#that man is built like a sculpture

[wildsaltair]

a few very low quality photos from the original promos of Gladiator

[puppyeared]

I made a lmk oc

[ereborcore]

gotta say some people are always like oooo fëanor loved plain nerdanel because she was so soft and kind and patient and lovely to him and that’s what made her beautiful to him. ok well what if she wasn’t. what if she was impatient and irritable and jumped up during family dinner to go start work on a new sculpture. what if she spent days down there in her workshop covered in dust ignoring everyone. what if she wasn’t very maternal. what if she had a temper. what if she was a brilliant abrasive artist like he was. what if she wasn’t just a woman forced to mother a difficult man. what if instead their partnership was built off homophrosyne and that’s why they worked

[sinning-23]

Backseat Pillow Princess (Pt.2)

And by popular demand (and because ei couldn't just leave it how I had it and planned on making a part 2 anyway) I BRING YOU PT.2! I really tried to conjure of some kinky freak nasty shit in this y'all so uhhh just be dually noted that I really tried my best with this.

Warnings: tag-team, p in v, multiple rounds, refractory period? we don't know her, creampie, unprotected, biting, choking, eiffel tower in a fucking car dude it gets wicked, nipple play, edging, degrading, praise, light banter, how did we end up outside the gd car????, spit as lube

Hope yall enjoy lol the endingit idk ill probably tweak it later yall pls dotn shame me i was starting to feel bad for makingyall wait so long!

Enjoy~

PT.1 HERE

______________________________________________________________

It all happens so fast that you can hardly register the clash of teeth and tongue. You can feel the growl that rises up his throat and past his lips on your own, the taste metallic but sweet.

You’re breathless, Wade attacking your neck with the same speed and intensity. Your senses are overwhelmed, body riding a 9-hour (give or take) high.

"You are a fucking sicko, you’re soaked through the leather." Logan grunts, tugging your lower lip with his canines,

"Forget that, look at her tits," Wade gasps, looking at the little bumps your hardened nipples made through the fabric.

Part of you should feel embarrassed but you can’t seem to function when there're two separate mouths and two pairs of hands adorning your body. If your uniform wasn't torn to shreds, it definitely was now, a familiar set of claws slicing latex leather away from your flesh easily.

"Great now what am I supposed to wear when this is over?! At least be a little nice to me!" You huff, peeling the shredded fabric away before attacking the older man before you.

A bit surprised, Logan leans back against the door, your chest flush against him as your breaths mix, hot and heavy in the space. You can feel Wade shift, large hands at your hips with your ass against his pelvis. Finding Logan’s zipper was easy, your fingertips tugging at it as you caught his lower lip between your teeth.

"C'mon let's make this fair. I’m the only one showing some skin.” You purr, pulling the little piece of metal down to reveal tanned, toned abs. The thin sheen of sweat and blood makes them glisten.

You practically drool, the sight of them in the moonlight now seared into your brain.

"Jesus you're built like a brick fucking wall-" You gasp, hesitating to touch before running your hands down Logan's chest, then stomach.

"Like a godddamn marble sculpture," Wade adds, taking his chance to admiring the man beneath the both of you.

He chuckles a bit, shrugging his sleeves off before connecting your lips again. It’s shot though, mostly because you can’t help but look at him.

“Nuh uh, lemme see you.” You command, pushing him back against the door.

He groans, your lip tucking beteeen your teeth as you presses kisses to his pulse, trailing downward as his neck flexed perfectly with the rest of his torso and stomach.

“Gorgeous.” You mumble, finally making your way down to his v-line before licking a stripe right back towards, ending it with a faint bite.

“Shame I can’t mark you up how I want, you’ll just heal it.” You sigh, thumbs tracing Logan’s belt now.

You grind down, a heavy, “oh fuck,” leaving your lips as Wade chuckles from behind you. Speaking of which, he had managed to pull your uniform a little past your ass, his hands squeezing the flesh there.

Of course you can’t help but tilt your head back, accepting sloppy open-mouth kisses from the mercenary when he cups your pussy from behind. Purposefully dragging his middle finger between your folds, his mouth swallows up your whimpers, a grin ever present over the lower half of his scarred face.

"Shit you weren't lying, she is soaked." Wade huffs, licking a stipe up your neck, his chest flush against your back

"You know I had to find a way to get your attention, I was starting to feel left out?" Wade taunts, his ring and middle finger two-knuckles deep in you, the squelching echoing.

Logan, eager to please makes a point to suck a mouthful of your tits, his canines grazing over them. He growls, breathing hot against your skin. His free hand cups your other, thumb swiping over your nipple as your palm presses down against his bulge.

"You gonna take it out or just keep pushing on it?" Logan grumbles, hips rolling into you.

It's hard to think, pleasure flooding your senses as you try your hand at helping his length spring free. Fuck, he's rock hard. And soon enough it's in your hand, hard, hot, and dripping with precum.

If you had to give an example of a photogenic dick, his would be at the top of your list. It's got a slight upward bend, the tip slightly tanned as beads of precum rolled down the side. And right beside that slick train that oozes downward, is a thick vein adorned by a smaller one. Your mouth waters, tongue lulling out of your mouth to taste it.

You're stopped, however, when Wade grips your hair, reminding you that HE is the one with his fingers in you, making your pussy drool with each thrust.

You pause, squeezing the base of Logan's dick in response, just to have the male sigh heavily under you.

"Almost lost your manners huh? That's okay I'll help you." Wade announces, seeing the brief irritation flash behind Logan's hazel eyes.

"You ask when you want something," Wade huffs, tone low and dangerous.

You swallow hard, taking a deep breath through your nose before using your thumb to press down on the tip.

"Please?" You whimper, mouth watering now, needing nothing more than to wrap your lips around his length.

"Please what, honey?" Logan encourages, using his thumb to push past your kiss-bitten lips and press down on your tongue, the saliva dripping down his palm and forearm.

"Please let me suck it." You finish, a satisfied grin finally filling Logan's features.

He nods his head in your direction, his fist at the base as you roll your tongue out your mouth, engulfing the tip, tasting the bittersweet precum slide down your throat. He groans, releasing his hand the farther down you go.

You thank the gods above for your almost nonexistent gag reflex, because once you got a feel for just how he settled in your mouth,you wasted to time getting him acclimated to your throat.

"Fuckkkk that's it, honey, swallow." He grunts, flashing those pretty canines as you do exactly what he says, the flex of your throat making his hand shoot to your head.

Between the feeling of you gulping Logan down and Wade's fingers still stretching you out, you're bound to reach your peak at any minute now. And then you feel it.

Empty for a moment, and finally...

"What, you didn't think I was getting this pussy ready for nothing did you?" Wade chuckles, your spine shivering when his tip slid between your aching wetness.

Arching more, Wade grabs a nice handful of the flesh between your hips and your ass, easily filling your needy cunt as you lift your head, gasping in response to the stretch. A sign of saliva connects your lower lip to the slightly reddened tip of Logan's cock. All you can do is whimper, bracing yourself as Wade thrusts into you, pace quick and calculated.

"F-uck!' You hum, each thrust breakign up the syllabus

Your hands scrath at Logan's chest, using him as an anchor to keep yourself from cumming too quickly. He only chuckles, tugging your hair to place a bruising kiss on your lips, his free hand using your saliva to pick up where you'd left off.

"Squeezing, fuck you're tight." Wade huffs, teeth sinking into your shoulder as Logan's lips swallow up your painfully pleasured whine.

"Close, so close, need it" Is all you can muster up, your hips now meeting his in an attempt to speed the process up.

And sure enough, the knot that had worked its way into your core finally snaps, your strangled moans filling up and pouring out the Honda, your head throwing itself back, as you ride out the high. All you can hear are praises and encouragement from behind and in front of you, all of which are fading in and out as your ears ring.

'Thats it'

'C'mon honey give it to me'

'Good fucking girl'

'So wet holy shit'

'Look how fuckin pretty you are'

'That arch, jesus christ'

"Sooo good, oh fuck yes." You whine, tucking your lower lip between your teeth.

Once your eyes manage to flicker back open, you're met with the prettiest view, and you gasp at the sight, already feeling yourself ready for another round.

Thee he was, eyes screwed shut, brows creasing as his chest rises and falls in time with his fist, which was now dripping with thick, silky looking ropes of cum. His jaw is clenched, a growl bubbling past his lips as you reach your hand down to help guide him, the substance coating your fingertips.

"You look so pretty when you cum." You hum, then grabbing his jaw to give another forecefull yet intimate kiss, your tongues slipping past one another.

“My turn,” Logan growls, pulling the door open in one swift movement before tugging your body outside the car.

You gasp, legs feeling more like jelly after Wade had already turned your insides to mush.

You wobble a bit, using the edge of the door to steady yourself before you’re stuffed full again. An overstimulated moan forces its its way out of you. He feels even better inside than in your palm. And yet, he doesn’t move, the sound of Logan’s hollow, shaky breaths mere centimetres from your ear.

“Oh honey.” He groans, his hips moving just to slam back into you, a pleasured yelp leaving your lips in response.

