#that being said i am managing the heat better than most

[love-fireflysong]

You know what that means! Another Wednesday, another Work In Progress to share with you all. But before all that, I gotta confession to get off my chest. You all remember that promise back at the end of June where I said that I was gonna be spending a couple of hours every morning after work sitting by the river writing? Yeah I sorta haven't been doing that the past couple of weeks ever since my vacation ended 😅 Though in my defense, that's almost entirely NOT because of laziness but because there's been a heatwave going on so the average temp has been like between 30° and 35°C every day. Which is fucking HOT up here btw, so I decided it was probably best for my health to not go outside if I could help it lmao. So to compromise I've instead been writing by sitting on my balcony at night when its cooled down considerably. Though while that sadly does mean I'm only able to do it twice a week on my days off, I've always found that I tend to find it easier to write late at night anyways. To the point that I think even though I only write for at most a couple of hours, during those two nights alone I've probably been doing about at much as I would during those morning periods combined. So I'm making it work lol.

Anyways enough about me complaining about heat while simultaneously patting myself of the back, here's another little snippet from One Coat, Two Coat, Red Coat, Blue Coat!

With a sigh that is both entirely too fond and dejected (despite how much Ashley dislikes Josh's tastes in movies she does still bitterly wish that she also got to enjoy their sleepover shenanigans far more than she was actually allowed), Ashley nevertheless puts her phone back in it's place of honor on her table and goes back to cleaning. But not before making sure to shove Chris's hoodie into her backpack so she wouldn't forget to bring it to school on Monday. After removing the rest of her schoolbooks and binders of course. She still has that history report that's due the coming Friday (hence the actual need for the library visit tomorrow) as well as the two pages of algebra homework for Monday morning. Plus that short story for English that she was only able to write maybe two paragraphs of before the guys had found that board game in closet. …Just because the three of them were supposed to be doing homework for the past couple of hours didn't necessarily mean a whole lot of it ever got done.

[swtnjk]

moments with dealer bf iwaizumi

you sit crisscross on his bed in one of his hoodies that cover your whole top half, looking at the pre-rolled joint in between his fingers.

“i don’t know if i’ll like it,” you say, brows furrowed. he smiles softly, “you said the same thing about matcha and now you drink it like it’s your life force.”

“that was different. that didn’t make me see sound.”

he chuckles, low and fond, lighting the joint and holding it out for you. “just one hit. you don’t have to do anything else after that.”

you take it, and with the most dramatic inhale, immediately start coughing. iwaizumi pats your back, trying not to laugh while also looking mildly horrified.

“why does it taste like lawn clippings and sadness?” you croak.

“because it’s the good stuff,” he says, proud. “now give it a sec.”

ten minutes later, you’re flat on your back on the rug, feet on his chest, staring at the ceiling like it personally insulted your family. “hey, hajime?”

“yeah?” “do you think ducks have dreams?”

he blinks at you, “what?”

“like… what if a duck dreams of being a chef? but they can’t tell anyone, because duck society isn’t ready for that.”

he just stares. you giggle, flipping onto your stomach. “also. your hands are so… handy.”

he squints, “are you flirting with me?”

you crawl over and plant yourself in his lap like it’s your natural habitat. “maybe. your eyebrows are like, aggressively attractive. it’s annoying.”

“okay,” he says, laughing, arms wrapping around you. “you’re officially cut off.” you gasp dramatically. “are you gonna arrest me, officer iwaizumi?”

he sighs, kissing your temple. “never again. you’re a menace.”

it’s 2:17 AM when you feel the mattress shift. you groggily blink awake, face mushed against your pillow, and all you can make out in the darkness is a very warm, very heavy body flopping half-on top of you.

“…hajime?” you mumble, voice soft. he groans like he’s melting into the mattress. “baaaabyyy.”

you rub your eyes, “are you high?”

“mhm. very.”

you roll onto your back, and suddenly he’s got his face buried in your chest. his arms are wrapped around you like a koala. tight and not letting go.

you try to wiggle. you can’t.

“hajime,” you whisper, laughing a little. “you’re squishing me.”

“don’t care, “ his voice muffled. “need to feel you. like… all of you.” you blink, “i’m right here.”

“nooo, but like… feel you. your arms. your tummy. your soul. i missed your soul.”

you smile, brushing his messy hair out of his face. “you were gone for like six hours.”

“longest six hours of my life.”

you hum, still half-asleep, but you run your fingers through his hair anyway. he sighs, “you smell so good. like vanilla… and dreams.”

you giggle, “you’re ridiculous.”

“you’re soft,” he mutters. “and warm. and pretty. and i love you. and i might cry if you stop holding me.”

“okay, okay,” you say, wrapping your arms around him, kissing the side of his head. “no one’s going anywhere.” he lets out a long, whiny breath like he’s been holding it for years. “God, you’re my entire existence.”

then dead silence. he hiccups, “… did i say that out loud?”

the cafe is busy, the summer heat making the windows fog slightly from the steam of espresso and fresh bread.

you’re halfway through your shift, apron tied tight at your waist, hair up, cheeks a little flushed but you spot him through the front window, parked across the street.

or course he’s here. again.

you throw a quick sandwich together. his favorite, the #4. and sneak out the back door, dodging your manager’s eagle eyes. he’s reclined in the driver’s seat, eyes closed, music low, one arm up on the wheel.

you knock on the window with the sandwich. he immediately perks up. opens the door. smirks. “you sneaking me food again, baby?”

you hand it over, “gotta keep your muscles fed or you’ll get all scrawny.”

“mean,” he mutters, taking a bite anyway. “mmm. you make sandwiches better than anyone on earth.” you smile and lean in, hands on the door. “alright, baby, love you! i gotta get back in—”

but he grabs your wrist, tugging you closer, and suddenly you’re halfway in the car as he kisses you. it’s slow and warm and just a little possessive. hands sliding to your waist as he leans in further.

then he bites your bottom lip softly.

you gasp-laugh, swatting at his chest. “stop! i love you!” he grins, eyes dropping to your uniform. “i love you more, beautiful.”

you try to pull away. bad idea. his hand sneaks down and smack! right on your ass.

“HAJIME,” you yelp, your face warm.

he just raises an eyebrow. “what? it’s my break too.”

[never-mind-09]

Reader has period cramps. Sebastian being the most attentive man alive. Established relationship. Probably ooc but idc, needed fluff and comfort.

The cramps had been relentless all day.

A dull, persistent ache had taken up residence in your lower abdomen, tightening in waves, sometimes sharp enough to draw breath through your teeth. Nothing helped. Not the warm blanket you were buried under, not the heat pack pressed to your stomach, not even the stillness of the dim, candlelit room. You had managed to retreat into bed early, hoping that your bed and silence would numb the discomfort, but it only gave your mind more space to feel every pulse of pain.

So you lay there in quiet misery, head resting on the pillow, trying not to let the frustration get the better of you.

You hadn’t expected anyone to check on you. Sebastian had been busy all afternoon. You had seen him hurrying around the estate, carrying out Ciels orders without pause. You thought perhaps he would glance your way, maybe offer a polite remark. You certainly didn’t think he would notice you had barely eaten. Or that you had spent most of the day avoiding eye contact, keeping your arms protectively folded around your middle.

So when the door eased open with the soft creak of oiled hinges, you assumed for a moment you were imagining things.

Sebastian stepped inside, his movements unhurried. In his hands was a tray, tea, a warm towel carefully folded, a small plate of sweets, and something else you could not quite make out through the low light. His face, as always, was unreadable. But there was a subtle softness in the way he approached. Not quite concern. Something quieter than that.

"I took the liberty," he said, setting the tray on your nightstand, "of preparing a few things that might help."

You blinked up at him, momentarily unsure how to respond.

"I am fine," you said, out of reflex more than truth.

He raised a brow, gaze calm, unimpressed. "You are lying rather poorly tonight."

You frowned, but before you could argue, he knelt by the bed and gently lifted the old heat pack from your stomach. Without needing to ask, he replaced it with the warm towel, perfectly heated and folded to the right size. His fingers brushed your side, gloved and steady, and the immediate heat drew a small sigh from your lips.

"You didn’t have to do all this," you murmured.

His eyes met yours again, this time with a trace of something firmer. "I am not in the habit of ignoring you."

The blanket was adjusted with care, tucked around your waist. Then he moved to pour you a cup of tea, the steam curling in delicate trails above the rim. You watched him in silence.

He handed you the cup, and instead of sitting beside you, he climbed onto the bed and shifted behind you. His arms slid carefully around your waist, hugging you from behind. You leaned into him instinctively, your spine easing against the firm, warm presence of his chest.

"You should not try to endure this alone," he said quietly. "Pain has a way of making even the strongest foolishly stubborn."

You took a sip. The tea was just the right temperature, the faintest hint of mint beneath something floral and soft. It helped. A little.

"Thank you," you said.

"You are most welcome," he replied. "Although, I should mention, you have gone rather pale. Paler than usual, which is saying something."

You rolled your eyes. "Charming."

He gave a small smile. "I aim to please."

Then he tilted his head slightly, considering you.

"You have not eaten properly today," he said. It was not a question.

"No appetite," you admitted. "Feels like my stomach is turning itself inside out."

He made a thoughtful sound and reached for the small plate he had brought. There were bite-sized pieces of soft bread, lightly buttered, and a few simple sweets, nothing too rich. He offered you one, not forcing, just holding it patiently in reach.

You hesitated, then took it, nibbling slowly.

Sebastian stayed close, his arm still wrapped gently around you. His fingers moved slowly over your arm, steady and rhythmic, like he was coaxing tension out of you without a word.

"You do not need to speak," he said softly. "I will stay until you sleep. Or until you send me away, whichever you prefer."

You gave a tired smile. "You’re not going to be needed elsewhere?"

He leaned in closer, enough that his voice dropped just for you. "Nothing else in this manor takes priority over your comfort."

Your cheeks flushed at the sincerity in his tone.

"Embarrassed?" he asked, a faint glint of amusement in his eyes. "I would think you would be used to my attention by now."

"I’m used to the attention," you muttered. "Not the gentleness."

His fingers slowed their motion. His gaze searched yours for a long, quiet moment.

"Then I will make it familiar," he said. "Until it feels like second nature."

He pressed a kiss to your temple. Soft. Steady. Then one more, just above your brow.

And with his arms around you, the tea warm in your hands, and the towel easing the worst of the ache, you allowed yourself to relax for the first time that day.

The room had settled into a kind of hush, the kind that only comes in the moments between wakefulness and dreams. The candlelight had burned lower, flickering quietly on the nightstand, casting long shadows against the wall.

You’d stopped sipping your tea a while ago, your hands now resting loosely over the cup as it cooled. Sebastian gently took it from your grasp without a word, setting it aside, then pulled the blanket a little higher around you.

His embrace remained constant, warm and steady against your back, fingers lightly stroking your arm in slow, looping patterns. Your body had softened into him completely, and your eyes were fluttering with the weight of oncoming sleep.

But you didn’t want to sleep. Not quite yet.

“You always know what I need,” you murmured, barely above a breath. "Thank you.".

Sebastian’s voice was low, right by your ear. “It’s my duty.”

You shifted a little, letting your head rest against his shoulder. “No, it’s more than that. You could’ve just brought tea and left. But you stayed.”

“I did,” he said, as if there had never been a question. “You didn’t truly believe I would let you suffer alone in silence, did you?”

You hesitated, then gave a small shrug. “Sometimes it feels easier not to bother anyone.”

“Then allow me to be the exception,” he whispered. “You are never a bother. Not to me.”

The words sank into you, soothing something deeper than the ache in your stomach. You closed your eyes, letting them stay shut this time.

“…Do you ever get tired?” you asked softly, half-drifting now.

“Tired?”

“Of taking care of everything. Of me, the other servants..".

There was a pause. Not long enough to feel like hesitation, but enough to mean something.

“Not when it’s you,” he said, voice almost a murmur. “In truth, I find it… grounding.”

You let out a quiet laugh. “That sounds backwards.”

“Perhaps. But it is true. You bring balance to things that would otherwise feel empty.”

Your chest tightened at the quiet honesty in his tone. “You always sound so composed. So perfect.”

“And yet, I find myself watching over you far more than I should,” he said, brushing his nose lightly against your hair. “Does that sound perfect to you?”

A smile crept across your lips, even as your breathing slowed. “Sounds like someone’s a little obsessed.”

“Only a little?” he whispered, the corners of his mouth curving against your skin.

“Mm… Maybe more.”

You felt him press one last kiss into your hair, slow and tender.

“Sleep,” he said softly. “I’ll be here when you wake.”

You didn’t even realize how tired you really were. One moment you were just enjoying to be held and the next, you had fallen asleep without meaning to.

The first thing you noticed was that the pain had not fully left. The dull ache still lingered low in your abdomen like a quiet, unwelcome guest. But it was softer now. Manageable. The second thing you noticed was warmth, not just from the blanket but from the steady presence of Sebastian's arm draped over your waist.

He had not left.

You blinked your eyes open slowly, greeted by the pale morning light slipping through the curtains. When you shifted slightly, you felt it. His hand resting against your stomach tightened just a little.

"You are awake," he said from behind you. His voice was smooth and calm.

You nodded, voice thick. "How long have you been lying there?"

"For a while," he said without hesitation. "I made sure your breathing was even. That you were warm. That your color had returned."

You turned your head just a little. "So you were watching me sleep?"

"I prefer the term supervising your recovery," he replied with a hint of amusement.

You let out a quiet groan. "That might be worse."

Sebastian shifted then. He slowly sat up, brushing your hair gently away from your face. He readjusted the blanket with practiced care, like even the smallest wrinkle deserved his attention.

"You have not eaten properly since last night," he said, rising to his feet. "Your energy will drop quickly if you do not replenish your blood sugar. You also need something gentle to ease the cramping."

You squinted at him through the morning light. "Sebastian, you sound like a doctor.'

"I would hope I am far better than most doctors," he said, already walking toward the door. "Give me ten minutes. Do not get up. That is not a suggestion."

He vanished down the hall, his footsteps light and deliberate. And true to his word, ten minutes later the door opened again. He backed into the room, a silver tray balanced expertly in one hand.

The tray held a fresh pot of tea, toast drizzled with honey, a warm bowl of porridge with a sprinkle of cinnamon, and a few thin slices of pear arranged in a small dish. It was all perfectly laid out, as if served in a royal suite.

Sebastian set it down beside you, then propped a pillow behind your back to help you sit up.

"This feels like being babied," you mumbled as you reached for the tea.

Sebastian tilted his head. "If your idea of being babied includes anti-inflammatory foods, hydration monitoring, and properly arranged pillows, then yes. I am absolutely guilty."

You laughed under your breath. "You are enjoying this."

"I enjoy watching you follow instructions without resistance. That is a rare delight."

"You are not subtle, you know."

"I am not trying to be," he said as he gently placed another blanket over your lap. "Now eat. When you are finished, I will prepare a bath."

"A bath?"

"There is a blend of salts and herbs that may help with the muscle tension. It will also spare me the displeasure of watching you wince every time you move."

