Home for Foundlings” and a logo depicting an abstract parent and child, forming a red diamond shape. Cut-off text reads, “Summers, Scott/Seong-Mi/S-...Impaired expressive speech and sound sensitivity worsened after 3 days of social ostracism from peers…electroconvulsion. Energy generation potential unaffected. Continued social impairment, likely auti…”

Scott has already turned toward a door, frowning. 

4: Jean puts a comforting hand on Scott’s shoulder while he turns away from her. Scott (Telepathically): "I used to remember having a brother. He told me I was just confused, that I’d imagined him." Jean (Telepathically): "Who told you that?"  Scott reaches to open the door. Scott (Out loud): "I don’t know, it was all…"

5: Scott, quietly: "Sinister."

They have stepped through into the next room, where Mister Sinister’s silhouette looms in the foreground, breaking the barriers between the three columns. Jean puts her arm out in front of Scott to shield him. Scott has shrunk in on himself. 

Page 2:

Panel 1: Scott has his arms crossed. Jean, glowing with telepathy, puts a hand next to Mister Sinister’s head where he lies between scott and jean. Jean: "He can’t hear us. He’s in some kind of psionic trance. His body is here, but his mind is on the Astral Plane."

2: Scott: "So he’s vulnerable." Jean is startled: " What?" Scott: "We could end him here. Before he gets to-- anyone else. Before he gets to Alex again." 

3: Jean’s telepathy flares, she is confused, but stubborn. Jean: "We’re X-Men, we can’t just kill someone defenseless. We won’t get anything out of him if he’s dead." Scott faces her, angry and disbelieving. Scott: "You really think if you [Telepathically: implicate, integrate] ask him, he’ll say anything that those files out there don’t?"

A figure approaches through the open doorway, obscured by Jean and Scott’s world bubbles.

4: Jean’s telepathy flare is the strongest yet. She is hurt, beseeching. she says: "The Professor taught us to give people chances. He gave you a chance when you joined the team." Scott is quietly angry. Scott: "Maybe if he were smarter, he wouldn’t have. You wouldn’t–..." Jean:  "Are you saying you shouldn’t be here with me?" 

 The figure gets closer, raising a board to her shoulder. 

5: The figure is revealed to be madelyne pryor, wearing the marvel girl dress, as she swings a board at Sinister’s head. She hits him with a “KRAK”. Telepathy flares out from Sinister’s form and from the panel as he’s hit. Jean and Scott watch her, Jean’s mouth open in shock, her telepathic eyes watching from Scott's eyes as well, while Scott looks untethered.

Page 3: Mads is in the middle column.

Panel 1: Jean and Scott reach their hands out towards Mads. Mads has her hands up in front of her. They are all frozen in place. Scott [Telepathically]: "Who is she?"

Mads [TP]:  "I can hear them."

Jean [TP]: "She looks like me." Mads [TP]: "I was supposed to be her."

Scott [TP]: "She killed him. That could have been Jean." Jean [TP]: "Scott thinks it should have been me." 

2: Mads flees past Scott, who is still frozen. Jean turns as Mads runs, half reaching out toward her. Mads [TP]:  "I can’t be her. I can’t be here." The thoughts become disjointed, unattached from the people who are thinking them, hanging in the air of the room.

3: Scott runs after Mads. The unattached thoughts begin to fill the space between him and Jean: "I can’t be her, That could have been me, I can’t be here". Jean watches Scott, frozen in place, and starts to cry. Telepathic energy comes off her in waves. Scott [TP]: "That could have been Jean."

"I can't be here" repeats until it goes through the bottom of the panel and into the next panel. 

4: Jean is still frozen, crying. Her hands are pressed to her head as she is crowded by the telepathic thought bubbles surrounding her. She gets stuck on bubbles repeating over and over:

"I can’t be here, I can’t be here, I can’t be here."

Page 4:

Panel 1: Jean is still surrounded by thought bubbles. She reaches into the middle pane and tears a black rip through it, telepathically and with her hands. Her head and hands flare with telepathy. The edges of the rip burn like fire. She is still crying, angry. 

2: Thought bubbles disappear. Jean’s head is snapped back by the force of telepathic feedback. The black rip spreads wider, telepathic flame at edges, continuous with the previous panel.Scott, chasing Mads outside the lab, trips forward. Both Jean and Scott are losing control of their bodies, falling.

3: Jean and Scott both fall to the ground, unconscious, as the rip in the page spreads wider. 

4:  Black/end id]

[windvexer]

what's your opinion on pop culture witchcraft? i think it seems really fun and cool im just not sure how exactly a fictional god will manifest in the "real" world? i was just curious on what you thought :p thank you for your time!

I think that pop culture witchcraft is beautiful and sacred and I think more people should get into it!

My views on the intersection of popular culture (aka, the dominant cultural beliefs and creations at this moment in time) and witchcraft originate from the fact that when I began doing a lot of energy work, I saw a lot of stuff as video game characters & assets.

If I would binge any video game, for the next little while, a lot of my energy readings would be output in the symbols and lore from that game.

E.g., a pokemon binge, seeing Gengar near the querent: "Yes, you're being haunted by a ghost."

A DAO binge, seeing a dryad writing a letter to the querent: "A tree wants to talk to you."

These experiences have deeply influenced my beliefs on the nature of psychism, communing with the spirit world, and divination as a whole. It has inspired my beliefs on how to work with divinatory tools, especially my concepts of choosing your own symbol sets to work with.

After all, an upright triangle is so abstract, but a charmander? For many of us, that is a deeply rooted symbol of fire indeed! And I can't imagine how a triangle might act if it needs to be revived and balanced in my life, but I can surely visualize a charmander feeling sick and cold, or desperately trying to stack and balance heavy boxes.

This inspired me to consider the intersection of popular culture and the experiential nature of witchcraft. After all, aren't so many of us deeply imprinted on and influenced by what culture has told us about magic and spirits? Where is the line in the sand between how culture makes us interact with magic (path), and how culture makes us interact with magic (practice)?

Let me tell you a story!!

There is some internet monster named Momo. Momo has a *very* scary face (to me at least) so be warned if you google.

But when this story starts, I had never heard of Momo. I had never seen a picture of Momo or heard her name. Yes? Yes.

Now one time, I was doing an energy reading for a person, and I saw a horrifying monster woman with huge eyes and a twisted smile like a V slashed across her face, and not only this, but the horrifying monster woman was standing over the querent's bed, watching them sleep.

As a reader with about an ounce of wisdom, I knew much better than to say, "hey, a horrifying monster is watching you while you sleep." Because that is a dick thing to say to anyone.

As I continued watching to try and gain more information, it struck me that this monster woman wasn't threatening at all. She didn't have bad vibes. In fact she seemed neutral, or perhaps even an ally. She was just watching the person sleep.

I couldn't help but notice, however, that I could see her face so clearly. So distinctly. So I googled something like, "big smile scary woman face."

And there she was: Momo! The exact monster I was seeing. It was a startling moment, made all the more strange by the fact that this wasn't some monster of mythical lore or legend. It was like, a TikTok trend or something.

Finally I had to tell the querent something. Now y'all this happened some years ago and I don't remember exactly how it went down, but it was like this:

"Hey, someone is watching you sleep. The form is scary looking but they don't seem threatening at all. I googled it and it looks exactly like an internet urban legend named Momo."

"What? My cat?"

"No, it's a woman, an urban legend named Momo."

"No, my cat Momo. My cat is named Momo. She watches me while I sleep."

So to answer your question, Anon:

I expect that a fictional god can manifest at least as bizarrely as a real cat, I believe that the simple phrase "real world" is an artifact that fits into few reliquaries of the occult, and I think that pop culture witchcraft is absolutely fabulous.

[panthera-tigris-venenata]

Do they keep a diary/a journal?

Mal - yes, actually. But no gross feelings stuff, ew. Just drawings. ...Of various levels of "disturbing". (Peak being begining of D2, of course)

Jay - nah. Better stuff to do. Also lowkey paranoid it'll be stolen.

Evie - yes, technically, multiple. She keeps one journal to jot down what was when done to any potions she's brewing (the correct scientific procedure), her fashion one, of course, for whatever designs she dreams of, and lastly, one to note down orders and payments for her shop.

Carlos - nah. He's got a collection of loose papers with important and "important" info on them. His cousins still keep finding them in Hell Hall. Jay has to move them from his parts of the room regularly. Mal found papers stuck in between her journal.

Uma - no. WAY more important shit to do, and she finds it way too sentimental. She keeps records of stuff important for the running of her crew, but doesn't consider it a journal, rather a public record.

Harry - yes. To the surprise if absolutely no one, the thing he writes most about is Uma. There are several original songs and poems for her as well. He wouldn't mind if she found it.

Gil - I wanna say yes, he tries. He's not very consistent though. The only thing he writes about is his friends and crewmates – he accidentally puts it down in the common space of the ship often, and most of the crewmates picked it up once. Cos, y'know. You see, you take. If they read it, they began blushing furiously under the excited "My friends are SO cool" Gil wrote and gave it back to him without a word.

Claudine - once she stops living with her father, yes, though it took some convincing. She doesn't write regularly, though, because she just doesn't know what to write, and is afraid of putting her thoughts on the paper. Later, she writes poems in letters so small it's illegible, since poetry masks the true self a bit.

Harriet - yes. She writes regularly, though not a lot of feelings stuff. She writes poems and vague stories draws whatever comes to her mind (mostly abstract stuff) and keeps it tightly locked up in her cabin, since that shit is DARK. Smee twins accidentally found it once and Sammy kept complaining they were afraid of her drawings for two weeks straight.

CJ - ...she tries to. It never lasts more than two days in row. But she adds new disjointed entry every time she's reminded that her older siblings do so. It's actually extremely disturbing in different way than Harriet's since she has ZERO ability to self-censor.

Freddie - two. One for music and one for dreams and card readings.

Celia - one. Dreams and Cards and Friends on the other side. Though, technically, both sisters share another one, written in cryptic code and abbreviations and moved from place to place with regularity but without a set schedule. This one is about secrets of the Isle residents, the ones they bother or dare to write down.

Dizzy - I wanna say yes, actual diary, feelings and all. To utter exasperation of all her older relatives.

Anthony - no, keeping tabs on the salon is enough, thank you.

Dulcia - look, my girl deserves a Burn Book.

Ginny - not really. If she absolutely NEEDS something noted down, she tells Anthony. Exception being medical notes at the Escape but she delegates paperwork away any time she can. Also, I feel like her handwriting is borderline illegible to anyone but her and the three people she shares mental disturbances with (Maddy, Anthony, Harriet)

Maddy - she keeps tabs on the Apothecary and like Evie, writes down the shit she's synthetising. It's only correct to do.

Ivy - Yeah she gets a burn book too. She deserves it <3. It's in one notebook with scraps from fashion magasines and and some kaligrams. (Again, that's a form of self-censure. Can't read it, so it isn't there.)

I think I ran out of Isle kids, so AKs (all regarding a diary):

Audrey - canonically she does, I have nothing else to add.

Ben - he tries to, but he doesn't manage to write regularly, what with being a CHILD KING and all. It's healthy for him tho. Took the habit from his mother.

Chad - I refuse to believe this boy has a diary. He views it as "useless" and "too feminine".

Jane - yes, actual diary full of feelings. Starting each entry with "dear diary". She locks it religiously though, since her mother can and will read it if give an oppurtunity to.

Ally - yes and frankly it should be studied and/or published (with different names for the sake of privacy, but i'd pay a lot to read a diary of Ally Liddel of Wonderland)

Lonnie - ...no. she tried to, few times, but never quite managed more than few entries in a row. She doesn't particularly like sitting still, and fancies the thought of someone actually reading what she thinks about certain stuff even less.

Jordan - ...she uses her blogs and vlogs as a diary. The more private ones. Not her Drama Channel.

[jokeringcutio]

Joost Klein x (F) Reader – I kissed a girl (Rating:Teen and up)

Summary: After your best friend kisses you, Joost comes to your rescue by pretending to be your boyfriend.

