#mark is definitely always recording the fights

[evilminji]

...Wait. ACTUALLY???

The Portal is basically a doorway right? Big ol solid and sustained gateway from Realm A to Universe B? Unlike the brief blips of natural portals?

As IN... a Ring could therefore, theoretically, send out it's Search For Willpower. EXE vibes? Hit the portal -> go THROUGH the portal -> and continue expanding as the search continued until it hit a Confirmed Match(tm)?

You know... somebody INCREDIBLY SUPER LIKELY to match? Like... say... a Dead Green Lantern who? Had the WILL to continue on as a Ghost? Probably would get priority over any untested "new" Lantern candidates? Since they are somehow both in the system and not?

Recognized, yet a different species somehow?

The Rings records mark them deceased. Yet here they are, without a Ring. Which they OBVIOUSLY need, as Lanterns. Because once a Lantern, always a Lantern. Nyooom~ off it goes.

Off? Probably a whole SHIT TON of them go. Like? A truely, TRUELY alarming amount.

Think hundreds of thousands, suddenly wrenching themselves free of their stands and SHOOTING into the sky. Yes, a few at a time is normal. Day in, day out. Hundreds a day.

Not upwards of millions.

Not all at once.

A SEA of green orbs shooting up into the night sky like shooting stars. So many it chokes the sky. Drives everything to a stand still. All of them going the same direction. Some... EVENT... has just happened and no one knows what it is.

You have no choice but to follow them. Figure out where they are going and what's DRAWING them. You fly for weeks. Take shifts, following them. Alarm countless innocent people and more then a few governments.

It's....? Earth? Fuck. Of COURSE it had to be that God forsaken rock. EVERYTHING seems to come from there! Do you have ANY IDEA how many Lanterns they have stationed there by now? Multiple times the amount ENTIRE QUADRENTS usually take.

Why is it ALWAYS that planet?? Someone call Hal and his merry band of migraines. They're coming in hot. And NO, we CANT stop them. Don't bother asking. We ALSO have no idea where they're headed.

Think about being in Amity. Quiet day for once. You don't trust it. Something gonna happen, you can FEEL it.

A ring shoots past you. Then another. And another. Then dozens. Hundreds. THOUSANDS. Green, glowing, and like they were shot from a gun. The sky hailing ghost jewelry because God hate Amity specifically, apparently, and FUCK your premiums. You dive for your car.

Watch, baffled, at the Fenton house is SWARMED. The local crack pots are trying to shoot at RINGS. Failing to hit a single one. The swarm organized, writhing, and gracefully ALIVE somehow.

Aliens shoot past your car. They're wearing LANTERN get ups. Fighting the local crackpots. The sky is FULL of Lanterns now. Oh god, first Ghosts, now Aliens. Your mother was right. You SHOULD have stayed in Ohio with her sister.

The Rings break the Fenton's door down. The clattering is CACOPHONOUS as they push and shove to race inside. You watch the doorway. Some instinct telling you not to look away. Even as Lanterns and crazy people are shooting at each other not yards away.

Watch. The. Door.

Ghosts come back out. ALIEN Ghosts. Wearing LANTERN rings. Your jaw drops as they just... just KEEP coming. Every last one of them wearing a ring. You struggle to remember how many there WERE. As the sky turns GREEN. As Amity truely DOES become the most haunted place... anywhere.

You're pretty sure in the oceans of GREEN you spot the Justice League. You DEFINITELY spot Phantom. Thank god. No Spooks ever get away with shady nonsense on HIS watch, so whatever happening? 'S gonna get sorted.

And JUST? As you think... maybe, JUST maybe... you could just? Inch your car into drive, and sloooowly get the fuck out of whatever THIS mess it? Those white suited crazy people from the Feds show up and start trying to ARREST the SPACE COPS. For not letting them take unprovoked attacks on OTHER Space Cops!

Oh Shit(tm).

@hdgnj @ailithnight @hypewinter @nerdpoe @lolottes

[wlntrsldler]

poisoned mercury | now you got me

ix. now you got me by inhaler

series masterlist | previous | next

the happy little bubble you and luke made for yourselves inevitably bursted a few days after you made it official– though if you asked luke, you rejected his advances, which always earned an eye roll from you followed by a long kiss to his lips that had him silent for the next five minutes. you knew he was milking the hell out of you saying no to his question until he let you listen to the song, but you were his and he was yours regardless of the title. 

you stared at yourself in the mirror, blushing as you ran your fingers down the marks on your neck. you added a turtleneck under your chb shirt, not having enough energy to cover up the marks on your neck with makeup, and you definitely didn’t have the energy to explain to people how you got them. thankfully, the weather cooperated with you today. it was unusually cold for the summer, a slight breeze entering your room from your opened window. as you continued to get ready for the day, your phone buzzed with a text from your dad. 

‘hey kid, can you come to my office real quick?’

you hadn’t spoken to your dad in weeks, not since he stormed out of the cabin after finding out what started the fight with your teammate. this was the longest you’d gone without speaking to him. you texted a thumbs up and made your way out of your room. 

luke was sitting on the coffee table in the middle of everyone, looking at you with wondering eyes, “where are you going?” 

“my dad wants to talk.” 

“do you want me to come with you?” luke got up from where he sat. you told him last night that you’d been avoiding your dad as much as possible, and he did the same with you. as much as you guys butted heads, luke knew that it was taking a toll on you. you shared that you were scared about what would become of your relationship with your dad. luke, being as close to his mom as you were with your dad, understood. he knew what it was like to feel like your biggest supporter was giving up on you. it wasn’t a feeling he’d wish on his worst enemy, and definitely not a feeling he’d ever wish on you. 

“no, it’s fine,” you clenched your jaw, shaking your head. 

luke’s shoulders slumped over as he stuttered in his actions to sit back down, “oh, okay–uh, let me know if you need anything.” 

you nodded and waved a small goodbye before exiting the cabin. your heart was pounding the entire time you made your way to your dad’s office. a lot of things had been weighing on you this summer– your probation, a possible dent on your record, your estrangement from your parents, luke– and it was a lot to handle. camp half blood was supposed to keep you away from the problems that existed in your day-to-day life, but it seemed to follow you. 

you entered your dad’s office to see him typing away on his laptop. his eyebrows raised when you walked in, motioning for you to shut the door. he closed his laptop and placed it in one of the drawers of his desk. he took a deep breath, “hey, kid.” 

“hi, dad,” you replied, suddenly feeling like a little kid again. you sat on the usual chair in front of his desk and leaned back, “what’s up?” 

“i, uh,” he cleared his throat, “i just wanted to say i’m sorry for how we left things. i shouldn’t have stormed out like that. i was just angry. but not at you, at myself for making you feel like you had to fight these battles for me.” 

he leaned across his desk to hold your hands, “you’re my kid, y’know. my job is to protect you, not the other way around. so i apologize if i ever made you feel like you had to come to my defense.” 

“and i’m sorry for being mia the last few weeks,” he chuckled, squeezing your hands, “i’ve been in contact with my lawyers and they’re working on making sure the charges against you don’t stick so i’ve been pretty busy with that.” 

“you think it’ll get sorted out?” you asked. 

“yeah, don’t worry about it. it’s finishing up and i think you might even be able to play this season,” your dad smiled. “but i have to deal with a pr crisis right now that sprung up on me this morning.” 

your shoulders relaxed at your dad’s words. at least your probation was getting sorted out. that was one less thing to worry about. you tugged on the sleeves of your turtleneck as you got comfortable on your chair, “what’s the pr crisis?” 

he sighed, pulling out his laptop, “something with the band.” 

you hoped your dad didn’t notice the slight widening of your eyes. because you hadn’t been talking to your dad, he didn’t know about the recent developments between you and luke. you two didn’t show much pda outside of the cabin, scared that one of the campers would break their nda and post a picture of the two of you. neither of you were ready to tell the world about you two yet. it’s too soon. you didn’t even have the “what’s going to happen to us after summer?” conversation yet. 

“what happened?” 

“some pap pictures leaked. it’s of this new actress in hollywood and a guy leaving her hotel room. the press is reporting that the guy is luke. it looks a lot like him and you know the media– they run any story that’ll get them clicks even if it’s not fully fact-checked as long as they add the word ‘allegedly’ to the article,” he rolled his eyes, turning his computer to face you. “nobody knows where the pictures came from, so we don’t know if it’s actually luke or not, but i’ve been on the phone with may and their team all morning trying to do damage control. she’s telling the guys about the pictures right now.” 

at first glance, your heart dropped to your stomach. the guy did look an awful lot like luke. the rational part of you knew that this was probably taken before the two of you met because you’ve seen him every day since and he was practically imprisoned at chb all summer, but then you thought of your impromptu trip to achilles’ arcade and it made you want to throw up. if luke could sneak away with you like that, it would’ve been easy for him to do the same when he was alone. 

were the nights he didn’t spend in your bed because he was “writing” just an excuse to sneak off to meet up with the girl in the picture? she was gorgeous, after all. blonde, tall, the perfect new hollywood star. they’d make such a great power couple. the two rising stars in their respective industries, the perfect pair. 

the boy’s face, who may or may not be luke, was covered by his hood, but you can clearly see that he was kissing the girl deeply, with his hand placed on the curve of her back. the next picture was them with their fingers laced together as she led him into the hotel, giggling at something he said. the guy had a similar build as luke and dressed the same way as he did when he was having a lazy day– sweatpants, hoodie, and converses. 

bile made its way up your throat as you continued to scroll through the pictures. you looked at the time stamp of the photos and closed your eyes, wincing, when you saw that they were taken two days ago. luke didn’t sleep in your room two days ago, nor was he in the cabin. he showed up the next day saying that he was in the studio, trying to finish up the song so you would officially accept being his girlfriend. 

you squinted at a close-up picture of the pair, zoning in on the guy's hand. you breathed out a sigh of relief, fingers immediately clutching the ring that rested on your index finger. you turned the laptop back to your dad, “that’s not luke.” 

his eyebrows shot up, looking between you and his laptop screen, “how do you know?” 

“look at his rings,” you pointed at the bands around the guy’s fingers, “luke doesn’t wear a ring on his ring finger anymore. and look, the guy has a ring there and it’s gold.” 

“how are you so sure? what if he just decided to wear it that day?” 

“trust me,” you waved off, “he’s particular about his jewelry. he stopped wearing one on his ring finger a while ago. and luke doesn’t wear gold jewelry.” 

your dad narrowed his eyes at you suspiciously, shutting his laptop, “i didn’t realize you were that close to luke that you had his accessories memorized.” 

“ah– well,” you cleared your throat, looking down at your feet. you felt caught. “s’your fault, really. you made us live together.” 

“is there something you need to tell me, kid?” 

you got up from your seat, quickly making your way to the door, “geez, dad, i didn’t realize the time! i promised clar that i’d help her with camp duties, so i gotta go. thanks for all your help on the probation and permanent record thing. you’re the best!” 

you didn’t bother to turn around to see your dad’s reaction to your excuse. you knew that he could see right through you. 

you dad called from behind you, his joking tone camouflaged by his “dad” voice, “tell castellan that if he does anything wrong, i’ll kill him and his career!” 

“love you!” 

your dad shook his head, biting back the smile on his face, “love you too, kid.” 

as you were rushing back to your cabin, you ran smack dab into luke who was frantic, worry evident on his features. his eyes widened when he saw you and he placed his hands on your shoulders, steadying you so you didn’t fall at the impact. 