You looked up at him, surprised by the softness buried beneath his words.

"You are being really sweet."

"No. I am being efficient."

You gave him a small smirk. "Liar."

He paused, then leaned down. His lips brushed the side of your head, his voice low and entirely sincere.

"Only for you."

me: groaning dramatically on the couch, buried in a blanket

sebastian: places a warm teacup in my hands without a word

me: sniffles i think this is how i die

sebastian: sits behind me, starts massaging my lower back

sebastian: "Highly unlikely. Though your flair for tragedy is, as always, impressive."

me: melts

sebastian: "Drink your tea. Then I’ll run the bath. We are not negotiating."

why is this man so annoyingly perfect when i feel like a crumpled sock

[r4izx]

the next page

scaramouche x gn!reader

summary: you start seeing less and less of your lover and more and more of him with someone else.

- 2,522 words and 13,694 characters.

- slight cursing

a/n: sorry for not updating for so long •́ ‿ ,•̀ exams just ended. have this and not a part 2 of my last fic LOL.

9 days, 14 hours, 58 minutes and 2 seconds.

you don't know how you managed to keep track of the time but that's how long since you've seen your boyfriend in the day. if it wasn't for your shared apartment, you might've not even catch a glimpse of him at all.

these days, scaramouche has been coming home late and going out a lot. it's the reason why you've been staying up late night, waiting at the dinner table until he comes home for the dinner you prepared. but everytime he comes home it's already 2 am and the food has gone cold. you even offer to heat it up for him but he's either not hungry, already ate, or tired. but not too tired to go out with his friends it seems. and although you said friends, you're referring to a particular girl he's been spending more time with than anyone else. more time than with you. it didn't take long for you to find out why he's been ditching you. but it has been so long since you knew the reason yet you've done nothing about it.

you still wait at the kitchen table for who knows how long. but you always end up falling asleep, not noticing when he comes home. and the next day when you wake up, he's gone. that's basically your everyday routine. all you do is stay holed up in your shared apartment all alone. you didn't have much friends compared to him since you chose to hang out with him most of the time.

10 days, 2 hours, 4 minutes and 31 seconds.

it's late at night when scaramouche just entered the apartment. fortunately, you woke up almost immediately after hearing the door unlock. you fell asleep on the table, once again. and before scaramouche could even enter his bedroom, you called out his name.

"wait! scara..!" you still feel groggy from just waking up but you couldn't miss this chance. the chance to confront him. he stops in his tracks and slowly turns his head into your direction.

"what? be quick, i'm tired." scara replies. he was never the warm type of person, but he was also never this cold. you've never heard him speak in a tone like this. cold as ice. hearing him speak like that made you hesitate and even more nervous than you already were.

you nervously speak up,

"w-well, you know these days i've been thinking... you might be spending too much time with your friends and a girl i've been seeing you with. because we've barely hung out together compared to you and your friends." you finally confront of him. hoping he would understand how you feel, just like how you understand that he can have other friends as well.

"because of that, it's been really... lonely. I really don't wanna sound dramatic but maybe we could-"

"you are though." you internally flinch. before you could even finish what you were gonna say, scaramouche interrupted you. "you're being so dramatic y/n! can't i hang out with my friends?! you think you're the only one i have?! archons, there's so many people out there better than you! you're being so possesive."

you? possesive? is he being for real? are you wrong for wanting to spend time with your lover? his words keep echoing in your mind. 'dramatic, better than you, possesive.' you wanted to fight back and defend yourself. but, you wouldn't. you couldn't. you knew that he has other people to rely on too but who knew it would hurt this much when it's being said to you directly. what you didn't know is that he would choose to rely on them over you. now you look like a blind fool, who only saw the truth right now. the truth to his feelings. 'is that how he thinks of me?' you were stunned. too hurt to speak. but you snapped out of your daze once you felt something wet rolling down your face. a tear. you were, crying. crying for a guy who you knew you don't deserve. but you couldn't help it. all you could do now is wipe your tears.

"s-scara no- i'm sorry," what for? why do you need to apologize? "how about i join you with your friends instead? that way we both cou-"

"pfft." scaramouche tried holding his laughter. keyword: tried. he fails. bursting into a fit of laughter. "you? join us? tsk. don't make a joke like that, seriously... i don't need anybody to embarrass me infront of my friends. i told you, i'm too tired for this shit." and just like that, scara entered his room. leaving you all alone at the kitchen table, once again. you covered your mouth, hoping he wouldn't hear your muffled whimpers as you try to not to burst into tears. rushing to your own bedroom just after scara went to his.

you couldn't hold it in anymore. you broke down, tears streaming down from your eyes, too fast to wipe. you couldn't stop crying when you remember the things he had just said. but that wasn't the main reason as to why you were breaking down. sure, the hurtful words were a part of it but it was mostly because of the fact that, ...you know your worth. and you're worth more than this, and you deserve better. but you can't bring yourself to just... let go of him. you hate it that you wouldn't move on. that you couldn't move on.

8 days, 16 hours, 18 minutes and 20 seconds since that incident.

ever since that day you and scara has distanced even further. only seeing each other at night. barely. you told him how you felt and you didn't expect an outcome like this. you figured that you should treat yourself to something nice. you decide to go to the arcade. it was an arcade where you and scara would sometimes go to after class. it wasn't the best place to take a break at, considering you still think of him here, but atleast you were able to relax a bit. surprisingly, you managed to win something at the claw machine! it cheered you up when you remember the amount of times you spent money on rigged claw machines and end up getting nothing. maybe you should go to the arcade more. specifically on bad days. ironically, you're luckier on days where you feel like the unluckiest person ever.

just as you were about to get the prize you won, you saw something, no- scratch that, someone, out of the corner of your eye. someone you really didn't want to see. but still, you looked. your gaze lingered on him. you couldn't help but stare at scaramouche. your lover was right there. right there with another girl. is he cheating? is he leaving me? replacing me? you start overthinking, especially when you remember your last interaction with him. green hair, olive eyes. she's pretty too... maybe scara was right. maybe you were possesive... because right now you're feeling a lot of things. anger? sadness? jealousy? whatever it is --it doesn't feel good. while you were out here feeling like shit, scaramouche right now had the biggest smile on his face. with someone else, he looked so... happy. the smile on his face however, wasn't new to you. seeing it made you reminisce about the past. when you both were still happy together.

"scara! h-hey!-"

you both were walking at the side walk on the way home from school. it felt as if it was just yesterday when this happened. scara was teasing you, smudging ice cream on your face after you both bought some.

"ah- stop it!!"

scara didn't stop, he started laughing. he burst into laughter. and instead of being mad at him for teasing you again, you felt oddly comforted. was it because of his smile? seeing him so happy with you? whatever the reason was, you're just glad he's happy. and so you couldn't help but laugh along with him.

and right now, you're seeing the same memory again. but it's him,

...with someone else.

he's laughing with someone else. doing the same teasing to someone else. being so happy, with someone else.

it hurts.

and it hurts even more when you see that you won matching keychains. there's a pang on your chest and you can't explain the feeling. all you know is that you get this feeling when you see him being okay without you. while you're here suffering without him. it's unfair. you know your worth, and you deserve better. maybe... you should really move on.

so you've promised yourself, --you won't chat him, call him, prepare food for him, wait for him to get home. to think you would change yourself this much because of scara when he wouldn't change a single thing for you. but, it's for the better. now you're both avoiding each other.

15 days, 16 hours, 59 minutes and 58 seconds.

you managed to not interact with him as much for this long. things were awkward for the both of you, keeping replies short with each other. you think if other people saw you both they wouldn't even suspect the idea that you both are lovers. but hey, you kept your promise intact. fortunately, you haven't seen him at all for the past few days, not even a glimpse of him- ...yet.

as you were walking back home, you passed by you and scara's old spot. it was yours and scara's usual spot. it was somewhere near your shared apartment with him, an overlooking hill, where you could see the whole city. it was a place you both went to for a breath of fresh air. some memories quickly popped into your mind but you didn't wanna remember anything about it. not anymore. but it was only now that you noticed two figures on the spot. one was... from the silhouette you could already tell it was scara, but you still took a better look to confirm it and just as you suspected, it was him. now, the other figure was... the same girl again.

you're starting to hate the color green because of seeing her too much with him, although, you do feel slightly guilty 'cause you haven't even spoken to her once yet you feel like this. but still, you hate the color purple even more. it was the color of his hair, his eyes, and you were pretty sure it was his favorite color seeing how much his room is filled with it. because of him... you're hating a lot of things, including the fact that he looked so majestic right now. the wind blowing down on his face, his hair flowing with the air, his face leaning closer and closer to the girl's lips,...

as they kissed.

you watched as scara and the girl's lips touched each other's. it's a bit embarrassing to say but scara has never kissed you on the lips. was he saving it for a special moment like this? the atmosphere for them must have felt romantic. but right now, you feel like it's getting hard to breathe, the air around you is heavy, and your vision is getting blurry. ever since scara and you had distanced, you already knew at some point something like this would occur. but it still hurts. so much.

the dam broke.

tears started flooding down from your eyes. you cover your mouth, hoping the two of them wouldn't hear your sobs. your gaze fell downward. you couldn't bear to look at him again, it'll just break you even more. it hurts, it hurts, it hurts. and you start to think that maybe scara has never even loved you from the very beginning. maybe he was always more than friends with that girl. always ditching you for her, being this intimate with her, and at your personal spot with him too. looking back to your most precious moments with him, you really are a blind fool. you thought you were special. when in reality, he'd replace you the moment you do something he doesn't like.

and so, you break your promise. you take your phone out from your pocket. scrolling for a long while through your contacts. it was only now that you realize how long you actually didn't chat him. you finally find his name. 'scara♡'. you quickly cleared his nickname and started typing. even though your eyes were growing blurry from tears, you still tried to finish typing. albeit, with difficulty, you click send.

"scaramluche, we shoudl bresk up."

you didn't care if it had so much typos, you just wanted to get it over with. you tried staying loyal to him, for a long time. despite all of his complaints and how hard it was to breathe around him, you still endured. but a person could only take too much until they break.

you waited for a few minutes until the two of them finally left your spot. it was where you always went to when you needed a breathe of fresh air, so you went and sat there. watching the city lights, gazing at the sky, breathing this fresh air. this is what you need. no matter how many times you come to this place, the scenery always takes your breathe away. even though scaramouche was just here awhile ago, you couldn't even think about him right now. you wouldn't.

and for the first time in a while, you felt... relaxed. you felt calm. the air around you finally felt light, it was easier to breathe. now it's just you and yourself again. you were used to being alone in the confinements of your shared apartment, but this... feels different. you are alone, but you felt free. you aren't chained down to bothersome worries and doubts anymore.

going back to your shared apartment that day was difficult for you. but from then on, you knew things were gonna get better, so you held on. scaramouche didn't even bat an eye to the boxes lying around on your room. he didn't even care about the fact that your closet was getting emptier and emptier through the days. but that's good. because just like how he neglects you, you won't let yourself be bothered by him anymore.

and alas, the day comes where you finally move out. you went far enough to even ask the landlord if you could move in early. this is the beginning of your life without any problems. without any of him. scaramouche is blocked on all of your socials, he wouldn't know a thing about your whereabouts even if he tried to look for you. because you know a lot of things about him when he doesn't even know where you work.

you finished setting up your bed at your new apartment. you hastily scrambled onto the bed, lying down on your back. your whole body instantly felt relaxed and the only thing you could think about is that you don't regret doing this. you think that maybe this was really what you needed. a break from him, being freed from doubts and worries. you truly did the right choice of moving out, and...

33 days, 21 hours, 5 minutes and 10 seconds.

...moving on.

[arabellasleopardcoat]

You wouldn’t believe the things I have done for her (Daemon Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: Daemon lives a dangerous life. You wish you could find a way to protect him, but you are too afraid of guns. Lucky you, Daemon has a plan.

A/N: Do not try this at home. Requested by the lovely @avalyaaa I am sorry it took me so long, but I wanted to give your request the attention it deserved.

Warnings: Smut. Mafia! Daemon. Gun kink. I CANNOT STRESS THIS ENOUGH: GUN KINK. Slight degradation.

You sit quietly in the back of the car. In the front seat sits Harwin, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. He is bored. You can tell by the way he keeps fiddling with things. Changing the radio station, messing with the AC.

Harwin probably misses his old work. It’s not like Daemon needs a bodyguard or a driver. You know it’s more for your protection than his. And while Harwin is no stranger to guarding people who don’t need his protection, you bet the fact that Rhaenyra was fucking him made the prospect much more agreeable.

The AC gets turned off again. You would scold him for it, were it not for the fact you are deadly bored yourself. Daemon’s quick meeting has turned into an hour long one, and you have been instructed to not step out of the car. The only entertainment you have is your phone, and you can only scroll through so many TikToks before wanting to claw your own eyes out.

Instead of continuing to refresh your For you page, you turn your attention back to obsessing over your conversation with Daemon. The shame from your stupidity makes your cheeks heat up.

“I don’t trust them.” Daemon had said, pressing a kiss to your cheek. He often avoided kissing you in the lips whenever you were close to his associates. As if not kissing you could trick them into thinking you were not relevant and convince them not to target you. “They are…. Not the most respectful with women.”

“You don’t trust me, you mean. To handle myself.” And by the Seven, it had even sounded bratty to your ears. You had not meant it like that at all. You had only wanted him to stop using that shitty excuse.

There were women who attended these meetings. You knew it. Hell, you had even met them. And these weren’t sex workers or strippers. These were women who held high positions in the organization. Rhaenyra, who was going to inherit it one day. Mysaria, who ran an informant network. Even Alicent pitched in from time to time. You were tired of being lied to. Sometimes, you craved the more normal boyfriend experience.

“I trust you. I don’t trust them.” Daemon had chuckled at your pout, and given you a pat in the head. “Behave.”

It had felt so dismissive. So humiliating. As if you were a child and not an actual grown woman. You hated arguing with Daemon. There was something about his tone, or his attitude, you were not sure which, that made him sound forever condescending.

You supposed inherited wealth was like that. The Targaryens had been running their schemes for nearly six generations by now. They were royalty by modern standards, even when you didn’t know about their more shady dealings.

It was no use, being upset over it. Daemon was too set in his ways to change. You needed to find a way around your problem, instead of charging right into it. But nothing comes to you at this moment, so you unlock your phone and continue your scrolling.

You save a few recipes you want to try, and like some pet videos. You are thinking of asking Daemon to adopt a puppy. A small breed would suit your apartment better, but you know Daemon. He will probably want the most intimidating dog he can get his hands on. A big, scary doberman could be something you could get behind. You had been feeling unsafe as of late.

A sudden, loud noise makes you jerk on your seat. You start to ask Harwin what’s wrong, but you don’t manage to even form the words. It's happening too fast.

“Get on your knees and do not get up until I say!” Harwin shouts. You do not need further explanations, understanding something is really wrong. You fall into the floor of the car with such haste that your phone is sent flying under the seat.