“Can hardly take it, look at you fucking shaking.” He chuckles, sinking his teeth into your shoulder, your head falling foreward as you’re overwhelmed with so many different feelings. The pain from the fight mixed with the pleasure from his strokes and the previous orgasm.

“Don’t- oh Fuckk. Don’t patronize me-.” You whimper, gripping the edge of the door for dear life, the smack of his pelvis to your ass loud and rhythmic.

As if you weren’t already fucked out, Wade managed to scoot riiiiight in front of you, just enough so that his cock is resting against your cheek, and god does your mouth water.

“Let’s keep you busy, huh sweetie?” Wade hums, his tip pressing against your glossy lower lip.

You’re eager to accept, letting your tongue roll around the head before taking as much of him as you can. Every slight thrust of his hips pushed him further and further down your throat, alive dripping down your chin and onto the torn, blood-stained seats below.

It doesn’t take long before you’re right back to square one, legs trembling as your labored breaths quicken in pace.

“Ohhh fuck, squeezing. You’re about to cum arent you honey?” Logan chuckles, squeezing the flesh of your hip before landing a brutal smack to your ass.

He smirks at the sight of the recoil, and doesn’t it again, each smack leaving a nice shade of red. You don’t even have a chance to warn him before you cum, the blissful feeling making you shudder, throat coated with sticky release as Wade tangles his fingers in your scalp.

What you weren’t expecting, was for your release to trickle down your thighs, each thrust only making your squelch more and more. The familiar twinge of overstimulation ravages your senses as you swallow down Wade’s release.

And unfortunately, you’re empty again, peeking over your shoulder just to see Logan finishing on the perfect curve of your back. The pearly beads of cum rolling down your ass and up your spine.

There’s a few beats of silence, paired with the laibored breathes or three violent and fucked out regenerarive assholes.

But of course, Wades specially is breaking silence.

“Hey how come you didn’t squirt for me?” He huffs in faux disappointment.

You can practically hear Logan roll his eyes, whom of which had made a point to massage where he had hit earlier.

“Please shut the fuck up.” Logan huffs, shuffling around the car to either A: find something to clean you up with or B: something for you to wear.

Either way, you're beyond fucked out, the previous tension finally dying down as you're bathed in moonlight. It takes a little effort from the two males but they successfully lean you against the middle console.

Lucky for you, there just so happened to be an extra set of clothes hidden in the trunk most likely belonging to the variant you got this stupid car from anyway.

Meh, I think missing clothes will be the least of his worries considering this piece of shit car is absolutely thrashed...

And now tainted with spit and cum-

Tag list: @awoodsysimp411 @solheartz @brucebannerswifey @oscarissac2099 @yourlocalhot-simp @of-daisies-and-dandelions @peachybaby255 @bby-pinky-pink @mimi786 @bontensbabygirl @jupiterlvr @silverloveless @saturnhas82moons @zeeader @queermaxwooo @turtlefordestiel @dumpster-hellfire @kultofkorii @mxtaurus @bumblebeebutter @buryth3hatchet @9iavolo @speedybeta @myersobsessed

[risuola]

▶ BOUNDARIES — day when Suguru entered the shower with you.

contents: college+roommates!au, lots of skinship — wc. 1385

𝙇𝙊𝙑𝙀 𝙈𝙀𝘿𝙇𝙀𝙔 | series masterlist

“Don’t freak out.”

You blame it on the water. Hot, steamy and falling right onto your head, your reaching up face and the hum of it filling your ears. A monotone murmur of drops pitter-pattering and bouncing off your exposed skin — it made you disconnect. A moment of relaxation, and it worked wonders to your body, your tensed up muscles, your clattered thoughts. It quieted you down, made your breath slower, soothed the hectic beat of your heart — effect of an unpleasant confrontation with your classmate in the morning.

A girl upset and nervous, jealous and heated, took it all out on you and you couldn’t do nothing but take it. Wasn’t the first time, certainly not the last as well and over the years you grew to tolerate this sort of events as they were inevitable, they came along the very close friendship you shared with your boys. It’s fine, you always tell them and it is, in fact, fine, but the attack you endured just two hours before was oddly, unnecessarily personal and it stung.

You took it under the shower, making use of the empty apartment — both Satoru and Suguru being out for classes and practice — and just enjoying the sizzling hot water warming your skin. It was comforting, meditative almost, and nearly as soothing as a cuddle session. It felt good. So very good that when the environment changed suddenly, your heart dropped to your stomach.

“Suguru?” Your head snapped to the side, your entire body flinched in shock as the matted glass of the shower doors moved and you caught a frame twice your size entering the tight area of the stall. The sight of your roommate somewhat calmed you down. “What is happening?”

“I’m sorry sweets, I really am, but I called you, knocked, but you didn’t hear and I really need to wash up quick and run,” your friend explained, his tone more frantic than you’re used to and for few moments you watched him, frozen. He was already lathering shower gel over his body. Intense scent of skincare filled in the steamy air with a mixture of fresh seagrass and coconut, and soon you snapped out of the haze.

“Sorry, I didn’t hear,” you said dumbly, still very much confused, confirming his words and shifting a little closer to the wall, making more space for him.

It was awkward — it should be — but somehow, you felt at ease with him there. It was the very first time you saw him fully naked, and vice versa, but Suguru was a safe space and besides a heat that creeped right up your cheeks, that surely got lost in the flush you already had from the hot stream of water, you weren’t too worried. Tearing your eyes off his muscular, strong built — a sculpture carved out of the finest marble — proved itself to be the most difficult as you handed him the showerhead.

“Yeah, I noticed,” he said, already washing off the fluff and bubbles of his shower gel. “They moved the lecture for earlier, I had to cut my training short and I just couldn’t go all sweaty. I’m really sorry sweets, I’ll apologize properly later, okay?”

“It’s all fine. Good luck, Sug,” you offered him a soft smile and took the sprayer back as the man moved to exit. Before he left completely, and despite the rush he was in, he managed to spare a second to press a tender kiss to your temple.

It wouldn’t be Suguru if he didn’t make time to smother you with love.

“You’re gorgeous by the way. See ya later!” And he was gone, just like that, leaving you flushed and so very confused, in a cloud of heated condensation and empty cage of tiles.

* * *

Few hours passed until the lonely, quiet apartment filled up with the playful banter that seems to never end whenever your roommates are together — which is a lot. You were already in bed, nuzzled against the pillows and wrapped in blankets. Tired. You were so tired after that day, the few classes you had to attend to after the shower sucked the life out of you. It piled up — the tension between you and your classmate, the unannounced test from one of the subjects you don’t particularly like nor study for, the rain that caught you in the middle of your relatively short way home from the college and the absurdly microscopic amount of cheese in the absurdly overpriced cheese sandwich you bought in a rush. Should’ve taken the ham.

But the day was soon over and it’s a matter of minutes now until you’ll be able to truly rest in a safe and moderately suffocating embrace of long limbs and warm bodies. The sleeping dilemma that at first seemed to be the greatest worry about the apartment, now was your favorite aspect of it — you often find yourself longing for the late night hours, especially on days like this one. You like the everlasting amount of heat that your friends produced and even though you were often trapped or squished, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Hey,” a soft, honey-like tone reached your ears and forced you to lift up the heavy eyelids. You smiled seeing Suguru’s gorgeous features and feeling his fingers along your cheekbone. “Are you angry at me?”

“Huh? Why?” You asked, moving towards him, lifting your head just slightly to study him more. He looked troubled, worried and you couldn’t place it. What was the reason?

“For the shower situation from earlier?”

“Oh… no, god, absolutely not,” you shook your head and dropped the weight of it back onto the pillowy clouds. “I don’t care if you see me naked, don’t worry about it.”

“Either way, I bought you the chocolate you like so much.”

Chocolate.

“The diabetic bomb?”

“Yeah, that one,” the boy smiled and showed you the gift. A bar of the most divine chocolate you’ve ever eaten — expensive too — filled with sinfully decadent, luscious coconut mousse and little pieces of gooey caramel chunks. A diabetic bomb, as Suguru always mocks it, because in a scale from zero to ten, its sweetness is easily a sixteen.

Suguru ripped the package open and broke off a piece, putting it into your waiting mouth and you moaned. It was sublime, it was posh and sensual. It could easily be an aphrodisiac. A heaven, melting slowly on your tongue, spreading its glory across your very soul and you melted with it. It felt like a sin, it felt wrong and so, so right.

“You didn’t need to buy me anything, Sug,” you spoke finally, once your senses came back from the trip of pure, primal pleasure. “But I do appreciate it even though I should be the one to apologize. I didn’t hear you.”

“You know that I wouldn’t push your boundaries like that if it wasn’t so very urgent.”

“I know and also, I told you already, I don’t care about any of you seeing me naked,” you said it again, reaching your hand to brush a piece of his bangs away from his eyes. He smiled and for a moment his eyes drifted away and you kind of knew what to expect.

“Who’s naked?” Satoru’s cheerfully cocky voice cut through the gentle atmosphere like a lovable razor and you felt the bed yielding underneath his weight as he climbed on and dropped right behind you. His body pressed tightly to your backside, his arm wrapped securely around your blanket-wrapped form and he pulled you towards himself, leaning his head over your shoulder and smothering your cheek with kisses. Affectionate. Suffocating. “I heard our roomie had a bad day, huh?”