“five star,” he sighed out, out of breath, “i don’t know if mr. d told you but those pictures aren’t me, i swear!” 

you had two options– you could one, tell him that you knew it wasn’t him and put him out of his misery or two, you could pretend to not believe him and make him sweat. luke looked like he was about to get on his knees and beg you to believe him. you wouldn’t be surprised if he made a powerpoint presentation listing the reasons why it wasn’t him in those pictures. 

you pursed your lips, “i saw the pictures luke.” 

“and they weren’t me!” he said, exasperated. his eyebrows knitted in anxiety, as he chewed on the nail of his thumb, “you gotta believe me, babe. i don’t know who that guy is but i can promise you it’s not me.” 

you tried not to swoon at the pet name that left his lips. “how do i know that? you weren’t home the night those pictures were taken.” 

“i know it looks bad, but look,” he ran a hand through his curls. “i finished the song the boys wrote and you can go listen to it right now, but then that night, i got caught up with a song idea about you and i stayed up all night to write it. you can listen to the demo right now if you want. you can listen to all the demos you want if that gets you to believe me. i think the recordings have timestamps too, so you’ll see i was in there all nigh–”

“down, pretty boy,” you couldn’t keep it up any longer. luke looked like he was two seconds away from bursting into tears and as much as you wanted to hear him yap, you didn’t have it in your heart to drag it on. you chuckled, wrapping your arms around his neck. you pressed a soft kiss to his lips and he instantly relaxed at the feeling. 

your lips moved in sync as his hands found your waist, pressing you closer to him. his tongue licked your bottom lip, asking for permission, which you gladly granted. it was the sound of clarisse and chris inside the cabin, tapping against the windows that pulled you and luke apart. you both turned to look at your friends who all had shit-eating grins on their faces. 

travis and connor were behind the couple, shaking their heads, “get a fucking room, you heathens.” 

luke flipped them off and pressed a softer, more innocent kiss on your lips before you spoke. “i knew it wasn’t you. just wanted to see you sweat a little bit.” 

“that was mean,” he pouted, but he couldn’t fight off the smile on his face. he always seemed to smile after he kissed you. it made you want to kiss him again, starting a never-ending chain of kisses that would surely lead the two of you to be unproductive for the rest of the day. “i was so scared, five star, you have no idea. the fucker looked so much like me.” 

you laughed, playing with the curls on the nape of his neck, “trust me, i know. my heart dropped to my ass when i first saw them, but i knew it wasn’t you.” 

“how’d you know?” 

“the rings,” you flushed, thinking about how crazy you must sound knowing these small details about him.

“shit, five star,” he whistled, surprised. there was a warmth in his chest that spread throughout the rest of his body at the idea of you paying attention to these things about him. “nothing can get past you, huh? i didn’t even notice that.”

“yeah, at least you know not to sneak around behind me because i’ll find out,” you teased, lacing your fingers together as you slowly made your way up the steps of the cabin. luke stood in his spot, pulling on your hand to get you to to turn around. you walked over to him, confused, “what’s up?” 

“y’know i wouldn’t think of doing that, right?” he asked, voice suddenly serious. “i would never do that to you.” 

your eyes softened as a wistful look appeared on your face. you kissed his cheeks, relishing in the feeling of luke wrapping his arms around your torso in a tight hug. you pressed your face into the crook of his neck, placing a feather-light kiss on his jugular, “yeah, yeah.” 

“‘m serious,” he pulled away, holding your face in his hands. he was staring at you intently, making sure that you were hearing his words. you never gave him an indication that you didn’t trust him, but luke knew that it was better to tell you these things straight up if he wanted to have a real relationship with you. he knew it takes a toll on the people he dates (not that he’s had any relationships like what he has with you) to see these bullshit stories online. if he was in your position, he knew the reassurance would help. luke placed a kiss on your forehead, “i wouldn’t do anything to mess this up if i can help it, five star.”

you let out a forced laugh, awkwardly shifting in his grasp, “yeah, given that my dad controls your contract, i know you wouldn’t.” 

luke frowned, “not because of that.” 

“uh huh,” you said, feeling too vulnerable right now. you didn’t know how to handle this situation, so you coped with humor, “he likes you so don’t worry, your contract extension is practically in the bag.” 

“y/n.” 

you tensed at luke’s use of your real name. he never called you by your name. he always called you by the nickname he gave you when he first met you. five star. you knew luke wasn’t in the mood to joke around. “luke, it’s fine.” 

“i don’t want to pick a fight,” he sighed, playing with the hem of your shirt, “but i just need to hear you say that you believe me when i say that. i wouldn’t cheat on you or do anything to make you feel like i ever would.” 

your voice shook as you spoke, “what if you’re just saying that because it’s still summer and we see each other every day? what’s gonna happen when i’m back in school and you’re out in the world traveling and living your rockstar life?” 

luke’s heart broke at your words. did you really think that he would forget about all of this once september rolled around? as if you didn’t consume his thoughts every day since he met you, as if he didn’t count down the minutes until he got to see you again when he was forced to be away from you because he had things to do, as if he didn’t have a sinking feeling in his stomach when you weren’t next to him. he was starting to think you didn’t understand just how deeply he felt about you even when you assured him that you did understand. 

“i’m not gonna lie, long distance is gonna be hard,” he said, “but we can figure it out. i know it.” 

“i never knew you were such an optimist, castellan.” 

luke laughed at that. if only you knew how many times he psyched himself out of making a move on you because of his own pessimism. it only changed recently, when he finally decided to say fuck it and go for it. “for you? always. i’d be stupid not to be. you’re a good thing, five star.” 

luke fucking castellan. you pressed your head into his chest, feeling his rapid heartbeat against your face. he gave you a tight squeeze, placing a kiss on the crown of your head. he loved having you like this, all soft and cuddly with him like you didn’t want to let him go. he should be scared at how quickly he was falling for you, how attached he already felt. 

you kissed his lips again, pulling away with a smile, “so babe huh?” 

“babe, baby, sweetheart,” he mumbled, leaning over to kiss you again. “anythin’ you want.”

[alicanta77]

NCT Dream Reaction: Collab with their idol!s/o

Mark:

this would probably be his dream

he is so busy all the time

and he knows his schedule isn't going to calm down anytime soon

so at least this way he can get his work done

and spend time with you as well

and he got even more excited when he found out it was just the two of you and your groups weren't going to be involved

now he gets you all to himself

just him and his favourite girl

would treasure every single second that he gets to be with you and work with you

loves watching you work and just finds you such an inspiration

every now and then just stops for a second and goes

"dang... that's my girl..."

he's just in awe of you 24/7

you truly are a goddess to him

Renjun:

would become a complete and utter cutie patootie

literally melted when he heard that your group was doing a collab with nct dream

like actually shrunk down in his chair and smiled so widely

you got to sing the most beautiful duet together

and the harmonies made hairs rise on his arms everytime he heard you sing them

would definitely plan to sing this song when he finally gets to marry you

this whole experience would just melt renjun right down to his core

would be so so SO excited for the fans to see it too

like he's play it non-stop and enjoy every second of the promo that you two got to do for it

seeing him and you have so much fun brought loads of positive attention from fans as well

and renjun couldn't believe his luck that he got to do this with you by his side

Jeno:

the most supportive boyfriend ever

would just be smiling all the time

like you're doing a darker and twisted concept

but jeno is watching you in the corner like (.◜ ᵕ ◝)

everything you do is like it is the most incredible thing on the planet

definitely finds you taking work seriously incredibly hot

wants to practice the dance as much as possible

and is constantly offering suggestions that would make the two of you be dancing closer to each other

"maybe i should grab her hip here and guide her through the turn"

"jeno you haven't let go of her once this entire routine"

"so?"

would love to hear your input as well and probably thinks your ideas are all brilliant

he just thinks that you're brilliant

Donghyuck:

he would want to be involved in the whole process

from the very first step with writing it all the way through and he wanted you to be just as involved as him

he loves having a project that he can put his whole heart into

and you are his whole heart so working on this with you would be a dream come true

this would definitely be the project he was most proud of

would love that the two of you could be honest with each other about how the project was going

he would listen to you with such attentiveness and would truly value everything you had to say

hyuck holds your opinion to the highest standard

like no one else's opinion matters to him more than yours

so he would take your views on this so seriously

and would make sure you knew your voice was heard

he was always ready to fight your corner

Jaemin:

when he got told your groups were doing a collab together he could barely hold back the grin that stretched out across his face

it became his mission to make this time you had together the best practices of your lives

he would bring in a homemade lunch for the two of you

and managed to turn that half an hour break into a date

he would be cheering obnoxiously loudly from the side of the practice room while you danced

he would bring you water to the recording studio

if there's one thing jaemin will always be it's a romantic

having him around would keep you on top of your health as well

there would be no skipping meals and your vitamins would be taken at exactly the right time

jaemin saw to that

as long as you had him around he would never let anything bad happen to you

Chenle:

oh my god he would have campaigned for this to happen for SO LONG

like i cannot put this into words

essentially for the past year every day chenle would ask to do a collab with you

it got to the point where the company gave him the collab just so that he would shut up

literally will talk about it non stop as well

even to you like he's just bouncing off the walls he's so exicted

the first time he sang your pair ballad with you he nearly cried

though he'd never openly admit it

he wasn't sure why it got to him but he just got so overwhelmed with his love for you

tried his hardest to get it together for your first live broadcast

but you were dressed so beautifully and you sang like an angel an he just couldn't believe that you had chosen him

it was hard not to be emotional when he's gotten blessed with you by his side

and he vowed to spend the rest of his life making you feel as loved as you made him feel

Jisung:

would probably be a bit nervous

like he knows you are an idol as well but you haven't worked together before

he doesn't want conflict to arise from this

but he is also really excited

is hoping for it to be centred around dance

purely just because he wants to impress you

is a little nervous when it's revealed to be vocal and dance because he thinks you're a better vocalist than him

but you make sure he knows he has a beautiful voice to listen to

you are such a point of comfort for jisung

if he's ever feeling down or insecure all he needs is to hold onto you and feel you stroke his hair and it's like everything's okay again

doing this collab with you was such a confidence boost that jisung wasn't expecting

you brought out the best side of him no matter what you were doing

and jisung knew nobody could love the way you two loved each other

[jolapeno]

v. call me at night

frankie morales x f!reader | chapter five of i like the way you

best friend! friends with benefits! frankie morales summary: what starts off as an offhand remark, quickly becomes a regular, scheduled 'stress relief'. the only problem is, both of you are in denial that you feel anything outside of friendship for the other.

warnings: friends with benefits. fwb! rules. flirting. idiots who are so in love it’s stupid. feelings. smut. cunnilingus. p in v (mention). fingering (self-pleasure). praise kink. phone sex - frankie talking you through it. tasting yourself (post phone sex).

word count: 3.2k

an: thank you, as always, to @thetriumphantpanda for reading this after i told her "i think this is the hottest thing I've ever written" and her going, "yes."

He wakes with you curled against him—breathing softly, deeply. No line between your brow, no scrunched forehead, just peace and content etched into your features.

It pulls a smile from him. Teases at the edges, sewing string, until it’s pulled and he finds himself grinning

That’s when Frankie realises this is one of those moments he’ll replay—because it’s a morning that will forever cast others into the shadows.

It seems that mid-sleep, you’d thrown the pillow (that you’d insisted on) from between the two of you. Your leg has been thrown over him, cheek to his chest, fingers tucked into the place where his ribs meet the mattress.