“…. Whisk the butter and the sugar…” You try to reach for it, but the space is too cramped, and suddenly the car is moving, throwing the phone around. Your knees throb from dropping yourself from the seat too hard, and you try to focus on that and not the way your heart feels like it’s in your throat. A gunshot, you realize. A gunshot. You should be used to them by now, but you still feel afraid.

Harwin drives fast and efficiently. It’s two full blocks before he orders you to get up again. You do so, legs shaking. There is a wet feeling on your knee. Blood. You had scrapped it when you threw yourself on the ground.

“What happened?” You ask him, smoothing your clothes down. Now that your panic isn’t as intense, you feel a pang of guilt. Daemon. Seven Hells, you had left him back there. “Daemon?”

Despite knowing that Harwin’s orders are first and foremost getting you out of danger, you can’t help but feel guilty. You had not even thought to worry about him. He is probably fine, considering the place was filled with Targaryens. He is also more than capable of handling himself. But to be so blinded by your fear that you did not even think of him…

“I got no fucking clue.” He asks, meeting your eyes in the mirror. “I’ll call Daemon, alright?”

“Yeah.” You say, quietly. You grab the seat’s edge and squeeze, as if you could will Daemon to your side by frustration alone. Harwin dials.

“Yeah, we are fine.” Harwin says, smiling at you through the mirror. You know he wouldn’t be so casual if something bad had happened, and so, you give him a thumbs up. Your guilt eases a bit, being replaced by relief. “She is fine, just a bit shaken up.” And he rolls his eyes because Daemon can be a bit overbearing.

“Just trouble with an errand guy.” Harwin explains, once the call is over. “He should be here soon.”

But despite how casual they made it sound, you couldn’t shake the fear and guilt away. It stayed on your mind, nestled like a worm, curling around your brain and threatening to choke it. When the night comes, and Daemon sleeps peacefully by your side, you still think of it. Of how you could die, and he could too. And there wouldn’t be a thing to be done.

You sit up on your side of the bed, letting the sheet pool around your waist. You hug your knees to your chest. The night is chilly, and the blackout curtains Daemon insists on having to ensure the room is pitch black. It only serves to disquiet you further.

There is a gun on Daemon’s nightstand. Should there be one in yours? His work is dangerous enough to warrant it. Enough to warrant you having a bodyguard, why not a weapon of your own?

You weren’t going to let him die. Nor were you going to leave him behind, like today. This was the twenty-first century, not the Middle Ages. You were tired of cowering back and acting the damsel in distress. If someone is going to try to hurt the man you love, you sure will fight back.

Daemon was yours. As much as you were his, and so, it wasn’t fair that only he protected you. You needed to be able to have his back, or at least, not be a distraction in a fight.

Your decision is not just something you can communicate to Daemon, though. He is not going to like it. You know him. Daemon is a bit old-fashioned like that. He likes gender roles a little too much for it. He is your protector and provider, and you are supposed to just be sweet and warm. The thought of you using a gun will probably cause him a heart attack.

And the thing is, Daemon doesn’t just style himself your protector. He does an outstanding job of it. He has managed to keep you away from the nastier side of his business. Never have you seen a dead body, or any of his associates beyond his family. So if you hope to achieve this, you need to be smart about it.

You decide you will tell him first thing in the morning when he is barely awake. He will be more susceptible that way. And happy with your plan, you finally manage to catch a few hours of sleep.

The next morning, you get started making breakfast with only one thing in mind. Convincing Daemon. You are barefoot, wearing only one of his shirts. It’s basic manipulation, and he will probably able to tell, but you hope it will soften him to your cause.

It’s when you are scrambling the eggs that he emerges, lured by the smell of fried bacon and a fresh pot of tea. Daemon wraps himself around you, still warm with sleep.

“Morning, love.” His voice is still a bit hoarse with sleep. He nuzzles your neck and hums, pleased. “Couldn’t I convince you to come back to bed?”

You laugh.

“Not really. The eggs are almost done.” You take the pan off the stove, letting it cool. “I would like to learn how to shoot.”

Daemon stiffens. You can feel him pull back from you. It’s not a physical thing, his arms remain wrapped around your waist, but his voice becomes colder and meaner. He is fully awake now.

“And why, in the Seven Hells, would you need to learn?”

“To feel safer.” You answer, keeping your tone steady.

“Do you not feel safe already? I could hire you another bodyguard.” Daemon hugs you slightly tighter. You lean into the counter a little bit, and sigh. Then, you detangle yourself from him.

“I don’t want a bodyguard. I need to learn how to shoot.” You state again, calmly. You turn to look at him. He looks more annoyed than angry.

“Sweetheart. You know that is not the best idea.” Daemon pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Why not?” You cross your arms over your chest.

“You are sensitive. You cry when animals die in movies.” He complains, stepping a bit closer to you. Daemon pours you a cup of tea and plates the eggs. “Go sit. I’ll wrap this up.”

You give him a sullen look but obey, watching him cut and toast the bread just in the way you like. You sit by the kitchen’s island, watching him work. Daemon is only wearing his underwear. You don’t think he owns something that resembles pajamas. Targaryens always run hot, or so they say.

Disappointing yourself, you let yourself be distracted by the view. You watch the muscles on his back shift and move as he finishes breakfast for you. You are mesmerized by the elegance of his every movement.

He is delicious, you think to yourself. You want to climb him like a tree. Despite the slight age difference, Daemon is more handsome than other men you have met. He is a bit vain, sure, but his efforts are worth it.

It’s only after he sits next to you that you remember what you were doing. You blame it on the lack of sleep.

“So?”

“You are my woman. It’s my duty to protect you. I’ll keep you safe.” Daemon rubs your shoulders, comfortingly. His voice sounds apologetic, a denial despite the soft tone he is using. “You know I keep you well away from danger.”

And he does. Not only Harwin and him have talked protocols, but Daemon has also ensured you would be protected even in the event of his death or imprisonment. You have numerous properties to your name, a few fake passports and three hidden bank accounts in different tax havens. None of which would be taken away if the two of you break up, Daemon has clearly stated. He loves you enough to want you to be protected even if you don’t love him anymore.

“I don’t like being powerless.”

“I seem to remember you do.” He squeezes your thigh, playfully. Your breath shifts despite yourself. You cover it by taking a sip of your tea and leveling a faux glare at him.

“I know.” Daemon kisses your nose. “I like that you don’t know how to shoot. That you are clean from this world.”

“It won’t sully me.” You argue because it’s a silly thing to think. It’s not like you are going to start shooting people or running illegal gambling rings. You just want to be able to defend yourself if something happens. And perhaps Daemon. If he doesn't feel too emasculated, this ridiculous man of yours.

“If I wanted a woman who knew how to shoot I would still be with Rhaenyra.” He complains.

“Plenty of women know how. I am not…” You rub at your eyes, tiredly. You want him to understand nothing is going to change between the two of you. “I do not want to go to your stupid meetings or meet your associates for dinner. I just want to know how to defend myself if something happens.”

“And I am saying you don’t need to because nothing is going to happen.” Daemon’s voice turns firmer. Now you can tell he is beginning to get angry, so you reach for his hand and squeeze.

“But if it does? If one night we wake up and there is a gun to our faces? Then what? Do I just let you die for me?” You allow your voice to break in the last part, letting him truly see your anguish. It is a fear of you that has lived on too long. You need this. You need to be able to defend both of you if something happens.

“Oh, sweetheart.”

It gets you to the firing range. Daemon takes you there in the middle of the week, hoping to inconvenience the least amount of people with him booking the entire place.

Your first impression of it is that it’s nothing like in the movies. There are neat little booths with circular targets instead of human shaped ones. You had expected only utilitarian decoration, harsh white lighting and white walls. Instead, the place looks well maintained and expensive. You should have expected so, considering this is Daemon you are talking about.

“Your first lesson…” Daemon says, eyeing you distrustfully. You stare right back at him. “Will be on safety.”

He takes two bulletproof vests out of a hanger, as well two pairs of earmuffs.

“These are protection gear, meant to be used each time you are practicing. And hopefully…” Daemon passes the bulletproof vest over your head. You let him do so, lifting your arms when he instructs you. The vest is heavier than you expect, and more solid too. It feels like what you wear when you are getting an x-ray. “You will use the vest too if you ever fire a gun outside here.”

“And not the earmuffs?”

“You should wear them to protect your ears, especially if you are firing many rounds. But you never see people wearing these because they are heavy-duty protection. In a real fight, you wouldn’t be able to hear your surroundings. Gunshots are pretty loud. So are gunfights.”

“Is that why you are losing your hearing?” You sass, with a grin. “I thought it was just your old age.”

“Oh, shut up. Little brat.” Daemon smacks your ass, playful. It doesn’t even hurt, but you jump and squeal in faux outrage. He laughs at your antics, and it does make you feel better about forcing him to teach you this.

“Should we do the whole…?” You gesture vaguely, trying to reference the classical movie or book montage where the female lead and the love interest stand very close, under the excuse to fix her posture. Daemon shakes his head.

“What is even that?” You would call him an old man for missing your reference, but you know he is sensitive about his age. Besides, you are not a great mime either. “No. You are going to stand with your legs and shoulders the same width apart and a proper posture. No slouching!”

“You know, not all of us grew up with a tutor chasing us and screaming for proper posture.” You grumble, but comply with his orders.

“Perhaps if you had, you wouldn’t need all those Pilates and Yoga classes you so enjoy.” Daemon argues right back. He circles you and pushes a bit at your hips. You try to loosen them. “Perhaps my cards would not explode then.”

“Shut up. It’s not like you don’t reap the benefits.”

Your good humor disappears when Daemon places a gun on the counter in front of you. You go quiet, suddenly unsure of your choice. He shows you how to charge it and how to put the safety on and off. You pay him all of your attention, feeling a bit numb. Most of the details about it fly over your head, despite your attempts to memorize them.

“Alright. I think you are ready for your first try.” Daemon says, handing you the gun. You grab it with trembling hands. You adjust your stance and ensure the muzzle is pointing down, and that you are not gesturing wildly with it. He puts your earmuffs on, and then his.

The world around you feels muffled. You swear you can hear your heartbeat, with how silent everything is. The gun in your hands is throwing you off. It looks odd. These can’t be your hands. You feel like you are not actually there, but watching the scene unfold from outside, watching someone else about to shoot.

Daemon adjusts your grip with his hands, casual about his proximity to the loaded weapon. You stiffen as soon as you feel him approach you, worried about accidentally shooting him.

“Come on.” He mouths, impatiently. You lift the gun, take the safety off, and aim. You pull the trigger, and it is with an awful noise and jerk, that you fire for the first time. The shot goes wide, hitting the wall next to the target.

Daemon taps your shoulder and gestures for you to go again. He watches your every move. His expression betrays nothing. If you are going at it the wrong way, you wouldn't be able to tell.

You repeat the motion, flinching at the noise. Even with the earmuffs it’s loud. It reminds you of that day in the alley, and makes your stomach clench. Daemon signals for you to put the gun down, and you do so, glad that it’s over. You can’t believe you thought you could actually do this. You feel so stupid. He was right, you are too soft.

Daemon can probably tell you are getting too in your head. He removes your earmuffs and pulls you in for a hug. The vests make it awkward, but you feel comforted by his solidness next to you.

“You did great, sweetheart.” He lies, and kisses your temple. You feel so disappointed you could cry. A laugh bubbles out of you, a bit hysterical.

Daemon tsks. He reaches for the gun and deftly discharges it.

“Come on.” He says, kissing your cheek. “I know what your problem is.”

“Yeah?” You ask him, a bit doubtful. You don’t want to feel any sort of hope, just in case that he is mistaken. Giving up so easily might be childish, yet you had not expected this to be so hard. After all, like half the people that Daemon knew could do it.

“You have to learn to love the gun.” He places it back on your hand and steps up behind you. It seems like you are doing the movie thing after all. He kicks your legs a bit, encouraging you to shift your stance.

“Love the gun?”

“You keep looking at it like it’s a weapon of mass destruction.” Daemon laughs, and mouths along your nape. You shiver. It’s an almost Pavlovian reaction by now. When Daemon’s voice gets all low and husky, and he holds you like that, your body knows it’s time for sex. It’s very inappropriate. But conditioned as you are, you can’t stop the throb of arousal between your thighs. “Stop looking like you are horrified by it.”

He fixes your grip around the gun. He steadies your hand.

“Shoot.”

You obey, pulling the trigger. The gun clicks, but nothing happens. It’s unloaded.

“Good.” Daemon says, and lightly bites your shoulder. “Again.”

You repeat the motion. He has you do it over and over again, until you no longer flinch when pulling the trigger. When you are fully desensitized to the sound, Daemon takes the gun from you.

“Great job.” He says, placing the gun right on your face. “Now kiss it.”

“Excuse me?” You stare at Daemon, sure that he must be joking. Kissing the gun? No way. But one look at his face, at the amused curve of his lips, and the mischievous glint in his eyes, tell you that he is serious.

“You heard me.” Daemon chuckles, a bit darkly. You understand then that this is both for his amusement and a punishment. He gets off on humiliating others, that you know. And he had not liked that you had forced him into giving you shooting lessons. He now intends to bring you down a few pegs. “Kiss the barrel.”

You scrunch up your face. You got your pride, too. Despite knowing that submitting to his whims is easy and will probably pacify him for a while, you can’t help but resist. Your whole body rebels at the idea of accepting such an obvious power play.

“Come on, don’t be like that. You owe me.” Daemon tilts your head up, placing a finger under your chin. He makes a show of cooing over your pout, before leaning in to kiss you.

“I don’t!” You move your head away, denying him. It’s a bit cruel, and it makes him frown, which you consider a win.

“You so do. I didn’t want to teach you, you know. At least give me good jerk off material.” He pouts at you, and you can’t help but smile a little. He is ridiculous.

It is part of why you love him. Daemon is young in spirit, if not in body, and he makes you feel younger too. Giddy and willing to do silly things. Silly things like leaning in and kissing the barrel of a gun.

The metal is cold under your lips, hard and unyielding. Daemon makes a pleased noise and pulls you in for a kiss. You can feel him smile against your mouth, before trying to deepen it. Playfully, you nip at him, until it is him who yields and opens up for you.

It is then that he presses the cold barrel against your nape. The feeling of the gun against your skin makes you tense and jerk, giving him once again the upper hand. With the control of the kiss back in his hands, he pulls you closer.

You feel yourself slowly starting to become aroused. One of Daemon’s hands finds your hip, squeezing the flesh there. His gesture is both possessive and greedy. Something swoops in your belly, dark and demanding. You want all his attention on you, you want him all for you.

Making out with Daemon is a full-bodied experience. It shouldn’t surprise you, then, that he starts to gently run the muzzle of the gun down your neck. At first, you don’t notice, too caught up on how close both of you are. Your chest is flush against his, and the feeling of his body against yours makes you whimper, before you realize what game is he playing.

“Daemon.” You warn, annoyed. He gives you a shit eating grin.