Words: 3469 Warnings: Homophobia/Lesbophobia (from friend's dad), cigarettes & smoking mentioned, a few curse words (mostly as thoughts), being kissed by your best friend, being kissed by a girl, Joost and his crew being cool about it, Joost and his crew to the rescue, not beta-read. AN: This came to me in a fever dream.

The streets hummed with life, a blend of soft murmurs and boisterous laughter as groups of people weaved between buildings. Outside, old artifacts lay scattered on the cobblestones, decaying and rusting, remnants of a time when the factories still buzzed with activity. Now, these same factories were the home of all sorts of art projects.

You followed a small group into another narrow hall, your best friend walking close beside you. Colorful canvases and installations filled the room. The two of you paused to admire a towering abstract sculpture of twisted metal and blinking lights.

You and your best friend hadn’t wanted to be bored so you’d decided to walk the art route – hey, at least it was something to do! And you were in the area already. You were having a good day. The time had flown by, filled with laughter, shared admiration for the artworks, and deep contemplation amidst the artistic beauty. Just being in each other's company had transformed a potentially dull day into a delightful one.

The two of you came to stand in front of a piece of very modern art. The painting was a swirl of abstract shapes and vibrant colors, with two distinct male figures in the center. The figures were entwined in a passionate kiss, their forms blending seamlessly into one another amidst the chaotic background. The brushstrokes were bold and expressive, capturing a moment of intimacy with an almost palpable intensity.

You and your best friend giggled as you took in the artwork. "Well, they’re really going at it,” you said. “The artists hid no details.”

Your friend chuckled.

“What do you think was the underlying thought he had when he painted this?” You asked, tilting your head to the side.

She laughed softly, shaking her head. "I don’t even want to guess, but it’s definitely interesting."

You hummed.

“It’s nice to see more of this art though. Like… Men kissing,” she said after a moment, her voice more contemplative.

You turned to her, noting the thoughtful expression on her face. “Yeah.”

“I mean, makes me wonder. I’ve never kissed a girl before,” she lamented.

“You’ve kissed me,” you said, grinning.

“That was your cheek,” your friend exclaimed. “That doesn’t count.”

You both laughed, but then fell into a more serious silence. You glanced at her, noticing the curious glint in her eyes.

“Have you never wondered what it would be like to kiss a girl?” she looked at you, and you frowned slightly.

“Have you?” You asked in turn.

She bit her lip, clearly hesitant but also intrigued. "Yeah, I have. Especially after seeing this painting. It just makes me curious, you know?"

You nodded slowly, feeling a strange mix of excitement and nervousness. "Yeah, I get that."

She hesitated, then looked at you with a shy smile. "Do you think it would be weird if we tried it? Just to see what it’s like?"

“Well,” you said, your heart pounding in your chest. "I mean, if you want, we could...give it a try? Just to see what it's like?"

Her eyes widened. "Really? You'd be okay with that?"

You nodded. "Yeah. I think so."

You’d placed kisses on each other's cheeks in the past. Would this really be so different? To be fair, you were curious too.

Tentatively, she took a step closer. You mirrored her movements until mere inches separated you.

“I’m sorry,” she said, hiding her lips behind her hands as she burst into giggles. “Nervous.”

You smiled and patiently waited till she recomposed herself and lowered her hands. She stood a little straighter. “All right,” she said, “I’m ready.”

Now it was your turn to giggle, but only shortly. Slowly, gently, you leaned in. Your eyes fluttered shut. And then her lips met yours, soft and warm and tasting faintly of cherry chapstick.

Your eyes opened, slowly, and you saw him.

Most of the group had dispersed and had already continued to the next building, leaving you only with an Asian-looking mum and her teenage son – both too busy looking at the art -, two elderly ladies – too busy gossiping – and a tall bald man wearing a Hawaiian shirt whose gaze snapped away from the sight of the two of you kissing.

Pulling away from your friend, you saw the tall bald man fumbling with his bag, trying to pull out his phone as quickly as possible, lens pointed directly at you. Panic seized your chest.

"Someone is trying to film us!" you whispered urgently. Or take photos, you had no idea. All you knew was that this wasn’t normal, and the man seemed oddly keen to get the two of you on camera. Luckily, he was so rushed with his movements that his camera dropped on top of his bag again. He picked it up with trembling hands.

Your best friend whirled around and the blood drained from her face. "Shit,” Her hand was instantly upon your wrist, tugging you along. “That's Peter, my dad's friend. We’re dead."

Raw fear shone in her eyes as she started to pull you towards the entrance of the building to make your escape. “We need to run!"

Feet pounding, hearts racing, you tore through the narrow streets hand-in-hand. Peter's heavy footfalls echoed behind you, too close, always too close.

"We can't let him catch us!" she panted, breathless, while she urged you to keep running. "My dad...he's so traditional. If he hears I kissed a girl... If Peter shows him proof."

Tears streaked her flushed cheeks. You squeezed her fingers, pulling her around a sharp corner. “He can’t get us on camera,” you needed a moment to gasp for air, “not kissing.”

So you'd be safe, right? You could stop running?

“But he can show Dad your face,” your friend said, and you realized that you usually hang out at your place because of her situation. Not your friend’s, because of her strict parents.

Did her dad even know what you looked like? The two of you spend a lot of time together. What if he thought that you weren't just friends but were dating? Would he forbid the two of you hanging out together after this?

Shit.

"Just keep running," she urged you, and you did.

Winding alleys, cobblestone paths, your burning legs propelled you forward. Faster. You had to go faster. Lose him in the maze of backstreets and side lanes.

Your best friend’s palm was slick with sweat against yours. Ragged breaths tore from your lungs. Each gulp of air seared your throat.

Rounding another corner, you realized the two of you were trapped. A small alleyway was ahead, but you could already see the barbed-wired fence behind the rubbish bins. A dead end.

"There!" You veered to the left, tugging her with you. An old rundown building, tucked out of sight. Your only hope. Praying it was unlocked, you shouldered through the weathered door, your friend close behind you, following.

The door fell closed behind you as you stumbled right into the midst of the rundown factory shed. Then you looked up, only to find it wasn’t empty. Music pounded. A group of people stood all near the entrance of the building, talking, and smoking. All eyes turned to you and your friend.

Your best friend took an instinctive step backward, backing up against the now-closed doors.

But you weren’t focusing on her. Your eyes landed on the cameras that stood behind the group of people. You recognized that they had built some kind of set, with the way lamps were positioned to light the area. They were filming here.

And then your eyes slid past the people who looked at you with annoyance and you recognized him. A cigarette dangling from his lips, his piercing eyes locked onto you.

Your breath caught in your throat and your heart skipped a beat.

Joost Klein?

An artist you admired, someone you were a huge fan of. Here? In a rundown building? Filming a new video clip to one of his songs? Of course, you’d be making a fool of yourself in front of someone you admired. Fool, fool, foolish.

Dread knotted your stomach. Well, as they say: out of the frying pan, into the fire. Peter could be here any minute. And when you glanced at your friend, you could tell she still stood frozen and wasn’t going to say anything soon. The two of you needed help and it seemed to be up to you to get it.

“We need a place to hide, just for a moment. There’s this man chasing us, trying to-"

"Whoa, slow down." One of the crew members stepped forward, holding up his hands. "What's going on here? You can't just barge in like this."

Another girl in the crew, one with dark brown curls took a step toward you, her gaze never leaving you. "Start from the beginning. What's this about a man chasing you?"

You swallowed hard, trying to gather your scattered thoughts. Joost took a drag from his cigarette, eyeing you coolly. You tried not to look at him.

One of the blonde girls present cocked her head. All these gazes directed at you unnerved you. There were mostly young men here. You thought you recognized a face or two.

“This guy, he’s a friend of her dad,” you pointed at your best friend here, silently hoping she would take over, but seeing she was still shaken to the core. “He saw us kiss because we were curious and we were at this art thing and,” ah… you were rambling. Get to the point. “Never mind,” you shook your head.

“So you kissed?” The brown-haired girl asked, raising a brow skeptically. “So?”

“So?” Finally, your friend spoke up. It was as if the girl’s words had triggered her back into motion as she stepped away from the door. You could swear you saw the shadow of Peter pass by, probably heading to the dead end as you had hoped. It would buy you a little more time. But would it be enough?

Your best friend’s eyes were fiery as she stepped away from the door. “I kissed a girl,” she said, voice firmer now.

“So?” The brown-haired girl repeated herself. “So you kissed a girl. So what?”

“You don’t understand,” you piped in.

“My parents are very strict and if my dad hears I kissed a girl he’s going to kill us,” your best friend raised her voice, trying to convey the urgency of the matter.

“And this guy chasing us wants to take a picture of us to show to her dad so he knows who to kill,” you helpfully added.

This had the crew murmur, and you looked from one face to another, hoping they would understand. “So can you hide us for a minute, please?” You concluded.

Joost's crew exchanged glances, a mixture of surprise and concern on their faces. The girl who had spoken earlier frowned. "That's messed up."

“He could be here any second now,” your friend squeaked. You could see that she was constantly casting glances at the door.

“Go stand with one of the men,” the brown-haired girl said while she folded her arms in front of her chest. “You said he can be here any second now. Let’s get rid of the problem.”

You blinked, not quite understanding what she said.

“I-I’m sorry? How does that-?”

But she cut you short. “He’s got nothing against you if he comes in and sees one of you with your boyfriend.”

Wait a minute.

"Who..." You licked your dry lips, glancing around at the crew. "Who would be willing to pretend to be my boyfriend?"

As your gaze swept over the group, you were shocked to see every man raise their hands in a united show of support. Your dry mouth instantly turned parched as you dared to hope that they would all stand with you and your friend.

But before you could respond, Joost broke free from the crowd. His hand yanked the cigarette from his lips, leaving a trail of smoke behind as he strode towards you with determined purpose. His fingers clasped tightly around your wrist, pulling you forcefully against his chest.

Your eyes widened in alarm, and your heart nearly stopped at the proximity between you. Your breath caught in your throat as you looked up into his intense gaze, seeing flecks of gold in his eyes. This close, you could smell a scent that was uniquely Joost – hidden away underneath the smoke. He held his cigarette to the side, mindful not to have it graze past your skin.

Then, without warning, he dipped his head. Smoke rolled from his parting lips and tumbled over yours. You couldn’t help the gasp that escaped you, or how weak your knees suddenly felt. Grateful that Joost was still holding you, your eyes flicked to his lips as they moved, brushing ever so lightly past your own.

The ghost of a kiss.

Then suddenly, he moved his head away, tilting it as he looked behind you. “Do you mind?”

His voice was sharp all of a sudden, as if he wasn’t happy to be interrupted. And only then did you notice that the doors had been opened. The man who had chased you stood in the doorway, looking bashful and caught. Your friend was off to the side, some of the members of the filming crew standing protectively in front of her, shielding her just in case. Neither of you knew if Peter had actually seen her, but he appeared to be too shocked by what he did find.  

You didn't dare to fully turn around, but you heard the hasty retreat of footsteps, and the slam of the door. No apologize, no nothing. But at least, Peter was gone.

Joost released you, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "Guess that takes care of that problem."

Your legs threatened to give out, your heart still racing. "I... Thank you. For saving us. I don't know how to repay you."

He waved a dismissive hand and brought his cigarette back to his lips.

Those lips… You had to tear your eyes away from them, having unintentionally followed the movement of his hands.

Your friend emerged from behind the crew, her eyes wide with a mixture of awe and disbelief. "I can't believe that just happened. Joost Klein, of all people..."

You couldn't quite believe it either. But as you stood there, surrounded by the understanding faces of Joost's crew, you had no way to deny this wasn’t real.

Your breath caught in your throat, your pulse quickening at the sight of him. You'd admired him from afar for so long, never dreaming that you'd find yourself in a situation like this. But here he was, ready to step in and play the role of your savior.

You wanted to say something, to tell him how much you appreciated what he'd done, but the words stuck in your throat. He’d already turned his back to you, though he was still lingering a few steps away from you. All you needed to do was speak up. But…He probably had groupies throwing themselves at him all the time. He didn't need another needy fan.