It’s perfect, normal, far too romantic—especially for whatever this all is.

A part of him knowing this the more he lays there—being as still as he fucking could, letting minutes tick smoothly into an hour. Thinking, as his fingers slide against your skin, that he most definitely has slidden past falling and landed somewhere into fallen.

He’d always been close.

Frankie has been skirting the lines of his feelings for you for longer than he will ever care to admit.

Right now, it’s harder to fight when you’re pressed against him, all bare except for the barrier of your underwear. It all feeling too normal. Too right.

He supposes it’s why, when you do wake, he doesn’t let you second guess this. Just lets his lips find yours, his body moving yours until you’re on your back—fingers tangling back in his hair—and he’s descending, feeling the grip lesson until his fingers are sliding the fabric back down your gorgeous thighs.

Pressing a kiss to each leg, both on the top and on the inner leg, he catches a wispy whine of his name from your lips. Just as he catches the light scent of his body wash—the one you’d lathered on yourself after their fun last night before sliding into bed—on your skin.

I’m staying in your bed as a friend.

Sure, querida.

He takes one last look up at you, capturing it, and gripping it in his greedy hands—because fuck, you look beautiful, empyreal, exquisite. In truth, he’s constantly in awe of the way you stare at him, and right now, it makes his tongue heavy, his throat dry.

To the point, Frankie isn’t sure how long he stares, but when he blinks, he has to move. Fingers spreading you, parting you, the soles of your feet meeting his mattress before his mouth is on you, flattening his tongue, making your spine lift from the sheets.

You moan, and his cock twitches against the bed.

Mixed chants of his name, fuck, and a pleading—a collection of sounds, a record of them—all flowing from your mouth to his ears. One he would, and could, happily play on loop, over and over, never tiring of it, never tiring of you.

He’s sure he’s communicating that. His own moans travelling up, escaping, vibrating against you as your nails scrape in his hair, leaving little marks he’ll keep hidden, brush his touch over when missing you reaches a new peak.

Dipping his tongue into you, he spreads one of your thighs from squeezing his skull. Knowing you, your tells now, the little ways you tell him you’re close without muttering them—rendering you useless, breathless, almost fucking boneless.

Mixing up his play, he keeps you hovering, dangling, nerves lit up and sparkling, but not quite exploding, until he needs it as much as you. Rutting his cock against the mattress, groaning your name against your own core, fingers curling inside you, tongue lapping and lapping—

And then you fall, crash, shatter.

“Fuck,” he whispers.

Your skin shimmering with perspiration, glistening in the arriving morning. A sight, a beauty that is breathing and gasping because of him.

“Fuck,” he repeats.

“Fuck,” you murmur, breathless, a lazy, content smile passing over, fluttering across your mouth until your eyes flash open.

And he can taste you on his lips, knowing they’re glistening too. Not willing to wipe them just yet, licking what he can as you stare at him, more hungry than when he’d begun it this morning.

“Querida, you… that was so hot,” he whispers.

And, your eyes flick from his face to his cock, swallowing, all dark and lustful.

“You coming undone on my tongue, fuck, baby.”

His palms pressing into the mattress, crawling back up to you—hovering over you, watching your eyes slide from his face to his cock.

“I need you inside me. Wanna come round your cock,” you interrupt, tilting your head, and tracing your tongue over your bottom lip. “Please, Frankie.”

Your palm rises, cupping his cheek, and he curls into your touch, just for a moment. Temporarily allowing himself to imagine that there’s no deadline to the day, that he doesn’t have to take you home.

And then he crashes his lips to yours.

You tell him you should go home, once the two of you have caught your breaths.

There’s a soft smile, one put there by him, by the several rounds the two of you endured before 9 a.m greeting him, even if your words wound.

Frankie blames the smile for why he kissed you over breakfast, thumb wiping the sauce from your lip. It’s why he walked you (hand in hand) to the car, doing what you asked, and taking you home.

He also guesses it’s why he drove you back in silence, heart heavy. His shoulders sinking when all he was left with was the memories of last night, the scent of your perfume on his shirt and the knowledge he has to wait to see you like this again.

The moment he’s alone with himself, he replays the last few times he’s found himself able to enjoy you, sink himself inside of you, earn the little gasp you make when he sheaths himself fully in you.

Each time he does, his mind moves to the look you gave him once you’d shut the car door, lingering, hovering. It being so far removed from the one you usually give him when your nails are dug into his chest, slowly rocking yourself on him—eyes mixed with lust and adoration, love there, shining down on him. This one was different, unreadable.

“Always make me feel good, Frankie.”

His palms grip the steering wheel at the echo of your voice, wishing the wheel were your waist—holding, aiding. Guiding you as you rock against him, your words coating him, making it harder to hold on and not paint your walls in white.

“So good to me. For me. Think your cock was made for me.”

Fuck, he wants to go back. Turn the car around and hammer his fist on your door. Tell you all the things he thinks all the time—the ones he talks himself out of.

“You’re so deep, Frankie. Feels good.”

The sounds you make roam around his mind, haunting him—having done so all the way home, worsening when he slumps himself down in front of the television. Puts a show on to distract him, but his gaze remains unfocused, the sound not reaching him.

Because he’s just thinking about you.

The way your lips part when you moan his name. The look you give him, the smile which reaches your eyes before your lips when you've caught your breath.

He wants you back here.

Half-tempted to get his ass off the sofa and spend the rest of the day buried to the hilt inside of you. Dedicate himself to you, down on his knees, whispering prayers into your pussy until you’re chanting his name like a hymn.

He’d even be happy with just stuffing you, filling you, keeping you there, twitching and kissing him. Thighs on either side of his.

Frankie had half hoped that’s what you were asking him for when your message came through.

His heart sinks when it isn’t.

We didn’t really talk about it, but I’m away next weekend. I‘ve seen, it’s been a while since you had a girls weekend. I know. And the following one is bar night. I can pick you up for that. You don’t have to, I can get you this time. I already have to be away from you for two weeks, don't fight with me too, querida. Such a flirt, Morales.

Letting his head fall back, his hand runs across his face, massaging the aching spots on his skull. The ones that have appeared since he’d left you, each time coming in the moment he’s left with his thoughts.

The ones hammering.

Trying to focus on the ache he can rid himself of—the one hardening in his shorts. The one he finds he can’t alleviate now unless he thinks of you—unless he pictures your face or the angle of your body.

He’s fucked. More than fucked.

More so when your face outside the car comes back to him, and he wonders, if maybe you’d wanted him to ask you to stay.

You’d never been a good sleeper in a bed that wasn’t your own.

Franke’s had been always been an exception.

Even back when the two of you were friends. When you’d drank too much and he’d build a wall of pillows between the two of you, because you’re not getting a cab home, hermosa.

You’d re-learned that fact now, when you were in fresh hotel linen, eyes open, all wide at 2 in the morning. Body thrumming with unspent energy and the lingering taste of that tequila shot on your tongue. The laughter is still there on your face from hours with your other best friend. The one you’re not in an entanglement with.

She did well not to ask until you were full of food and joy, the question posed quietly, almost sneakily with a draw on her lips and a twinkle in her eyes.

So, you and Morales?

It doesn’t matter that you said nothing was happening, your body lied. It lit up, practically squirmed as it gave into thoughts of him—ones you’d tried not to think about. Especially when you hadn’t seen him in the week, the only free opening he had was tonight.

So, you and Benny?

You’d fired right back. She had just been able to be a little more honest than you. Explaining how the two of them were having fun, getting to know one another—something easy, simple.

Two things you couldn’t really put as descriptions for whatever the fuck you were doing with Frankie.

If she suspected something, more than she usually does, she says nothing. Instead, she orders water, some fries for the table, her hand covering yours before adding: you look happy, whatever it is.

Whatever it is being him.

The one thing you can’t stop thinking about.

You’d even noticed you’d become giddy when he texts, even if you know those are no different than before. You’d spotted an excitement bubbling when the days decrease until that green spot in your calendar, counting the hours, minutes.

Now, as you lay awake in soft, crinkling bedsheets, you don’t even try to not think about him. Losing yourself in the memories of the way he feels, the way he’s solid, toned, but soft—broad, firm and warm. How it feels to have your fingers in his hair when he‘s kissing a path to your pleasure.

The way he’s whispering promises he’ll keep, gonna make you feel good. Adding your name to the end, tailoring it, personalising the experience further to topple you over the edge before his mouth has even latched itself onto your pussy.

Sliding your hand down your body, you half-wonder if your arrangement can spread to the phone or if it only applies in person.

The thought running and running; fluttering and fluttering. Toying your bottom lip with your teeth, you allow your fingers to skirt over your underwear—somehow knowing, as awake and as needy as you were, you knew all you wanted and needed was him.

Frankie, as expected, answers in two rings.

No chance to end the call, to take it back—

“Hey…”

“Can’t sleep?”

You smile, fingers toying over the lace of your underwear. “Think your bed ruined me.”

“Just my bed?”

Smiling, you run the back of your palm across your face. Feeling the heat flushing over your cheeks.

“No. Not just your bed.”

He chuckles, deep, and you swear you can almost feel it ghost over your features.

“Kinda hate that next weekend is the bar night,” you say, somewhat out of the blue. An array of thoughts mix in your mind.

Ones you can’t ignore, all desperate to say.

I miss you. And not just as a friend, being the main one. The one that clags in the back of your throat, that sits there simmering, thumping. It adds to the long list of things you’re sure you should have said to him by now.

This situation, this beautiful, fucking perfect situation (that you’re sure could only become more perfect if you were honest) doing a number on you.

Frankie just laughs—a chuckle—a little noise he covers with a cough. “I can work around a deadline.”

“I bet you can.”

It’s more flirty than you mean. It escapes, hitting the air.

The two of you don’t do this. Don’t flirt outside of the pre-arranged calendar slots you both make. It’s friends then—just banter, jibes and inside jokes.

But, that wasn’t either of those two things.

“You call me because you need me, querida?”

Yes, you want to respond. Your teeth bite down on your lip, fearful of the way it’ll leave your lips. Whether it’ll escape all breathless, more of a moan, a whimper, than an actual word.

Because fucking yes, Francisco. Yes.

“You want me to help you sleep, baby?”

You let out a breath, it all shaky, nodding against the plump pillows before you’re able to whisper a yes. But, as soon as you let it out, he’s there—commanding, that same tone you imagine he used when he was knees deep in mud and clutching a weapon; the tone you envision he uses when he’s up in the air, switching things, pressing buttons—

“You listenin’, querida?”

Swallowing, you blink.

“Put me on loudspeaker, next to your head. Can you do that for me?”

You do. A thrum of nervousness and adrenaline both crashing into you, creating a storm, a current.

But, he washes it away, smothers it. His voice flows from the speaker, asking you to remove everything but what lay between your thighs. A thing you do, quickly, purposefully discarding it onto the floor before telling him you’ve done it.

“That’s my girl.”

Fuck. You close your eyes, half imagining the dip in the mattress, the way his stare feels on your skin, especially as he begins to guide you. You begin to paint the scene out, capturing him perfectly, creating a false version of him that can accompany the very real voice flowing from the speaker.

The one which is currently telling you where to place your hand. The one which is talking you through the path he wishes you to travel on—it whispering, darkly, almost gruffly, to slide your fingers across your collarbone (two, because he’s being particular), before he asks you to draw your thumb down your breastbone.

It’s precise, the movements he tells you to make.