“I am just getting the two of you better acquainted. My best girls.” Daemon leans in and kisses behind your ear. He takes his time, making out with the shell of it. He is cautious to do all the right things to make you tremble against him. Yet, you can’t seem to forget about the gun, running down your sternum, between your breasts.

The muzzle gets caught against your clothes. Daemon uses it to push one of the sleeves of your top a little aside, to be able to lavish the skin there with kisses. You only feel the metal against your skin for a second, but it makes you think about how it would feel against your naked skin. Would the cold make your hairs stand up on edge, and your nipples pebble? Or would it warm up to your temperature?

The thought makes your breath hitch, and your panties even wetter.

“There is no one here.” You say, quietly. “If you were to take off my shirt…”

“Oh, sweetheart.” Daemon grins, encouraging you to lean against the counter of the firing range. “You devious little thing.”

He drops to his knees in front of you, carefully taking your clothing off. You watch him move between your legs, helping you widen your stance. Daemon kisses a path from your ankles towards your knees, mouthing along as if having the finest of banquets. His kisses feel scorching against your skin, and you can’t help but jut your hips slightly, trying to command him into touching you.

Daemon smiles at you, cheekily. He then bites your inner thighs, scratching just enough to make you arch in pleasure-pain. When you are just about to hike one of your legs over his shoulder, he sucks your clit inside his mouth, and it’s then that you feel it. The cold barrel of the gun, pressing along your inner thighs.

You moan. Daemon laughs.

“You little whore.” It sounds fond. He eats you out without any finesse, slurping noisily. The thought of anyone else being able to overhear this makes you embarrassed, so you try to keep quiet. Your eyes close, hands squeezing around the edge of the counter.

Daemon is not trying to bring you any pleasure. His movements and touches are too methodical for it. He presses a finger inside your hole, then another. Then it is scissoring them and shushing you with soft licks to your clit when you complain at the slight sting.

Any pleasure you get out of it is incidental. Instead, Daemon is getting you ready for something. And this time, you know it’s not his cock. The thought fills you with dread and arousement in equal parts. How will it feel? Metal doesn’t give the same way flesh does. But the thought of having a gun, Daemon's, inside you, makes your hips jerk.

“Impatient, aren’t you?” He pulls away, reappearing from between your legs. “Fuck. I don’t know if I want to see your face or your greedy little hole when I put it inside.”

You look at him. His hair is sticking up in all directions, but his smile is absolutely ferocious.

“My face. Just in case…” You reach for his shoulder and squeeze, gently. Despite how arousing you think the whole thing is, you are still hesitant. Sometimes, things don’t feel as you imagine they would. You don’t want this to be disappointing.

Daemon seems to understand, despite the fact that you don’t verbalize it.

“I’ll talk you through it.” He says, kindly. He then spreads your folds a little and presses the tip of the gun against your hole.

You yelp. Your grip on his shoulder turns punishing. It feels pleasant, as penetration often does, but there is a foreign quality to it as well. The gun is wide, and metal doesn’t give as flesh does. You feel as if you are rooted tp the spot by it, being impaled with each inch Daemon presses inside you.

“You are doing so well. Good girl. My little girl.” He presses a kiss to your stomach. He keeps rubbing at your clit until you relax around the barrel. It’s only then that he attempts to fuck you with it. You clench at his shoulders, overwhelmed, and moan.

It’s confusing. The ridges of it feel good, catching against your hole. The metal slowly starts to warm up, not feeling as strange as before. Daemon keeps steadily sucking your clit.

The pleasure builds. So does your need. You start to move your hips along with his thrusting, trying your best to reach your orgasm. So of course, Daemon pulls away from your clit.

“You are taking it so well.” Daemon praises, voice husky with desire. “Your pussy swallows the gun right up.”

You moan, almost without realizing. You are so close it itches. But moving your hips up and down isn’t enough. You need more.

“Daemon, please.” You beg, near tears. Never before have you been this frustrated.

“Who would have known? You are such a hungry little whore.” Daemon smirks. The crudeness of his words makes you gasp. You feel smaller than you have ever felt, yet somehow, it makes you feel deliciously dirty. He is not wrong. It’s embarrassing, how you are humping the gun he holds, but you can’t stop. “You don’t think, you are so desperate you would fuck anything. Do anything, just to fill your greedy holes.”

“Please. Fuck.” You sob. Daemon licks his thumb and starts rubbing your poor, abused clit. He keeps fucking you with the gun, building you up and up, towards the orgasm you so desperately crave. You come with a scream so loud, you thank he has booked the whole place for only yourselves.

Turns out, you don’t hate guns as much as you thought.

[yuttikkele]

S2E1 Amok Time: AKA we finally get to learn more about the vulcans because spock's on his period. or he's going through heat. whichever terminology makes this synopsis funnier to you.

alright here we go. the episode i have been recommended to watch the most. could it possibly be gayer than "when i feel friendship for you, i'm ashamed." ?

OH MY GOSH. MOODY MUCH, SPOCK? Yelling, throwing the bowl at the wall, storming out of the room. Well, at least he didn’t overreact guys.

DID THE OPENING THEME CHANGE?? It’s gotten more EPIC. and VOCAL-LY. DEFOREST KELLEY MENTION

Theodore Sturgeon and Joseph Pevney, do you know what you’ve done?

The brattiness of Spock is transferring over to Jim. The repeat of “In all the years that I’ve known you” was despicable.

Spock pulling the “I am fine” card is so awful bro EVERYONE knows you’re not fine.

*spock gets called off of the bridge* Ooooo. Mr. Spock’s in troubleeeee.

Spock looks like an adult that has to go to the doctor alone for the first time.

WHY DID SULU LOOK SO WORRIED WHEN CHEKOV SAID HE WAS GONNA GET SPACE SICK BAHAHAHA

Well chekov I’m sorry to say I think we might be changing course again.

Why did Spock even wait this long to try and get to Vulcan

“No use to ask him, Jim, he won’t talk.” Watch him talk.

DOES SPOCK HAVE A DAUGHTER??? (yutti note. That was not his daughter that was younger T’Pring)

“It has to do with biology.” WOAH. REALLY SPOCK? I HAD NO IDEA! IT'S LIKE THIS WHOLE TIME WE'VE BEEN TALKING ABOUT YOUR BIOLOGY. /sarcasm

Well look at that. He talked.

I think this is supposed to be a comedic scene or something but the unfitting doom and gloom music over it somehow makes it even FUNNIER. Like the biology of Vulcans is REALLY scary guys… you better watch out..

The way Vulcans chose their mates ISN’T logical? Well color me surprised I wasn’t expecting that. (yutti note. it's not logical but they've set up traditions that make it logical. they done loopholed it into being logical)

Jim is really considering this. This Vulcan biology. He’s thinking hard about it.

I wanna know who thought, “Aw yeah, we need a whole episode dedicated to talking about Spock’s sex life.” that resulted in this episode existing.

what is this whole thing with nurse chapel and spock

“By tradition the male is accompanied by his closest friend.” D’awwww

DANG THAT WOMAN IS GORGEOUS (t'pring)

EVERYONE SIDE EYEING AND LOOKING AT EACH OTHER LIKE THOSE STANTWT MEMES WHEN SPOCK SAYS “my wife” BAHAHAHAHA

“Hot as Vulcan” yeah now I know what that phrase means too, McCoy (I have never heard that phrase before)

Arranged marriage at the ripe age of 7 years old? Ok I guess. whatever you say

*POINTS AT SCREEN* OH OH OH THAT’S THE HAND SIGN!!! 🖖🖖

T'Pau: “How do you pledge their behavior?” Spock: “With my life.” Kirk: *looks over at McCoy*. KIRK DO NOT CAUSE SPOCK TO DIE.

“What is it what happened?” Kirk says just like I do at football games.

That one Vulcan background guy (Stonn) is so funny why does he keep looking around like HE doesn’t know what’s going on.

I wanna know WHY she chose Kirk. Did she not want the other guy (stonn) no more? Is she just doing this for fun? Did she feel threatened by Kirk, so she wants Spock to kill him? “Oh? You like him so much? Kill him so I have your full loyalty." type beat?

Spock is managing to talk trying to protect Jim :00

Sorry to interrupt the mating ritual, but Spock’s hitting an insanely devious pose rn

Oh of course Kirk immediately gets a boob window

They're bleeding. His bibis are bleeding.

NO SPOCK. SPOCK’S MORTIFIED. SPOCK IT’S NOT YOUR FAULT, IT’S VULCAN BIOLOGY.

spock were you jealous of ston just then??

Oh miss girl T’Pring had this ALL worked out. Not in Spock’s favor obviously. But a girl gotta do what a girl gotta do.

Did Spock just tell Stonn that having T’Pring isn’t as marvelous as it seems? With T’Pring right there?? BRO.

SPOCK WAS SO HAPPY TO SEE JIM awwww

MCCOY YOU GENIUS. I would’ve been saying bye bye to Kirk then and there. all "guess we'll have to find a new captain" and everything. good thing he's a doctor.

“When I thought I had killed the captain, I had lost all interest in T’Pring.” Gaywad.

ohhh ok so, Spock told Stonn having isn't as good as wanting not because he dislikes t'pring or dislikes having her, but because he got over his vulcan heat or whatever and no longer was drawn to her. ok that makes more sense. still a little bit of a diss to her but whatever. really can't possibly be worse than having to live married to a man who's never there

Ooo a new end credits too!!

ok. gonna be honest. my thoughts? i don't feel like this was entirely incredibly that gay. it was gay, but I don't think it was gayer than "when i feel friendship for you, i'm ashamed." and i might get yelled at for this deduction and told about how it is oh so gay and i might be like "oh i didn't notice that, that is very gay!" but i think one thing stays the same: there's just nothing gayer than yearning.

HOWEVER. upon a rewatch (because i decided to rewatch it without taking notes cause i felt like that was distracting me from the show), i realized something. now let me get this straight. spock went into heat. he very clearly stated that he must mate or die. he came out of heat not having mated or died but instead after fighting jim and thinking him to be dead. so, i feel it is not out of the question to think this implies either he was so shocked by killing kirk, the person he cared for most, that it snapped him out of his heat, OR his body registered that fight as sex. both equally gay options.

additionally, we already know jim is basically the most important person is spock's life, but this episode sorta puts it into perspective. spock says this whole quote about how "having is not so pleasing a thing, after all, as wanting." after he thinks he's killed jim, spock wants jim way more than he wants t'pring. which already in of itself shows how much he likes jim. but what more? when he finds out jim is alive, he's ecstatic. he no longer wants jim. he has him. and as we can tell by this being the happiest we've seen spock, it is a very pleasing thing to him. that is the most romantic part of this episode.

[foxy-eva]

Dancing in the Moonlight

Summary: Spencer gets creative in order to cheer up Reader

Request: could you please write about how sunshine!reader ends up having a bad day and grumpy spencer spends all day to no avail trying to cheer up the sunshine!reader. The thing that finally works is a little bit silly? 

Pairing: Spencer Reid x GN!Reader

Category: Comfort, Fluff

Content Warning: Reader has a bad day and is upset but it's not specified why, mentions crying

Word Count: 1k

Masterlist

Just like a sunbeam sneaking through black curtains you came into Spencer's life all those months ago. He would never forget the first time he felt the heat your presence radiated, warming even the darkest corner of his heart. After those long days of fighting evil, he craved nothing more than coming home to bask in your kindness. 

However, when he entered your apartment that night, Spencer immediately realized that something was different. Where he'd usually find excitement and joy, he only saw a fake smile on your face.

"What's wrong, my love?" 

Spencer found his place beside you on the couch, offering to pull you right into his arms. You hesitated, afraid that his touch might break loose the tears you so desperately tried to hold back. 

Instead of accepting his embrace, you just shook your head and answered, "I just had a bad day." 

Spencer knew that it must have been a truly terrible day for it to take away your smile. You were the most optimistic person he had ever met, always seeing the good in everything even when he couldn't. 

"I'm sorry to hear that. What can I do to make it better?" 

You just shrugged and leaned back on the couch, ready to simply wait until this day would be over. 

Spencer, however, decided to make it his mission to cheer you up. After giving it some thought, he realized that he had no idea how to do that, though. Usually your roles were reversed with you being the one to comfort him after a bad day. You were the one who – without fail – always managed to light up his life.

Now it was his turn to do the same for you. He just needed to figure out how. 

"Do you want to talk about it?" He offered. 

You shook your head while sinking back further into the couch. Spencer reached out his hand to brush over your fingertips. His touch was soothing, so you opened your palm to take his hand in yours. He moved closer to you until his shoulder touched yours. 

When you locked eyes with him you managed to flash him a timid smile, not as genuine as usual but less fake than before. 

"Hey," Spencer whispered.

"Hi," you breathed. 

His lips found yours in a brief and innocent kiss. It wasn't enough to make up for what happened today but you appreciated his attempt to light up your inner spark again. 

Spencer quickly noticed that his nearness alone wouldn't be enough to cheer you up. 

"Are you hungry?" He asked. "I could make you something to eat."

"I already had dinner earlier," you declined his offer. 

He got up from the couch to turn on the TV and put on your favorite show before disappearing in the kitchen for a few minutes. When he came back he handed you a mug with freshly brewed tea. 

"Thank you," you said while taking the beverage. "I really appreciate it."

It was true, you did appreciate his attempts to make your day better. It didn't work though. As he sat with you to watch the show while occasionally checking your facial features, he realized that, too. 

"You're still upset," he stated with a frown present on his face. 

"Sorry, I–"

"Don't apologize," he interrupted you. "It's not your fault. I just hate that I have no idea how to help you. You're always there for me and know exactly what to do or say and here I am… so…lost." 

"It's okay, Spencer. I'm sure it'll just pass. Tomorrow is a new day."

"No, don't you try to cheer me up!" He protested. "This is about you. I really want to make you feel better." 

You turned your head to look out the window. The sun had already set, all you could find was darkness on the other side of the glass. It almost felt like a metaphor for that day, as if all you could do was to wait for the next morning to let the rising sun warm your heart again. 

Spencer couldn't accept that, though, so he suggested, "We could go for a walk. Maybe the fresh air will help you clear your head."

It was worth a try. Chilly air met puffy cheeks when you stepped outside, Spencer’s hand immediately reaching out to intertwine his fingers with yours. Walking side by side, you followed his lead, unable to make a decision as to where to go yourself. Soon you stepped into a park together, noticing how a mild breeze created a rustling sound as it met leafy trees.

Tilting your head, your eyes wandered over the night sky. The moon was bright and big, almost looking unreal from your point of view. Although it was only borrowing its light from the sun, it still did its bet to illuminate your path. 

Very sudden and without a warning Spencer stopped his motions to step in front of you. He softly smiled at you when he said, "Dance with me."

Those were words you never thought you'd hear from him, so you asked in disbelief, "What?" 

He gently got ahold of your wrists to move them to his shoulders before he grabbed your waist. 

"Dance with me," he repeated. 

And so you did. 

At first you just swayed from side to side, not unlike all those kitschy prom scenes in teen movies. There was no music playing but that was alright, the sound of the wind was your beat while some sleepless bird sang the harmony. When Spencer made the first step, you simply followed his motions. 