One of his crew members noticed your hesitation, elbowing you gently in the ribs. "Go on," she whispered, nodding towards Joost.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself. "Joost, I..." you started, your voice shaking slightly.

He looked at you, a cigarette dangling from his lips, his head cocked to the side. He tapped the cap of his head, waiting for you to continue.

But you couldn't do it. Couldn't ask for what you really wanted. Damnit. Around you, you heard the voices of the other crew members. The voice of your best friend was among them as she explained in greater detail how life at her home was and how she’d been afraid to lose your friendship. But you didn’t take it all in. To you, these were just voices that were drowned out by the rhythmic beating of your own heart.

"I just wanted to say that I'm a big fan," you said instead, the words tumbling out in a rush. "I'll make sure to show you extra support online."

Joost's eyebrows shot up, a look of surprise flashing across his face. Then he grinned, shaking his head slightly. "Here," he said, with his hand outstretched. “Give me your phone.”

You instantly reached for your phone, fingers fumbling, and stood frozen as Joost – the one and only Joost Klein – stood in front of you with your phone in his hand, typing away as he added his details to your contacts. You must be dreaming… The way he leaned a little forward, the cigarette held between his lips, his blonde bangs brushing the edge of his black-rimmed glasses. Then, all too quickly, he pushed your phone back into your hands.

"In case you ever want to chat."

Your jaw dropped, your fingers trembling around your own phone. "T-thank you," you stuttered. This wasn’t real. Couldn’t be.

Joost just grinned and winked at you before turning away, sauntering back towards his crew. You watched him go, your heart pounding in your ears. You couldn't believe what had just happened. Joost Klein had given you his private contact information.

The brown-haired girl from Joost's crew sauntered over, peering at your phone in your hand.

“Well, that happened,” she said, her eyes sliding from your screen up to meet yours. “Don’t look so shocked. Just don’t share that with anyone else, will ya?”

“I wasn’t planning to,” you stammered. You glanced at your friend, who was watching the exchange with wide eyes. You couldn't help but smile.

This day had taken such an unexpected turn.

For the next couple of minutes, you talked to the girl by your side and slowly got down from your adrenaline high. The crew around you started to bustle, preparing for the next take. Cigarettes were stubbed and you understood it was the end of their break – you were just grateful you’d not interrupted them while actually recording.

Your friend joined you. And although you listened and talked to Joost’s crew and friends, your eyes would at times drift over to where he was, observing him as he talked to others and laughed, swung his arm around one of their shoulders, and smoked the last of his cigarette.

You wished he would turn and look at you, but he never did. Not wanting to be caught watching him, you focused on the conversations around you as best you could. Calls for quiet on the set sounded and the music was turned louder. “It’s time to continue recording,” one of the crew told the two of you. “You can stay and watch if you’re very, very quiet.”

But your friend shook her head, smiling shyly. “Thank you, but I really need to be home in time.”

Ah right, curfew. Her strict parents’ schedule. You forced a smile and joined your friend on the way out. As the two of you prepared to leave, you waved shyly at the crew members who weren’t already back at work and happened to glance your way. They waved back, much to your relief. You ducked your head and pushed against the heavy doors until a sliver of light from outside appeared. You intended to slip out as quickly and quietly as possible, but suddenly, a voice rang out above the music.

"Message me when you get home safe, okay?"

Joost.

You looked back at him, your heart skipping a beat. He was watching you, his expression serious for once, as he stood amidst the others on set. The dancers or extras – you weren’t quite sure – who stood around him looked up and halted their moves. The cameras were already rolling and Joost just stopped midperformance to call after you.

Wow.

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak.

Then you slipped out the door, your friend at your side. As soon as it closed behind you, you both broke into giggles, giddy with excitement and disbelief.

"I can't believe that just happened," your friend gasped, clutching at your arm.

You grinned at her, feeling warm and happy and safe. "Me neither. But I'm glad it did."

[papermatisse]

Lost and Found || B.BH

♔ pairing: dionysus!byun baekhyun x f!ariadne!reader

♔ genre: angst, one-shot, fluff

♔ word count: 3.5k

♔ warnings: abandonment, murder

♔ abstract: Love comes with all kinds of sacrifices, and after everything she'd sacrificed for her own hopeful romance, all she really wanted was a lover to live with for the rest of her mortal existence. Though the universe—and for that matter the gods who inhabit it—has a cruel sense of humor.

♔ author's note: I've been thinking of writing a Greek mythology story for all of the exos (ot8 [minus Chen, the nation's husband and father]). I have a few plans already, though this one felt the easiest and quickest to execute cause I really wanted to test out and fix my link/tag issue on here 😔

for context, here's a rough synopsis of the Theseus story: the king of Crete angered Poseidon who cursed the queen into woohooing with the king's bull, thus creating a minotaur named Asterion. mortified by this creation, they banished him into a maze and alienated him as if he were nothing, thus creating the bloodthirsty monster he was. the king's son went to Athens bc they themselves had a minotaur problem, but their minotaur wound up killing him. the king of Crete blamed the king of Athens and after some altercations, it resulted in an annual tradition of sending a select few Athenians to serve as tribute and be eaten by Asterion. one of these tributes was Theseus, son of the king of Athens, and he actually defeated the Athenian minotaur. to help him in defeating Asterion, the Crete king's daughter, Ariadne, gave Theseus yarn so he'd be able to navigate the maze, which helped him in killing Asterion. afterwards, they sailed to Naxos, where he abandoned her. interpretations vary of course, but most involve Dionysus marrying Ariadne afterwards bc he fell in love w her.

masterlist

Nestled within the Aegean Sea, lost amongst the plethora of islands which dotted the cerulean expanse of the ocean, lays the idyllic yet ever forlorn island of Naxos. Viridescent fields of crops and greenery encompass the entirety of the island, sloped along the verdant hills which make up its landscape. The only obstruction to its rolling plains was that of its mountain at the very heart of the island, as well as the sandy beaches which encircled it all in a protective ring of golden grains.

Upon first arrival, it had seemed nothing short of picturesque—perhaps even going so far as being the most beautiful sight she'd ever observed in her rather dull and sheltered life thus far. The warmth of the sand which greeted her once she'd hopped off the boat felt like the welcoming embrace of a new start, the fine grains sinking beneath her every step as if accommodating to her new presence. The seas lapped against the shores as if reaching out to her, waving—both metaphorically and literally—like it were greeting an old friend. And the winds which carried with it the strong aroma of sea salt and petrichor encompassed her being in a cool and refreshing embrace, nearly cementing the thought that circulated in her head of what a perfectly quaint and romantic escape Naxos was for her and her lover to settle in and establish their new lives together.

At least that's how it had all felt no more than a day ago. It was astounding how much could change upon settling down to rest after the strenuous voyage to Naxos. A mere daytime nap, meant to simply reinvigorate her, had suddenly turned her whole world upside down, because upon opening her eyes, her lover, with whom she'd risked her entire life in order to save, had all but vanished: him, his boat, and by extension, her heart along with him. She couldn't even see a single speck of him remaining on the horizon, and the thought that he had left her the moment she'd fallen asleep felt ever more disparaging.

Now, she sat along the shore. The sands, cooled with the setting sun, cradled her dejected form. The cacophony of waves crashing against the island served to drown out her cries. And the winds, which had grown significantly weaker as the day waned, brushed against her face as if to gently wipe away her tears. Naxos, with its surreal beauty and tender acceptance, had become no more a prison prompted by her own circumstances just as her accomodations had been on Crete. Exchanging one pitiful excuse of a home for another, though now she was utterly alone.

And all she could do was cry to herself. Cry over her foolishness to have risked everything for a boy she'd fallen for so rashly. Cry over her imminent future and the dread of the unknown which lay in waiting for her. Cry over the abandonment and outright rejection from someone she once believed to be her soulmate.

What a miserable life she led.

What a tragic course of events she followed.

What an absolutely pathetic human being she was.

And how utterly vexing it was that she could not even wallow in her own self-pity by her lonesome for very long.

“(y/n)?”

Her body seemed to register the foreign voice before her mind had, as she slowly turned her tear stricken face towards the newcomer. Though once her eyes met those of the familiar deity, now standing a mere few feet away from her, she quickly turned back to her original position, staring out at the sea. By now, the harsh line of the horizon had become ingrained into her corneas, remaining in her vision even when her eyes were closed, yet she continued to stare forward, hoping to find a stray boat somewhere in the distance. Hoping to see her beloved rushing back to her as if his initial departure was nothing more than an accident. Hoping to fall back into his arms and forget the worries incessantly plaguing her mind.

Though once more, these desires went unanswered, and instead, she was met by this ever so gentle touch skimming carefully over her back.

“(y/n), look at me.”

The demand hadn't held much of an authoritative tone, more so that of an insistent plea, one where she could faintly discern the shreds of desperation laced in between. Yet she remained as is, eyes trained on the ocean, waiting. She thought by ignoring him, he'd leave her alone. Allow her to grieve in peace without his mischief and revelric tendencies. Let her sulk in her misfortune without being reminded of her affiliation with him. Yet he could not even spare her this one luxury.

Instead, in her periphery, she found him crouching onto the sand beside her, seating himself in a way so he could remain attached to her side. The heavy weight of his gaze lingered upon her, even as she attempted to ignore his presence as a whole. Though he seemed none the wiser to her efforts, or perhaps he merely couldn't care less what she thought of him—not that she's out right proclaimed her opinion of said god, but from mere context clues given their history together, she was sure he had a general understanding of where she stands with him.

It had been a few years since she first met Baekhyun. A rather untimely meeting with the god of wine and revelry, one marked by unrequited affections which has since plagued her every waking moment. She had never processed how burdensome it could become to be the apple of one's eye, especially if that particular person was a deity of Baekhyun's caliber, and one she felt nothing towards. And even now as she tends to a broken heart, abandoned on a remote island in the middle of nowhere with no means of escape, she still couldn't conceal the discomfort she felt in Baekhyun's presence, knowing fully well of his affections and how he had been waiting for her answer to his proposal.

Though unlike all the other times he’s randomly materialized before her, usually wreaking of that sickly sweet aroma of wine and teasing her relentlessly until she was pleading for him to leave her be, he sat there calmly and quietly, waiting for her to acknowledge him. It was a peculiar shift in his modus operandi, one that did not go by unnoticed by (y/n), yet even with the silence he granted her, she couldn't bear to speak to him as she usually would.

Humiliation silently lingered in the air even before she could say anything. She didn't know what she'd tell Baekhyun had he pestered her in his usual manner. The last thing on her mind was telling the man who proposed to her—with whom she'd essentially left unanswered—that the man she intended on running away with forever had all but left her stranded on an island to die in solitude. Though somehow, there was a small inkling in her that felt like Baekhyun already knew. And perhaps a smaller, more hopeful part of her believed he was here not to torment her, but rather to check up on her, ensure she was fairing well.

Hesitantly, her eyes strayed from where they'd been zeroed in along the horizon, sparing Baekhyun a small and brief glance.

It was odd. His eyes seemed duller now, a more muted umber tone devoid of that trademark glint he usually dons when running amok. He usually always bore this confident, bordering on cocky, grin that seemed all too pleased with himself and his shenanigans, yet now his lips were naturally downturned, perhaps the first time she's ever seen his mouth in its natural resting position. Even his scent was more subdued, and she was able to pick up the rich undertones of grapes usually concealed by his alcoholic carousing. His gaze was dropped, steadily trained on her hands laying in her lap, and the undivided attention only prompted more discomfort on her part as she fiddled with the fabric of her dress.

She had half a mind to ask him if he was okay, momentarily forgetting her own plight once she saw the shift in demeanor of Baekhyun. Though the silence that encompassed them prompted her own wariness in approaching the subject.

And so they remained as is, the sun now meeting the horizon, igniting the sky into a mural of warm, fiery hues. As the sun continued to set, it dyed the blue depth of the waters into a color akin to wine with its deep and rich crimson shade.

Without realizing it, her mind had begun wandering back to Baekhyun, curious as to why he remained by her side even as she ignored him. And though she didn't know for how long she'd strayed with these thoughts, she did know it was his presence alone that managed to briefly distract her from her current situation.