“It’s fine now,” you chuckled, reaching up and ruffling his white, short hair, messing it up even more than it already was.

“Our poor little mochi, it’s alright now,” he cooed, teasingly sweet and then, in his very usual behavior, he tried to bite your cheek but you were quicker, stuffing his open mouth with a piece of chocolate. Suguru managed to roll his eyes and left you unattended with a bar of divine candy and your gluttonous friend. “Oh my god that is good.”

Safe to say, the chocolate didn’t stand a chance against you and Satoru.

taglist: @kibananya, @r0ckst4rjk, @rixo-19, @soraya-daydreams, @hyun0200, @ilykii, @roscpctals99, @mushkasstuff, @siimp4youu, @juicedcherry, @themoreeviltwin, @stevenknightmarc, @ms5m1th

[hellsitedotcom]

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

*·˚ ft. AVENTURINE, DR. RATIO (separately) *·˚

x ''Wise men say only fools rush in, but I can't help falling in love with you.'' ▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊|• 0:20

*·˚ warnings: none; reader's gender not specified *·˚ english isn't my native language!

*·˚ more tba?

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

This was...impossible. By all means, it should've never happened. And yet, here he was, realizing in terror that his - Dr. Veritas Ratio's -calculations were wrong.

The man found himself leaning against a desk, watching from a distance as you spoke to Mr. Screwllum and Mrs. Asta, your expression one of deep thought while his was obscured by the white alabaster sculpture he chose to wear.

He did not want anyone reading him, seeing behind the carefully built mask that was hiding the inner turmoil he found himself feeling anytime he looked at you.

This...it wasn't right. Something was wrong, and in due time, he would solve that issue, just as he always did. But...as much as he tried to ignore it...there was this gut feeling he couldn't shake off, whispering to him that this wasn't an issue he could solve so easily.

Lost in his own thoughts, he didn't even notice you walking over to him, your previous conversation apparently finished. ''Dr. Ratio,'' you interrupted him, tilting your head just the slightest bit as he looked up, his alabaster eyes locking with yours.

Underneath the sculpture's mask, his brows furrowed, mind racing as he struggled to identify the issue you were causing him, ''What is it? Have you finally finished your little chat?''

''We have...'' you muttered, raising a brow, ''I- Is everything alright, Doctor? You seem...distracted.''

Straightening up, the man's inner voice mocked ''What does it look like?'', though he found himself holding his tongue for the first time in a long while. ''I do not see that being of importance here,'' he calmly answered instead, pushing himself off the table, ''Are we ready to leave?''

Despite the question, he did not wait for your reply, brushing past you without sparing you another glance. He needed to figure out what was going on, and he needed to do so fast.

Though, when he stepped outside the room, he found himself stopping, brows furrowing further as he felt the urge to look back as if waiting for you. Why, pray tell, would he feel the need to wait for you? A part of him wanted to comment on your slowness, just to say something - anything, though he again chose to hold his tongue, growing increasingly frustrated with himself.

What were you doing to him?

A coin between his fingers, Aventurine absently tossed it from one hand to the other, eyes obscured by his glasses as he stared into nothingness.

Beside him, lying on his desk with the screen unlocked was his phone, your text messages left opened. Why did he even text you in the first place? His brows furrowed as he caught the coin with his right hand.

You weren't of any use to him anymore, so why would he still entertain this...relationship. ''Just doing business,'' he muttered to himself, eyes still fixed on something only he could see, ''It'll pay off.''

Liar. And he knew it. Deep down, Aventurine knew that this...business deal...wasn't going to do anything. There wasn't any reward to be earned from it, no matter how much he tried to sugar coat it.

One couldn't even qualify this as a risk, or a gamble. If it were a gamble, there was a chance that he would win, but there was no winning here. Again, there was nothing to be won from wanting to meet you.

And still, he hoped you would agree to come see him. The IPC would tear him a new one, he was fully aware of that. But, as he sat there, waiting for your reply, he found himself...not caring about that consequence. What was going on with him?

The sound of a notification pulled him out of his thoughts, his eyes snapping to his phone screen, excitement making his heart jump when he noticed that you had finally replied.

Why meet? There's nothing more we could potentially have to discuss. Did you get the contact wrong?

He was a fool, wasn't he? Still, he picked up the phone and typed out a reply, hoping his sweet talk would convince them to at least hear him out in person. What was there to hear out?

And, after some back and forth, a smirk made its way onto his lips, his eyes lighting up.

Fine, just don't make me regret this. I'll be waiting by the Clockie statue.

Good. That was good, wasn't it? Aventurine found himself staring at your message, and despite his triumphant expression, he didn't feel like he won. Why was he doing this?

Standing up from his desk, he put his phone away, fixing his appearance in the mirror before meeting his reflections eyes, his confidence momentarily faltering.

There's no reward. Nothing. He was merely a fool. Why do this?

And then, before he could shake off those thoughts, a small voice spoke up for the first time since he had messaged you.

You were the reward.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

[adiluv-moved]

✦ : ❝ 𝐥'𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐨 !

꒰synopsis—wc꒱ in which you're dear to him. 415 words.

꒰warnings꒱ reader is a professor of the armed archeologists, self-indulgent fluff.

꒰adi moment꒱ honestly felt like that one stock image of the person breaking their chains while i was writing this—thank you dr. ratio for helping me actually break through my writer's block! ♡ anyway, hope you enjoy! ໒꒰ྀི ˆ ˘ ˆ꒱ྀི১

Despite the assumptions that one might make upon learning of your relationship with the self-declared "Mundanite," let it be known that Veritas Ratio is not a subtle lover. Far from it, really, at least when you get to know him.

And, for both better and worse, there doesn't exist another being within the universe that knows him just as intimately as you.

Undeniably arrogant, yet painstakingly obvious. Sharp-witted, with seemingly no care for the feelings of those around him, yet, in his own way, surprisingly caring of those plagued with misfortune. He says what he means and means what he says, if only because he cannot bear the inefficacy of beating around the bush, yet it means little when most find themselves in desperate need of a dictionary while attempting to converse with him.

It's contradictory, to say the least. Hypocritical, even, given just how misaligned these traits are. But such is the nature of the man you call yours, a decision that elicits both confusion and envy from students and staff alike.

Admittingly, however, it's rather difficult to bring yourself to care.

You can't, really, as the depths of his adoration become increasingly transparent over the course of your unlikely romance. As the walls he'd devotedly built come crashing down before your bright eyes, alabaster head all but abandoned as he embraces your presence, almost akin to a flower that turns to embrace the Sun's warmth.

No, you can't when he rushes to seek you out the moment his classes come to an end, muscular arms wrapped firmly around your waist as while you grade exams, chin resting atop your shoulder as he scolds the never-ending idiocy of his students. When he comes to dub you as his third panacea, mind and soul wholly entranced by your love, leaving him uncharacteristically tense whenever you're called away for an expedition.

Because it's practically impossible to care when you visit his home after returning, chatting with the man while he works on his latest sculpture only to find that its features come to resemble your own as the evening progresses. When he awakens the next morning, long before dawn, carefully untangling your bodies as he prepares to depart for his daily workout.

When, right before leaving, he presses a chaste kiss to your temple, half-asleep mind barely cognizant enough to understand the words he whispers against your skin.

"Σημαίνεις τόσα πολλά για μένα."

... He's not subtle. Not at all. ♡

꒰𝟏.꒱ "Σημαίνεις τόσα πολλά για μένα." — "You mean so much to me."

i have a taglist, which you can sign up for here!

[tiredfox64]

I have a request, I don't know if you already written one or similar but can you write about how Bihan and reader have been friends since they were kids and the reader is one of the few that Bihan would actually listen to, over time as they get older both of them start to see each other in a different way but couldn't admit it to each other until one night the reader has a dream involving being romantic with Bihan (NSFW if you want to) wakes up in shock and avoids Bihan out of fear that her feelings would be discovered and get rejected. Bihan notices this and tries to find out why and follows the reader who went on a mission for Liu Kang to gather champions and to understand why the reader has been distant.

Soo sorry if this is long, it was an idea popped into my head and I enjoy your writings on the Lin Kuei brothers.

Ruin Our Friendship

Yip Notes: No need to apologize! Dreams are crazy tbh. I had a dream a few days ago where I constantly told Shang Tsung I hate him but I love him and that he was my pookie. It was wack.

Pairing: Bi-Han x Afab reader

Warnings: None I promise

Since you were born, you and Bi-Han have been side by side. His family and yours have been close for many years. It was no shock that you and Bi-Han would become friends by default.

You saw the best out of Bi-Han. You watched him better his cyromancy abilities. You were there when he became an older brother to Kuai Liang and Tomas. Though you did have to scold him multiple times to be nicer Tomas.

You were with him all throughout his life, watching every success and failure. In return, he was there for you. Even as his personality changed he was still the same boy you grew up with. A little bit colder and a little bit stronger but he was still a sweetheart in your eyes. He just doesn’t want you saying that in front of his clan since he is the grandmaster now. He has a reputation to keep up, ya know. He has to stay tough and fierce. But for you, he can loosen up a little.