Cup yourself, circle this, before Frankie asks you to lick a stripe on your thumb, before drawing a lazy shape over one of your peaked nipples—your choice, querida.

Then you’re descending, fingers raised, wrist being part of you making contact with your skin, as you go further down, feeling yourself flutter in despair for your touch—his touch.

“Now, pull them to the side and touch yourself for me.”

A gasp flutters from your lips, back arching as you do so. You’re wet, soaked. Lifting your hips into your own touch, before his voice cuts through. Direct, solid—his directions all clear. Obeying to his highest order as you dip your middle finger in, sliding it back up, brushing over your clit.

Each movement decided by him, and you’re willingly being putty in his hands all these miles away. Following each step, even if your body is thrumming, a knot coils in your stomach before he tells you to touch somewhere else. Keeping you hanging, beautifully edging you as though making you face a punishment for making plans that coincide with when the two of you could have been together.

“Slide two inside of you,” he says, voice deeper, more husky.

Both his tone and his instruction undoing you, another thread snapping off inside of you, adding to the fire that had begun in your spine.

You moan his name, quietly, worrying about your wall neighbours, but loud enough for him. Loud enough to spark a noise from him, one that must have risen from his chest to your ear, because it’s more a growl, an elongated moan of your name that makes you pump your fingers quicker inside of you.

“Wish they were yours.”

“Yeah?” he asks. “Missing my thick fingers?”

It was louder this time, the pathetic whine of his name that rushes past your lips. Your hips move, shifting with your ministrations as your head tilts towards the phone more, closer to his voice, pleading in whimpers for him to speak.

“Bet you feel so good—you’re always so tight, baby. Don’t think I can ever fuck anyone ever again, that’s how perfect you are, you ruined me.”

“Jesus, Frankie.”

He snorts, it travelling down your ear—furthering the flames that lick violently up your spine. More so, when he tells you to add another finger, curling them inside of you, annoyed that they’re not as thick as his, not as precise, not as good, nice or perfect.

“Wish you were here,” you say, letting it fall out in a moan.

It is too late to retract. To take back. Not even caring that it’s out there.

He stammers, you hear it—light, barely smothered, until he says, “I wish I was there too.”

His words continue. How he’d fuck you with his tongue, have you on all fours, fingers splayed over your back. Interconnecting his words with directions, your other hand drawing swirling, flicking as your walls tighten around the fingers buried inside of you.

“Need you.”

“I know, baby. I know. You’re so good for me.”

Your eyes clenched shut, feeling it building, rising, practically smothering up from your toes to your stomach—it all warm, hot—

“Please, baby,” he adds.

Let go. Let me have it. Come for me.

All words he doesn’t say, but barrel into you and shove you over the edge. Your breath hitching, body tensing—walls tightening around the fingers stuffed inside of you as you begin free falling, descending, swallowed by fire that smothers every part of you as your brain empties, body becoming more noodle than muscle and tendons.

Because of him.

For him.

“Bet you taste sweet,” he whispers, a noticeable shift in his voice, a little break between the words.

You let yourself smirk. It sliding over the soft smile that had appeared from how relaxed you now felt.

Because you know. Can tell from the little breaths he tries to keep from you—the tiny tells he thinks he’s a master at disguising.

“Want me to try?” you ask, voice dropping, low, husky. “Want me to taste myself?”

He pleads, more a whisper, a breath, than any word. But it’s there, please.

And you do. Tongue around the digits, swirling, tasting what he did to you, from all those miles away. Unsure what he has awoken in you, your body flushing under the praise which rolls from him in tandem, hoping to fuck he never calls you a good girl around the others.

CHAPTER SIX ->

[ecrireverie]

THE PREDESTINED & THE INEVITABLE

They were always fighting. It didn't matter if they were competing in a tie or in a final, if it was raining or if the track was dry... Jos Verstappen and I were glued to the fence to look at them and he turned around and said to me: 'These two will fight forever. They will fight even in F1.' A prophecy.

- Armando Filini, team manager of Maranello Kart

I always thought that if I would make it to F1, Charles would also make it. You can already see from a young age the really strong drivers. It is not a surprise that we are sitting here together, I think.

- Max Verstappen | Las Vegas GP 2023

Charles Leclerc and Max Verstappen were destined for this. Not just fighting for a Formula 1 title but fighting against each other for it.

- Back Story of Hate Enriches Leclerc vs Verstappen | Scott Mitchell-Malm

There is definitely a big history with Max. We were quite young, we started racing around 2009 against each other, and this is for all the karting years basically, and now we've found each other again in F1. We know each other very well.

- Charles Leclerc | M4Sport

We are talking about Max Verstappen and Charles Leclerc. Two drivers who have broken records in almost every category in which they have competed and who have arrived in Formula 1 as if it were an easy task, as if the path had already been marked years ago.

- Verstappen and Leclerc: A rivalry that dates back to karting | Tomás Slafer

[abravesoul03]

How would G!P Noze cock and behaviour be like during sex?!

WAY B NOZE X FEM READER

SMUT

(・o・)(・o・)(・o・)(・o・)(・o・)(・o・)(・o)

HOW WOULD HER COCK LOOK LIKE

-When she soft she's she's still visible through her boxers so always has to wear baggy pants.

-She would be around 9inches when hard.(Vise president of the big dick club 😁)

-Not really thick.

-Has a pinkish tip.

-Whenever she's hard her cock is curved upwards.

-Her cum is more of a pale white coloured and also thick.

⋋✿ ⁰ o ⁰ ✿⋌⋋✿ ⁰ o ⁰ ✿⋌⋋✿ ⁰ o ⁰ ✿⋌⋋✿ ⁰ o ⁰ ✿⋌

HER BEHAVIOUR DURING SEX

-Jihye is a Dom.

-Never ever she's gonna sub.

-What can I say, she just loves to pleasure you.

-Rather than a girl who would fight for dominance, I think she would prefer a pillow princess to fuck.

-She loves the way, she can fuck you anyway she wants.

-Jihye loves giggly sex, she wants you to be happy and emotionally present.

-Will joke around and ask dumb questions sometimes if she feels you getting overwhelmed just to make you laugh.

-"y/n-ah do you think my little friend looks like a banana?"

-loves restraining your hands above your head as she fucks you.

-Missionary is her favourite position.

-But nothing could win her heart like doggy position.

-Is definitely an ass kinda gal.

-Will fuck your ass and spanks you in doggy position.

-Will definitely creampie your ass.

-She loves the way her cream drips out from you.

-Isn't that interested in calling you any specific pet names. She just settles for your original name or something simple like "baby" "babe" "Y/N".

-loves receiving dirty talk.

-Loves kissing you with tongue, Sex with Jihye is messy she loves it that way, what could I say🤭

-Marks you up. Has given you hickey in the shape of the 'J' which you probably realized the next day.

(ﾉﾟ0ﾟ)ﾉ~(ﾉﾟ0ﾟ)ﾉ~(ﾉﾟ0ﾟ)ﾉ~(ﾉﾟ0ﾟ)ﾉ~(ﾉﾟ0ﾟ)ﾉ~(ﾉﾟ0ﾟ)

PUNISHMENTS WITH G!P NOZE

-Noze doesn't really like punishing you, cus first she loves you so much to do so. Second she can't stand to see you cry.

-But there times where you've pushed her buttons a little too far.

-It was during a dance video recording with the other WayB members. It was your first time meeting the other girls and you guys clicked immediately. To say the least Noze was very happy that her girlfriend and team mates are bonding really well.

-You and Ansso were getting a little touchy and Jihye didn't like it, but still she kept quiet.

-It got to the point where Ansso had placed her hand your thighs, that's when Jihye lost it.

-You had been given the cold shoulder till the 2 of you reached home. Once back oh you were done.

-She just pushes you on the nearest surface and starts to heavily make out.

-"wtf were you thinking?"

"w-what do you mean?"

"All that with Ansso?! I'm not blind y/n!"

-She's gonna undress you without patients and just starts fingerings you hard.

"she even had her hand on your thigh, for so damn long!!"

-Once your wet and ready enough she's gonna stuff you up with her cock.

"This won't do, I have to teach you."

-Flipping you over, she just fucks you hard, her hand pushing your head all the way down as Jihye fucks you really hard.

-This time she's fucking you till your crying.

"take it, if it hurts you should have thought about it before letting Ansso do what she did."

"J-Jihye, p-please I- ahh shit~"

-Will add a few smacks to your ass.

-But if things get to painful, she knows you'll use your safe word.

-When your knees start to give out, she'll position you into missionary and continues.

-Will probably do this until your filled up with her cum or your too fucked until the only thing you can say is her name.

(>0<；)(>0<；)(>0<；)(>0<；)(>0<；)(>0<；)

ANY TYPE OF TOYS SHE WOULD USE?

-I don't think so, feel like she would just settle in using her hands and tongue.

-But if you want or request them, she'll definitely give you what you want. She's a giver after all.

(~‾▿‾)~(~‾▿‾)~(~‾▿‾)~(~‾▿‾)~(~‾▿‾)~(~‾▿‾)~(~‾▿‾)~(~‾▿)

AFTERCARE WITH NOZE

-Miss Noh Would turn into to the sweetest bean ever after sex.

-If it's giggly loving sex, she would pull out and just cuddle with you eventually falling asleep with you in her arms.

-Praises are a must.

"You did so good for me baby. My precious girl I love you so much."

-If it was a rough night, she would carry to the bathroom and clean you up an herself. Will get you some clean clothes to wear.

-Will feed you some snacks if you asked for.

-Then she'll lay you down on her chest stroking your back till your sound asleep.

♪(┌・。・)┌♪(┌・。・)┌♪(┌・。・)┌♪(┌・。・)┌

-THE END-

[haerin1]

hcs you have for Scara? Love seeing new writers around here 🫶

꒰ఎ ♡ ໒꒱ SCARA HEADCANNONS.

note: omh ty for the req !! i did 2 versions bcause i got carried away UM anw enjoy xoxo kisses hugs :33

[wanderer!scara, modern au!scara x gn!reader] fluff, pinches of angst, mentioned mommy issues and trust issues !!

modern au scara !!

Scara is definitely a band kid and in my opinion, he'd absolutely be an electric bassist. He carries around the band-aids you gave him so he can use one whenever his fingertips get cut from the tough strings of the instrument.

Scara loves judging everybody in his classes and making people uncomfortable because he's a menace like that. His narrowed sapphire gaze following certain people with ill thoughts and a slight grimace; you already know he's judging them real hard.

It's simply impossible for him to go a day, no, even an hour, without his headphones and downloaded music from his favourite artists. Scara's music taste consists mostly of Chase Atlantic, Artic Monkeys, TV Girl, Cigarettes After Sex and he's a closeted Mitski listener.

Mommy issues and miscommunication trope with Ei. Scara aspires to be anything else but the occupation Ei suggested for him. Ei compares Scara to his sister, Raiden, without knowing it hurts Scara's feelings because she's bad at communicating and getting her words right overall.

Shops at Hot Topic and Miniso. Miniso, because he only goes there for the Kuromi stuff that reminds him of you (since you're always telling him how you and him are literally Kuromi and Badtzmaru) and Hot Topic is self-explanatory.

Adding onto the Kuromi and Badtzmaru topic. Ever since you made that comment, Scara ended up loving that specific pair of cute Sanrio characters. He now owns a Badtzmaru hoodie (yours is a Kuromi one: hashtag couple goals), five Kuromi figures and more than thirty things consist of Badtzmaru in his bedroom.