“Why are you here?” (y/n) asked, voice gravelly from misuse. For a moment, she was met with silence, the ocean serving as white noise to fill the void. But as she dared another glance his way, she saw his somber countenance. It was a foreign expression to be gracing his face, and she found herself intrigued by the furrow of his brow as he remained lost in thought.

“I went to visit you on Crete…” He finally responded, the timbre of his voice lowering with raw solemnity. “I know how you get with the annual tributes, so I wanted to be there for you.”

She shied away at this, never fully processing how Baekhyun's sporadic appearances coincided with certain times. And it was true. Every year as the Athenian tributes arrived on Crete, she distanced herself until after these events were done and over with. Though as she now recollected memories from recent years, she began putting together Baekhyun's arrivals were never truly as spontaneous as she first made them out to be.

He was always there whenever she was at her lowest. She thought it was intentional as a way of tormenting her when she's at rock bottom, but as he continued speaking, a pit of remorse began accumulating within her heart.

“Instead, I was met with… chaos. Carnage. Disorder.” He paused, turning his head in a direction she could only assume was where Crete faced. “Asterion was dead. A tribute had escaped. And the princess had all but disappeared.”

At his final statement, (y/n) stared down in shame. She knew there would be repercussions for her actions, but she thought she'd have been long gone at this point. Too far away to even spare a moment of regret for having abandoned her family and her kingdom. Yet it all came back to bite her. Her brother, cursed and estranged as he was, had been killed. Theseus, her lover who she assisted the entire way through, had been the one to kill him. And she, princess of Crete, had run off in the midst of this mayhem.

“I'm sorry…” (y/n) whispered, voice strained as she fought back tears. “I'm so sorry. I just couldn't take it anymore. I couldn't bear to see more death. Every single year without fail they'd send these Athenians off to die by my brother's hands. And we'd just have to sit there and watch. Watch as they all lost themselves to the labyrinth. And Asterion would…”

As if having finally broken the floodgates, tears began streaming down her face without fail. The tragic life of her brother, born a monster and treated as such. And even if she had never interacted with him, even as she witnessed his bloodshed year after year, the knowledge of his death being instigated by her own involvement was debilitating enough to ground her back into reality.

The gravity of her predicament began to settle in. Sitting on an island, hopelessly waiting for a guy she had only just met and was ready to run away with forever. The realization that he used her for his own benefit, exploited her blind affections towards him only to then leave her for dead. He had probably already returned to Athens, assumed the role of hero who killed the minotaur of Crete—as well as that of their princess. And she sat there, longing for him for hours at a time, seated beside Dionysus himself. The absurdity of it all was almost laughable, and she'd probably be doing just that if it weren't for the overwhelming humiliation she felt coiled and festering within her.

“I helped him…” She confessed aloud. “I gave him the thread so he wouldn't get lost in the maze. I was the one who helped him defeat Asterion. I was the one who helped him escape. It was all my doing. And he left me here as repayment.”

Before she could continue, Baekhyun had suddenly shifted from his position, arms wrapping around her tightly and dragging her into his embrace. Any other time, she'd probably have swatted at him whilst yelling profanities, all while he laughed in delight at her hostility.

Yet now his touch didn't feel repulsive.

She could feel his warmth fully encompassing her, shielding her from the outside world. His hands clung to her body as if afraid she'd slip away from him at any moment. And now closer to him than ever before, she could smell his true aroma past the wine. An almost woodsy scent, just as warm as he was. Fruits and earth and nature as a whole. Faintly, she could smell the ocean intermingling with his scent.

It was so peculiar the way that distinct saltiness had first felt like a refreshing start to a new life, though shifted into an overwhelming and paralyzing apprehension that infested every aspect of her being. Though now, in Baekhyun's protective arms, it felt comforting. As if he himself dispelled it and this island of any and all of its negativity that consumed her.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, the tension from her body had melted away. The sound of his heartbeat coinciding with that of the calm waves was like a melodious harmony that transcended her into a state of utter tranquility. His breathing lulled her away from the worries that tormented her heart, and she finally felt at peace.

“Did you love him?” Baekhyun asked. His tone was more inquisitive than anything else. There were no hidden intentions with his question, and although hesitant to admit it aloud to him, for fear of hurting him, (y/n) felt at ease with telling Baekhyun the truth he sought.

“Yes,” she responded quietly. “But I regret it. I regret it all.”

“Don't.” His grip tightened around her, pressing his forehead against the top of her head. “You shouldn't regret the love you give people. Don't let this foolish boy disparage you from expressing yourself to your fullest potential.”

(y/n) remained quiet, surprised by the turn of the events, though still listening intently to Baekhyun's words.

“I've always held such deep admiration towards you. From the moment I met you till now. I could see the way you loved so genuinely and fully. And I thought it was beautiful. I thought you were beautiful. You shouldn't grieve over an unrequited love. Loss serves as a reminder of the love we once felt, and the remorse we feel further exemplifies that. Your love is something so wonderful. Something I adore greatly.”

As he spoke, his warmth seemed to intensify. Filled with familiarity and security, coaxing her further into his embrace until she buried herself into the crook of his neck. He held her as if she were everything he had ever asked for. His touch was like ambrosia and nectar, the sweetest of prose to ever be professed, a safety like no other.

“I find myself wanting to be inconvenienced by you. I want to have you distracting me by lingering in my thoughts. I want to take time out of my day just to see you. I want to love you, even if you don't love me.”

At this, a sob slipped past her lips, and she clung onto him harder. Away from it all, everything inside her felt tumultuous and heightened. All of the emotions she'd been bottling up for years seemed to overflow in Baekhyun's presence alone. Her heart ached with grief, remorse, hatred, anger, defeat. Yet it also sang like never before, healing itself from years of anguish and torment.

And after the cathartic intervention came to a conclusion, faces marred by dried tears and eyes reddened with strain, a peaceful serenity had settled over the two. By now, the sun had long set. The cool of the night had begun penetrating the warmth of their embrace. The sand beneath them no longer retained the heat of the afternoon sun. The oceans were calm and still. The winds now settled into a gentle breeze. The world was asleep, silent in every regard. The day had ended and (y/n) had made it out alive, no doubt due to Baekhyun's influence.

Panic begin settling in her as he shifted, rising to his feet and pulling her up with him. Though when she met his gaze, loving and sweet and attentive, she began to settle once more. His hands held her own, thumbs softly brushing over her knuckles, all the while maintaining his sight on her face.

“What would you like to do?” He asked. “I can build you a palace here on Naxos, away from the cruelties of the world and the people who inhabit it.” His smile grew wider, bearing that familiar wickedness whenever he was up to no good. “I could overthrow the monarchy of Crete and reinstate you as its sole sovereign, allow you to redeem yourself and your honor, perhaps even reestablish Crete as a just and fair kingdom.” Both options were tempting, neither having any inherent consequences as long as Baekhyun held sway in their components. And she could tell Baekhyun had more to say, but she quickly intercepted before he could propose another offer.

“I want to be with you.” Baekhyun blinked at this, chuckling as if she were telling a joke.

“I will be there. You can't get rid of me that easily.”

“No.” Her hands slipped from his, reaching forth to cup his cheeks and bring him closer. “I choose you, Baekhyun.”

She pressed her lips against his own, soft and delicate. He seemed stunned for a moment, his body moving subconsciously for the first second or two, but once he had fully processed where he was and what was happening, Baekhyun began reciprocating. He kissed back just as earnestly, his hands reaching up to hold onto her wrists as he poured every ounce of his adoration into her. And (y/n) couldn't help but think how perfect it was.

She'd always thought love at first sight was perhaps the most romantic of gestures one could have. The act of finding your soulmate from a single encounter seemed so otherworldly and unmatched. Yet here in this moment with Baekhyun's body pressed against her own as he drew impossibly closer to her, his hands softly wandering in an attempt to map her form into his memory, she found this very moment to be the epitome of what love should be. A gradual fall into love. In a way, she can reminisce on growth and development, reflect on what was not there and how it came to be.

One of his hands had wandered to her hair, gently carding his fingers through the strands, and the other drew patterns on her waist, amorphous shapes that each portrayed his unspoken love for her. She thought back on every encounter she had with him. Every laugh he coaxed out of her even as she tried to hide away from the world. The bittersweet smiles he gave her every time she rejected or delayed his proposal. His neverending determination and devotion, even when facing adversities like herself. And with each revelation, each tender kiss from Baekhyun, her heart seemed to swell with love for him and him alone.

Once more, he was the one to pull away first, perhaps more in control of his long-standing affections than her, yet he didn't draw too far from her. Just far enough for him to look over her countenance with a lovestruck expression of his own. His eyes glistened with this saccharine-like joy, crinkling at the corners with his sweet smile dedicated to her. And she found herself smiling back, an uncontrollable jubilance bubbling in her as she reveled in his affections.

“Come then,” he spoke softly, hands returning back to hers. He brought one up to his lips, pressing one final kiss to her fingers. “Let's go home.”

[bitchliteraria1906]

Kyosaya headcanons because they make me kinda sick in the head (just pretend this is after a happy-ish ending):

•Kyoko has nightmares about her family's death. They're very abstract but mostly include a faceless version of her dad (or her dad with a shattering lantern for a head) yelling at her and calling her a witch before the scene switches to her family dead at her feet. Whenever this happens, Sayaka helps her settle down and then either strokes her hair until she falls asleep again or stays awake with her talking, listening to music, eating comfort foods and whatever else can be done to distract her.

•Kyoko cooks all the meals because Sayaka can't cook for shit. She also insists on doing it by herself, because 1. She enjoys cooking, so it's not a chore for her and 2. Food is how she shows affection, so she wants to do it all by herself and then hand it to Sayaka like a gift of sorts.

•Their first serious argument consisted of Kyoko, in a moment of insecurity in their relationship and anger towards Sayaka's tendency to want to be a knight in shining armor and put herself in danger in the process, accused her of only being with her out of pity or some form of moral mission to "fix her". She even got as far to saying something like "You just want someone who needs you all the time you and makes you feel less useless, like that stupid violin boy!"

•Sayaka got pretty offended, and said some pretty hurtful stuff back. Something like "At least I'm not a selfish prick who uses her sad backstory as an excuse for it."

•It took them a day away from each other to cool off, and then Sayaka went after Kyoko due to Madoka's advice and they apologized, tears and all.

•Sayaka is very self critical, so Kyoko always males sure to hype her up in her own way. Sometimes she's a bit agressive about it ("Love yourself more or I'll kill you"), but it works lmao.

•Kyoko steals Sayaka's clothes constanly. It started with wearing her spare uniform and then it never stopped.

•Both of them love dogs, so they end up adopting one together in the future.

[sapphorror]

Short Moderate Length List of Small(ish) Things I Appreciate About The Wettening

Dib being conspicuously absent from the opening pan of the classroom, only to cartoon-teleport into existence at Zim’s desk the second Zim starts expressing mild apprehension at the sight of unfamiliar weather. This kid spends his time just hanging around staring at Zim, waiting for him to show the slightest sign of discomfort, confusion, or unease in order to immediately taunt him about it—and the surrounding chaos, if anything, is just an opportunity to come watch even more closely. We all already knew this, but it still kills me to see it in action.

Also, he’s animated popping up from below, and like… were we meant to interpret this as him just chilling underneath Zim’s desk? No, absolutely not—but is it funny (and, to add to the hilarity, miraculously somehow not completely unbelievable within the context of the show) to imagine that he was? Yes. Yes it is.

Zim confidently walking out into a downpour he has already confirmed to be acidic just because Dib implicitly dared him to—no one’s looking, Dib hasn’t even said anything or made a claim against his humanity, Zim just can’t stand to give Dib the satisfaction of seeing him vulnerable or afraid of something (which backfires pretty spectacularly, since I’m pretty sure ‘writhing on the ground shrieking in indescribable agony’ is a significantly worse look in terms of appearing vulnerable, but all’s well that ends in Victory For Zim, I guess).