It was clumsy and graceless but he didn't give up, not even when he almost fell over his own feet. The smile slowly forming on your face spurred him on to keep going despite his lack of skill. There was no holding back the laughter spilling from your lips each time your chests almost collided because you missed a step. 

However, after a few moments your body moved naturally with his, almost as if you had done that a million times before. Your smile grew bigger with each spin, making you slowly forget the sorrows of the day. And although the sunrise was still many hours away, just like that your inner light began shining again.  

Taglist: @nomajdetective @reidsbookclub @gspenc @samuel-de-champagne-problems @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @malindacath @reidselle @alexxavicry @frickin-bats @spencersprettyslut @sebs-oxygen @happymangospot @cynbx @melifluorei-d @hotchandspencearedilfs @emiliaserpe @thenerdthatwrites @velvetthunder93 @cncoxlifeline @saturnstringz @missabsey @guacam011y @whoopdy-doo @hugyourlungs @reiderwriter @snapeknot @enamoradax @hales-17 @cham9ions @loaksulluyswife @ecneremili @xserenax-13 @grumpyy-bearr

[mirage-aera]

•°. *࿐ Sick days || JH86

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : Love Lost - Mac Miller, The Temper Trap

Synopsis: Sick days usually aren’t fun. Especially for Jack. He hates them. But you somehow always make it better.

Word count: 1.401

Masterlist

Am I watching the canucks game while writing this? Yes, and stressing over it

When they said that men are always the most dramatic when they catch the common cold, you didn’t believe them. You thought it was an exaggeration. But the way Jack has been acting the past three days? Yeah, it’s not an exaggeration. You’re both curing his cold while nursing your own headache. One that’s been a product of his whining. This man is acting as if he’s on his deathbed, a damsel in distress, a whiny little-. You love him, but you wouldn’t be opposed to the idea of sedating him for a day so that you could get some peace and quiet. You would like to know how Ellen handled him whenever he got sick. It’s almost unbearable.

“Babyyy?”

“Am I dying? It feels like I’m dying.”

“Everything hurts…”

“More medicine? I don’t need it. It’s disgusting.”

“Can you please get me a painkiller? I do need it…”

The need to hit him with a pan to knock him out for a few hours is concerningly high. You’re trying to be patient with him. He’s not feeling well, and not being active, those are things that he hates and you know that. You’re really trying to be patient with him. However, he makes it very hard to when he’s whining every other minute.

You hide yourself in the kitchen to make sure Jack will leave you alone for a minute. You absentmindedly stir canned chicken soup in a small pan. When it starts smoking you take it off the heat and grab a bowl. You pour the soup into the bowl and grab a spoon. You carefully walk to your bedroom with the bowl, a bottle of water, and a pill. You open the door a little wider and walk up to him. He sniffles but manages to crack out a small smile. “There you are. I missed you.” He says softly, making your heart melt. Sick as ever and he still manages to make butterflies flutter. “I was only gone for a minute.” You say gently as you place the bottle and pill on his nightstand. You hold out the bowl of soup. He grimaces at the sight of it. You give him a stern look. “You need to eat something. Otherwise, you won’t get better. And make sure you take a pill after or while you eat.” You can’t help but fuss over him a bit.

He groans in response but takes the bowl from you. He starts eating at a slow pace. You sit by his bedside and watch him eat. Pale, sweaty face, hair pointing in all sorts of directions, and yet he still is so handsome to you. He notices that you’re staring and glances at you. He lets out a raspy chuckle. “There’s nothing noteworthy to stare at right now.” You smile and move his hair out of his face. It’s starting to become a little long again. “There’s plenty to stare at. You’ll always be pretty in my eyes.” His eyes shine at your comment. “Pretty?” He asks with amusement in his voice. You roll your eyes but can’t help but let a grin creep up your face. “Sorry. Handsome.” He smiles triumphantly. “That’s what I thought.”

He soon finishes his bowl of soup. You take it from him and set it aside. You hand him the bottle of water and the small white pill. He takes it from you. You notice how clammy his hands are. You frown as you watch him down the pill followed by big gulps of water. You place the back of your hand against his forehead. Your frown deepens when you feel how warm he still is. He knows better than to fight you back so he lets you do your thing. “Your fever is not letting up. You should get some more rest. That might help.” You say softly. He nods and slides underneath the blankets. He pulls it up to his chin. You gently run a hand through his hair. “I’ll be in the living room. Just holler if you need me.” You say softly. Although, you’re secretly hoping he’ll sleep for a couple of hours. For both of your sakes. “Alright.” He croaks before shutting his eyes. You watch over him until you’re sure he’s fallen asleep. You get up carefully and make your way to the living room.

***

Time passes by quickly when you’re finally able to relax. You check the time on your phone only to realize Jack has been sleeping for a while now. You get up from the couch and quietly walk back towards your bedroom. You peek your head in only to see Jack snoring away without a care in the world. You smile at the sight, happy that he’s getting some rest. You realize that the blanket has slipped down a little. You carefully walk up to him and tuck him back in. You tuck the sides underneath him. Tightly wrapping him up in the blanket. He looks like a burrito. A 5’11 burrito.

You step back and take in the sight. You let out a quiet snicker. You pull out your phone and take a picture. Saving that for later. You look at him one more time before leaving the room and going back to the couch. You throw yourself down onto the couch and look at the picture you’ve taken. You snort. Jack’s going to kill you for sure once he finds out. You send it to the Hughes brothers group chat that Jack has ever so kindly thrown you into.

Another hour passes as you’re peacefully watching something on the television. You laugh at the conversation going on in the group chat. You hear some rustling from the bedroom. You’re about to get up when you hear a hoarse holler. “Baby!” You chuckle, “yeah bub?” He lets out a loud groan. “You did not send that picture in the group chat!” You let out a laugh and make your way towards him. You snicker when you see his phone in his hand. The group chat is still open. “I did. It was way too hilarious to pass up. You were like a burrito. Or should I say a Jackrito? One of a kind.” He pouts at you. “Really? A Jackrito? Was that necessary?” He asks, almost offended by your shenanigans. You snicker. “Yes. It’s funny.” He crosses his arms and huffs. “I don’t find you very amusing right now.” He retorts before he gets into a coughing fit. You pat his back, helping him through it. “You’ll find it amusing when you get better.” He glares at you and shakes his head. He stops coughing. “You’re still in trouble. Don’t forget that, because I certainly won’t.” You let out a snort. “Whatever you say bub.” You look at him affectionately. You suddenly get a great idea. “I should send the picture to your mom.” His eyes widen at what you said. “No!” He exclaims. You burst out into laughter. He huffs and pulls the blanket over him. “I’m glad you are having fun while I’m dying.” You roll your eyes. “Now you’re being dramatic again. For the millionth time, you are not dying Jack. You simply have the common cold.” He lets out a raspy chuckle. He lifts the blanket slightly and pulls you into him. He covers you both with the blanket. “It feels like I’m dying, especially when you aren’t around.” You can’t help but smile at that, despite his theatrics. You can feel yourself getting tired. Even though it isn’t that late yet. The warmth he’s emitting is so comforting. You let yourself fall asleep in his arms.

***

A week later he’s back on his feet. But he transferred his germs to you. You’re as sick as a dog. He walks into your bedroom with a bowl of soup in his hands. “This will make you feel better.” You glare at him. He laughs, “are you still mad at me for getting you sick?” You nod, “what do you think?” He snickers and sets the bowl aside. He sits by your side and rubs your arm tenderly. “I said sorry baby. But…” he trails off. He shows you a cheeky grin. “It’s only the common cold. Don’t be so dramatic. You still want to hit him with a pan. “I hate you.” He rolls his eyes before planting a kiss on your forehead. “I love you too. Get better soon, okay?”

[teddybeartoji]

anyway i want to introduce you all to my Big Cat Husband Household. this is an official thing i love them all. said household includes - black jaguar!toji, snow leopard!satoru, tiger!sukuna, black panther!suguru and mountain lion!tengen.

we all sleep on one bed and that bed is the size of a whole room btw they are massive. tengen and sukuna sleep on their backs while showing off their tummies to the world, satoru is always one move away from falling of the bed, suguru manages to be majestic even when he's asleep he looks like a statue with his paws crossed like that smh (i am jealous of his beauty) and i always end up sleeping under toji's side which means that i am at risk of him just turning over and suffocating me (i love it)

i also can never leave btw. like no bathroom breaks for me whatsoever bc i move an inch and suddenly i'm being yanked back to bed by any one of them and it's so??????????? weren't you just asleep?????????????????? they're all incredibly clingy (i also really love that ngl) oh and i die every summer. bc i am horrible with heat and they're all like HEATERS it's actually so bad and it's not like they really want to let me sleep anywhere else either smhhhhhhhhhh but since they love me<3 they take turns of sleeping with me in the living room instead of the bedroom

satoru also uhh kind of gets bullied by the others but he's genuinely so unbothered by it it's crazy. he also gets special treatment from me bc the others are mean and i am not, i like to baby him sm he gets the most ear scratches while the others glare at him from the other side of the room. satoru thinks it's very funny bc he loves the attention (the others love him too though dw i would actually kick them out if that wasn't the case)

sukuna and tengen tussle the most but it's all for fun they both like playing around a lot,, satoru often joins them too and it's a very entertaining thing to look at lmao toji and suguru typically just stare at them from the couch bc toji is lazy he just wants to lounge around all day and suguru thinks that he's better than the others in a way (?????)

(i also think it's really funny to add housecats dazai and chuuya to this household sometimes bc the idea of dazai and tengen sleeping in a patch of sunlight is so fucking funny,, dazai looks like a fucking twig next to tengen i think if the latter would place a hand over him he might actually break lmao chuuya and toji get along really well though they don't talk a lot but they just feel very comfortable around each other they also take naps together and it's the cutest sight ever)

the tongue baths go insane with them all btw but i won't get into that rn bc i might uhh have a heart attack..

[witch-hazels-musings]

Hey Hazel, 🎱 Anon Here, again.

Wanted to make a second request, hope that's okay.

May I have a Ritual of Protection for Kazuma? Using Jasmine, Lepidolite, Frankincense, and Dalmatian Stone.

Jasmine (love, sensuality), Lepidolite (regulation, stress relief), Frakincense (confidence), Dalmation (loyalty, family) Kazuha x gn reader | Protection Ritual warning: alcohol and drunkenness, reader drinks, drunk Beidou and Kazuha

The laughter around the campfire called to you. How long had it been since you spent an evening resting, relaxing, and recharging? It seemed like there was no end to the constant movement of your life these days but sprinkled in like drying leaves, moments like these managed to find their way.

You slipped into the conversation and took up space next to friendly faces and jovial voices. It was easy. It was always easy with them.

"Waa, you should have seen em!" Beidou boomed, her drink spilling over the rim as she bumped her arm into a nearby shipmate. "Damn near took the whole crew on by themselves. Ain't that right," she added with a wink in your direction.

Ah, it was this story. How was she already this drunk?

"You always conflate this story, Beidou. It was like three people."

"Ho! Selling yourself short again. I don't think any of us could have walked out of that tussle without a few bangs and bruises. And you managed to drop em' all."

"Again, misremembering. I'm pretty sure the only reason I managed to get us out of these with all our faces intact was because I, kindly, explained to them it was more in their favor to leave."

"And then what happened," she said, smirking.

"They didn't listen so I showed them-"

"Aha!"

"BUT, they were way more plastered than you are, so it was hardly a fight. You love bringing this up." You chuckled and took a swig of your own liquor. It was sharp, heavy, and made your nose tickle.

If there was anything a pirate was good at, it was drinking - good, strong wine.

The group picked back up and you let Beidou fade back into her favorite stories. She went around the group as if to live through each of her crewmate's old tales with a fondness only she could bring. You didn't mind, no one really did. It was the opposite in fact. It seemed to boost the morale of the crew, each person getting their own spotlight. Though some enjoyed it most.

Something bumped into your back, jostled your drink. You reacted just in time to catch a stumbling Kazuha who looked more like a wet tunic than a person.

"What happened to you?"

He swallowed, caught his breath before beaming up at you. His cheeks were as rich as the kimono half-draped around his body. "As the sake warms, I am rich in its flavor. Bitter regret forms."

You burst into laughter. "You're so drunk!"

"I am," he agreed with a nod that twisted his face. You adjusted so you could prop his head up with your leg. He smiled and rubbed his face against it.

"How did this happen?"

He thought for a moment. "I remember being over there."

"Uhuh, and then what happened?"

"I am ... now I am here."

"Great. Good job," you teased. It was a rare sight to see Kazuha this intoxicated. Normally he could hold his liquor well, far better than you. Someone really must have worked hard to get him to this level. But you were happy for him. He needed to relax, let go for a time. And you'd be here to help him in the morning.

He grinned, wide and pleasing. You turned to the fire but Kazuha drew you back by sliding his arm over your lap. He adjusted so his head was on your thigh and his arms could wrap comfortably around you. And he stared. Stared up at you in a way that made your heart flutter.

"Firelight flickers. Dancing caresses on skin. I am jealous of its touch."

You counted in your head. "Wait, does that count as a haiku?" you asked.

"Perhaps not, yet the sentiment remains." Kazuha reached up to your face and let the back of his fingers caress your skin. "You're pretty."

Heat bloomed in your cheeks so you tried to hide them by cupping his palm to you. His skin was warm, hot, perfect. "You're pretty, too," you told him.

"Be mine?"

An endearing smile tugged at your lips. You leaned down toward him and he stretched to meet you. You could smell the alcohol on his breath.

"What if I told you I already was?" you asked as you held his chin.

"Then seal my lips so I may know it true."

You kissed him beside the crackling fire, surrounded by bonds tighter than family, and shared in each other's love to the backdrop of ruckus and revelry.

Thaumaturgy Anthology (October 11-13, 2024)

This event is based on spells and rituals. Inspiration does not equal understanding; liberties have been taken. All content is owned by Witch Hazels Musings, theft of these images and stories will result in immediate action.

[robinette-green]

Astrological Bullets

They tell you that blood is thicker than water, but I disagree. If I never see my brother again, it’ll be too soon. Not that I’ll ever get the chance. I’ve been tied to these railroad tracks for a few hours now, patiently waiting for a train to end it all. With the blindfold over my eyes, it’s hard to tell what time of day it is, but with the heat radiating off the metal underneath me, I knew the sun must be high in the sky. If a train didn’t end it, heat stroke or dehydration most certainly would.

When I heard the horse, at first, I thought that the heat had started to bring me hallucinations. It was odd. I had assumed that heat visions were just that, visual. The sound of steam being released into the air made me certain that I was firm in the grips of the desert madness until he spoke.

“You seem to be in a bit of a bind. Normally, I’d mind my business, but curiosity has gotten the better of me. What could a lovely lady like yourself have done to warrant being tied to these tracks?” There was an actual person… wild. What was releasing steam? Maybe I am hallucinating.

Licking my lips in a vain attempt to wet them, I tried to say something but had to stop and clear my throat. The sand and dry air had already done a number on me.