Scara's bedroom is neat but messy at the same time. The room is fairly big and he has his bassist on its stand in the corner of the room with a huge Badtzmaru plushie sitting on the floor by it. His bed is filled with your gifts of plushies from past dates or occasions.

Scara has an area dedicated to his favourite music artists with posters of their albums plastered to the black painted wall. You bought him TV Girl's French Exit vinyl for his birthday, which he always plays on the record player whenever you come over or when he's missing you (by missing you, I mean whenever you're not with him).

Everytime you mention a new song you like, Scara immediately learns it on his bass so he can impress you. You find it so cute how these little gestures of his are all for your compliments and affection when all he could do is breathe and you'd be head over heels for him.

Scara is unfiltered, cunning and a tease. He'll say whatever he wants at any given time and doesn't mind what people think at all (he fights back the urge to rock someone's shit when they disagree with him.) He's your cute little drama queen.

genshin au scara (wanderer) !!

Wanderer's favourite time of day is when the sun starts to set and he gets to have his long awaited tea time with you. You know the perfect way on how to make his tea and it's so natural to the point of when Wanderer tastes any other tea, it just can't compare to the way you make it.

Despite loving you very dearly, and he'd never admit this last bit aloud, he still has some sort of doubt against you. Should something happen to you that marks your permanent disappearance that neither you or him could prevent, what would he do? Wanderer simply does not know. And he certainly wouldn't want to know.

Wanderer enjoys the feeling of your hands in his hair. Whether your hands are soft, rough, cold, or warm, he doesn't mind. He just loves feeling your gentle and affectionate touch against his head as you play with his hair or even braid some strands together.

In general, Wanderer loves physical touch. Holding hands, soft kisses and hugs; It's all so wonderful to him. It makes him feel wanted and loved, like you actually think of him dearly. He loves it especially when you initiate it first. After that, he'll be more than comfortable doing it without waiting for you to do it ahead of him.

Wanderer keeps all of the silly trinkets, gifts and letters you've given him in a box that's kept in a very safe place where no one knows, not even you. Everytime he comes across it, unknowingly to him, a soft smile forms on his lips as he remembers the fact that he's this important to you.

Wanderer absolutely adores it when he makes you smile or laugh. He'll proudly smirk and throw in a teasing remark at this but is hiding the fact that he's just an embarrassed doll with an adorable lover. He loves making you feel good, both verbally and physically, as it feeds his ego and reassures him that he's doing great at being your beloved.

Wanderer's gifts for you are usually handmade, like the cute doll that looks like you which he got to keep so he could give you a doll that looks like him in return. He loves seeing you carry the doll around with you when you want to take it out of your messenger bag, holding it so gently as if it were Wanderer himself.

Whenever you're not paying attention, Wanderer looks at you and observes you. He loves noticing new little things about you, like the way you make little popping noises with your lips when you're bored or the way you subconsciously reach out to hold onto his hand. He adores every, single, little thing.

Wanderer often finds himself trying to impress you. If he sees you walking about, he'll immediately find something heavy to pick up and "coincidentally" run into you so he can make sure you see his amazing skills. You find this habit of his somewhat adorable as you smile and praise him for his strengths. He ends up getting quite flustered, in the end.

Depending on Wanderer's mood, he'll be very flirty one moment or very shy the next. If you manage to outdo him with his charming comments, trust me, he turns into the cutest blushing mess ever. He'll look away as he denies your question about whether he became timid or not.

🐾🍫🍮 : © haerin1 (do not translate, steal or take too much inspo from my works)

[submissivekpop]

pleeeease do more hyuck + mark sub, this time giving pleasure to their dom 💓💓

Bruised knees and honey lips. - mark lee & lee donghyuck

Requested: yes.

Words: 1167

Warnings: smut, oral (f receiving), threesome, dom!Reader, sub! Haechan, sub!Mark

A/N: Me? Reappearing once every blue moon to post a fic? More likely than you think. Enjoy!

Pretty boys belong on their knees.

That's what you always say, and what they always agree with. No matter what, you can always be sure they're going to kneel for you.

Today isn't any different.

Mark is the first one to do that, falling down on his knees as soon as you step closer to him. He stares at you with those big, brown eyes, and your heart skips a beat. No one should be allowed to look like that, not even your Mark.

You caress his face, watching in content as he nuzzles into your hand. 

Haechan, sitting on the edge of the bed, stares quietly at you. You can feel his piercing gaze all over your body, almost burning. You wonder if that's how they feel, when you're the one looking at them.

"I've missed you."

His tone, soft and warm, makes you smile.

"I've missed you too." you reply. "Both of you."

You know those words are enough to make Haechan feel included, despite the fact that you seem not to be paying him any attention. Honestly, it's quite the opposite: you're perfectly aware of his every move, every shift in his expressions. You're just not looking at him.

"I'm gonna need something from you." you state, and you notice their ears perk up. "Think you can make me feel good?"

Mark nods enthusiastically before you're even done talking, while Haechan doesn't reply. You know exactly what he wants, but you're not willing to give it to him. Not yet.

"May I?" Mark gestures to your jeans, ready to take them off.

As you nod, he unbuttons them, and slowly helps you to get undressed. He'd take off your shirt as well, but he leaves that to Haechan - if he decides to join you, that's it.

He kisses your inner thighs, drunk on the pretty sounds coming out of your mind. If he could, he'd record every single one of them, and then he'd play them on repeat. Hooking one finger over the band of your panties, he pulls them down, but before he can do anything else, you move away. 

You make your way to the bed, sitting right next to Haechan - who's still staring at you, definitely enjoying the sight before his eyes, as you can tell by the tent in his pants. You spread your legs, motioning for Mark to get closer, and he follows suit.

You watch him take in the view, licking his lips as if he was already tasting you. Sitting on his heels, hands resting on his thighs, you know he's waiting for your approval. 

How obedient. It makes you wanna tease him.

"Stick out your tongue." you command, and he does.

He watches as you spread your folds, coating your fingers in your juices - obscene moans leaving your mouth -  and then bring them close to his face.

"Lick."

He's eager, and that drives you insane. He cleans your fingers perfectly, as if he were tasting the most delicious meal ever. Truth be told, he does think you're the closest thing to ambrosia that ever existed. If he were a god, that would be the only thing he feasted on.

Still, he's patiently waiting for you to tell him that he can put his mouth on you. And who are you to deny him such pleasure?

His tongue his warm, drawing circles and eight-figures on your sex, causing you to loudly moan as he does so. You watch him intently, fighting the urge to just lie on your back and enjoy it. You meet his gaze, eyes glossy and almost teary: it leaves you speechless.

Your hand flies to his head, pulling his hair, desperately trying to pull him even closer than he already is. The other one grabs Haechan's thigh, hard enough to leave bruises - you'll have to check the next morning. 

Turning your attention to the boy sitting next to you, you smile. He's way more aroused than you imagined, and that plays in your favour. 

"Join us?" you ask, tilting your head to the side.

He nods almost immediately, eager to take part in your sinful play.

"Take off my shirt."

He doesn't need to be told twice. He unbuttons it as quickly as he can - and you're almost sure you see a button flying somewhere, but you don't pay it too much attention - and hastily removes your top. You have to let go of Mark's hair for a moment, and he whines at the loss. 

Then, not really caring about your demands, Haechan removes your bra as well, and his hands immediately cup your breasts, fondling and pinching as much as he likes. You think about reprimanding him, but choose to let it go. After all, you're enjoying this, and he knows.

You expose your neck to him, knowing that deep inside, he's dying to kiss any and every part of your body. Soon enough, his soft lips are on your chest, kissing and licking any inch of skin as he moves to your neck. He bites down, lightly enough not to leave a mark, but enough for you to feel it.

Between Haechan's hot kisses and Mark's tongue, you know it won't be long before you cum. You keep on praising them, all of your words eliciting moans and pleased hums in response. Then, feeling your high get closer and closer, you grab Mark's hair, keeping him in place as you shamelessly ride his face. Haechan doesn't stop his doing, but you notice his shift in attention, now focused on the older boy.

The lewd words he's whispering make Mark blush, up to the tip of his ears. You love this dynamic. You love how he manages to be stern and commanding to the other boy, while completely submitting to you - in his own way, of course.

You whisper praise to both boys, telling them how good they're being, how happy they make you, how close you are because of them, and then, before finishing your last sentence you cum. Mark moans, sending vibrations to your core. It's almost too much.

You watch him lap every drop of your juices, eager and greedy. Then, unprompted, Haechan joins him. He kneels in front of you, trying to make his way to your dripping folds, begging for Mark to please, please, allow him to have a taste. Mark, being the nice boy you both know he is, moves slightly to the side, giving the younger one enough space to join him.

That view alone would be enough to send you over the edge again, and indeed, overwhelmed by the feeling of both their tongues and lips, you cum once again.

Panting, you move their heads away from your core, and lie down on your back. Trying to catch your breath, you think the boys, praising them once again.

None of them speak, but you know you're all thinking the same thing.

They deserve a reward, and you're more than willing to give them one.

[chiliger]

As far as shower ideas go, I was not expecting to come up with an AU where Anakin Skywalker adopts a tubie after the Battle of Kamino because the Kaminoans were going to decommission the kid for losing a limb in the chaos of all the fighting.

Of course it wasn’t planned for, it’s just one of those things that happen too quickly too fast and while normally Anakin would be outraged at the practice of decommissioning (because that was supposed to have been banned), he uses his smarts by talking to Kix first.

“Can you fake a death report?”

“….. Depends…. Sir.”

“Okay cool, I’ll take that as a yes. I need you to mark this tubie as KIA.”

“E-Excuse me?! General, I can’t just—“

“Kix, I know, I know. But I overheard the longnecks talking about this little guy, and they want to decommission him.”

“You had me at longnecks.”

With a flick of a stylus, Kix marks the tubie off the records, thus allowing Anakin to just take the baby and sneak him off Kamino. Echo and Fives help with “requisitioning” some of the clothing and supplies needed ‘cause that stuff got damaged during the battle who’s gonna notice a few extra missing.

Rex, upon seeing a sleeping tubie strapped to his general’s chest, gets an instant migraine and comms Cody, who then decides that’s none of his problem but then sends Rex “How to Care for Younglings” guides because they’re going to need all the help they can get.

Obi-Wan, after the initial shock, is not surprised but he’s definitely not happy about it because now that baby is not just Anakin’s responsibility, it’s now his too, because apparently Anakin decided to introduce him as “Uncle” Obi-Wan. (They’re gonna have a great time explaining this to the Council.) Ashoka is on the side grinning wildly because new baby nephew? brother? She is all for the ensuing chaos.

The tubie, who gets named Widget, pretty much immediately becomes an honorary member of Torrent Company. They make a rotation chart on who gets to hold him while the General is busy (which in all honesty Anakin probably keeps Widget on him like they’re glued so Torrent takes what they can get).

When they return to Coruscant, Anakin takes Widget to Padmé the first chance he gets. He has some explaining to do but this is honestly one of the least hair-brained things he’s done in a while (coughcough). Padmé and Widget become smitten with each other anyway.

I’m just basically imagining Anakin carrying this cute big-eyed baby with him everywhere and just radiating happy young parent energy. He can’t take Widget all the time on the venator, but boy does he go the extra mile to sneak him onboard just to have extra quality time (with help from Ashoka of course ‘cause she’s determined to be the cool aunt). And it’s just, Widget is his son, and Anakin is his dad. Even though Widget has to be left at the Temple creche (I bet that arrangement was a doozy) every time while the 501st are on campaign, Anakin calls any chance he gets to check up on him.