Also Zim's little baffled gesture right beforehand like he's silently asking Dib to confirm he's not hallucinating the rain dance (he does not receive an answer)

Gaz presumably seeing Zim sneaking up behind her brother, saying nothing and making no reaction that’ll tip Dib off… only to immediately be made to regret her choices when she gets caught in another splash. Shows her for trusting Zim to be at least a little bit cool about tormenting Dib (honestly, we see her exact fitting justice on Dib at the end of the episode, but I cannot imagine she wasn't still planning to do something equally petty to Zim).

The faucet drip scene and the underlying awareness that this is just what Zim and Dib do to each other during class. Every day. It is, in fact, probably one of the least disruptive forms their constant warfare takes on a routine basis. Suddenly I understand a little bit of why their entire class hates them.

Also Dib’s happy face while he's terrorizing Zim into a shell-shocked stupor is absurdly cute and heartwarming. If I cropped that picture no one would ever guess what he's smiling about. This kid? A sadist? Impossible.

“I don’t even feel good about winning this one,” and it's said with his hands clasped together, practically vibrating with glee, his expression vaguely reminiscent of a teenager in the throes of hormonal infatuation (the hypothetical object in this case not so much being Zim himself as a personified abstraction of Zim’s suffering). If someone hit him with the Return of Keef happy goo in this exact moment, I am completely certain it would kill him. His statement is only true insofar that a more accurate term for his current state of being would probably be euphoric.  I take back everything I’ve ever said about Zim being unreasonable in this episode—he was merciful.

Also this face the moment Zim gets up and starts threatening him. Zim still isn't even all that intimidating at the moment, but Dib knows he just fucked up. Maybe he's getting flashbacks to Dark Harvest.

Dib’s ridiculous water balloon device. Seriously. I feel like it gets (reasonably) overshadowed by the sheer absurdity of Zim’s entire operation, but it really is so amazingly stupid and pointless in a way that is… not dissimilar to the ultimate Irken water balloon. Not only is it really not necessary for the task it's meant to accomplish, it's actively detrimental in that it slows Dib down, blatantly telegraphs his attacks, and reduces accuracy by a significant degree. The only actual benefits I can think of would be the exponential increase in force and range and the instant accessibility of a water supply—the former of which is totally unnecessary in this scenario and the latter being possible to accomplish with a much simpler device (or even just… a water tank). To summarize, it is an incredibly impressive feat of both skill and creativity in design that is also completely and utterly useless! Which is just the perfect demonstration of what I mean when I say Dib really does share nearly all of Zim’s flaws, just to a less obviously ridiculous degree—he comes off just calm and clever enough to pass as moderately reasonable  at a glance, and in some ways, that makes him more of a potential flight risk than Zim. At least that's a lunatic you see coming. 

Irkens are collapsible, apparently

[kneelmylucille]

On Your Knees - Chapter 1

Abstract: “Sweetheart,” Negan’s raspy voice growls above you, as he places the bat in your face once again, carnage dripping and hanging from the barbed wire. He opens his mouth with a shit-eating grin as if to speak, but as you look up and meet his eyes just as before, he falls deafeningly silent.

Characters: Negan x Female Reader

Warnings: violence and gore, eventual smut, nsfw, 18+

Words: 1,391

“Alright. We’ve got a full boat. Let’s meet the man.”

Your knees dig into the cool gravel below, leaving deep imprints in your already torn skin. Suspecting what was to come, you had dissociated from the world around you, only hearing your own sharp breaths and the pounding of your heart. Meaning, you had missed the command to get on your knees and were shoved forcefully to the ground, your already torn jeans finally giving up and ripping the rest of the way open.

“Pissin’ our pants yet?”

Keeping your grey eyes placed firmly on the ground in front of you, you refuse to accept the situation. You are relatively new to Rick’s group, having only arrived at Alexandria a few weeks prior after Daryl and Rick had happened upon you while on a supply run. You had been with other groups before, formed lifelong bonds with people whom you would have called family, but you always seemed to be the last man standing.

Of course, you should have known that it would have only been a matter of time before history repeated itself and landed you here, breath caught in your throat and ears ringing as blood began to seep from your scathed knees and slowly fill in the cracks of the gravel.

“Boy, do I have a feeling we’re gettin’ close.”

You take a deep breath, beginning to feel grateful for the distraction of your stinging legs.

“Yep. It’s gonna be pee pee pants city here real soon.”

This could not be any wor- Did this man just say pee pee pants city?

Lifting your gaze, you start at his boots and begin to take him in. His long legs, his leather jacket hiding a red scarf wrapped tightly around his neck, his salt and pepper beard surrounding a wide predatory smile, and a barbwire-wrapped baseball bat resting firmly yet carelessly on his shoulder. An unfamiliar feeling rises deep in your abdomen, which you tell yourself to be a mixture of both fear and disgust, but you know yourself better than that.

“-but swallow it you most certainly will,” Negan drawls in a voice that reminds you of the aforementioned gravel, as he points his bat in Rick’s face.

Nope. You close your eyes momentarily as you attempt to disappear into the comfort of your own headspace but find yourself defiantly stuck in reality as Negan continues with his speech.

“So now … I’m gonna beat the holy hell outta one of you.”

You draw in a sharp breath, instinctually reaching out to grab Michonne’s arm as you first take in the deadly gaze of Negan, and finding no comfort when you turn to find Michonne with an equally terrified look on her face.

Negan turns slowly in your direction, his face remaining dangerous as he takes two long strides and stops directly in front of you.

Your eyes fall on one another’s as he takes you in, running a gloved hand over his long face “Jesus.” He takes a step closer, his boots falling only an inch from where you kneel.

“You still with us darlin’? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.” His lip twitches and gives way to a wolfish grin, as he leans in close and loudly whispers, “And not the friendly one.”

Choosing to ignore his illy timed joke, you opt for continuing to stare into his eyes, looking for any shred of hope that this night isn’t going to go as you anticipate. Grievously, you come up short as he stands to full height and raises the bat over his shoulder half-heartedly, “Maybe I should just put you out of your misery right now.”

“No!” Your heart drops as Daryl screams and jumps out of line towards Negan, before being thrown to the ground by a heavily scarred man and struck repeatedly.

“Stop it!” The words leave your mouth without thought at the sight of Daryl’s bleeding and defenseless position. Your whole body shakes in terror, certain that you’re going to see Daryl die before you meet your own brutal end.

Negan turns with a disappointed gaze and a bored sigh, “Nope. Nope, get him back in line.”

As Daryl is harshly placed, kneeling in his former position, Negan turns back toward the group. “Alright, listen. Don’t any of you do that again. I will shut that shit down, no exceptions. First one’s free. It’s an emotional moment,” he smirks and points dejectedly at Daryl, “I get it.”

A brief moment of silence follows as you peer over at Daryl, tears pooling in your eyes. Negan continues prating down to Rick, but you permit your eyes to remain focused on Daryl for a long while, trying to wordlessly convey to him that everything would be just fine.

Negan appears in front of you, calculatingly pointing his bat an inch from your nose, but you focus on his face, not allowing yourself to ponder too long on the weapon that could bash your head in at any moment.

“Eenie.”

He continues determinedly down the line, passively acquainting the bat with each of your companions.

“And you-“

You grind your knees into the ground.

“Are-“

You will yourself to wake up, thinking this surely cannot be real.

“It.”

To your horror, he stops directly to your left, and you turn to see Abraham straighten his form in firm defiance.

“Anybody moves, anybody says anything, cut the boy’s other eye out and feed it to his father and then we’ll start.”

The pools of tears finally fall from your eyes, cascading down your paled cheeks.

“You can breathe, you can blink, you can cry.” He glances toward you so quickly that you almost miss it. “Hell, you’re all gonna be doing that.”

He raises the bat high in the air, and you squeeze your eyes shut, hearing a sickening crack, and seemingly feeling the reverberation of the blow rattle your own skull. Terrorized screams erupt from every direction, as a second blow lands, and then a third, and then a fourth, as the blunt thuds morph into a stomach-turning squelch. Warmth splatters across your face, which you can only assume to be gore, but still you refuse to open your eyes.

You grind your raw knees deeper into the gravel.

It feels like an eternity before the sound finally stops, and you wrench your eyes open, immediately feeling as if your own head would explode upon seeing the pile of brain matter, which was Abraham only moments prior, splayed less than a foot away.

“Oh, my goodness! Look at this!” Negan swings Lucille towards the group, splattering Abraham’s blood carelessly, before giving a knowing and drawn-out chuckle. “You guys, look at my dirty girl!”

You fall forward on your hands, tightly grasping the gore covered dirt and gravel in your shaking hands.

“Sweetheart,” Negan’s raspy voice growls above you, as he places the bat in your face once again, carnage dripping and hanging from the barbed wire. He opens his mouth with a shit-eating grin as if to speak, but as you look up and meet his eyes just as before, he falls deafeningly silent. His eyes squint ever so slightly, and you can tell that he’s pondering over something, perhaps over if you would be next to become familiarized with the end of his bat. You squeeze the gravel encased in your hands until you know that you’ve drawn blood, as you continue staring despairingly into his eyes.

He leisurely lowers the bat, grin having never left his face, and speaks over his shoulder, “Dwight. Gently load this one up.” The scarred man, whom you now know to be Dwight, springs into action toward you. You release a worried breath, dropping the earth from your hands, and wondering for a moment if attempting to run would be your best option. “Gently.”

Dwight takes you by the forearm and pulls you from the ground, guiding you to one of the savior’s vans.

They’re taking me, your legs go numb at this realization as you’re placed into the back of the van. The last thing you see before the doors shut and you’re plunged into an uncertain darkness, is Rick’s slouched form and his blood-covered face, staring back at you with a look of utter defeat.

[mar3ggiata]

professional help, c5. The shit plan.

simon riley x original character.

trigger warnings: violence, sexual assault, mentions of rape, trauma, sexual themes, swearing, use of alcohol and drugs, awful deaths.

song to listen to when reading this: Heartbeat, Childish Gambino.

abstract: hi this is Simon. okay, before you read this, I'm gonna say this once and never repeat it again. maybe she was right. don't tell her I told you, and don't you dare even remember anything I said in this stupid chapter.

He had thought about Jude quite a bit. He knew nothing about her, but she made an impression on him. She was interesting. He wanted to know if she was still angry at him, for what he said. He thought a lot if he had been too rude, and he always settled on a no. He had fun, played a bit, picked a little fight. He was sure she could handle it, she didn't seem like the type to get offended easily. But now he thought about her. He thought about how she was dressed, her grey trousers. He thought about the skin below her ear. That caramel coloured skin. She's from a sunny place. He thought about her hair. He thought about her soft hand against his rough one. Her small hand. Her grip was firm. He thought about her car, used, dirty Volkswagen Polo, dark grey. He saw her driving away from a window that same day. He thought about her eyelashes. He made it a mission to find out things about her. He wanted to know if she still lived in that apartment he saw a year prior, the layout of her house. Did she live alone? Maybe she had a boyfriend. How old was she? Knowing so little about this girl drove him mad. She had an intriguing presence, she was captivating. And she always seemed to crash important events. This time she didn't bother knocking on the briefing room door. She came straight in. This time she really looked like death. All black attire, long black coat that made her shiny blonde locks stand out even more. A doll. With a chainsaw. He had to repress his surprised face when seeing her. And seeing her so mad all the time really reminded him he had never saw her smile, just a little maybe. Price turned his head and he could feel from across the room his captain's heart skip a beat. Jude was the representation of bad news. Her eyes were fiery.

'He didn't show up', she said, not waiting for anyone to speak. In the room, apart from him and the captain, no one knew what the fuck she was on about. Then she looked at him. She looked at him and he tilted his head, he understood that look. 'I told you your plan was shit' look. In the awkward silence, he felt his teammates start to wonder what his business was with her. She wouldn't look away and his lips were starting to form a smile. We could stay like this all day.

'What do you mean he didn't show up?' asked the captain, raising from his chair. She wanted to scream. She wanted to throw the chairs in the room out the window. She blinked a few times, are we still having this conversation? 'I mean exactly what I said.' She gave them a sarcastic smile. She was annoying, Jesus Christ… 'I mean he was late for the session, I waited 15 minutes alone in my office, called him three times and after another 15 minutes decided I'm going after him. This is what I mean.' She was furious. So stupid. So ignorant. This is what you sign up for working in a male dominated field.