“I’d love to tell you… If you would be kind enough to untie me.” I could hear the man kneel down by my head, his shadow falling over me, blocking out some of the direct heat from the sun.

“I think I should hear your story first. You may be tied up for a good reason. I don’t want to go releasing you if you deserve to be where you’ve gotten yourself.”

I released a long, weary sigh.

“It’s simple, really,” I said with as much of a shrug as I could manage while tied to wood and steel.

“My brother owes Mr. Madison money.”

“I don’t see how that has anything to do with your current situation, lass.”

“Mr. Madison’s goons apprehended me early this morning. Either my bother gives him the money, or I’m left out here to meet whichever fate finds me first.”

“And seeing as you’re still here, I’m guessing that your bother hasn’t found a way to pay this, Mr. Madison, his money.”

I rolled my head, partly in exasperation and partially to relieve some of the ache from my neck. Being tied to railroad tracks is rather uncomfortable.

“He’s managed to do less than try. He was out here a few hours ago. Said this was the least I could do for him. Dying to rid him of his debts.” Turning my head to the side, I would have spat in anger, but my mouth was much too dry. I scowled instead, teeth grinding together.

“I hope his sorry ass is disembodied by a bull.”

“We may be able to arrange that.” The man said with a chuckle before leaning over me. Fingers brushed against my face, following the edges of the blindfold back behind my head so it could be removed. I blinked in the sudden light, squinting up at the dark figure blotting out the sun. There was a hat atop his head, but coming from the sides of his face, there seemed to be metal points. In fact, the longer I looked up at him, the more he seemed to be made of metal. Blue eyes glowed down at me as he watched for my reaction, a slight smile playing across his lips.

Pulling a knife from a boot, the man leaned over and sliced the ropes holding me down. Fingers took mine, and he helped me to sit up, a hand going to the small of my back to keep me steady as spots appeared in my vision and the world seemed to swirl around me.

“Careful there, darling. Heat’s already done a number on you.”

A canteen of water was carefully pressed to my lips, and I drank greedily, one of my hands gripping his wrist to keep myself steady.

“Thank you,” I murmured, leaning heavily against this metal man.

[thebluestbluewords]

Torture Devices

Going to the museum and talking about which torture devices you’d use on each other IS the cutest date idea for your evil polycule. They deserve cute things.

+

"You'd look good in this one," Mal whispers, leaning over to drape her whole body weight across Jay's back. She's the shortest member of their crew, but she's dense even in her human shape, like all the muscle of her dragon-shape just gets compressed into her usual little fairy body when she's not transformed. "You'd squirm so pretty for me, I bet." 

A shiver rips through Jay's spine at the thought. "Bet."

Mal's tongue hits his ear. "Sure. I'll take that one. We can sneak back in tonight, after close. You, me, and--" she pulls back to squint at the tag on the machine, and Jay nearly whines at the loss of her body heat.  "The 1602 Cinderellasburgh Torture Rack." 

"Kinky," Jay manages, in his most normal tone. He's feeling super normal about this museum trip, except for how his brain maybe got a little bit fucked up by sleeping under a shelf of heavy electronic crap for the first sixteen years of his life, and now he's sort of hard wired to associate imminent danger with feeling safe and secure and... 

Okay, even thinking that he feels loved is a step too far, but he likes being hurt. The threat is good. It's like a double shot of those peppermint mocha things straight to his brain, and it tends to leave him warm and sticky, also like peppermint mocha shots. 

"Do not," Evie hisses. "Do not make the torture museum horny. I am banning both of you. You're not allowed." 

Mal grins. "Ooh, will you punish us if we break the rules?" 

"No—“

"You could use the 17th-century water torture machine. Get us really wet."

"You're both terrible people." Evie sighs. "And get real, I wouldn't waste perfectly drinkable water on torturing you. I'd use the Iron Spider over there." 

She points at a spiky tong-like thing mounted to the wall. There's a helpful illustration mounted next to it of a woman with a gold halo and a suspicious sort of cavern where the front of her chest would usually be. There's no bloodstains on the spider, but Jay's pretty sure he knows where they'd be. 

Mal throws herself bodily off of his back and into Evie's arms. "I love spiders!" 

"This one rips your breasts off," Carlos reads calmly from the placard. "So it's perfect for you, Eves. You can follow in your mom's footsteps and use it to torture anyone with better boobs than you."

Evie laughs. "Oh, so nobody then. Pity. I'll use the choke-pear instead. Ooh, this one was allegedly used in the nineteenth century for homosexuals, so it's perfect for us. I'll get a whole line of them."

"I've kissed boys before," Mal says, from where she's laid herself in the gayest fucking princess hold Jay's ever seen. Her head is in Evie's tits. 

Evie clutches her closer. "Oh no. I am so surprised. How could you. You'll have to be spared the pear." 

Mal snickers. "Tragic. I'll put myself in the iron maiden instead." 

"Yeah, you love being inside maidens." Carlos says under his breath. Mostly. "Totally straight people behavior there."

"WHAT." Mal shrieks. "SLANDER."

"I said nothing." 

"BLASPHEMY. LIBEL. I'D NEVER WANT TO BE INSIDE A MAIDEN." 

Carlos sighs. "I would." 

"I know, baby," Evie says soothingly, dropping Mal so she can reach out and pet his hat instead. Auradon is depressingly obsessed with pairing guys and girls off into picture-perfect straight couples. In the last few months Jay's been on the receiving end of more polite flirting from girls than he got in a year back home. And that's with his whole vibe. He's doing something wrong, obviously, but they haven't figured out what it is yet. He's got the long hair, the shitkicker boots, and he's even tried being worse at eyeliner on purpose. 

It's like the Auradon Prep student body is so used to looking at a boy and seeing prince that they can't see bisexual goth jock when they've got one right in front of them. 

Not that being hit on by girls is bad, necessarily, but he'd really appreciate mixing it up a little. 

"I'd be so good at being somebody's lame-ass boyfriend." Carlos says wistfully. "I'd carry her books and everything." 

"We know, baby. It's a tragedy that being bisexual doesn't give you any game with women." 

"I'm not even SURE about girls, I just want the opportunity to find out." 

"You like Jane," Mal points out. "Come on, stop moping. I'll pretend I'm her, and you can tell me which torture device you'd put me in if I were a good fairy." 

"Stocks." 

"That's not torture. Try again." 

"Stocks," Carlos repeats stubbornly. "Bondage is fun." 

"You're supposed to be the one getting tied up," Jay points out helpfully. "Girls like doing that." 

"Not a girl," Mal sing-songs. "And not an example."

"You're being Jane right now." Evie reminds her. "Jane wouldn't know which way she likes to be tied up, because Auradon kids don't do that. I asked Doug, and he said he's never once looked at the stocks and thought that being restrained in public would be hot." 

"His loss." 

[onceonafullmoon]

Happy Accidents

Sae x GN! Reader

Part 2 to Misunderstandings

No warnings, after school fluff, takes place before Spain. First date (kinda), Reader is GN but is described as being shorter than Sae and wearing ribbons in their hair. Reader is kinda a anxious mess. NGL this was kinda a pain to get thru, Suki and Naomi are my babies il them T^T

“So, uh… what’s… your favorite color?” You ask, before immediately scrunching up your eyes in disgust of how awkward that was. “...seriously?” His response isn’t exactly uncalled for, but you can’t help but pout anyways.

What does one do when they’ve accidentally scored a date with one of the most infamous boys at school?

Cry? Scream? Die on the spot? Everything listed before, all at once?

Well, first, before all of that, you tell your beloved friends in hope for advice or a comforting shoulder.

And instead you get relentlessly teased (Naomi) and interrogated (Suki).

“Oh my god, you’re so stupid.” Naomi cackles like a witch from your desk chair, wiping tears from her eyes (okay it wasn’t that funny). “Who the fuck says “thanks you too” when someone tells them they’re cute?”

“Nuhh– nice people?” You say trying to defend yourself, although it comes out as more of a question.

This sends Naomi into another laughing fit, making you grab one of your pillows and hurl it at her, scowling when she easily catches it and continues to laugh at you, now grumpy that you missed her and that you’re pillowless.

“Oh, stop it already you clown.” Suki scolds Naomi from where she’s sprawled on your bed, head tilting up to shake her head disapprovingly at the dark haired girl.

“Thank you Suki.” You say, flashing her a grateful smile, only to yelp when she suddenly flips around, looking at you with an intensely excited look in her eyes.

“Was his voice hot?” She eagerly questions, leaning in to hear your answer.

“Suki!” You squawk, feeling your face heat up. “What kinda question–?!”

Naomi snorts. “Oh, but I’m the clown, got it.”

“It’s an important question, thank you very much, we’re talking about our beloved (Name)’s partner here!” She pouts indignantly, ignoring the choked noise of surprise you make at her words.

“Yeah, no, I don’t approve of him either way. That kid has an attitude problem and (Name) deserves better.” Naomi scoffs.

“Oh, who would you approve of then? Fucking Maruki?”

“Yes, I would, and that’s Dr. Maruki to you, you bitch–”

You finally manage to find your voice during their mini squabble and snap in embarrassment. 

“I don’t need either of you to approve! That doesn’t matter anyways!” You exclaim. “I am not dating Itoshi Sae!”

Your brother pops his head into your room at this very inopportune time, and looks at you in shock.

“(Name) you’re dating Itoshi Sae?” He asks.

“Yes!” Suki squeals.

“Unfortunately.” Naomi sighs.

“No!” You snap, glaring at your friends before turning to him. “What are you doing here anyways?”

“I was just gonna ask you if I could have the last bag of chips.” He answers.

“Yeah, whatever, go for it.” You sigh.

“Cool, congrats on bagging a future pro athlete, I expect to see some money too.” He responds, leaving just as quickly as he came.

“You wouldn’t see anything even if we were dating!” You call out after him, both annoyed and flustered by his words.

Sighing you turn to your friends, who look at you somewhat expectantly.

“What?”

“I mean, I know I said I didn’t approve… but if he does happen to get rich…” Naomi trails off, as Suki eagerly nods.

“You materialistic jerks, what about his feelings?” You question, only to receive giggles from Suki.

“Interesting that you didn’t bring up your feelings.” She teases, making you startle in embarrassment. “Besides, I have a pretty good feeling, he wouldn’t mind spoiling you.”

Naomi laughs at this. “You’re making him sound like a sugar daddy.”

“Could be.” Suki innocently says, despite the smirk on her face.

“No! No sugar daddies!” You exclaim, face burning. “It’s an equal relationship!”

“Aha, so it is a relationship!” Suki grins victoriously.

“No! You know what I meant you ass!”

“Did we?” Naomi questions with a grin.

You let out a groan. “Don’t team up on me! I need help, not mockery.” 

“You got it boss.” Suki salutes mockingly before hopping off your bed to rummage through your closet. “Don’t worry, I’ll get you a first date fit that’ll have him drooling over you as soon as he sees you.”

You give her a blank stare, the thought of Sae drooling over anyone sounding so unrealistic you can’t even begin to imagine it.

Naomi must share these sentiments with the way she rolls her eyes at Suki, at least, that's what you think until she opens her mouth.

“If you want him to drool, just make sure (Name) shows up naked.”

This time when you hurl a pillow at her it hits her square in the face.

Suki snickers both at the remark and the price that Naomi paid for it, watching as you proceed to pick up said pillow and proceed to beat Naomi with it in a flustered rage, much to her misfortune as she lets out muffled yelps.

“Unfortunately, public indecency is a crime Naomi, so I think we’ll do it my way.” Suki hums.

“That’s the only reason?!” You ask, alarmed, finally letting up on your attempt to murder your friend with a comforter.

“Of course not!” Suki reassures. “It’s also because I want to dress you up.”

You look down at the fluffy weapon in your hands and briefly consider changing targets before remembering that Suki would actually murder you for messing up her hair.

“...well, not that I don’t appreciate the help Suki, but when I asked for help, I meant how I should act.”

Naomi leans back on the chair, already recovered from the attempt on her life, and looks at you incredulously. 

“Just act like you always do, duh.” She states, as if obvious.

“...” You blink, taking in the advice before shaking your head. “That’s not– I mean, I’m just gonna make a fool of myself again.”

Suki pauses in her closet rifling to look back over at you.

“...You know (Name), we’re teasing you a lot, but this situation isn’t as bad as you think it is. It’s normal to embarrass yourself every once in a while.” Suki says soothingly.

“Yeah, you would know.” Naomi snorts, to which Suki shoots her a withering glare, making her backtrack. “I mean– yeah, Suki’s right. Besides, if you were to act differently, what’s the guarantee that you’d be able to keep it up? It’s better to just be yourself.”

“... I guess you guys have a point.” You concede, giving them both a small smile.

“Good, because I’m pretty sure the fact that you’re a walking L is endearing to him.” Naomi adds cheerfully, yelping as you swing your pillow down on her again.

Suki hums turning back to your closet as the sounds of Naomi’s muffled protests sound in the background. 

“Oooh, that top is cute.”

—

When you finally show up at his practice it’s halfway through being finished, and you feel a spark of guilt run through you, threading through the waves of anxiety already ebbing and flowing within.

You probably could have made it when practice actually started had Suki not insisted on spontaneously starting the most difficult hairdo known to man.

“No, trust me, this is gonna look so cute, I swear.” She mutters, yanking your hair. 

“There’s no point if it’s over by the time you’re finished!” You snap back.

In the end, she somehow did it, and it did look very pretty, especially with your signature ribbon tied around it, but you couldn’t help feeling slightly salty about it, regretting that you missed watching Sae play, even if only for a little bit.

…Not that it mattered anyways since now you were starting to feel the familiar sensation of nervousness well up within you.

“Breath, just breath, it's fine.” You mutter to yourself as you take a seat on the bleachers, trying to be as unintrusive as possible. 

Well, you say unintrusive, but what you really mean is unseen, feeling embarrassed about both being seen all dressed up and being seen by Sae in general.

And if you were a luckier person, you would’ve remained unseen for the rest of the practice, only until it was over and you would only have to bite the bullet of being seen by Sae.

But, you weren’t a lucky person, and as you had once thought before, the gods personally had it out for you, so instead, while you’re busy running through breathing exercises and overthinking, you immediately get pointed out by one of the players while they’re getting ready to leave.

Hirose, who sits in a few of your classes, isn’t quite a friend, but is fun to talk to with his friendly and extraverted nature. Unfortunately, due to that very nature, he is loud and never knows how to use his inside voice. 

So, essentially, what’s supposed to be a casual compliment, turns into a spotlight aimed directly at you.

“Damn, (Name), looking good!” He practically yells out.

Immediately, you feel almost everyone's attention shift towards you, and you feel yourself wanting to melt into the ground, cheeks heating up to a temperature almost feverish.

“Damn you Hirose!” You curse in your head, as you send him an awkward smile, praying that Sae just so happened to be distracted by literally anything else instead of you, despite the fact that most of the guys on the field are now starting to murmur to each other (most definitely about you, in a hopefully non-negative way).