This is definitely a fix-it AU, by the way. Even though there are still attachment issues involved, Widget changes the course of Anakin’s fate for the better.

.

.

Somehow I always write more than I mean to, and there’s still so many things and details I didn’t write down but I think I wrote out the gist of it. Anyway, Anakin with baby.

[thisapplepielife]

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles December challenge.

Go For Gold

Prompt Day 22: Sports AU | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: None | Tags: Swimming AU, Olympic Trials, Racing, Rivalry, A Dash of Secret Relationship, Eddie & Gareth are BFFs

Eddie steps up onto the block. Rolls his shoulders. His neck. Gareth is two lanes down, in six. Eddie can see him bouncing up and down. Can tell he's nervous. Gareth didn't make the Olympic team at twenty, now he's fighting for a spot at twenty-four.

If Steve's nervous in lane five, between Eddie and Gareth, you'd never know it. Steve's twenty-seven, and has been doing this since he was fifteen. Eddie's Olympic debut came at twenty, but he thinks he was immature, even then. 

Steve has his game face on, his no-nonsense, no-bullshit approach to the sport. You don't bother Steve Harrington once he steps on the deck. It's just not done. Hell, you don't talk to him in the ready room, either. Steve will have his headphones on, serious as shit, not talking to anyone. Not even listening. Zoned out. 

Eddie is the only exception to the rule, and it's a power he doesn't abuse often. He's not trying to break Steve's focus, it's unsportsmanlike. Instead, Eddie will roughhouse with the other guys. The ones that like that to get their blood pumping before a race. 

Eddie is just a little looser. A free spirit, looking for fun. 

Sure, he wants to win medals, but it's not that serious. 

Well, it is that serious, if he's honest. Because Eddie's never trained as hard as he has in the last four years. He wants it. Bad.

For once in their parallel careers, Eddie isn't sure that Steve wants it more than he does. Steve staying in bed, while Eddie drags himself to the pool at the ass-crack of dawn. Eddie isn't sure Steve has anything left to prove. He broke all the records four years ago. 

Their rivalry is stuff of legend. Full of stupid commentary, like: "Without Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson would be the best swimmer of his generation," as if it's that simple. Without chasing Steve, Eddie thinks he might not have pushed this hard. It's a stupid hypothetical. 

This is their third Olympic Trials as number one and two. And you have to stay one and two, if you want to make the Olympic Team. You need to touch the wall first or second, with a crowd of twelve-thousand breathing down your neck every time your head breaks through the water.

They always say first is first, and second is also first, when it comes to Trials. But that's not true. Not really.

Steve Harrington definitely doesn't think so. 

Steve's not at the top of his game. He's hurting. He's getting older. They both are. Eddie's a year older, but hasn't pushed himself quite as hard. Hard, sure. But not to the extent that Steve has, year-over-year. 

Swimming's still fun for Eddie, but he's not sure that's true for Steve. Eddie thinks this might be Steve's last year, his last Olympics, and that hurts to think about. Eddie isn't ready to be done, he's still having fun, but doing it without Steve in the lane next to him seems sad.

When the buzzer sounds, they're launching into the pool, swimming the butterfly, the first leg of the 400 I.M. 

Eddie pulls ahead, but knows it won't last through the butterfly leg. Steve'll catch him, pass him, sure as shit. 

And that's how it goes. 

At the halfway mark, Eddie pops up fifty meters into the backstroke, and glances to his left and Gareth is out ahead of not only him, but Steve, too. The little shit is a helluva backstroker, these days. Steve's a half body length behind the both of them, and that's disconcerting. 

Eddie wants to beat him, absolutely, but he doesn't want Steve to fail, either. It's hard, when two people you love are also competing for a slot you want.

Switching to the breaststroke, Eddie catches Gareth quickly, and by the first turn has pulled ahead of both of them. By almost a body length, heading into the freestyle. Eddie needs that lead if he's gonna stay ahead of Steve to the end.

And he can see Steve closing the gap, but Eddie doesn't think Steve's got enough room to catch him.

And he doesn't. 

They go one-two, and for the first time at an Olympic Trials, Steve's number two.

Eddie hangs onto the lane rope and smiles, chest heaving. Steve swims towards him, also breathing hard, pulling him into a hug. Eddie hugs back, clinging to him.

"You got me," Steve says in his ear, and Eddie laughs. He's well aware they're being filmed, broadcast on live television, so he just claps Steve on the shoulder, laughs, and pulls away. Gareth is swimming under the rope, to get to Eddie, too.

"You did good, kid. You were ahead of us both!" Eddie shouts over the noise, and Gareth smiles. Eddie knew the odds weren't in Gareth's favor here, but Eddie will be right there, cheering him on in his other events. Hoping Gareth still snags a spot.

After their cooldowns, and the rest of the races for the night, they drag themselves back to the hotel. And like always, Steve's his roommate. It's been that way since the beginning. An unlikely duo, with a friendship that people like to write articles about, not totally understanding it.

Eddie dumps his bag on the floor, collapsing on his bed, groaning.

"I'm dead, bury me now," Eddie whines, smashing his face in the pillow.

Steve laughs, toeing off his shoes, and crawling in bed beside him. They have two beds, they always do, but unless it's the night before a competition, they usually squeeze into one. That's been interesting in some of the Olympic villages. Those beds are small.

Eddie rolls onto his side, and Steve slings his arm over him, pulling him closer.

"Okay, let's hear you gloat," Steve says, and Eddie laughs, leaning into Steve.

"This old man kicked your ass," Eddie says, grinning, and Steve shuts him up by pressing his lips to Eddie's, kissing him, hugging their bone-tired bodies together.

Notes: Yeah, they are based loosely on Phelps and Lochte. Two very different versions of a pro-athlete, but somehow friends. Roommates at meets, always each other's card partner, etc. (And this race, in particular.)

Olympic Trials are the end all and be all in getting on the USA Olympic Swim Team. You don't get a spot unless you finish in the top 2 (and 3-6 in the freestyle where there will be a relay.) Unlike, say, figure skating, where it is entirely up to committees. Or gymnastics, where it's half-and-half.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddieholidaydrabbles and follow along with the fun!

If you want to see more of my entries into this month-long challenge, you can check them out in my Steddie Holiday Drabbles tag, right here!

[rolesplay]

・┆✦ALL THAT I HAVE — an aerith & sephiroth as siblings fanfic.

before the scientists escort him out of the room, the strange little girl had beckoned him to come close and whispered to his ear, “i shaw you twain! bwader wassho cool! i twy wash nekush time!” and for the first time in his life, he finds himself smiling.

he was not… normal. he knows that and has known that since the time his young brain started understanding the small world around him.

people around him wore white coats every day. scientists. they question and prod him, stick needles in him, train him. one time they brought him to his mother, and all she did was look at him with palpable fear.

and he understands, a bit, why she’s afraid of him. he understands why. he's cetra too - he could also hear the screams of the planet, that everything about him is wrong, wrong . but he doesn’t understand what it is that’s wrong with him, and so he learns to ignore it. he learns not to listen.

after all, when one hears the same noise, the same cries, over and over again, it will, inevitably, start to sound like static.

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

when he meets his mother again, she’s had a new child. a child with one of the human scientists he’d known all his life.

he doesn’t know exactly what he expected. fear, too, perhaps, like their mother’s? watchful, like the scientists? but the little girl waddles over to him and hugs his leg instead.

“bwa-der!” brother. and she smiles up to him, and for the first time in his otherwise mind-numbing life, he feels something else. something else he has no word for.

they play, for a while, at the little girl’s insistence — his sister’s insistence.

he could see their mother watching from the farthest point in the room, looking at him terrified, and he can feel the stares from outside the glass windows lining the room.

he’s had a whole lot of time practicing ignoring them, but this time, it felt easier. it felt easier because there was a little girl who crawled and sat down on his lap and urged him to color her drawings with her.

he realizes immediately that some drawings were of him.

she babbles about how she’s very glad to see him, about what her favorite food was, and how much she loves colors. she talks and prattles on as they continue drawing and coloring and he’s content.

he doesn’t ask her why she’s drawn him though, but before the scientists escort him out of the room, the strange little girl had beckoned him to come close and whispered to his ear, “i shaw you twain! bwader wassho cool! i twy wash nekush time!”

and for the first time in his life, he finds himself smiling.

if there was a sudden improvement in his training records, the scientists never said anything about it. they did, however, keep track of the new abundance of drawings in his sister’s room.

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

he has good days and bad days. bad days would consist of numerous things to fight and the word again from the scientists who watch him. bad days would mean they would strap him to a table and give him a thorough checkup, with needles and blood and sometimes, electricity. good days would consist of that too, minus the checkup. and because he has been good lately, the scientists have been happy. too happy, in fact, that he’s almost always in the training room and hasn’t seen his sister in so long.

that’s what he was thinking of until he enters his room and sees her sitting on his bed. 

“brother!” she greets him with a smile and he frowns.

seeing the look he gives her, she pouts instead. “but brother didn’t visit me for so long!” she emphasizes, perhaps to guilt him. definitely to guilt him.

he only sighs in reply, and she takes that as a sign of affirmation that she could stay in his room. she begins to talk on and on about different things — about her guardian and her guardian’s son, about how their mother was faring — as he tidies up his room to be preoccupied.

when he nears her, he sees ugly marks on her neck. bruises, he realizes. a hand. someone had tried to strangle her — to kill her.

he opens his mouth to ask, but she immediately reaches for his hand and tucks him in the bed. “sleepy time!” she proclaims, and snuggles up against him.

it doesn’t take long for her to fall asleep, and he follows her soon after.

when he dreams, he dreams of being there as his sister was strangled. he watches, horrified, as she struggled. he wants to scream.

he opens his eyes to the scientists taking his sister away from him. he panics, and while vehemently refusing, holds on to her tightly as he fights them off.

they don’t go very far.

he feels a prick on his leg and he’s falling, her voice nearby as she kicked and thrashed and screamed his name. the last thing he sees is his sister biting a scientist’s hand. he feels himself smile just before he loses consciousness.

when he wakes up he’s strapped back at a table for another checkup. someone was talking to him about the rules he has broken, but he can’t care less. instead, he looks up at the ceiling and begins to think.

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

he makes sure he does well. he makes sure that the scientists find no fault with him, so he could ask them a favor. because he was such a good boy, they agreed immediately.

he asks them if he can talk to his mother.

there is visible confusion on people’s faces — perhaps they expected him to ask to see his sister instead — but they let him, nonetheless.

his mother still had not changed — she still looks at him with the same apprehension the first time he remembers meeting her.

“i’m leaving soon,” he blurts out, even though that was not the reason he went to see her. maybe there’s a deep-seated corner in his mind that wants his mother to look at him as her child too.

her reply was soft, so soft, that he almost doesn’t hear what she says. “i know.”

he sighs. he shouldn’t have expected anything from a woman who could barely look him in the eye.

“i’m not here for that though,” he informs her resolutely. “i’m here because of her. i want - no. she needs to be out of here. she has to.”

there’s a look of surprise on her face, at first. and then finally - she looks him in the eye. he watches as her expression shifts. something softer. unafraid. she nods.

together, they plan. to both of them, there is only one person more important than their lives. they’d sacrifice anything to keep her safe.