'You're going where?' This was Simon speaking, standing up as well. He earned another glare of contempt from her. 'I'm gonna see what direction he took from the CCTV footage and try to find him, wherever he is. It's what we should have done from the beginning.' She explained. 'We? What's going on?' Johnny stood up from the chair next to him. 'Hi, Jude right? Cool name', he added, not wanting to upset her further. Truth is, no one in the team knew about their plan with Arash, cause it just didn't matter, they had other things to worry about for Christ's sake! She looked around, finally understanding Price didn't tell anyone about their meeting. How could they think this wasn't important? 'Listen', Price began, 'Let's all calm down', he stated, before making his way to Jude, 'I'm gonna send my men, we're gonna find him and we're gonna bring him back, gentlemen!' He turned towards them, trying to regain control of the situation. 'Amir..'

'Arash!' Jude corrected.

'Arash, you're right, Arash Tehrani is probably not far from here, from what we've gathered he has something to do with our missions and why they were ambushed. I've spoken to Jude and suggested we would wait for him to speak to her during therapy and the fact that he hasn't shown up is a clear sign he's out there communicating with the enemy.' Jude was not impressed by his speech and stood with her arms crossed in the corner of the room. She almost caught Simon looking at her. 'Ghost and Gaz, you'll get a car and follow the direction that Arash took, look through the CCTV before you leave…'

Jude interrupted him, and frankly, ha quite hoped she would. 'I'm going with them'. Him and Price spoke at the same time 'You're not'. We're not out here playing spies. She didn't flinch. 'I am! I know my patient, let's say we find him and he's in distress. He doesn't know you, he trusts me. Plus, you owe me cause I was right all this time’. We don't owe you shit Jude, you need to calm down. He hated to admit it, she wasn't totally wrong. News flash, they had guns to defend themselves, but maybe a public space wasn't really the place for a gun fight. It was comic, it was such a weird situation. In all his years in the military he had never experienced something funnier. There was a new addition to the team eh? A stranger, a pretty girl with pretty eyes and very pretty legs that had nothing to do with this mission was going to help them solve the case. Wonderful. Straight out of a movie. He was in a car, his teammate beside him, not even full gear on cause he didn't have time, driving south, through the desert. In the backseat, Jude was sitting quietly like she did a year prior with her hands between her thighs.

Price had agreed, thank God. She had insisted quite a bit, she knew it was dangerous and understood his concern. She wasn't alone, Big Bad Ghost Guy and Handsome Brunette were with her, no? She was gonna be fine. Deep down, she was glad they let her come. They even landed her a bulletproof vest, too big for her torso, but still. She was going to get to the bottom of the situation, she was the one who started the whole investigation in the first place. And if they had listened to her, they would have saved time and probably got Arash already. She was snapped back to reality by Pretty Calvin Klein Model on the front seat. 'I'm Kyle' he offered his hand, turning backwards to face her. 'Jude, nice to meet you', she replied. Simon noticed she smiled. She smiled at Gaz. She shook his hand and smiled. He noticed her soft cheeks and the wrinkles in her forehead smooth in a relaxed expression. 'You're gonna tell us if you see him, 'kay?' he instructed, strapping his vest tighter on his chest. 'Sure'. They were passing by a few shops, some gas stations. 'How long have you been working here?' Gaz was really interested into making conversation hu? Simon was driving silently, his foot lingering on the brakes just in case he spotted something. 'Two years' she replied. Her tone was soft unlike when she had talked to him. Her voice was warm. Not really the time to get to know each other guys. Jude, of all people, you? The super serious psychologist who begged them to bring her on this man hunt, flirting with a soldier from the back of the car? It was me, Simon thought, who you got matching tattoos with in Ibiza. Ridiculous. A well renowned Lieutenant like him, forced to babysit two…

'The car!' screamed Jude, interrupting his train of thoughts. He quickly pulled up at the side of the road, right behind one of the trucks with the base logo imprinted on the back door. They had really found him.

notes: surprise!! it's not Saturday yet, listen to what I thought. Since some chapters are shorter than others, I will just post two times this week, and then keep it one time per week when the chapters are longer, genius.

notes: replies and reblogs are highly appreciated, hope you like this!!

love, mare.

taglist:

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[stewiesclark]

Second Nature: Chapter Three

Full Series

The UConn campus is quiet, the outdoor basketball court dimly lit by the glow of overhead lights. A cool breeze rustles the nearby trees, adding to the calm, laid-back atmosphere of the late night. The court is empty, save for Harriet and Breanna, who stand under the hoop, exchanging playful smiles. The soft thud of a basketball echoes across the pavement as they start their impromptu game.

Breanna, effortlessly dribbling the ball between her legs, watches Harriet with a teasing grin. "Are you sure you’ve played basketball before?" she jokes, faking a crossover before stepping back to shoot an easy three-pointer. The ball swishes through the net, and Breanna gives a smug shrug, clearly showing off.

Harriet rolls her eyes, catching the ball as it bounces back. "Just because you live and breathe this doesn’t mean we all do," she retorts, pretending to inspect the ball before awkwardly dribbling it toward the hoop. "Besides, you’re way too competitive. I thought we were just having fun."

Breanna laughs, stepping up behind Harriet as she prepares for a shot. "Fun? This is fun! You’ll thank me when you’re actually good at this."

Harriet tosses the ball, and it barely grazes the rim before bouncing away. She throws Breanna a mock glare, wiping her brow. "Sure, if we keep doing this, I’ll be starting for the team in no time."

Breanna shakes her head, grinning. "Yeah, right. You can stick to whatever nerdy stuff you do, and I’ll handle the court."

As they go back and forth, the banter flows effortlessly. Harriet, usually reserved, finds herself loosening up, laughing more freely than she has in a while. Meanwhile, Breanna, who’s always serious when it comes to basketball, feels herself letting go of the pressure, enjoying the moment.

Eventually, after several missed shots from Harriet and a few show-off moves from Breanna, they’re both breathless, collapsing onto the court in a fit of laughter.

Harriet leans back on her hands, staring up at the sky. "I’ve never been this bad at something in my life," she admits, her voice light with self-deprecation.

Breanna nudges her gently with her shoulder. "You’re not that bad. Well, maybe you are. But still, you’ve got potential."

They fall into a comfortable silence, the air thick with the kind of closeness that doesn’t need words. Harriet glances at Breanna out of the corner of her eye. "I’m really glad we started hanging out. I didn’t expect… this," she says softly, her voice suddenly serious.

Breanna turns her head, her expression softening. "Yeah. Me too," she replies, her voice low. There’s a pause, a moment where the connection between them feels palpable, but unspoken.

They sit there, neither of them quite ready to put into words what’s beginning to form between them.

The café is a cozy little spot just off campus, filled with mismatched chairs and tables that seem to have been collected from yard sales over the years. The walls are adorned with quirky artwork—abstract paintings, polaroids from local artists, and a mural of a cat wearing glasses sipping a cup of coffee. The air smells like freshly brewed espresso and baked pastries. It’s the perfect refuge from the bustling campus.

Harriet and Breanna sit at a small table by the window, their lunches in front of them. Harriet has a neatly organized salad with dressing on the side, while Breanna digs into a burger with fries scattered haphazardly across her plate.

"You always eat so healthy," Breanna remarks, shaking her head in mock disapproval as she dips a fry in ketchup. "How are you not bored of salads yet?"

Harriet smirks, spearing a cucumber with her fork. "It’s all about balance, Bre. Keeps me focused. I plan out my meals just like I plan out my day—makes everything run smoother."

Breanna raises an eyebrow. "And here I thought food was supposed to be fun. Do you plan out your life down to the minute too?"

Harriet shrugs, taking a bite. "Sort of. I just like knowing what I have to do and getting ahead of things. Schoolwork, projects, life—it’s all easier when you’re organized."

"See, that sounds exhausting." Breanna takes a bite of her burger and chews thoughtfully. "I mean, yeah, I care about school and basketball, but I’m not out here making spreadsheets for my life."

Harriet laughs, wiping her mouth with a napkin. "You probably should. It might make your life easier."

Breanna grins. "I don’t need a spreadsheet. I’ve got basketball to keep me grounded. If I’m stressed, I hit the court or the gym, run it out, or play until I’m too tired to think about whatever’s stressing me out. Clears my head every time."

Harriet tilts her head, intrigued. "So, just physical activity? That’s how you manage everything?"

Breanna nods, picking up another fry. "Yeah, and some mindfulness stuff. I focus on what I can control at the moment. Like breathing, moving, and playing. The rest just falls into place."

Harriet chuckles, leaning back in her chair. "I don’t know how you do that. I’d be a mess if I didn’t have everything planned out. Your whole ‘let’s see what happens’ approach gives me anxiety."

Breanna smirks. "And your ‘let’s plan everything out’ approach makes me tired just thinking about it. You probably plan when you’re gonna relax, too."

Harriet narrows her eyes playfully. "And you probably treat basketball like therapy."

"Exactly," Breanna responds with a smile. "It works."

Their playful banter flows easily, with Harriet making fun of Breanna for relying so heavily on basketball, while Breanna teases Harriet for being too rigid. The conversation dances between their two different worlds—Harriet’s structured, academic-driven life and Breanna’s more spontaneous, physical approach to dealing with stress.

But underneath the teasing, there’s a subtle shift. Harriet pauses for a moment, tapping her fork against her plate thoughtfully. "Maybe I should try something like that… the whole physical activity thing for stress. You might be onto something."

Breanna looks surprised but pleased. "Yeah? It could be good for you. You can come shoot hoops with me anytime. I'll teach you more than just free throws this time."

Harriet laughs. "I might take you up on that. If you let me teach you some time management tricks in return."

Breanna raises her hands in mock surrender. "Alright, deal. I guess we’re both gonna learn something new."

They exchange a warm smile, the playful argument winding down. It’s clear that they’re both starting to influence each other’s way of thinking, but neither is pushing too hard. Just enjoying the easy flow of conversation and the comfort of being around each other.

As they finish their meal, the café continues to buzz around them, but for Harriet and Breanna, it feels like they’re in their own little world. The bond between them grows with each playful jab and every shared smile, making their connection feel even more natural.

Later that week, they would hang out once again. The last time, they played basketball and then the next time it was neutral in lunch and now they are doing one of Harriet’s favorite things: poetry reading.

The venue is small and intimate, with dim lighting casting a soft glow over the crowd. The air hums with quiet conversations, punctuated by the gentle clinking of glasses. The audience is a mix of students, professors, and local poets, gathered to hear the spoken word. Soft jazz plays in the background as everyone settles into their seats. The stage is minimalist—just a microphone and a stool, with the poets taking turns presenting their work.

Harriet and Breanna sit side by side, their knees occasionally brushing under the small table they share. Harriet had been unsure if Breanna would even be interested in a poetry reading, but Breanna had surprised her by saying yes. Now, as they wait for the first poet to take the stage, Harriet steals a glance at Breanna, who’s scanning the program with more interest than expected.

The first poet begins, reading a piece about love and loss, and Breanna listens quietly. Harriet watches her out of the corner of her eye, curious about how she’s reacting. Breanna doesn’t fidget or seem bored. Instead, she’s focused, her expression thoughtful as the words wash over her.

After the reading, Breanna leans toward Harriet. "That one was intense. I didn’t think I’d get into it, but the way they talked about love… it’s more raw than I imagined poetry being."

Harriet smiles, a little surprised but pleased. "Yeah, that’s what I love about it. Poetry says things in a way that nothing else can."

As the night goes on, Breanna asks questions between readings—questions that surprise Harriet with their depth.

"Why do you think they kept mentioning time in that one poem? Like, are they trying to say love is only temporary?" Breanna asks after one particularly abstract piece.

Harriet looks at her, eyebrows raised. "You’re really thinking about this, huh?"

Breanna shrugs but grins. "I mean, it’s interesting. You’ve got me thinking about words differently."

They fall into an easy conversation about the poem, Harriet explaining her interpretation. "I think time is a metaphor for how fleeting everything feels—like, no matter how much you try to hold onto something, it eventually slips away."