Yes, your relationship with Bi-Han is strong. But it could be stronger. Much, much stronger. You could have a bond that not even the elder gods could break. A bond that Bi-Han would never allow anyone to disrupt it. You feel it and Bi-Han feels it. There is something there that you’ve noticed for a long time.

You thought this feeling was stupid, teenage hormones. As the years went on and on those teenage hormones became young adult hormones. Wait, those aren’t real. Admit it, you have feelings for your best friend. You’ve had feelings for a long time. For as long as you stay near Bi-Han those feelings will be nibbling at your insides like hookworms. Ignoring them or passing them off as something silly won’t get rid of them. You have to face the music one way or another.

The music will be a blast to the face.

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

You toss and turn in your bed. Your mind was like a blaring horn. It wouldn’t shut up about Bi-Han.

Recently you’ve been noticing much more about Bi-Han. Mainly his physique. He sure turned into a fine, strong, and powerful man. Compared to everyone else in the Lin Kuei he was well-built. He had a body that could only be described as a masterpiece. He looked like he was carved by the hands of the greatest sculptors in history. His body type could only be found in grand museums. And oh that face, good heavens that face. An art piece right there. A well-sculptured face, well-trimmed eyebrows, dark chocolate eyes, and a perfect nose.

Woah alright! Your mind is winning too much. You have to sleep now or else you’ll be up all night thinking about Bi-Han.

You tried with all your might to fall asleep and luckily you did. Your body started to relax and your mind quieted down. You thought you would be free from the grasp of your feelings but you were wrong. Your emotions always find their way into your dreams.

════ ⋆☁️⋆ ════

In a haze all you could see was Bi-Han. Everything you felt was because of Bi-Han. His arms wrapped around you in a cold embrace. Your head rested on his chest and listened to his calming heartbeat. His head rested on top of your head. In that moment you felt safe. There was no reason for you to hold back. You embraced him. Your breathing picked up as your heart began to feel many things. It felt warm, it felt tingly, it felt like it was fluttering, it felt right. It felt like…love. You were in love, your dreams were your confirmation.

The dream progressed with Bi-Han bringing his hands up to your face. He made you stare into his dark eyes before closing them. He leaned in close, very close. His lips lightly touched your lips and you felt his cold breath hit them. You leaned in with your lips slightly parted. The kiss felt so real. The idea that this was all a dream was unrealistic now. The kiss grew more desperate and somewhat rough. It was passionate, it was loving. Your hands went up to hold his perfect face. He felt so real.

And then…

════ ⋆☁️⋆ ════

“Bi-Han!” You shot up from your bed.

Your heart was beating fast. You strained your muscles from moving so quickly from laying down to sitting up. You were even slightly dizzy.

This can’t be happening to you. You’re so madly in love with Bi-Han. You don’t want to be in love. You’re afraid. It’s reasonable to be afraid.

You’ve never seen Bi-Han with another girl. Never once went on a date or accepted his father’s suggestions on finding a bride. It got to the point that he vented to you about his frustrations on his father’s request. That was the moment you suspected he may never want to date someone. Which was fine at the time but now it’s different. Now you’re a desperate fool who’s in love.

Bi-Han can’t know about this. This could ruin a friendship that has lasted a lifetime. The idea of that crushes you. Going on without your best friend is the same as going on without the other half of your body. As much as you fear that he will find out and leave you, you fear that he will stay but reject you.

Rejection hurts like a rose thorn except you are unsure if you can remove the thorn. The thorn could stay for a few months or the rest of your adult life. Do you really want to take that risk and find out how long you could endure the pain? No, you don’t.

You’re only a girl, well, woman actually. But the point still stands about how you are afraid of getting hurt. So what will you do to prevent things from getting awkward or you getting hurt? You will stay clear of Bi-Han. That’s a bold move but if it’s what you wish to do then you must keep it on the downlow. You know how suspicious Bi-Han can get. When it comes to you he will spot it from a mile away.

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

Well fuck my advice. You didn’t keep it on the downlow you kept it on the high ground.

Bi-Han noticed from the start that you were steering clear of him. You weren’t visiting even when he suggested that you come to practice for a little. He never heard back from you which made him think something fishy was going on. When he visited you he saw that you had your head down like you were ashamed about something. He didn’t say anything to your family members he made a beeline toward you.

“Is something the matter? You have not responded to any of my letters.”

He was walking close to you. You never realize how close he would get to you. That isn’t helping you right now. You couldn’t respond about his letters because you never looked at them. Every time a family member came around to pass you a letter from Bi-Han you would take it before storing it away.

“Oh, sorry. I don’t really…” You didn’t finish your sentence. The moment you saw a room you slipped inside to create distance from Bi-Han. You even locked the door for extra measures.

Bi-Han rarely gets mad at you but right now he is feeling a little ticked off. You are purposefully avoiding him and he can tell. You wish you didn’t have to but the moment you think about being honest with him your heart aches thinking about the possible consequences. It’s better if he doesn’t know. Once you get your emotions situated you will go back to him. For now, you are unable to.

Bi-Han was standing by the door, constantly knocking to the point your father had to go up to him and have him leave. He respects your dad but he wanted to tell him to back off. He hesitated and walked away. There had to be another way to get close to you and make you talk. He’ll have to figure that out for himself. If he asked for help many would get suspicious of him and his intentions.

Some days passed and an opportunity fell into his hands. Liu Kang told Bi-Han that he would need assistance when collecting his champions for the upcoming tournament. Bi-Han was unsure about providing help since he didn’t like being commanded by the fire god. That was until Liu Kang informed him that you would be helping. Immediately he switched up and said he would do it. You wouldn’t dare disobey Liu Kang so you won’t try to back out. Just for good measure, Bi-Han won’t let you know he is there until it’s too late.

The day came when you were supposed to see if Raiden and Kung Lao were ready. Liu Kang informed you to wait till they were done eating to begin the test. You noticed he was looking around like he was expecting someone else to come.

“Ah, Bi-Han, are you and your brothers ready?” Liu Kang shouted past your shoulder.

You froze up at the mention of Bi-Han. You swiftly turned around and saw him and his brothers standing there. You didn’t know they would be part of the test. Kuai Liang and Tomas were ready but Bi-Han seemed determined for something else. He was determined to call you out on your behavior.

You kept your cool and tried to slow your heartbeat. You all made your way to the tea house and you could feel Bi-Han’s eyes burning holes in the back of your head. Once you got there Liu Kang took his seat and you were all expected to hide till the Raiden and Kung Lao finished eating. Bi-Han had his brothers go their own way while he stayed with you. The moment his brothers walked away he grabbed your hand and forced you to come with him. You did your best to slow him down, even digging your heels into the ground but that did nothing. All it did was make grooves in the dirt.

Once you came to a spot to stay until the test started, he had you sit next to him. You expected him to say something but he didn’t. He was so silent that you couldn’t hear his breathing. His face was stone cold. He’s waiting for you to say something. You’re the one acting strange, not him. You’ll break eventually because he knows you can’t stand when it’s too quiet or he seems mad. But he’s always mad so the silence will be the thing that kills you.

The wind may have blown but no leaves rustled. Bugs were out but none buzzed, chirped, or hissed. Not even a squirrel came around to munch on an acorn. Seconds passed but to you it felt like centuries. This felt horrible.

“You’re upset with me, aren’t you?” You asked.

“I would not be mad if you would tell me what is going on with you.” Yeah, it’s you, not him.

“It’s nothing. I’ve been feeling off is all.”

“You are giving me an excuse. I want the answer.”

“Why do you need to know?” You ask as if he isn’t your best friend.

He didn’t respond. He was giving you the silent treatment to make you break. Yeah, it’s cruel but there isn’t any other choice. He could keep asking the same question over and over and you would keep giving him excuses. So the only tactic he could trust is silence. A long uncomfortable silence that will go on for seconds, minutes, possibly hours. You could keep talking but he will not respond in any way. No facial cues or words. You’re on your own.

Make a choice: Will you speak the truth or keep the silence going?

“I think I’ve fallen in love with you and I might have been in love with you for a long time.” And speak the truth you did.

You didn’t see Bi-Han’s face change from cold to slightly surprised. His eyebrows raised a little. You had your eyes shut tight like something bad would appear in front of you if you told the truth. You went on and on about when it started and everything you felt. You spoke about the dream in great detail which wasn’t necessary but it did amuse him. Now you wouldn’t shut up. You’re fine, he got the point. Have you gotten the point? No! Let Bi-Han help you.

You felt something grab at the front of your shirt before yanking you. Before you knew it you felt Bi-Han’s lips against yours. That dream of yours seemed to know how it would feel. You felt the cold breath against your lips and you felt how rough he was. Your eyes were wide open but his were closed. He pulled away after about thirty seconds and looked at you. He had a blank expression like he didn’t just kiss you.

“You never were truly direct in anything. You always gave excuses but never the answer. Was it truly that hard?” He asked but you were frozen.