“you,” she calls him before he leaves the room.

he turns to look at her, maybe too hopeful than he would ever want to admit.

“you grew up well.” she reaches out as if to touch him, but stops herself. “i’m sorry.”

that wasn’t what he wanted to hear from her, but he’ll take what he can get. he gives her a nod.

that night, he dreams of them — the three of them, together — as a family. they live in a quaint little house and there’s a flower garden in their backyard. when he wakes up, he holds on to the feeling. that what-could-have-been.

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

he helps with their escape. he leads her through corridors and rooms, places he’s memorized the layout of.

the alarm sirens blare. they run.

when they reach their mother she’s at a door with the id she’d swiped from the scientists. she’s trembling.

he hands his sister to their mother, who, in turn, picks the little girl up.

“they found out,” their mother says, eyebrows knit together, eyes darting around nervously.

he looks up at the red light signaling the high alert the building was under. “i’ll stay. buy you some time.” 

the older woman looks at him with wide eyes. “what? but you said -”

“go.” he insists and gives her a look. since when did she care?

there was a brief second of hesitation, and then she’s grabbing him by his arm, her nails digging into his skin. “i tried. i want you to know that i tried.”

he tries to shake her off. he really doesn’t want to hear -

“listen to me,” she pleads, “just this time, listen to me. you are my son.” her eyes bore into him and he can’t help but nod at the weight she puts in the words. “whatever happens, you are my son.”

when she lets go he can feel his skin sting.

“brother?” and then his sister’s voice. she sounds scared. “you’ll come after us, right?”

he smiles at her.

she frowns and demands, “promise me you’ll come after us.”

he turns away from her before he replies. “i promise.”

he doesn’t watch them leave. he doesn’t trust himself enough to do that.

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

it’s not long after that when he’s deployed to fight in a war. a war that isn’t his own. in it he finds companions, friends, comrades. they fight, and they win.

the war hero. there are praise and adoration everywhere he goes. not the one he wants, nor the one he needs.

at night he dreams of the people he had killed. the voices shriek and accuse him. a coward, they yell, murderer! and yet through it all, there’s always an invisible hand guiding him out of the darkness, out of the whirlwind of noises.

my son, he hears his mother say, always.

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

he's both alien and ancient. and that must be why his mother can’t look him in the eyes. he shouldn’t exist at all. jenova had been the cause of death of the cetra.

a miracle, a scientist had called him, once.

perhaps in his mother’s eyes, all she’d seen was a monster.

he’s at a loss on what to do. and so he walks. he walks, with no destination set in mind. he walks, and in his despair, finally realizes why the voices of the planet keep saying he’s all wrong.

he tries to listen to them again. and it’s hard because it’s a cacophony of voices telling him he’s a mistake, but they were right all along. he was a mistake. but amidst all the shrieks of discontentment, perhaps, even anger, he hears something else.

a small voice. a familiar one. come find me, it says, i’m here.

he holds on to that voice. he follows it.

when he finally gathers his wits about him, he finds himself standing in front of an old, decrepit church. the door opens, and there’s a girl with bright green eyes, that he could recognize anywhere.

he feels the weariness to his bones, and he falls.

she rushes forward in a futile attempt to catch him, resulting instead with the both of them kneeling down in the dirt. she did manage, however, to hold him close.

“brother,” she says the word in between a sob and a laugh. “you found me. you found me.”

he smiles.

[thereareeyesinsidethetrees]

it's been a while since i've talked about any of my aus, huh

let's do that real quick! first a very simple au where the main point is the stans twins being physical manifestations of the concept of life and death, and then a much more in-depth au involving mystery trio kind of (don't get attached)

warnings for death (of course) and emotional suffering for the first au

warnings for cosmic horror, violence/blood/near death experience, both physical and emotional suffering, and in general Significantly Bad Times™ for the second one

au the first!

the first au is exactly what it sounds like. i've thought about this one for a while but never mentioned it because i don't want people going 'well obviously the reason ford is death and stan is life is because ford is evil incarnate and stan is perfect and can do no wrong' because that's not why i gave them their specific roles

i just felt it fit their personalities better? also cause stan's (somewhat unhealthy) 'family is everything' mindset fits a personification of life better and ford's 'if it sucks, hit the bricks' mindset fits a personification of death better

(also ford gets to hang out with extinct species and stan has to mourn when he realizes he hasn't interacted with any in a long time, so who gets the better deal really)

really though, this ford is essentially always in a state of mourning for. obvious reasons. stan spends most of his time watching various organisms live, and ford spends most of his time sitting with them when they die. and the two don't interact very often because of how busy they always are (i did give ford an emotional support ghost thylacine though, so he's not always alone)

the mystery twins, through means i do not wish to think about nor go into, end up in a state of limbo. the stan twins take them in, alternating between who spends time with who so everyone gets a fair amount of bonding time

it does help ford a bit, but it also puts him on edge because the last thing he wants is for them to have to watch things die. instead, he introduces them to various (more friendly) ghost creatures and teaches them about decomposers

stan's time with them is somewhat easier, what with his job essentially being to make sure things are still ticking, which includes a lot of looking at baby organisms for long periods of time. he does make sure not to show the twins any species that are. uh. low on members, so to speak

the stan twins got into a lot of fights when they were younger. stan's not exactly a fan of mass extinctions and ford couldn't seem to get him to understand that he does not, in fact, kill them, he just shows up when they die, and yes, stanley, there is a difference

they had. a pretty long time to work it out. that's all there really is for this au (at least for now)

au the second!

in this au, ford focuses on astronomical anomalies. one such anomaly he notices is an increasingly unnerving lack of stars. some that were there before seem to have just. disappeared. he figures, 'well, a lot of stars that were documented in the past just don't exist anymore, and we stop seeing their light after a while. even if these examples are unusually recent all things considered, it's not enough to be worrisome yet'

so he starts keeping track of asterisms. he gets his hands on some star charts, makes a few maps of specific ones himself, and starts observing. every time something changes, he marks it off on the corresponding chart. after a little while, he decides that something is definitely wrong here (he's starting to space out more and more often, for longer periods of time) and he calls up fiddleford for help

fiddleford gets to work on building some machines so they can more easily observe this anomaly and, more importantly, properly record its happenings. he finally gets to computer his majigs. and things go well for a while, except for stanford's newfound problems, but it starts to have an effect on fiddleford after a while. he sees something in the void that ford doesn't. and he's starting to trust it more than he trusts his friend

fiddleford keeps this to himself, of course. ford doesn't seem to really notice. what ford does notice is that the gemini constellation has started to go

somewhat reluctantly (though with his hallucinations and absence seizures and bleeding from the eyes and fiddleford's unusual coldness, it's getting hard to care) he calls up his ma, finds out where stan's currently staying, and sends him a postcard. because, sure, maybe stan can't help, but at this point he's starting to feel like his brother should know and also he's getting a little desperate

stan pretty quickly notices that there's something off about the handwriting and language and the stains of the postcard and gets on his way because something has obviously gone wrong here

he expects to have to talk to ford down from doing something, or maybe have to help him get out of dodge because people want to hurt him or something. he does not expect to walk into the house and see his brother bleeding on the floor because his assistant tried to murder him (is this why ford sent for his help? what in the hell is going on?)

stan is confused, to say the least. he pretty easily overpowers fiddleford (how weak was ford? what happened?) and manages to get his brother to a hospital

needless to say, he's a bit surprised when ford wants to return there upon recovery. he's even more surprised when he's shown the anomaly and hey where the fuck are castor and pollux. where are a lot of the stars around gemini actually?

ford gives him a basic rundown and explains that he thinks something about the anomaly caused fiddleford's murder attempt, though he's not sure why it only affected him. stan asks why he hasn't heard about this considering that this is kind of a big deal. ford doesn't know

they're about to hear a lot about it

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

Okay I wanna talk about the end in stormbringer because it’s crazy. Mori tells Chuuya that they know he’s human because when he was younger he got stabbed by a pencil when he fought a kid in his class (Chuuya went to school? 🥺) and that the tiny mark on his hand was proof that he wasn’t an experiment. That was such a tiny detail that I couldn’t help but wonder if Dazai finally got to examine Chuuya’s body like he wanted to..1/2

Hmm… sorry op but I really think Dazai had nothing to do with that. Even if he had seen the scar, the significance of it probably would’ve been lost on him. It’s not that Chuuya has the scar that proves anything (he has many scars), it’s that he received the scar before he was kidnapped.

Besides, I personally like that Dazai has nothing to do with that part. To me, it’s pretty important that scene be between Chuuya and Mori. It’s Mori who has the records on Chuuya, and this is the last means of confirming that he is the original and not a clone. For Mori to be the one to give that information to him is significant. He waited for years to tell him that and show him where his parents were, after Chuuya had worked hard to achieve his position - there’s very little chance of him leaving and Mori knows this. He gives him the info he had joined to acquire, but it’s been long enough and Chuuya is now invested enough in the people who had his back that he doesn’t leave and instead affirms his position in the Mafia, even feeling grateful for everything.

This scene is also interesting in that I’m curious how Mori would know all this information. A graphite scar can actually be a hard thing to notice. Take it from someone who actually has one on their hand; it just looks like a grey dot, or a slightly paler raised portion of skin with a tiny sliver of grey underneath, if it’s like mine. If you don’t know it’s there or what it’s from, it can be really hard to see (especially if it’s from several years ago). It’s possible N and the researchers documented all marks and blemishes on Chuuya’s body before starting procedures (this isn’t actually atypical lab practice - I’ve actually done blemish checks myself - but obviously for items, not people), but the graphite scar is such a specific thing and such a specific story (why would a researcher record that) that it makes me suspect Mori somehow knew about it firsthand. I may be paranoid but. You know. Again, it could have been recorded in his school records though and pieced together by Mori that way. “Chuuya went to school? 🥺” <- I do the exact same thing when I think about kid Chuuya doing literally anything. He definitely always had his temper but I suspect he was a good kid. I don’t know how he would’ve done in school though. Would he be attentive, or get bored with it? I actually suspect the first, since if I’m not mistaken, his irl namesake did really well in school until he started to rebel against his strict father. So yeah. Kid Chuuya going to school and doing his homework and occasionally getting into fights if anyone says the wrong thing about his parents. Good good mental image.

[chubbybunyu]

Kazuscara OTP tickle questions

So I saw the OTP tk ask game going around again, and I know this technically isn't how you're supposed to do it but I am. Brainrotting. About these two sO BADLY I HAD TO GET THIS OUT before I disappear back into the void lmao

✨️So here I go ehe✨️

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1. Who has the cutest tickle laugh? Kazuha! His laugh and giggles are so airy and just the right amount of raspy uGH I wanna hear him laugh all day...