He’s not, obviously and unfortunately, and when you look over at him, his teal eyes slowly taking in your figure, you can feel your soul slip out of your body.

“What’re you all dressed up for?” Hirose loudly asks with an oblivious smile, not quite understanding the fact that he’s drawing attention to you, much less the fact that you’re dying of embarrassment because of it.

You hesitate to answer, not quite wanting to say that you’re going on a date with Sae in worry that he’d take offense to having his personal affairs aired out like that (also because even still you could hardly believe he wanted to go out with you), but to your surprise, Sae ends up talking for you.

“They’re with me.” He states, simply, making you look at him in shock, as does everyone else on the field, albeit probably for different reasons.

Hirose openly gapes for a second, before turning to you in shock. “For real?!”

“...Well– yes.” You respond, figuring that there’s no reason in denying it, slightly confused that he’s confirming it with you rather than Sae, feeling that if anyone would lie about being in a relationship, (would this be considered that yet?) it would be you.

What you also aren’t expecting is for Hirose to give you an enthusiastic high five and a conspiratorial whisper to “run his pockets clean (Name)!” to which your cheeks flush in mortification.

(Seriously, what was with the running insistence of you being a gold digger?... or a future gold digger at the very least?)

Either way, the commotion dies down for the most part after a while, although you can’t help but dread returning to school knowing that this was going to be widespread knowledge soon enough… especially knowing Hirose.

Not that you have much time to worry about that anyways when you make your way off of the bleachers over to your supposed date (though, was calling it a “date” overstepping?). But Sae surprises you when he holds out his hand to help you off of them.

Obviously you accept his hand, and obviously it proves to be your downfall (literally) when as you reach for it your shoe hits the support beam on the seat and you end up tripping right into his arms.

“...You’re really clumsy.” He remarks coolly, effortlessly maneuvering you safely onto the ground with strength that leaves you briefly awed.

It’s the first thing that he’s directly said to you so far and you can’t help the flustered look that overtakes your face.

“I–I’m usually not.” You manage to say, mentally recalling how you effortlessly beat Naomi within an inch of her life with a pillow despite her attempts to run.

“So, it's just me then?” He asks, the teasing tone in his voice sending your cheeks on fire.

You decline to comment on that, but Sae doesn’t seem to mind, instead gently grasping your hand in his, (much to your shock) as he begins to lead you to the ice cream shop.

When you slightly stumble (because of course) he sends you a smirk that has you simultaneously wanting to die (usual) as well as the urge to trip him (new!). 

You don’t act on either impulse though, particularly the last one as you see the hint of the affectionate gleam in his eye.

The walk is relatively quiet for the most part, neither of you really being big talkers, but even still you can’t help but feel the familiar tinge of curiosity as you look at him, wanting to know a bit more about him.

“So, uh… what’s… your favorite color?” You ask, before immediately scrunching up your eyes in disgust of how awkward that was.

“...seriously?”

His response isn’t exactly uncalled for, but you can’t help but pout anyways.

“Listen, you try being in my shoes, this is hard.”

“Didn’t seem hard when you wrote that letter.”

You want to laugh at his remark, for many reasons that you’re not quite sure how to explain to him just yet, so instead you shift gears.

“Speaking of, how much of that did you read?”

He gives you his signature poker face, but the twinkle of amusement in his eyes has you regretting asking.

“Not too far, just enough to get to the part about the “shimmering teal” of my pupils that “sends your heart racing”, supposedly.”

You’re not sure if you want to curse out Suki for her fixation on physical appearance or punch yourself for your penchant for melodrama, but you have enough hatred within you to do both.

 “...is that so?” You question in a voice distinctly higher than your usual pitch.

He doesn’t even attempt to hold back the breathy laugh that escapes him.

“God, you’re cute.”

It’s a miracle that no one has notified the local fire department of the burning embarrassment that’s raging within you, strong enough to probably burn down half the neighborhood had it been able to escape from the confines of your cheeks.

At least this time you didn’t say “you too.”

“Is it fun for you? Torturing me?” You question rather bitterly.

“Most people would love to be “tortured”, as you say.” He says, more so matter of factly than arrogantly, but it still makes you raise a brow.

“..so why me?” You can’t help but ask.

He turns his head towards you, face unreadable like normal, which is still as intimidating as it was before he asked you out, and reaches his hand out to poke you in the forehead, to which you scrunch up your face on instinct.

“‘Told you already… you’re cute.”

“So are “most people” who approach you!” You protest, despite your face flushing.

“Maybe they were.” He says nonchalantly. “But I have my reasons.”

“Which are…?” 

He looks at you, seemingly considering, and you almost lean in to hear him speak, until he replies.

“... I’ll tell you next time.”

You gape at him slightly, both annoyed that he just curveballed you and flattered that he wanted to go out with you again.

“You’re too good at this.” You complain as you see the building of the ice cream shop.

“Or you’re just too receptive to me.” He shoots back, seemingly relishing in the way you stumble through the conversation.

“N–not to you, to everyone.” 

“Sure.” He replies, rather generously, dropping the subject in favor of grabbing onto the front door to the shop instead, allowing you to enter first as he holds it open for you.

The interior of the shop is actually rather cute, vintage in an American 50’s diner way, complete with the checkered floors, bright colors and non-functioning jukebox sitting in the corner collecting dust from its underutilization.  

“Thank you… and wow.” You whisper as you come inside, Sae trailing in after you. “This is so cool…”

“I had a feeling you’d like it.” He says, and you can’t help the smile that slides on your face when he says that.

“I didn’t realize you were so thoughtful.” 

“Probably because you were too busy getting lost in my shimmering–”

“Anyways! Is that ice cream? I love ice cream!” You fluster, moving over to stare at the glass counter and examine the flavors.

He laughs, and you can’t help but flush despite yourself, the low pitch of his voice sending your heart racing.

You elect to ignore him in favor of cooling your heated cheeks, stammering out your order to the amused older woman who looks fondly on the two of you, Sae following with his order close behind.

When he pulls out his wallet to pay however, you panic, voicing your objections.

“Wait, you don’t have to pay for me!” You protest.

“Aren’t you supposed to be running my pockets clean?”

He asks, raising a brow, ignoring your protests and handing over his yen to the cashier without a second thought.

“That’s not– I mean, I didn’t say–” 

“Besides,” He cuts your stuttering off smoothly. “I asked you out first, so it's only fair.”

“Then I’m paying for the next one.” You say determinedly before realizing what you’ve just implied, your face flushing yet again.

The lady behind the counter coughs in an attempt to cover up her laugh, but you can already feel a steam of embarrassment burst out your ears.

Sae just shoots you a smirk, smug that you’ve walked straight into his trap and you, for the first time, send him a glare, the type you would send Naomi.

To his credit, despite you not wanting to give him any, he takes it like a champ and the smug look stays on his face even through both of you receiving your orders and taking a seat.

You can’t help but perk up at the sight of your ice cream, a happy smile lighting up your face as you take a bite, an enthusiastic hum escaping your lips.

Although, you’re quick to stop your antics when you notice him eying you amusedly, deciding to avert your eyes to the table and act like a sane, rational human being.

“Don’t stop on my account.” He says, to which you shake your head, flustered.

“...stop looking at me and I’ll consider.”

“Easier said than done.” He remarks, to which you feel your cheeks warming.

“...you don’t need to exaggerate.” You murmur, taking another bite of your ice cream.

“I wouldn’t in the first place.” He says stoically. “You look good.”

Your heart excuses itself from its usual job pumping your blood to do an enthusiastic tap dance routine, complete with a hat tip and a cane pop.

“...too good.” He murmurs to himself, not noticing your flustered face. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You question, moving past your own embarrassment.

He shakes his head, taking a bite of his ice cream. “Nothing, just dumb jocks.”

You raise a brow at him to which he scoffs, understanding your insinuation.

“Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything.” You say innocently before switching the topic to his earlier words. “Did your teammates do something?”

He sits there silently for a second swallowing his bite of ice cream before speaking. 

“They’re just… annoying; they need to keep their mouths shut.”

“Yeah? Did they say something about me?” You press slightly, both curious about what his teammates could have said to set him off as well as slightly insecure.

“...it’s not that they were talking badly about you.” He says, in what seems to be an attempt to comfort you. “It’s just…”

He trails off and you look at him, a hint of an idea on your mind on what he’s trying to get at, but you’re not sure if you have the confidence to actually say it.

“It’s fine…” You say, shooting him a reassuring smile. “I think I get it.”

“Do you?” He asks disbelievingly, but lets a small smile slip on his face. “...I’ll say that you definitely caught their attention.”

“That sounds even more anxiety including.” You reply with a small laugh.

“I’ll put it this way then.” Sae says, leaning in slightly, and you can catch the way the sunlight hits his eyes. “You caught my attention.” 

A warm feeling stirs up within you, and you have to fight to hide the flustered smile that threatens to break on your face.

“...you caught mine too.” You end up saying instead, watching as he blinks, the light hitting his lower lashes like sparkles.

A moment of silence settles around you both, although it doesn’t feel uncomfortable, only for it to burst so delicately as Sae opens his mouth again.

“Yeah I know.” He says, a smirk creeping up on his lips as he looks at you. “Something about how my blush red hair reminds you of roses–”

“Okay! That’s enough of that!” You fluster, panicked.

The conversation continues from there, ebbing and flowing in a way you would have never thought when tasked with the daunting prospect of talking to Itoshi Sae and you discover a few new sides to him too.

One that he’s awfully fond of his younger brother, two, he’s a bit of a sore loser, especially when it comes to tiny things and three, that he’s a lot more caring than you originally had him pegged for.

And after a few hours when the conversation comes to a comfortable lull you both leave the shop, you with the flustered knowledge of your newfound infatuation and him with a considerably more relaxed demeanor than when the date started.

“Should I walk you home?” He offers breezily, to which you shake your head vehemently a grimace pulling on your features.

“Don’t worry about it.” You say. “I don’t need you meeting my brother and having him embarrass me.” 

“You seem to do that enough on your own.” He points out, to which you shoot him a glare.

“And who’s the guy who likes me despite that?” You shoot back, to which he smirks.

“Me obviously.” He says, a hint of pride in his tone that leaves you feeling warm inside despite your want to stay annoyed with him.

You feel a smile pull on your lips as you turn to him with a sincere tone in your voice. “...I had a good time today, thanks for taking me here.”

He’s slightly taken aback by your shift in tone, and an unfamiliar flush blooms on his face, something that leaves you equal parts amused and amazed.

“...I wouldn’t mind doing this again.” He eventually says.

You have half a mind to tease him, but decided with the way the universe hates you that you should keep your mouth shut in fear of the wrathful vengeance of karma.

“Me neither.” You say instead, giving him a small smile, hesitating for a while before hopping on your tiptoes and planting a kiss on his cheek.

His face turns an interesting shade of pink at the gesture and you can’t help but laugh at the look on his face as you spin on your heel to leave.

“See you at school, Sae!” You call out with a wave as you start to make your way back home, a happy pep in your step even if he doesn’t respond, too preoccupied with his own embarrassment.

(And if you trip slightly on your way back, skinning your knees slightly… well you suppose you could live with that form of karma.)

[squib-2006]

So I’ve finally got some of my thoughts on the new season in order and letting my self sit on it for a while

Dragons rising season 2 spoilers!!!!!

So first off holy shit this season has managed to completely wipe out any fears I had for season two. I’m a generally anxious person and am pretty naturally pessimistic about most things and was pretty anxious about season 2 because from the stuff shown in trailers and promotional vids it looked like a “Lloyd chosen one” plot line and I have a history of hating that kinda thing because it’s been beaten to death in ninjago at this point. While a bit of that was there I found it was done quite tastefully and didn’t overwhelm everything else story wise.

I felt that the pacing of the first 6-7ish episodes was a bit all over the place. Having the training arc and the Cole-Zane plot lines happen in the same episode with the pov switching back in forth felt a little bit off to me.

Sora and arins character arcs are shaping up to be pretty good. Soras more confident in her self than season one and she’s trying to help Arin but I feel like the whole using her elemental power to help Arin will backfire into her face. Arin’s insecurity and the whole how can I be useful if I don’t have an element I fell is being handled way better than the dumb kai arc in season 11(dw I will get to that when I get to kai) and it’s about on par with the Lloyd powerless plot from hunted. I am really excited to see what they do next and if Arin will be really mad at sora or not cuz like he’s super nice and stuff and I fell like he would be sad instead of mad.

Nya didn’t really have a lot going on personally except the stuff with Jay which I’m iffy on because so much of Nyas character in older seasons revolved around Jay and I just hope they don’t go back to that and let her character breath a bit.

In the topic of Jay I really really REALLY hope he isn’t evil. That the idea because it’s really out of character and they are already pushing my buttons with the lost memory crap because that’s something that I’ve rarely seen done well at all and it makes me very nervous and I just don’t like it. I do like that Jay just seems to be a guy who hates his job tho that’s fun.

I think the writers are just having fun with Zane and I think that’s cool. I do wanna punch the administration guy who said Zane isn’t a person because he is and he’s a bean and I will not allow this nobody to slander him.

It was nice to see more of Cole this season. I swear him and geo are so cute. The hand holding and the fact that they basically adopted two kids together is amazing and I am fully on board for this ship.

The villans were really interesting. I hope they keep up the quality with them because the mystery of ras’ master and wtf happened with jordana is really exciting. Cinder was intresting and as someone who has no interest in men what so ever I am kinda baffled at why so many people want this man but hey you do you. I do wonder what happened to ash tho. The member of the forbidden five looks interesting too and part of me is hoping that the leaked “evil jay” minifig is actually this guy just powered up cuz the color palette is similar enough and I just don’t want an evil jay.

Wyldfyre is amazing her whole leg being broken then sneaking on the ship to the exasperation of kai (like he would totally have pulled something like this a few seasons ago the hypocrite <3) and the others was so good. I am curious about her talk with egalt she mentioned one of her family members getting the wasting sickness but it can’t be heat wave cuz he seems fine so maybe she had more than one dragon guardian??? I do hope that Kai’s portal abduction does affected going into part 2 and that she bonds with nya and the others over it.

Egalt and rontu were very interesting to me and I’m glad they didn’t go the route of them being the actual creators of spinjitzu and kept the lore consistent I was slightly worried about that. Hope they come back in part 2 too.

Bonzle was a big surprise for me. I likes her personality in season 1 but I didn’t expect her to be so important. She’s really sweet and the scene with wu was great too.