Breanna nods, listening closely, genuinely interested in what Harriet has to say. "I guess I never really thought about how poems can be about stuff like that. You always hear about the cheesy love poems, but this feels authentic and like there’s so much heart."

Harriet's heart swells a little. She’s not used to sharing this part of herself with others, let alone someone like Breanna, who she assumed would find it all too abstract or sentimental. But Breanna’s openness—her willingness to engage with it—makes Harriet feel seen in a way she hadn’t expected.

After the last poet finishes, they stay seated for a moment, letting the final words linger in the air. Harriet turns to Breanna. "So… what’d you think?"

Breanna’s eyes flick to Harriet, and for a second, something deeper passes between them. "I liked it more than I thought I would. There’s something about the way people can express what they’re feeling without saying it outright. You have to figure it out, but it’s still all there."

Harriet nods, feeling a warm flush rise in her chest. She glances down at her empty glass, gathering her thoughts. "There was one poem tonight… it hit me differently."

Breanna leans forward. "Which one?"

"The one about… carrying grief but still choosing to love. It reminded me of someone I lost, but also how life keeps moving forward, even when you don’t think it can." Harriet’s voice falters slightly, exposing a vulnerability she hadn’t planned on sharing.

Breanna’s gaze softens, her usual playful demeanor giving way to something more sincere. "I didn’t know that. I’m sorry, Harriet."

Harriet shakes her head quickly. "No, it’s okay. I don’t talk about it much, but tonight, it just reminded me of that, I guess."

They sit in silence for a beat, the unspoken connection between them growing stronger. Breanna reaches over and lightly touches Harriet’s arm, a small but comforting gesture.

"I get it now," Breanna says quietly. "Why this matters to you."

Harriet looks at her, their eyes meeting in the dim light, and for a moment, she’s struck by how much Breanna has opened up to her world tonight. The fact that she’s even tried to understand means more than Harriet can express. Breanna isn’t just some athlete who lives in the physical; she’s someone who cares, who listens, who wants to connect on a deeper level.

Breanna breaks the silence with a small grin, trying to lighten the mood. "I might not become a poetry expert, but… I wouldn’t mind coming to more of these."

Harriet chuckles softly. "I’d like that."

The UConn campus is bustling with the usual midday activity, and Harriet finds herself sitting at a crowded picnic table with her friends during lunch. The sun is high, casting a warm glow over the group, and the air is filled with casual conversation and the sounds of nearby students heading to their next class. But amid the relaxed atmosphere, Harriet feels the growing curiosity from her friends about her time with Breanna.

Grace, sitting across from Harriet with a smirk, takes a sip of her iced coffee before leaning forward. "So, Harriet," she begins, the teasing in her voice unmistakable, "you’ve been spending a lot of time with Breanna lately."

Harriet feels her stomach tighten slightly but keeps her expression light. She casually shrugs, picking at her sandwich. "Yeah, she’s fun to hang out with."

Grace raises an eyebrow, the smirk growing. "Uh-huh. ‘Fun to hang out with’—that’s all? Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like you two are practically attached at the hip these days."

Harriet laughs, though her response comes a little quicker than she intends. "We just get along, that’s all. She’s cool."

Sarah, sitting beside Grace, chimes in with a grin. "Get along, huh? Sure, sure. You just 'get along' with a 6’4” basketball star who you’ve been hanging out with almost every day."

Harriet rolls her eyes, trying to play it off. "What’s wrong with making a new friend?"

Grace leans back, crossing her arms. "Nothing at all! It’s just that this 'new friend' seems to be taking up all your free time."

The teasing tone makes Harriet blush, but she shakes her head, determined to stay nonchalant. "You guys are ridiculous. It’s not like that."

Grace gives her a look, not buying it for a second. "Uh-huh. Right."

A few of the others at the table exchange knowing glances, their smiles filled with playful mischief. Sarah can’t help but push further, her voice full of curiosity. "So, really, Harriet… is there something going on between you two?"

Harriet feels the warmth creep up her neck, but she keeps her tone breezy. "Nope. Just friends."

"Just friends?" Sarah asks, raising her eyebrows skeptically. "Friends who spend every lunch together?"

Harriet waves off the comment, but her smile is starting to falter. "We’re both busy. We happen to have the same free time, that’s all."

Grace narrows her eyes, a sly grin spreading across her face. "Are you sure about that? I mean, come on, Harriet, we haven’t seen you this distracted since your Jillian days. Something’s going on."

Harriet’s fingers fidget with the edge of her lunch bag as she tries to deflect. "I’m not distracted. I’m just—she’s good company. That’s it."

"Oh, yeah, definitely nothing more than ‘good company,’" Grace mimics in a dramatic voice, drawing laughs from the group. "Harriet, you’re not fooling anyone. I bet she’s got you all flustered, doesn’t she?"

Harriet rolls her eyes again, but this time she can’t hide the small smile tugging at her lips. "You guys are too much."

"Come on!" Grace nudges her playfully. "You have to admit, the two of you look a little… close. And that’s totally fine, by the way! We’re just curious."

Harriet looks at her plate, trying to formulate the right response. She’s not even sure how she feels about Breanna yet, let alone how to explain it to her friends. Yes, they’ve been spending a lot of time together. Yes, she enjoys Breanna’s company more than she expected. But is it something more? She’s not sure herself.

"Seriously, it’s not what you think," Harriet finally says, her voice softening as she looks up at Grace. "We’re just friends. Nothing’s going on."

Grace gives her a long, thoughtful look before responding. "Okay, if you say so. But if that changes, you know we’re here for the juicy details, right?"

Harriet laughs, shaking her head. "You’ll be the first to know."

The conversation shifts, but Harriet’s mind lingers on the topic. Her friends’ teasing is lighthearted, but it’s planted a seed of doubt in her. She and Breanna have been spending a lot of time together—basketball games, late-night hangouts, random coffee runs. And there’s something there, something unspoken. But whether it’s just a deepening friendship or something more… Harriet doesn’t know yet.

As lunch winds down, Harriet gathers her things, her thoughts swirling with the playful speculation of her friends. She feels a mix of excitement and uncertainty, wondering if they might be right—if something more might be developing between her and Breanna, even if neither of them is ready to acknowledge it yet.

For now, though, she keeps those thoughts to herself, knowing that at some point, she’ll have to face them head-on. But not today. Today, she’s content to let things unfold at their own pace, even if the growing curiosity of her friends makes it harder to ignore what might be blossoming between them.

It’s late, and Breanna’s dorm room is quiet, the glow of a desk lamp casting soft shadows on the walls. Outside, the campus has settled into the calm of night, but inside, Harriet’s mind races. She can’t shake the teasing from her friends, their questions about Breanna lingering in her head. Sitting on her bed, she absentmindedly scrolls through her phone, debating whether to bring it up. Breanna is sprawled in the chair across from her, lazily flipping through a notebook.

There’s a comfortable silence between them, the kind that comes only after weeks of getting to know each other. But tonight, something feels different, and Harriet knows she can’t ignore it any longer. She glances over at Breanna, her heart racing slightly.

Harriet clears her throat, breaking the stillness. "So… people are starting to ask questions," she begins carefully, her voice steady despite the nervous flutter in her chest. "About us."

Breanna’s eyes flick up from the notebook, curious but composed. "Yeah? What do they think?"

Harriet bites her lip, trying to sound casual. "Don’t laugh. Apparently, we’re a bit of a mystery. They think we’re dating."

Breanna chuckles softly, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Do they now?" she says, leaning back in the chair. There’s a brief pause, then Breanna grins, a hint of mischief in her voice. "Would that be the worst thing?"

The question hangs in the air, light yet somehow heavy. Harriet’s breath catches for a moment, caught off guard. She hadn’t expected Breanna to be so direct, not like this. Her mind scrambles for a response, and she forces a smile, her voice quieter than before. "No. Not the worst."

Breanna’s smile lingers, but she doesn’t say anything more. Instead, she lets the moment stretch, the silence between them thick with unspoken words. Harriet feels the weight of it, the uncertainty of their situation pressing in on her.

She thinks back to the last football game they attended together. They had been sitting close in the bleachers, the energy of the crowd buzzing around them. Breanna had leaned in to whisper something funny about a player, their shoulders brushing and her lips being close to her ear. At that moment, Harriet had felt a jolt of electricity, but then Breanna had pulled back, laughing off the closeness and returning to her more competitive persona when the game intensified. It had left Harriet feeling exhilarated and confused, caught between the thrill of connection and the casual dismissal of it moments later.

Harriet glances at Breanna, wondering if she’s aware of how her actions seem to straddle the line between friendship and something more. The laughter from their friends rings in her ears again—"You two are practically attached at the hip!"—and she can’t help but feel a flutter of hope mixed with uncertainty.

Breanna seems to pick up on Harriet’s silence, her expression turning thoughtful. "Look, I like hanging out with you. I don’t know where this is going, but I know I want to keep seeing you. Whatever that means."

The words are simple, but they hit Harriet harder than she expected. She feels a sense of relief but also confusion. They’re both admitting that something’s there, but neither is willing to fully define it yet.

The conversation winds down, both of them retreating into their thoughts, the air still thick with unspoken possibilities. Harriet feels the weight of Breanna’s words, unsure of what comes next but certain that whatever this is between them, it’s growing. As Breanna packs up to leave, Harriet watches her, feeling a mix of excitement and apprehension.

Before Breanna steps out towards the door, allowing Harriet to leave, she turns back to Harriet with a soft smile. "See you tomorrow?"

Harriet nods, her voice quiet but certain. "Yeah. Tomorrow."

As the door closes behind Harriet, Harriet begins walking back, her heart still racing. The conversation didn’t resolve anything, but it didn’t have to. Something is building between them, slow and steady, and Harriet is beginning to accept that. For now, she’s content to let it unfold in its own time, even if the path forward is still unclear.

The memory of that night at the football game comes back, Breanna’s lips close to her ear, the thrill of that fleeting moment of closeness. Harriet smiles to herself, realizing that maybe it’s okay to not have all the answers yet. For now, the connection they’re forming is enough.

Harriet strolled back to her dorm, campus wrapped in the soothing embrace of night. The cool air carried a hint of autumn, rustling the leaves like whispers of secrets yet to be told. With each step, her mind danced between thoughts of Breanna and the conversation that had just unraveled—an unspoken connection that felt as palpable as the crisp evening breeze.

Leaning against a lamppost, Harriet tilted her head to the star-studded sky, marveling at how expansive the universe felt in this moment. What does this all mean? A smile tugged at her lips as she recalled Breanna’s laughter, the way it seemed to echo through the air, drawing her in like a magnetic pull. It was a sound that lit up the dimmest corners of her heart and made her feel seen in a way she hadn’t anticipated.

Breanna's authenticity captivated Harriet. There was something disarming about her passion—how she poured her heart into everything she did. It stirred something deep within Harriet, a realization that her feelings had begun to extend beyond the bounds of friendship. Could this be what it feels like to fall? The thought fluttered through her mind like a butterfly, beautiful yet slightly terrifying, but she did not really entertain it for long.

As she reached the familiar door of her dorm, a vibration broke the spell. With a jolt, she fished her phone from her pocket, the glow of the screen illuminating her face in the darkness. Breanna. The name sparked an electric thrill in her chest.

“Hey, I’ve been thinking about tonight. Can we talk soon?”

The message hung in the air like a musical note, leaving Harriet breathless. What does she want to talk about? The weight of anticipation settled on her shoulders—deliciously heavy, yet laced with a hint of apprehension.

She stepped inside, the door closing softly behind her, cutting her off from the night’s promise. The room felt both cozy and confining, a cocoon that held her secrets close. A rush of possibilities filled her mind, and she sank onto her bed, heart racing as she envisioned the conversation that awaited her. 

With a final glance at her phone, Harriet whispered, “Yeah, let’s talk soon.” But as she leaned back against her pillows, her thoughts swirled like leaves caught in the wind, each one carrying the weight of unanswered questions. It made her feel both mentally exhausted and hopeful but with this bugging feeling of peace.