Wanderer's laugh is really cute too but man's screaming half of the time. Tho one thing that makes him almost cuter than Zuzu is that he starts hiccupping if you tickle him long enough~

2. Who is ticklish in unusual places and where would that be? I'm not saying that neck is an unusual spot, but I think Wanderer's made_in_Inazuma mark is ridiculously sensitive-- if Wanderer is acting bratty in public, Zuzu just uses his vision to make a gentle breeze brush against the spot and Wanderer stops whatever he's doing as if he slammed into a wall and turns to pout at the other sdfghfh But also when they're alone Kazuha LOVES peppering it with tiny kisses and Wanderer is in stitchessss hehe

3. Who gets cheer-up tickles? Wanderer 100% and it's so effective and he's sO GRUMPY ABOUT IT like my god he wants to be mad about it bc it doesn't fit his ✨️mean aesthetics✨️ but he can't help but just giggle and feel like his head is getting all fuzzy n happy when Zuzu scoops him up and gently tickles him all over until he's feeling better again

4. Who takes advantage of the other one getting their arms stuck while taking off their shirt? B o t h, but Wanderer definitely learned from Kazuha ahah. And they both wear so many layers that it's a weekly occurrence and at this point they're so used to both of them taking advantage of it that they just automatically start to panic a little when they realize they're stuck, so if the other hadn't noticed it on their own they sure would now sdfghj

5. How did they discover each other’s ticklishness? Wanderer was probably breaking records being annoying and buzzing around Kazu's head, provoking him in one way or another and he just got fed up and grabbed his ankle to pull him down, but to both of their surprise Wanderer fell out of the air on his very own accord (accompanied with an adorably uncharacteristic squeak, I might add) bc the feeling startled him so much lmao and Zuzu did NOT leave him be until he admitted he was ticklish (I think y'all can imagine how Kazuha coaxed that out of him~)

And afterwards Wanderer tried to tease it out of Kazuha too but he just straight up admitted with a chuckle that "ofc I'm ticklish" and Wanderer could Not wrap his head around how he wasn't even slightly embarrassed about it lmao

6. Who can’t take tickle bites? Kazuha oh my gosh, he melts in seconds. I also think that Wanderer's teeth are a bit sharper than normal so his nibbles are DEADLY. And he knows that.

7. Who has to be tickle-forced out of bed in the morning? Hmm, neither has trouble in the morning, but I think Wanderer has to be tickled INTO bed sometimes. Sure, he technically doesn't need sleep but Zuzu wants to cuddle at night and if Wanderer's being difficult about it (which he usually isn't bc Kazuha's cuddles are god tier) he just gets dragged to bed, locked into a hug and tickled until he gets tired enough to actually fall asleep himself too hehe

8. Who gives up in a tickle fight? Wanderer, the feeling still catches him off guard quite a bit, especially when it goes on for a while since tickling has been introduced to him quite recently, so if you manage to pin him down he's done~

But once he gets a bit more used to it he'll be a dangerous opponent for sure///

9. Who is in danger of getting hurt when attacking the other? Kazu, Wanderer f l a i l s. Not a single limb is left unused in his attempts of breaking free if you tickle him hard enough He'll still pout if you stop too soon tho

10. Who always provokes the other into tickling them and how? Wanderer~ His brattiness goes up a notch and he seems to find something to playfully bicker about over everything, and it all is accompanied with a faint blush (that he will deny to the end of time) and an occasional glance at Zuzu's hands. So subtle~

But Kazuha also somehow manages to provoke him into GETTING tickled from time to time. Don't ask him how, Wanderer has no goddamn idea but it just. Keeps. Happening.

[sumire-no-nikki]

A Day Out

I had to do groceries this afternoon so I thought I would treat myself with a day out while I'm at it! The weather has cooled down ever so slightly and by that I mean from 30C down to 28C with a little breeze. Not much, I know. But that 2C is the difference between actively sweating just by breathing, and being able to manage walking outside without wanting to plop on the concrete and throwing a tantrum because I fucking hate summer.

That said, it wasn't helpful that the train was packed. Oh it was awful. Not a single seat open and the corridors were filled with people standing. I would have decided to go back home and just drive to a shop nearby, but I've made it that far already so I thought I might as well stick with it. In the end I'm happy to say it paid off. I had a very lovely day out!

First thing on the agenda was to try new beans but I'm afraid that part of the trip was a bust. I intended to purchase some espresso beans from this Mexican-themed cafe that I always pass by but it seems they've just roasted their beans (and they need to rest for a couple of days before they're ready to brew!) So unfortunately I will have to try them another time.

From there I entered my usual manga and general nerdy stuff store. I found some new manga I'm keen on but I stopped myself from spending. I don't really have the time to get into a new series right now, but I've definitely added a lot of new titles to my "to-read-in-the-far-future" list lol. I did make some really cool discoveries while browsing the store though! There's a manga series adaptation of Victor Hugo's Les Miserables! I read a couple of pages of it and it looks so good! And there's also a Junji Ito adaptation of No Longer Human by Osamu Dazai which, as it is by Junji Ito, looks nothing short of spectacular. Oh, can you believe it!! All these new adaptations of modern classics! I hope there will be more! As bewildering as it was to see No Longer Human on "as seen on booktok" tables in bookstores (the very existence of which seems to trigger my fight-or-flight response lol) I'm ultimately just very happy people are reading these great works. These manga adaptations will get so many people into reading the classics, I think. And that can only be for the good.

From there I headed for my usual cafe. I ordered a slice of chocolate cake and a lovely pour over coffee from Kenya. The cup I had today tasted of bright orange with quite a full body. I enjoyed my treats while reading for about an hour or so outside. It was way too hot to stay inside, so as much as I hate inhaling second-hand smoke I chose a seat along the street.

You know, I didn't realise until after ordering that I was in fact speaking with the owner who happens to be a German Barista champion!! I was inspecting the trophies on display by the counter while waiting for my tray. When I sat down I looked up the name and only then did the face register lol. Knowing that the person who owns the place understands brewing and producing coffee directly and ethically (as opposed to being just a businessman who isn't familiar with the coffee industry) does explain the quality of the beans. And it's such a reassurance to know that they are roasted by someone who cares. I swear I've never had a terrible bag of beans from his cafe.

One last errand before the groceries: the record store! I brought the records I no longer want to keep in my collection and had them assessed. The owner of the store is a very jolly Greek man. I browsed the store while waiting for him to come up with an offer. I spotted some of the records I sold to him in the past (and that he is selling them for quite a mark up 👀) but I've also noticed that quite a handful of my old records were no longer there. The romantic in me is beaming at the thought of my records in a new home now, being played and enjoyed by a stranger with a completely different background yet identifying with the same music I once related to. Anyway, I got a surprisingly good offer for the records and I walked out of the store feeling very happy to get that task crossed off the to-do list.

The last thing was to go to the store, of course. I've run out of some staple Japanese ingredients so that was what I mainly bought. I finally found sake for cooking which has proven quite difficult to source so it's a relief to finally have it now. I stocked up on natto as well. I know it's an acquired taste (quite like marmite) but I like it for breakfast, especially with leftover rice.

When I got home I spent the evening putting everything away, and cleaning and prepping the fruits and vegetables I bought. It was a good day, I think. Quite productive. And it's always lovely spending time alone. I get to observe, swim in the lake of my own mind.

I leave you with a photo I took on my way home and a song I've been listening to a lot. The train ride home wasn't as hectic so I spent the entire time looking outside, feasting on how vibrant everything looks in the summer. I know I've overstated my hatred for this season but sunlight, the deep green fields meeting the blue sky on the horizon, the contrast--it's such a boost to one's mental health.

As for the song, this one is from a pretty old album actually, but I always seem to find new meaning to fixate on when I listen to it. This is the song that struck me this time around and I've been ruminating on all week. It's rare to find a song that describes who you are completely that it's rather frightening. This song does that for me:

Alright, that's it for now. I'm off to tidy up real quick--arrange the throw pillows on the couch, pick up all the cat toys and put it back in their toy box (a task I'm sure I will be repeating in the morning, lol), start the dishwasher, and turn off all the lights. I've had a good day but I am exhausted! My weekend has been a busy one so far. Tomorrow I have some long letters to write and emails to respond to. And then it's just about to get even more hectic with the new week, but it helps to know that the weather will continue to cool down in the coming days. Knowing it'll be rainy is such an uplifting thing to know (at least I hope it happens. I have a love-hate relationship with the somewhat-accurate weather app lol). I hope it isn't sweltering wherever you are.

Until next time!

[f4iryfied]

wrote a lil fic abt violet’s pov in xaden’s chapter

//spoilers//

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“Why is braiding hair so fucking hard?” Xaden asks, grumbling. “Oh, it can’t be that hard, you just take the strands and twist them over each other in a pattern” I respond. A smile appears across my face seeing him struggle with something as simple as braiding my hair. But I also feel the need to smile because he’s here, a busy wingleader, taking the time to do something as simple as braiding my hair. Deep down, Xaden is such a softie. My softie. We’re back in Xaden’s room, which has soon become my favourite place. I’m seated cross-legged on his carpet floor in between his knees, while he’s on the bed. “Is this alright Violence?” I take a look at his work, and seconds pass. “Violence?” “It’s pretty good for a beginner…” I replied. “When I said never lie to me, I meant it.” he says playfully. “Okay, it’s pretty shit. But I love it nonetheless.” I tilt my head up, and he leans down. My lips fit on his so perfectly, and I think to myself how grateful I am for him, and these moments. I want to record and treasure them somewhere forever.

I slowly open my eyes, and notice I’m lying on an unfamiliar yet comfortable bed, in a strange room, with only one recognizable thing. Xaden. Sitting in a chair against the wall, I recognize him. He’s already overtaken my thoughts, and now my dreams. This man has me in his clutches, and I pray he never lets go. “You’re awake.” he says to me, with a strained and hoarse voice. As he walks to me, I notice his appearance; sleepless eyes, paler skin, and fresh scars. What happened? He sits by me and asks to look at my side. Stretching my arms, I nod. I don’t have it in me to speak words right now. Xaden gently lifts my nightdress, clearly searching for something I’m unaware about. A mark or scar perhaps? A thin silver line maps the area just above my hip bone. I hear a whisper of the word, ‘miraculous’ from him. ‘What’s miraculous?” I echoed.

“Water” he croaks. Not the response to my question, but I do feel thirsty. He pours me a glass, and I don’t miss his shaky hands. A sense of dread overcomes me, I’m most definitely missing something. I gratefully take the glass and down it all, murmuring my thanks. He finally answers my question. “You are.” I meet his eyes, and we lose ourselves in each other. “You are miraculous, I was fucking terrified, Violet. There aren’t adequate words.”

He seems genuinely shaken for me which is confusing because I feel alright. In an attempt to calm him, I relax my hand above his heart, which is beating more than usual. “I’m fine, Xaden.” “I thought I was going to lose you” he chokes out. I feel a caress of his lips on my forehead and then my temple. He has a distraught look on his face, perhaps even shame. Lose me? I know being a rider means every second of your life is either in danger or about to be in danger, but we haven’t had any upcoming dangerous events lately. And with Liam as my shadow, Xaden’s influence, or my lightning signet, no one has dared to try to attack me again. “You aren’t going to lose me,” I insisted. I kissed him, and my kiss definitely helped because he passionately returned the kiss. Using his tongue in ways that steals away my thought process. Xaden pulls away and takes my hands into his, promising to make it up to me. “I’m not saying we won’t fight or you won’t want to throw those daggers at me when I’m inevitably an ass, but I swear I will always strive to do better.” Another strange confession, this feels like a fever dream. “Make what up to me?” His brow furrows and confusion blooms across his face. “How much do you remember? By the time we got you here, the poison spread to your brain and—” I cut him off. The memories flood back. Us arriving at Athebyne, the fliers, Xaden’s betrayal, the venin. And me falling. I remember my acceptance of death at that moment. I was ready to let go. I tug my hands away, I just kissed the guy who didn’t think twice about lying to me after I’d given him… everything. Everything.

oh wow my first fanfic ever? lmk what u guys think!! and is anyone counting the days down to iron flame, ughh I’m so impatient. part 2 perhaps idk ..🤷🏾‍♀️