And finally last but definitely not least, the best character in this entire show and my favorite comfort character to beat the shit out of

KAI

IT WAS SO FREAKING GOOD. I LITERALLY HAVE NOT BEEN THIS HAPPY WITH AN EPISODE SINCE SEASON 4 EPISODE 7 THE FORGOTTEN ELEMENT (iykyk) I was literately kicking my feet like a little girl and crying and screaming my head off to the point I woke up other family members. Him unlocking the rising dragon technique by having his sister help and being in harmony with his family is so fucking sweet and I cried like a little bitch it was so good. I am also so happy that they used his old hair and didn’t just slap a smaller version of his current hair onto him (tho I kinda wish they had used the fucked up custom hair that was in the older episodes but I doubt that model is even in their hands so whatever(side side note I love the fucked up hair so much it’s so stupid I love it and will forever miss it)) him being such a dad to wyld fire was so sweet and then using the rising dragon technique after he saw his family in danger was just perfect. I do kinda wish there was more of a dramatic reaction to him getting yeeted by ras into the portal (kinda like any of the other ninja “deaths/major injuries”) but im fine with what we got. Except I kinda hate that only nya has an outward reaction in the aftermath. No lloyd reaction no Cole reaction and nothing from Zane and it makes me mad because every other time a ninja had their moment there was a whole team reaction. But I’m feeling like that’s to nitpicky and there’s still ten more episodes to fix that so fingers crossed. But kai also encouraging bonzle to close the portal even if he’s trapped inside is such a kai thing and hit me like a truck. Also him calling bonzle kid dispite her being much much older than him is funny and sweet cuz Kai’s big brother/father figure side is coming through and it’s so sweet. And the ninja never quit line is so great I was sobbing even more after that. (Tho I don’t know why he said he got it from Lloyd when it would have made more sense to have it be from master wu cuz that’s where he learned it but eh whatever).

While im really happy about kai finally getting some well deserved angst im also very anxious about it too. This could be the perfect opportunity for the writers to just conveniently forget about him for a while and idk if i could sit through that. Kai is a huge part of why I watch ninjago and he’s always been handed the shortest stick character development wise and technically he never got his own focus season either (and no i dont count the pilots because that focused mainly on all the ninja and was only two episodes, i also don’t count season four because it was more a group season, and season 11 doesn’t count because he got a half baked b plot that sucked) I’m very worried that I will loose enjoyment in the show because I dropped the show out of disappointment after season 11 because A LOT of premonitional material made it seem like a kai season and I got my hopes up and was let down so much. I’m very cautious when getting excited about things involving kai in particular because of that and I’m just hoping the writers don’t fuck it up.

Ok that’s enough negativity for once. I’m so excited for more and am foaming at the mouth for more!

[thiswantonflesh]

New In Town - Chapter 4 - Game Night.

We were halfway through cleaning up when Ezra let out a dramatic sigh and flopped back in his chair.

“Okay, but seriously, how many spells do I need to blow through before I get some respect?” he groaned, cradling his dice bag like it had personally betrayed him.

“Maybe try remembering your spell slots next time,” Danny muttered, not looking up from his notebook as he scribbled something about “consequences of fireball in confined spaces.” He had a whole system for notes, full of little doodles and shorthand codes no one else understood—but it worked. He was the reason the group hadn’t walked into that mimic trap. Twice.

Riley laughed, loud and sharp. “You’re the one who chose to play a cleric with zero wisdom. What did you think was gonna happen?”

“I thought I’d be smiting things with sky fire left and right,” Ezra deadpanned. “Not flailing around with a hammer.”

M rolled their eyes, their smudged eyeliner catching the low light, and shot him a look across the table. “You spent half the session unconscious.”

Ezra flipped them off without heat. “And still managed to be more useful than you, Mr. ‘I seduce the guard.’ Every. Single. Town.”

M leaned back in their chair, all faux-innocence and smug smirks. “What can I say? It’s a charisma build, baby.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, letting the noise wash over me for a second. The group had gelled better than I expected for a first session. Chaotic, sure—but fun. And the chemistry at the table? Instant.

“I’ll help you rework your character sometime, Ezra,” I laughed. “We’ll have you smiting people before you know it.”

Eventually, one by one, they started to pack up. Dice into little bags, notebooks zipped into backpacks. Riley was the first to go, stretching her arms over her head and letting out a groan. “Same time next week?”

“Unless you’re dead by then,” I teased.

“Bring it on, Dungeon Daddy,” she said with a wink, then headed out.

Ezra and Danny weren’t far behind, still debating the ethics of fireballing a room full of cultists before confirming if any were innocent. I stood in the doorway to say goodbye, and when I turned back, M was still there—slouched comfortably in their seat, legs spread like they owned the whole table.

I leaned against the doorframe. “Didn’t feel like joining the post-game ethics debate?”

They grinned. “I’m more interested in endgame content.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Is that a seduction roll?”

M shrugged, playful. “Depends. Am I rolling with advantage?”

“Maybe,” I tease. “We’ll see how well you help with the clear up.”

I walked back toward the table, slowly, feeling the shift in the air now that it was just the two of us. Quieter. Heavier. Still crackling a little from the leftover energy of the game.

M watched me with that easy confidence of someone who knew they were being watched right back. They stretched, arms overhead, shirt riding up to flash just a bit of soft stomach. They caught me looking and didn’t flinch. Just smiled.

“Seriously though,” I said, dropping into the seat beside them, “are you going to seduce every NPC I throw at you?”

“I mean, it depends. Are they hot?”

“Most of them are vaguely terrifying. One was a disembodied eyeball.”

M licked their lips and grinned. “You say that like I don’t have a type.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “You’re going to derail the whole campaign.”

“You love it.”

I didn’t argue.

There was something about this version of M—post-game, makeup a little smudged, sleeves pushed up, legs tucked under the chair now, relaxed and still glowing from the game—that was quietly wrecking me.

They nudged my knee with theirs, a casual little bump under the table. “You’re a good DM,” they said. Soft, now. “Like… weirdly hot, watching you take charge like that.”

The words sent a flicker of heat through me. I tried to play it off. “Weirdly?”

M grinned wider. “Okay, not that weird.”

I leaned in a little. “You’re not so bad yourself, y’know. The charisma build’s doing a lot of heavy lifting.”

“I’m very proficient in persuasion,” they said, tilting their head, eyes flicking to my mouth for half a second too long to be casual.

“Oh yeah? Got anything you want to persuade me of right now?”

They bit their lip, clearly enjoying the escalation. “Well... I could roll for it.”

I kept my voice low. “What are you hoping for—success or failure?”

Their breath caught a little, pupils blown just a bit more than before.

“Depends on the consequences,” they whispered.

And just like that, the distance between us felt too small and too charged to ignore. I could smell the sweat on both of us from earlier—faint and human and honest. I could see the flush in their cheeks, the way their thighs shifted under the table like they couldn’t get comfortable, like they didn’t want to be comfortable.

I reached out and laid my hand over theirs.

“Fuck the roll,” I said. “I’m saying yes.”

They didn’t wait for a second invitation.

M surged forward, pressing our mouths together like they’d been waiting all night to do it. Maybe longer. Their lips were soft and warm and a little clumsy in the best way, all hunger and nerves and something sweet underneath. I tasted salt and sweat and the cherry cola they’d been sipping earlier. I wanted more.

I dragged them closer by the waist, felt the way their body curved into mine like we already knew each other’s rhythms. Like we’d done this before in another campaign, another lifetime.

Our chairs scraped back as we stumbled toward the table, half-laughing, half-breathless. I pushed the minis aside with one sweep of my arm, dice scattering across the map like we were rolling for chaos. M hopped up onto the edge of the table, knees spreading to pull me in.

“You planned this,” I murmured, pressing kisses down their neck, tasting heat and skin and the faint shimmer of highlighter that hadn’t quite melted off yet.

“You let me roll persuasion,” they whispered back, grinding against me slow and deliberate. “That’s on you.”

I bit their lower lip gently and felt them shiver under my hands. “Guess I’m the one who failed a wisdom save.”

Clothes came off in between breathy, whispered jokes and hungry kisses—my hands fumbling at the hem of their shirt, their fingers slipping under mine to help me out of it. Their chest was flushed, soft, rising and falling fast under my palms. I kissed down between the curves, mouthing over their ribs, worshipful without having to say it.

They gasped when I dipped my head further, when my tongue traced low and lazy over sensitive skin. Their thighs tightened around my hips, trying to keep me close. Needy. Squirming.

“Fuck, please,” they whispered. “I’ve been—thinking about this. Since the first time you made an NPC flirt with me.”

I laughed against their stomach. “Knew I made them too charming.”

“You made you too charming.”

They pulled me back up, kissed me harder. This time there was no play in it—no slow wind-up. It was frantic and flushed and messy, the kind of kiss that left us panting into each other’s mouths.

I lined up, pressed against them, and felt them open for me—wet, hot, welcoming. We both groaned as I pushed in, the sound echoing off the walls of my mostly empty living room.

They clutched at my back, legs wrapped tight around me, eyes wide and glassy.

“God—fuck, you feel so good.”

I started to move, slow at first, letting the rhythm find us. The table creaked underneath us. My hand gripped the edge like a brace. Their hands gripped my arms, my shoulders, anything they could hold.

I leaned over them, kissed their jaw, their mouth, their cheek.

“You look so pretty like this,” I said softly, voice cracking a little as I pushed deeper. “Spread out on my map like you’re part of the campaign.”

Their laugh turned into a moan. “NPC me doesn’t stand a fucking chance.”

I moved faster. They bucked into me, needy now, chasing something they didn’t have words for.

I whispered praise into their mouth, into their skin—telling them how good they felt, how tight, how sweet, how easy they were to want. How long I’d been thinking about this. How I wasn’t going to last if they kept looking at me like that.

They clenched around me, hands fisting in my hair. “Don’t stop—please, fuck, I’m—”

They came with a gasp and a cry, shaking under me, thighs trembling, hips jerking. The sight of it wrecked me. I barely lasted another stroke before I followed, burying my face in their shoulder as I came inside them, pulsing deep, riding it out with them in my arms.

We lay there after, tangled, breathing hard, the game table a little worse for wear.

M was still smiling when they kissed me again.

“...Think I earned some inspiration for that,” they said.

“Definitely,” I breathed. “You’re getting inspiration, advantage, and probably a fuckin’ level-up.”

They laughed, soft and loose and completely wrecked.

I didn’t want to move.

Didn’t want to break the moment.

So I didn’t.

[lestappenforever]

A bit if a rant, but bear with me, I’ve been in this brain rot since seeing RBR’s threads and i just wanna get it out. (Yes i am the same person who hopes that Christian and RBR are so cold in DTS and this is the reason why i believe that there might actually be something going on, slowly brewing and simmering in low heat till it fucking explodes in *hopefully* Ferrari’s face) (if you couldn’t guess, I’m an RBR girl through and through)

Now lets start it from after Singapore, it was the very first time RBR posted Charles and Max, and let’s all be real for a moment, I personally don’t think that there was much to it, I mean, they’ve posted Lando, Fernando, Esteban, Pierre, etc. Its not that weird that they did that. That same weekend, Ferrari fucked up Charles and prioritized Carlos, despite the fact that both had a chance at a podium, but Ferrari (as Geogre said in that heartbreaking radio for any Charles fan) sacrificed Charles for Carlos. And then Fred saying that Charles agreed?! Let’s all just look back at something very slight, Charles is a petty king, he wants to win, he’s hungry, doesn’t want to be second, EVERYTHING that he’s done since karting proves that, but what Ferrari and Fred said that weekend didn’t make much sense. Yes, this weekend was not detrimental for the whole Charles to Red Bull agenda, but it might have been the start to it all.

Fast forward to the triple header, as Japan and Qatar didn’t have much, of course other than padel, but in terms if teams, controversies and fuck ups from Ferrari, there weren’t much.

Austin was the start to it all, the way RBR posted Lestappen VERY CLEARLY on their socials, shows that there’s something brewing, but not by much, its just, yeah 2 generational talents who have fought each other forever in their racing careers, doung it again, etc. But that wasn’t the only case. Red Bull have posted them both together, but so did Christian, and Horner ain’t one to be taken lightly. Everything this man does is fucking calculated, he’s chaotic, but in a way that I don’t think anyone can be, he knows how to play, and play he does. After the USGP with Ferrari’s most famous fuck ups of the floor infringement and putting Charles ONLY on a one stop, where the weather was EXTREMELY HOT on track, and all that with the lame excuse of “oh he’s better at tyre management” despite being on pole, shows something, Ferrari is NOT being a seriou team with Charles, because they then went ahead and were celebrating Carlos’ podium as if their other driver didn’t get disqualified.

On to Mexico, (aka the epitome of my delulus that RB are doing something in DTS in regards to Charles) we have the crazy pole that Charles pulled, as well as his data and onboards being shown along Max and Checo, there were no other drivers who were on that pit wall. We also have the part prior to the GP, where we all saw Christian and Charles arriving at the paddock at suspiciously close (you could say almost together if you didn’t know any better) then waiting for him, by the entrance of the paddock, where he knows Netflix are there and the fans are there, for a seemingly innocent hello (NOT), as well as Christian defending Charles, who had an accident with HIS DRIVER AT HIS HOME GP. You don’t see that, in a normal situation, Charles would be blamed for Checo’s DNF by Checo’s TP.

Onto Brazil, the final major fuck up by Ferrari, which cost a hungry Charles a battle with Max, and a chance at a win, simply because Ferrari decided againts changing the engine, which then fucks up the hydraulics, causing Charles a DNS. In addition to, again, Only his data is along side the RB boys. During this weekend, you could feel the shift in Charles, like he couldn’t take it anymore, he’s done being the scapegoat, the rag that Ferrari could do anything they want as he’s their Il Predesinato, he’s HUNGRY, he wants to win, and Ferrari simply for the last 5 years were unable to provide him with what he wants.

That’s how it was in Vegas and Abu Dhabi, Charles fought, he fought hard, and you might even feel like he’s hell-bent on getting these podiums, to show Ferrari how much they fuck him up during races, and what he’s capable of when they don’t.

All of that while both RBR and the official F1 accounts are pushing the Lestappen agneda, posts, Max’s statements that are kind of throwing shade at Ferrari, mentioning that he would mind anyone (while blatantly pointing at Charles) to be his teammate if checo were to leave by the end of the 2024 season, the RBR garage and team being friendly with Charles a bit too often. And then the most recent posts of putting Charles on the RBR Christmas tree, while Yuki, who is closely more related to RBR isn’t, and the most recent thread of “claiming” Charles,

RBR, Horner and even Marko are not stupid, they know how to stir a pot, how to cause chaos and drama, how to be cold, how to be that young team that could seem innocent, approachable, intriguing, in order to get what they want, how they want it and When they want it. And the fact that we know nothing of the new season of DTS, Ferrari just posting shit trying to distract from the fact that they haven’t announced Charles renewing, and they way the talk has died down about it, in addition to trying to distract from the RBR Lestappen saga on all socials that is happening rn, shows that there could be something, something thing, detrimental, vold as fuck and chaotic as fuck. Another thing that I have forgotten to mention is the whole Twitter saga that happened because of Will Buxton and Albert Fabrega around the time of the Triple header shows that there is Chaos that’s going to be unleashed, could be in DTS. And what’s Chaos with the Agents of Chaos?

(I’m extremely sorry for how fucking long this is, i just let my mind do the talking and didn’t realise how long i wrote until i was done 🤪)

I'm not even going to add anything to this, my lovely anon, because this ask deserves to shine on its own.

I love your beautiful mind, anon. Please come share your brainrots with me at any time. ❤️