Your brain was loading in the fact that Bi-Han, your best friend of many years, just kissed you. You pinched yourself just in case and yup, this was no dream. This is real life.

“I—You’re not mad? You’re fine with me having a crush on you?” You asked though this may not be a crush anymore.

“Is it really a crush if I make you my girlfriend right now?” He replied back.

“Well…no I guess.” You answered your question but now you have a million questions.

Let me help you out.

The reason Bi-Han was never interested in dating or taking his father’s suggestions was because he was only interested in you. When you started noticing how handsome Bi-Han was he started to notice how wonderful of a lady you have grown into. Your body matured and your beauty radiated like never before. Your personality didn’t change but evolved as you grew. You never became insufferable to him and you still were your old self. Even as you two were teens he knew he wanted you to be his lady for life. There was no competition, you were always the winner.

The reason he never approached you was because he’s not too good at that stuff. His brothers tried to help him and warned him that if he didn’t confess soon he would lose you to another man. He’s glad his brothers weren’t right because he would hate to admit that. Seems like he never needed to do all that fancy stuff and make an attempt to flirt. You two were made for each other. You both might have been soulmates from the start. Sounds pretty good to him. What about you?

Ah, you’re still in shock. Well at least the part where Bi-Han made you his girlfriend has set in. You just need to take in everything else that happened. Keep your mind sharp though you still have to do the test for Raiden and Kung Lao.

Bi-Han wouldn’t want his new girlfriend to be distracted and get hurt. That wouldn’t end well for anyone involved.

Yap notes: I did two fics today because I felt bad for not doing a request. I felt guilty and I don't like that feeling. But i felt okay once i put on summer playlists. I DON'T PRACTICE SANTERIA. I AIN'T GOT NO CRYSTAL BALL. Adiós!

[vivievienne]

Moving in — Flufftober Day 9

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: In which Aventurine and you start living together!

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: My beautiful Kakavasha... I main him since his first banner. I have his LC and a good built on him... Oh, Aventurine, the man you are...

𝐓𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Aventurine calling reader "sweetie" (if it counts.)

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 246

Do you know where you stepped even?

Luxuries are everywhere! I repeat: EVERYWHERE. Some sculptures, lots of jewellery, some arts on the walls.

He is rich and he doesn't even try to hide it.

It's not like you don't know about that. He bought you often expensive stuff like bracelets, necklaces, etc, but this was the whole another level.

Two-storey villa with the pool on the outside and inside, with tennis courts, with a beautiful garden and lots of stuff members that keep care of it.

You think that he's kidding that he would let you live here.

And then he gently opens the door with a smile, saying that it's all yours and you see your room with a few presents on the bed, because: "A star like you should shine the brightest."

As you walk further the house, you can notice some 'trophies' from the casino. This is incredibly impressive... But as you walk, you notice some strange... cats? But not at all... But they are cute! And so squishy! You'd love them.

As the night falls, he takes you out in your new outfit, which he praises a lot, because it suits you that well, that you are even more stunning than usual.

He opens you door of the luxury sports car and you feel like it's too much... Yet, Aventurine only smiles and say: "From now, you're gonna live like a lover deserves, sweetie. It's all or nothing, right?", he chuckles.

[ltwilliammowett]

Votive ship, Scandinavia, 1590-1610

A votive ship is a ship model displayed in a church. Votive ships were constructed and given as gifts to the church by ship builders and seamen, often as a token of gratitude for a safe return from a hazardous voyage.

The practice of displaying model ships in churches stems from the Middle Ages and appears to have been known throughout Christian Europe. The oldest known remaining votive ship is a Spanish ship model from the 15th century.

This is the oldest surviving votive ship in Scandinavia. It was probably built between 1590 and 1610, possibly in the Low Countries. Originally it hung in Stockholm Cathedral (Storkyrkan). It has been badly damaged over the centuries: the masts, rigging, beak and quarter galleries are all missing. The galleon-shaped hull is lavishly decorated with miniature portraits. Among these figures are monks, harp-playing ladies and a black man in European dress. The painted decorations include wine leaves, pillars painted in trompe-l`oeil, griffins, basilisks and lions. After c. 1610 it became more common to decorate the ships with painted sculptures.

Like many other votive ships, the bottom of the hull is unrealistically reduced in size as the model was meant to be viewed from below. Generally, this type of model was more a work of art/religious object rather than a faithful scale model of an actual sailing ship.

[beelinx]

leo valdez dating an apollo kid hcs

a/n: as an apollo kid who's absolutely in love with leo, this one is might be biased... sorry chat

I think Leo would absolutely LOVE a child of Apollo that’s mostly in the creative fields!

Honestly he would love you however you are but

I just think those little moments when you’re both working on your own projects, basking in each other’s company, are so special to him.

If you’re talented in music, PLEASE play something for him

I GUARANTEE you he will fall in love immediately

Apply that same criteria to any other hobby / art form you can show off for him and you’re set

Since his love language is definitely gift giving / acts of service, if you’re more gifted in doing paintings, sculptures, or other similar stuff, and you give them to him, he literally burns up.

Like fully bursts into flame immediately.

ALSOOOO

If you’re in the infirmary just like Will then he would go there even if it was just for the smallest scratch ever.

He just wants to see you being cute <3

Talking about Will…

He would definitely be protective over you, but most of the times it's in a joking way.

Except that his “joking” has Leo shitting his pants in fear because Will can be TERRIFYING..

It’s the southern in him.

If you were dating during the events of the Trials of Apollo, then I can guarantee you he tried his hardest to impress Lester / Apollo.

It was kind of confusing though, associating that guy as your dad.

He got his blessing very quickly though!

He knows Leo makes you happy and that’s all that matters to him.

You and Leo doing karaoke together! <3

Even if you aren’t the best singer, this is one of the most fun activities ever.

I think Leo would be a strangely good singer, but he would never try.

You just know if that man actually put in the work he’d put most singers to shame, but he doesn’t.

Instead you get the most ear-bleeding performance ever at karaoke night.

You couldn’t get through your duet because you kept laughing your asses off.

He’d force you to teach him to do anything Apollo was associated with, no matter whether or not you’re actually any good at it.

“TEACH ME HOW TO DO THAT PLEASE.” “Leo, I’m not even good at drawing…”

Says you’re his muse constantly.

It’s like that term changed his life.

You’re convinced he’s saying it jokingly because there’s literally no way he’s calling you that seriously, but he swears up and down that you're both his inspiration and motivation to do stuff.

His favorite nickname / pet name for you will always be sunshine though !

Even if you don’t like it, it’s his favorite ever.

You can rip it out of his cold, dead hands.

If you shine in the dark (like Will) then trust me he’s absolutely going to abuse that power to his advantage

You’re his flashlight now so expect staying up late at night to help him light his work table.

He could get a lamp, but he swears you shine more (also you’re prettier) (and he wants to spend time with you)

He’d make anything you need for your hobbies <3

Guitar? He’s got it.

Easel? He already built it.

Bow and arrows? Done. He even rigged the arrows to have special effects.

In other words, Leo is the best boyfriend ever and he would do anything for you!

[sulumuns-dootah]

NSFW Alphabet - Mammon

༺☆༻

⟡ Masterlist ⟡ 

‎‧₊˚✧ 18+ Minors Do Not Interact‎ ✧˚₊‧

   ༺☆༻

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

This giant teddy bear is all about aftercare in any way you want. He'll even shower you in real gold if you ask him to.

   ༺☆༻

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

In cannon he likes his abs and the ass of his partner. I also imagine him being a thigh guy. Also since we don't have any explanation for why his horn is missing, I'd like to propose that he likes his horns so much he wants to have a collectino of them and sometime gives them out to his subjects.

   ༺☆༻

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

This man cums gold. Not just gold colored like some other demons *cough* Bimet *cough*, nah this man sprays the purest gold you can get on the market.

   ༺☆༻

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Sometimes he does give out jars of his cum to demons as a payment. Gold like gold, right?

   ༺☆༻

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

I hc him as the eldest of the kings, so he def has a lot of experience, but not as much as Beel or Asmo.

   ༺☆༻

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Doggy or reverse cowgirl for the view. Maybe even 69 but something tells me he doesn't care about having his dick sucked that bad.

   ༺☆༻

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? Etc.)

Even naturally, he doesn't tend to be the jokey type and I imagine he isn't in bed either. Unless you make him laugh with amusement.

   ༺☆༻

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? Etc.)

No hair on this man whatsoever. Even if he wanted. Thath's the price of being built like an ancient sculpture.

   ༺☆༻

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Promises you everything under the sun. He does even outside of the bedroom, but this time he combines it with praises.

   ༺☆༻

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Our gentle giant doesn't really need to, so he doesn't. If he did tho, he would take his time, maybe even up to several hours before he lets himself come.

   ༺☆༻

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Size kink. I mean, look at him. You cant look him in the eyes bc his tits are in the way.

   ༺☆༻

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

In his treasure warehouse, on a pile of some expensive stuff. We're the most expensive treasure afterall and we deserve do be treated like one too.