[nerdieforpedro]

Night One - The Encounter

Chapter One of Nights in Coruscant

My entire masterlist and blog are for readers 18+ MDNI. I do not consent to my work being used in AI, recommended on TikTok, borrowed or plagiarized.

Summary: The Senator and the Mandalorian have a harrowing first meeting. When the dust settles, she invites him to her home as thanks. The Senator has another agenda.

Warnings: implied sexual activity, sex work, minor violence, a little blood, a knife, money for services, mention of loss and grief, Nerdie tried to understand Coruscant levels and such

Word Count: about 2.6k

Notes: I've had the idea for this one for a while. Why? Horny reasons and stuck a plot in the middle. This is how I write now.

Main Masterlist/ Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) Masterlist / AO3 Link

More credits lost, almost there but never quite hitting the right bundle of flesh within her to bring out an orgasm. The woman pays for the two hours spent with three different gentlemen, she’d bought their time to please her and it was to no avail. She comes here alone because she knows her driver would informs anywhere she goes and anything she does to her opposition. Such is the way of politics as a senator. 

The night air is cool against her skin as she steps onto the street. Few are out this time of night as it’s the wee hours of the morning. At times it can be difficult to tell in at night but the lights from the buildings paint such an elegant picture. One that she imagines represents the current climate, those who focus on the unreachable and abstract in the stars and those who focus on things that can change affecting people’s lives, the lights. 

She doesn’t notice either man approaching her with a knife and the other with a blaster, by the time she does, it’s too late and they have hands on her. For a short time as the one with the blaster was shot and killed. The man with the knife was punched by the senator and she used his own knife to stab him. Curious who saved her, she doesn’t recognize his form, shrouded in the shadows of the building. He’s tall and so still she may think him a statue he hasn’t spoke, “Are you alright ma’am?”

Still holding the knife, she lowered it and nodded, “Yes thanks to you. May I know your name to thank you? I can’t see you very well there, could you step forward?” Taking two steps toward him, she stopped three feet before the shadows from the building obscured him. Heavy boots and what sounded to be metal clinked with his steps. His armor was the answer, he wouldn’t need to really tell her. Silver that reflected the moonlight with a t-visor helmet and a modulated voice. None of his skin was exposed, covered in a mix of brown metal and durable cloth and a black cape at his back. Hints of silver dotted his armor from different pieces and from his weapons. Those are a major tenant of their culture - their beliefs.

Beskar comprises the entirety of his armor: The Mandalorian. Wait, pure beskar was gray or silver in color, right? Most of his armor is not. A type of beskar alloy is more likely. Of all people to come to her aid it would be him. Wait, it could be an opportunity. At the very least, have a cordial relationship with him. He’s feared throughout the galaxies for his battle prowess. Helpful considering her current predicament. 

“I take this to mean you’re not injured then ma’am.” His tone remains flat, or it could be his helmet. That would take some adjustment. He also did not answer with a name, it will be odd to keep calling him a title but that’s the only option.

“No I am not. I am Senator Sola Adhara. Again thank you for saving me. I might be presumptuous in asking but could you escort me to my home? It appears to be a poor time to go home alone.” The little she knows of Mandalorian culture dictates not only the head to toe armor but directness. If she can get home to agree, she can work from there.

The tilt of his helmet at least tells her he’s thinking about it, it won’t be an outright no maybe. A few people have gathered due to the bodies but are quickly shooed away from the pleasure house she’d just left. With a nod to the staff, they took the bodies around the back of the building. She was aware the Mandalorian saw and grew worried that it may inspire him to reject her.

“It appears it would be best if I did. Where is your home Senator Adhara?” With the question, he rests his right forearm on his blaster at his side. His stance is somewhat relaxed but ready just in case.

“I’ll ordered a car to arrive momentarily upon my exit of the establishment earlier. It should be here soon. We can speak more there Mandalorian. And please,” the Senator turns to him and asks for something else, “please call me at Mrs. Adhara. Not ma’am. It makes me feel like a professor or teacher. I fear I would not make a good one.” 

With a shrug and another few steps, the bounty hunter is at her side with a low chuckle. “Of course Mrs. Adhara, as you request.” 

‘An odd pair for pickup,’ the driver of the car thinks as he stops confirms with a staff member quickly emerges from the lobby. The senator gets in fist followed by the Mandalorian and the vehicle ascends to join the guided pathways of the sky until arriving at their destination: the senator’s home. 

He expects to be sent away which is why the car is told to wait, but the Senator looks back at him, beckoning him to follow her with her nails that he notices now are painted red. The warrior did not think she was serious in her statement to speak more to him at her home, now he sees it was just not to speak in front of the driver, despite him likely to be associated with the establishment she exited. He knows it well, visited it himself when his needs and credits aligned. Shaking his head at the driver, he waves him off and he leaves. His strides keep two paces behind hers. He can still follow her, allow her some space and survey his surroundings for possible vantage points and escape routes. There’s not many as the walkway leads directly into her home and once inside there are three large windows on the far side of the condo. The room appears to be the living room, opulent with its golden and bronze tones.

“Mandalorian. I have another request and I will give you a thousand credits for seeing me safely home. Give me a few moments. You’re welcome to sit or continue to rest on your feet.” The smile he received from over her shoulder is one that he knows well: her request likely carnal in nature. It was a fair possibility given the building she came out of, not like the bounty hunter hadn’t dabbled in sex work. When jobs were few and far between, he needed to be able to feed himself and contribute to his coven. He was only considering it because the sway of Mrs. Adhara’s wide hips he can grab and that a connection with a senator could benefit Mandalorian in the long run or at the very least him. 

When she emerged from her bedroom, he assumed that’s why she had one smaller bag and one larger one. She also was wearing a shorter emerald gown with a black silk robe, exposing her thick caramel legs. The senator’s previous garb was a floor length royal blue dress that covered her from the neck down. It had truly been a feat of her skill that she was able to take the knife off her one assailant and stab him, getting minimal blood on herself. Her delicate steps stuck to the floor as she approached him and stood two feet away from him.

“This is the thousand credits that I owe you for tonight. This other bag contains five times the credits and…” Adhara placed the smaller bag in the  Mandalorian’s open palm and opened the large one to remove the true prize. His hand stowed the credits and his opposite hand drew his blaster, pointing it at her forehead. She cleared her throat and swallowed the little saliva she had in her mouth and did not take a stride forward or back. Remaining still was her only option at this point. It was a risk she was willing to take as beskar is sacred to those who follow The Creed as his people call it. By all rights, Adhara should not have possession of such a rare metal. “I understand your anger and anticipated reluctance at even hearing my proposal. If you hear me out and still refuse, I will give you this piece.” The metal is cool in her hand despite holding it and her gaze with his t-visor.

“You can call me Mando instead of Mandalorian Mrs. Adhara, I will listen, but bear in mind the importance of that metal. I assume you are offering it because you already know.” His hand remains on his blaster and she continues to remain still. He nods his helmet in her direction for her to begin. Adhara inhales and exhales slowly.

”My proposal for both the beskar and five thousand credits, would be for you to be my bodyguard in the evenings periodically. Obviously due to your profession, I would not expect you nightly or even weekly. We would just communicate when you are near the capital for a possible rendezvous. If you are open to it, Mando.” Her explanation is along the lines of what he thought she might ask, but he’s curious as to why. 

“Mrs. Adhara, why would you ask this of me? I know the place I just escorting you from and I take it your husband is aware of-“ 

“My husband is no longer alive. He has not been for five years now. I still do carry his last name since it affords me many privileges, sadly none of those have been orgasms.” For the first time since Mando has had the barrel of his gun trained on her, she looks away. Her lips quiver saying it aloud. It’s not like her husband succeeded every time either, but it was much more often than she was getting at the pleasure houses. Exhaling again she turned to face the Mandalorian once more with her chin held high, “I may be a widow, but that does not mean I am not entitled to pleasure. I shouldn’t need to remarry to experience it, nor should it elude me if I am going to a place for that specific reason.” She took a step forward and left a few inches between her head and Mando’s weapon. “Call me Sola, Mando. That’s my name, not attached to my family or my husband. Just mine.”

The bounty hunter lowered his weapon and put it back in his holster. “Miss Sola then, why would you ask this of me? I am certain I am not your first choice for such a proposal.” His visor spies the beskar and looks back at her eyes. She appears to be serious in her request, but he needs to understand fully why. She isn’t wrong to desire pleasure, most do, but why ask such a thing from him? He’s a Mandalorian, often referred to as ‘the Mandalorian,’ his armor does often make a target, but this is a first. Turning his right knee outward and placing a hand on his hip, Mando’s curiosity has not been fully satisfied.

Able to relax somewhat now that a gun is not in her face, Sola puts the beskar back in the bag heavy with the credits, now holding it at her side. “I had considered asking this of others, but considering my career and limited social circle, the chance that someone would either see me with whoever I would ask or the person themselves would be too chatty if given enough to drink to loosen their lips.” One more step puts her toe to toe with her quarry. “You are beholden to the one who you accept your job from, therefore, it’s a reasonable expectation that you shouldn’t mention the true nature of our arrangement. Just say you’re my bodyguard in the evenings for my travels. We may need to go on an outing or two to keep that guise up. Your answer Mando.”

The Mandalorian appreciates not only her honesty but that she has actually planned how such an arrangement will go. He sees no reason to refuse, beskar and a large amount of credits, there is one question he has. “I agree. Will this be the payment each meeting or will it depend on performance?” The low rumble of a modulated chuckle has Sola cross her arms, he watches her full lips curve upward into a smile.

”Is that a concern for you Mando, that you may not be able to give me a performance that warrants such payment?” The clear implication has Mando place both hands on his hips and shake his helmet. “I have a few contacts I can reach out to in the lower levels to see what they can gather for me in terms of beskar if given some time and sufficient incentive.” Sola extends her hand for Mando to shake, unusual as normally such things are just verbal, but everything about this situation and the senator herself draws him in. He shakes her hand and keeps a hold of it, deepening his tone.

“The only concern you will have is acquiring the beskar I earn by making you unable to speak Miss Sola. I shall be in the city for the next two days. Do you want me both nights or just one?” His gloved thumb strokes the back of her hand as he watches her eyes dilate with anticipation. Adhara’s breath hitches as she squeezes his hand. Mando reaches to her side and cups the weighty sack of coin and beskar, she releases it and while pulling it back, he uses two fingers to graze her thigh. The leather causes her to make a low rumble. “It is your choice, given I am beholden to you after all Senator.”

“One night, tomorrow night. We will see how it works between us, Mando.” Sola releases his hand and exchanges comm IDs for communication for tomorrow. Watching his cloak flourish as he turned to leave, he did not look back as a deal had been made. The senator poured herself a strong drink and gulped the liquified down, feeling it burn her throat and chest with each swallow. Despite her reservations about the idea, she was certain he would at least provide more of a thrill than others she’s sought out. He even used her own words to entice her, Adhara is aware she’s playing a dangerous game. That makes it even more worthwhile.

The Mandalorian leaves to return to his lodgings he was able to secure for the night, managing to get a fairly priced room in the level 3000 of Coruscant. There are no bright lights here, the streets are filthy and littered with a few bodies that he saw scavengers picking off items that they could sell. At the very least, there was an air filter in his room. The stench of the stagnant air was getting to him as he made his way back to lay his head down. Storing the money safely, he’d earn more and make his way back to the coven with the beskar. Tomorrow he would see if the good senator could in fact acquire more beskar, he may even be able to have her tell him who the contact is. Likely someone in the very underworld he finds himself in. I have a plan, no point in trying to change what I can’t. Best I rest up for tomorrow. I’ll need more patience for the bodyguard role than for her bed. Closing his eyes, the Mandalorian rests, aware of the challenges that await him tomorrow evening.

Peeps who have those credits in the bag 💰: @megamindsecretlair @soft-persephone @soft-girl-musings @gwendibleywrites @604to647

@rosecentaur1916 @westside-rot @alltheglitterandtheroar @bishtrouille @readingiskeepingmegoing

@survivingandenduring @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @connectioneverywhere

Night Two - The Bodyguard