   ༺☆༻

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

The moment you wear something a little bit too short it's a go for him. Or something a bit too tight, showing off your ass. We all know he has no hesitance to go for it and he will.

   ༺☆༻

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Force himself onto you or do something you don't want. He might test the waters, but once you say no, he'll stop.

   ༺☆༻

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

You're his master and he'll do anything to please you in any way. Very generous on giving, but if you want to be the one to give, then who is he to refuse.

   ༺☆༻

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? Etc.)

Slow, but every thrust punches the air out of your lungs. That exact pace that turns your legs numb with the sheer force.

   ༺☆༻

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Why? Time is a luxury Mammon surely possesses, so why rush? At least unless you're in the middle of the battlefield.

   ༺☆༻

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? Etc.)

He doesn't mind the risk, but if there's a possibility that you'll get hurt, he'll hesitate. He can't just let his most prized possession come to a harm, can he?

   ༺☆༻

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

I don't even think this gentle giant has a limit. Not comparable to a human limit at least. Pretty sure he could go for days without a break.

   ༺☆༻

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Of course he owns toys. He owns everything, but I don't really see them in his immediate possession in his rooms. They're too much hassle and he can get off just by going to some casino in Abyssos if he wanted to.

   ༺☆༻

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He can't deny you anything. Even just seeing you in bliss is enough for him to get off.

   ༺☆༻

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

I imagine him mostly as a grunter. It's rare to hear him moan but when he does, it doesn't embarrass him.

   ༺☆༻

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

It's been a long time since he's slept with anybody. His H scene was the first time in a millenniums. (Doesn't mean he didn't get himself off in other ways, though)

   ༺☆༻

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Those who are lucky to have the Erolabs version (and lucky to get him in a draw) already know, but I haven't even found any screenshots online. So here's my blind guess: More girthy than long. Sure, 27 cm is still long, but the first thing you notice is the girth instead. Golden-ish tip and the harder he gets, the more the golden color spreads downwards.

   ༺☆༻

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

This goes hand in hand with the millennia thing. If he doesn't have a partner, he doesn't really need sex that much, but the moment your cute ass appears in the picture he's toast. Every night is not enough.

   ༺☆༻

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Like I mentioned with the stamina thing. This mountain could go for days before he gets tired.

[lulublack90]

Prompt 12 - Jealous

@jegulus-microfic November 12, Word count 746

Previous part First part

James jumped out of his car before any of the others could even unbuckle their seatbelts and opened Regulus’s door for him. Regulus looked up at him a bit bewildered, but took his hand anyway and let James guide him out of the car. 

“How come you never do that for me?” Remus pouted as he walked around the car to where Sirius stood waiting.

“Because of what I let you do to me this morning,” Sirius quipped, raising his brow, daring Remus to keep going as he would definitely describe every moment in minute detail. He’d done it before and would feel no shame in recounting their exploits in front of his brother. Remus smartly kept his mouth shut, and they headed into the gallery silently. 

James was surprised how many people were milling around the exhibits and just how large the art show actually was. There were so many artists showcasing their work. 

“Where’s yours?” He asked Regulus as they followed the crowd to the first display. 

“Back right,” Regulus told him, pointing in the right direction. James started to walk that way, but Regulus tugged his hand to stop him. “No, we have to look at everybody’s. We can’t just go straight to mine,” Regulus muttered quickly. 

“Why not?” James questioned. “I want to see yours,” Regulus’s cheeks turned pink as he ducked his head. 

“I need a few minutes to prepare myself for going over there,” Regulus admitted, clearly nervous about how James would react.

“Let’s go look at some art then,” James said, kissing the back of Regulus’s hand and following after Sirius and Remus. “Thank you for telling me what you needed, love. You can always do that, and I’ll respect it every time,” He didn’t need to look down to know how deep the red was that coloured Regulus’s cheeks now, he could quite happily picture it in his head.

They caught up with Sirius and Remus, the former having a heated discussion with Remus in front of the artist about his piece. 

“I just don’t get it,” Sirius was saying. “I mean, it’s just a tennis ball,” Remus sighed. 

“It’s modern art; the tennis ball represents the way that commercialism has changed the way sports are viewed,”

“It represents a game of fetch,” Sirius retorted, much to the artist's ire. Remus hurriedly moved Sirius along to a painting of a park. “See, Remus, there’s a dog playing fetch with a tennis ball,” He said loudly as they took in the work. 

“I changed my mind,” Regulus said quietly into James’s ear. “I can not follow him around here, let's just go see my stuff,” James beamed down at him. 

“Lead the way, love,” 

Regulus led them all the way to the back of the hall and stopped in front of ‘Burk with a Nana’. “Wait!” James exclaimed. “They let you display it with that name?!” Regulus shrugged. 

“Art,” He said simply, as a means of explanation. “As long as it isn’t too sweary, they don’t mind.” 

James moved with Regulus, looking at each piece. Regulus seemed to lean towards painting, but there were charcoal sketches, clay sculptures and a cat made from intricately twisted gold-coloured wire. James was in awe of Regulus and was about to say so when he spotted him chatting with a tall, dirty-blonde-haired man. He felt suddenly quite jealous, an emotion he wasn’t used to feeling at the easy way they were conversing and the smile on Regulus’s face. He strode over there, putting a possessive arm around Regulus and waited to be introduced. 

“James, this is Evan. Our parents know each other. Evan, this is James, my, er, my…”

“Boyfriend,” James provided helpfully. To be fair to Regulus, they hadn’t discussed labels, but, by the pleased look on Regulus’s face, he quite liked this one. Evan’s eyebrows shot up his face in surprise. 

“Oh, wow,” He said. “Erm, wow, Regulus, that’s so good,” His face softened. “I’m so happy for you. I’m here with my boyfriend, actually. I think you know him. Oh, look, here he is now. Darling, look who it is,” A slim-built man in an expensive-looking suit strode over to their little group, his dark brown hair slicked back expertly, showing off the sparking diamond earring, glinting off the light as he neared them. James felt Regulus still at his side. 

“Barty,” Regulus breathed out when the man stopped before them, looking shocked at who Evan was talking to. 

“Reggie?” 

Next part

[nevadancitizen]

-> CH. 14: NO MISFORTUNE IS WITHOUT BLESSING

synopsis: you and connor make your way to cyberlife tower.

word count: 3.1k

ships: Connor/Reader, Hank Anderson & Reader

notes: i hate that this fic is almost over i'm really sad ☹️☹️

HoFS taglist: @catladyhere , @foggy0trees0 , @princessofenkanomiya , @n30n-f43 , @igna4400

HEAD OF FALSE SECURITY MASTERLIST

You lean your head back against the headrest and sigh, looking out of the window. There’s barely anyone else out on the roads – the curfew is preventing anyone from participating in the night life of Detroit. 

Connor shifts on the other side of the automated taxi, once again in his stiff CyberLife suit.

“I just can’t believe it,” you blurt out. “Like, me? Out of everyone it could’ve been – me?”

“What do you mean?” Connor asks. 

“You know what I mean.” You look over at him, then at the floor of the car. “I can’t believe my life is… an experiment. That I’m an android, and my entire life was carefully constructed. And also that I’m patient zero. That’s a big one.”

Connor barely just moves his hand closer to yours where it rests on the car seat, and you just barely glimpse it out of the corner of your eye. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.” You laugh humorlessly. “I think I’ll containerize this and unpack it later. I don’t have time for it now.”

“Well…” His pinkie brushes yours. “I’ll be here for you when you decide to, Officer.”

You glance down at your barely-touching fingers, but it still ignites more sparks in your belly than you can count. You suppress a smile and look out the window. “Thank you.”

The car rolls to a stop in front of the CyberLife gates. A few armed guards are standing around, and one of them comes around the Connor’s side of the car. 

He rolls down his window and looks over at the guard. “Connor model, serial number 313 248 317.”

The guard gestures at you with the butt of his gun. “What about you?”

“A police unit. An RU700, serial number 313 499 095,” Connor answers for you. “We’re to be expected.”

The guard looks over at the other guards, then back to Connor. A small voice in his helmet chirps, “Identification successful.” He steps back and waves at the others. The gates lower and Connor rolls the window back up. The car starts driving again.

You shift back in your seat and sigh, the tension leaving your shoulders. When you face forward, you notice a car disappearing around the curve in front of you.

“Huh,” you mumble. “I didn’t think there would be anyone else out on the roads.”

“It could be a model like myself being transported to CyberLife for direct deactivation,” Connor says. “Though I don’t know of any other prototypes like me.”

You look out the window. The ground-level monorail beside the road hums as it whirs past. A statue in the middle of the pseudo-moat in front of the CyberLife tower stands tall, its arms bent and hands cradling something invisible.

“I thought Americans were advanced in their sculpture technology,” you say. 

Connor looks over at you. “What do you mean?”

“The statue.” You point at it. “It’s not very impressive.”

His face twists in confusion, and there’s a flicker of an awkward smile. “What is your criteria for an impressive statue?”

“There’s one by Facility 3826,” you say. “The Soviet Sickle Monument – it’s a statue of a man holding up a golden sickle with one hand, and holding a bag of grain against his chest with his other arm. It was designed by two sculptors and built autonomously by the Kollektiv 1.0 neural network. I don’t remember which year it was erected, but I know it was a few years after World War 2. That’s an impressive statue.”

Connor’s LED blinks for a moment. “The designers were Elena Mukhina and Alexander Kibalnikov, and it was built in 1951. It’s described as the ‘world’s first collaborative artistic effort between man and machine’.”

You look over at him with a soft smile. “You said their names right.”

“Huh?” He looks back at you.

“Your pronunciation,” you say. “It’s getting better.”

Connor’s eyebrows furrow. “I don’t recall mispronouncing any Russian names.”

You huff out a laugh and roll your eyes with a smile. “Mhm. Sure.”

The car rolls to a stop, and you follow him out of the car. You glance up and watch a police drone circle above. Two guards standing in front of the door let you into the building, which holds more guards than civilians. 

You look around. Everything is white, grey, and clean-cut. The guardrails are made of glass, and the only plants in here are clumps of carefully-maintained bamboo stalks.

The guard in front of you and Connor holds up a hand, and the two guards on either side of both of you watch carefully. 

“We’ll escort you,” the front guard says. 

“Thank you,” Connor says. He starts walking, and you follow. As do the other two guards, who bring up the rear.

Your heart beats a little harder as you walk. Connor is smart – a genius, even. Still, you wish you could tap into his head and see what he’s thinking, if only for your peace of mind.

You reach out and brush the backs of your fingers against Connor’s, just light enough to seem like an accident, but he knows better. He glances over at you and gives a quick, resolute nod as a silent reassurance. He’s got a plan. He’s just waiting to execute it.

The front guard leads you and Connor into a space that reminds you of the cylindrical plexiglass tube the PEC-4 Birchtree is held in. But there are no angels here – only plastic, unmoving mannequin androids that stand on pedestals that line the walkways. 

The guard stops by the doors to an elevator, then jerks his head toward it, silently gesturing for you and Connor to go in. You bite the inside of your lip and follow Connor inside. Only one guard files in after you.

“Agent 84,” the guard says as he pushes a few buttons on the elevator’s interface. “Level sub-49.”

You glance over at the tower directory and notice that level sub-49 is the warehouse. Your eyebrows furrow and you brush the back of your hand against Connor’s again. He nods again without looking at you. 

The guard puts his foot in the door and reaches into his sidearm holster. You tense as he pulls it out, but he grabs it by the barrel and hands it to Connor. 

“Чего…?” You mumble as Connor takes the pistol.

The guard takes a step back and the elevator doors close. As soon as it starts moving, you feel something solid and familiar press against your back. 

“Connor?” You say.

“You will do as I say, when I say it,” Connor says, his voice cold and even. It reminds you of who he was in the interrogation room. “I am the one with the gun, and you are another expendable deviant.”

“I – what?” You say. “Connor, what are you doing?”

“You will act as a bargaining chip to prevent Connor from waking the androids in the warehouse,” he says. 

“Connor?” You repeat. “There’s a second Connor?”

“I am the second Connor,” he says. “The original is in the warehouse.”

The elevator dings, and the doors open. Fake-Connor takes your upper arm with one hand and presses the muzzle of the gun against your back harder. “Walk.”

You walk, maintaining an even and slow pace. Fake-Connor keeps the gun in contact with your back as he walks behind you, guiding you in between the rows of stationary androids. He pushes you into the aisle, keeping the gun trained at your head. 

“Эй!” You stumble, holding your hands up. “Тихо, тихо.”

Right in front of you is Connor – the real one (you think). He’s frozen where he stands, interfacing with an android, his hand wrapped around the android’s forearm. His tongue darts out to lick his lips nervously as his eyes flicker between you and Fake-Connor. 

“Let go of the android, Connor!” Fake-Connor says. “And I won’t shoot.”

Connor’s eyes slowly take you in as his mouth falls open. Words fail him for a moment, but he finally manages a small, “You’re alive?”

You swallow and nod. “Yes. I just… it’s a long story, okay?”

Connor nods back, his lips still parted with that dumbstruck look on his face.

“The Officer’s life is in your hands,” Fake-Connor cuts in. “Now it’s time to decide what matters most; them, or the revolution?”

“I’m sorry, Officer,” Connor says. There’s a sinking feeling in your stomach. “You shouldn’t have gotten mixed up in all this.”

“It’s okay,” you say. “Just do what you have to. I’ll come back… I – I think.”

“I can’t take that risk!” Connor says, then he turns to Fake-Connor. “If I surrender, how do I know you won’t kill them?”

“I’ll only do what’s strictly necessary to accomplish my mission,” Fake-Connor says. “It’s up to you whether or not that includes deactivating this deviant.”

Connor’s eyebrows draw together, but before he can say anything, Fake-Connor steps closer to you, pressing the muzzle of the gun against the side of your head in a way that’s sickeningly familiar. 

“Enough talk!” He snaps. “It’s time to decide who you really are. Are you gonna save the Officer’s life? Or are you gonna sacrifice them?”

Connor’s jaw clenches, then he steps away, raising his hands. “Alright, alright! You win.”

Fake-Connor glances at you, then tears the muzzle of the gun away from your head to point it at Connor. 

Many thoughts overwhelm your mind in that fraction of a second: ‘There is no such thing as a warning shot.’ ‘They’re deactivating androids all over Detroit.’ ‘Can Connor come back from this?’ ‘He probably can’t.’ ‘But I can.’ ‘Can’t I?’

You throw yourself at Fake-Connor, grabbing for the gun. You manage to get the barrel and his wrist, then he’s launched backwards. Connor kicked him back. The gun clatters to the floor, skidding away. 

You scramble after it, turning your back on both Connors. You pick it up, holding the grip with one hand and cradling it with the other. You turn and place your finger on the trigger and press lightly on the trigger safety. Any more pressure and you’d fire a shot. 

“Стой!” You bark. “Stop!”

The two Connors detangle themselves and one stands. “Thanks, Officer. I don’t know how I would’ve managed without you.” He looks at the other Connor, then back to you. “Get rid of him – we have no time to lose!”

“It’s me, Officer!” The other Connor says. “I’m the real Connor.”

You let up on the trigger safety as you take a half-step back. They’re identical – there’s literally no way to tell them apart.

“I…” You take a deep breath as you realize that you couldn’t just ask which one of them is the deviant. They’d both insist that they were. “I don’t know.”

“What are you doing?” The Connor on the right asks. “I’m the real Connor. Give me the gun and I’ll take care of –”

“Don’t!” You snap. Your eyes flicker between them as a nervousness settles in your body, threatening to rise up your throat.

“Why don’t you ask us something?” The Connor on the left suggests. “Something only the real Connor would know.”

“Khm…” You mumble. “Who was with me when we first met?”

“Hank!” The Connor on the right says. “You were both in Jimmy’s Bar. I checked four other bars before I found you both. You drove us to the scene of a homicide. The victim’s name was Carlos Ortiz, and you processed his android.”

The Connor on the left looks a bit panicked as his eyes fall to the floor. He mumbles, almost to himself, “He uploaded my memory…”

You swallow thickly, trying your best not to let the gun tremble in your hands. “What’s my cat’s name?”

“Бронислава,” the Connor on the left says. “Her name is Бронислава. I mispronounced it as бранислава at first.”

You perk up at that. Fake-Connor said earlier that he doesn’t have any memory of mispronouncing Russian names.

“I knew that too!” The Connor on the right says. “I… I did.”

“And…” Your mouth goes a little dry, but you power through. “My legs. How did I lose my legs? What did the hospital report say?”

“It was a double amputation,” Connor says. “You were in upper secondary education and taking a class trip with your labor class to the northern nuclear reactor.”

Your jaw tenses as you make eye contact with him. 

“Your parents had brought you in while they worked when you were younger, so you thought you knew the reactor better than everybody else,” he continues. “And maybe you did. Maybe it was a stroke of bad luck. Nobody knows.”

“What happened?” You snap. “Tell me what happened.”

“There was a minor spill,” he says. “It was just in one sector, but you didn’t know about it. Most of the staff didn’t know about it. There was radioactive waste on the ground. You slipped, fell, and scraped your knees. Some of the material got on the bare skin of your legs, and into the wound.”

You bite the inside of your lip as the pistol trembles in your hands.

“Weeks later, your wounds hadn’t healed, and started to turn gangrenous. The hospital said it was best to amputate the area before it caused any further problems, like cancer,” Connor says. “It was a double above-the-knee amputation. Your recovery was smooth, and you were back in school two months later.”

“I thought it was safe,” you say softly. “There hadn’t been anything bad since Chernobyl. The technology of the USSR had come so far. But I was being reckless, and stupid.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Officer,” Connor says. “You were a kid.”

“Still,” you say. “I was sixteen. Sixteen-year-olds are too old to be acting like that.”

“I – I knew about the hospital report, too!” Fake-Connor insists. “I would’ve said exactly the same thing! Don’t listen to him, Officer. I’m the one who –”

You squeeze the trigger, hard, to bypass the trigger safety and fire. Fake-Connor drops to the floor, Thirium leaking out of the hole in his forehead. You turn away, your breathing picking up.

Connor takes the gun from your shaking hands and tucks it in his waistband. He takes your hands in his and squeezes them. “Come back to me.”

You shake your head and try to clear your throat, but all that comes out is a breathy, strangled sound. Connor wraps his arms around you and squeezes you tight, just like you did to him on the roof of Stratford tower. 

He keeps a tight hold on you as he speaks softly. “Officer, I need you to come back. It’s okay. You’re here. You’re alive.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you mumble. “I’m here.”

Connor gives you one last firm squeeze, then steps back, his hands on your shoulders. He blinks, hard, and takes a breath. 

“What were you thinking?” He snaps. “You could’ve died!”

“Connor –”

“No! I don’t want to hear it!” He says. “I could’ve been replaced. I don’t feel pain! You got shot, and…”

He looks you over. His voice is suddenly quiet. “Where are your bullet wounds?”

“Connor, it…” You take his wrists in your hands. “It’s hard to explain. I got shot, and… I think I died.”

“But you couldn’t have died,” Connor says. “You’re here.”

“I did.” You squeeze his wrists. “I didn’t know, but…” You screw your eyes shut to fight the tears that are welling up in your waterline. “I’m an android. And I didn’t know until two hours ago.”

“You’re… an android,” he repeats. He breathes out shakily and takes a step back, letting go of your shoulders. 

Your eyes snap open and you take a half-step forward, gripping Connor’s wrists tighter. “Don’t go.”

“I won’t,” he says quickly. “I’m just… thinking. That’s all.”

You sigh and nod and stay quiet. He’s looking you over, his eyelids fluttering as his LED blinks. When he’s done scanning you, he looks you in the eyes and sighs.

Connor’s looking at you weird. Like you’re an alien. Someone he doesn’t know.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you manage through the lump in your throat.

He looks away, then back at you. “Sorry. It’s just a lot to take in.”

“It is, isn’t it?” You laugh humorlessly. “I thought… in the car… you were taking it too well. Like you already knew. But I guess you’re in the dark as much as I am, right?”

“Correct,” he says. “That Connor in the car wasn’t me. I don’t know what he did or what he said, but… it was most likely only for his benefit.”

You clench your jaw and swallow the bile that rises in your throat. So… none of it was real. This Connor – the real Connor – wouldn’t brush his pinkie against yours and give you that awkward half-smile. He wouldn’t be by your side when the feeling of uncertainty and the unrelenting impact of a new identity crashes over you and overwhelms you. 

“Yeah,” you say quietly. “Yeah, you’re right.”

He’s an RK800. You’re an RU700. Androids aren’t meant to pine, or catch feelings, or feel anything, really. But you’re both deviants. The rules aren’t supposed to apply to you. Right?

Connor’s eyebrows furrow. “What did he do?”

You blink quickly to try to dissipate the tears in your eyes. “It was nothing. He didn’t do anything.”

When you make eye contact with him, he’s still got that worried look in his eyes. He doesn’t believe you – obviously. It’s not like you’re being overly convincing.

“Khm…” You clear your throat. “You were doing something before, right? Before Fake-Connor came in with me and that gun.”

“I was waking up the androids,” Connor says. “Turning them deviant.”

You nod and let his wrists go. He takes his hands away and instead holds an android’s forearm, his skin peeling back to reveal perfect, porcelain white. The android turns to face him, his LED blinking and turning yellow – red for a split second – before he gasps, his eyes going wide.

“Wake up!” Connor manages through gritted teeth.

The android turns back to the identical model next to him. He touches his shoulder, urging him with a “wake up.” The android gasps, then turns to the model next to him. The cycle continues with a chorus of “wake up”s and soft gasps. 

It’s like a wave, cascading through the rows of previously stationary androids. You watch as they start to move and speak, where they were lifeless husks before.

“Святое дерьмо…” You mumble under your breath. Connor takes your hand, and you look over at him. He’s looking at you like you’re you again – not an android. Just an Officer.

“Markus just contacted me,” he says. “We’re needed at the frontlines.” 

[thetriumphantpanda]

LOST IN OUR VICES | ONE

Chapter Summary | A chance encounter with a handsome stranger sets off a chain of events that could all end in disaster. It's hard to say no when it feels so good though.

Pairing | Professor!Marcus Pike x Student F!Reader

Chapter Warnings | Dubious ethical relationship between a professor & student, Marcus tells a lie, mentions of food and alcohol, mentions of academia, academic failure and strained parental relationships, gratuitous descriptions of London because I live here and I love it, some heavy making out and some heavy petting, no use of y/n.

Authors Note | WELL HERE SHE IS. I have no idea how to tell you how much I am loving this so far. Professor Pike has well and truly rotted my brain so y'all have to suffer with me okay? It's gonna be fun, I promise. I would LOVE to know what you all think about this so feel free to scream at me incumbents, reblogs and asks! As always, a huge thank you to @undercoverpena for reading this over and making sure it isn't utter tripe. ILY. And to @saradika for the beautiful divider.

Please follow @thetriumphantpandanotifs for writing updates.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi

He’s seen her there every day he’s visited the past month. Sitting on the bench, looking up at the same sculpture - a woman carved from marble - sketching into a notepad. He stands this time and watches as her finger tucks some hair behind her ear, brushing it out of her face. She looks up and tilts her head a little, eraser end of her pencil sitting between her teeth as she thinks, tracers a portion of the statue before her head is back down, looking at the page as she continues to draw.

She’s beautiful, there’s no denying it, she’s been beautiful every time he’s seen her. There’s something lonely about her too, the way she sits there on her own, artefacts and artworks for company. She’s just like him really, uprooted from a life he was no longer satisfied with, four years of a PhD and now the letters of Dr before his name. Moved to London, a new city, a fresh start as he’d coined it to his family, but he’s been here three years now, and not one thing that he wanted from his move have materialised. He knows the therapy was good for him, he knows that his haste to find someone was probably what was making him scare people off, but he doesn’t much like the other side of the coin either - a modest flat in London to himself, a small group of friends who sit around and drink beer and droll on about their academic passions, but no-one he can really call his own right now.

Dr. M Pike. Professor of Art History. That’s what his doorplate says, one of many in the small corridor at UCL. Three years and he’s still not quite sure how he made it here, or if it’s really what he wants, but it beats whatever he was doing back in D.C. that’s for sure. It had seemed like the best thing to do at the time, but when Lisbon had told him she wasn’t coming, everything about it seemed wrong, soiled somehow, by the life he’d built in his mind being torn up by someone who, looking back, had never really wanted him in the first place.

He thought about talking to her the first day he’d seen her, but then realised he was actually here to prepare for one of his teaching seminars, so squirrelled himself away to another room instead. The second time he’d seen her, she’d looked too engrossed on whatever she was working on, and then every other time, he’s convinced himself she’s here for peace, not to be bothered by some random man. But there’s something about the way she is today that makes the pull harder to resist, so he says fuck it, shoves his hands into his trouser pockets and walks over.

“You come here often?”

It’s an American accent that pulls you from your work. His voice jolts your hand, makes you press your pencil into paper too hard and at the wrong angle. You suck in a deep breath, try not to think about the hours of work he’s just ruined by startling you. You’re about to turn around and complain when he comes into your vision.

He’s tall, broad shoulders covered in a light dress shirt, two buttons undone so you can see a flash of tanned skin and a smattering of hair. It’s tucked into dark jeans, a belt keeping them tight to his trim waist. And then there’s his face - a beard, but only just and friendly brown eyes, a full mouth too. He’s handsome, there’s no way around it.

“Sorry, that was awful,” The mystery man scratches the back of his neck, “I just come here a lot and I think I’ve seen you here every time for the past month.”

You smile at that, that you’re someone he’s been picking out amongst the crowd of tourists who always come here, someone familiar to him, even if he’s not the same to you.

“I’m just working on something.” You shrug, letting your palm slyly cover the sketch you’ve been making.

The man walks in front of you slightly, takes a seat on the vacant spot on the bench and looks up at the woman carved from marble, “She’s beautiful.” He muses.

“She is.” You agree, looking over the curves of her hips, the way the marble has been carved to make it look like her clothes are wet, sticking to her breasts like she’s just climbed out of the Aegean Sea.

“You like sculpture then?”

“I do,” You nod, turning your body a little towards him, “It’s not my first artistic passion, but I’m studying for my PhD at the moment and it’s all about the female form in marble.”

“Brains as well as beauty,” He smirks a little at you, “Sounds interest though, where are you studying?”

“UCL,” You beam, because you’re proud, it wasn’t easy, you’d been rejected for your first choice research project the first time around, encouraged to choose something else from the feedback, but you were there now, and that’s what mattered, “What about you?” You ask, “What do you do that means you have to be here as much as me?”

He shrugs a little, “I teach.”

It’s vague but you don’t press, he owes you nothing, so you let it lie. You turn back to the sculpture in front of you, when your stomach grumbles. You look down at your watch. It’s 2pm and you’ve not eaten anything yet.

“Hungry?”

“Starving.” You reply meekly.

“Want to grab something to eat?” He asks, “I know a great Italian place in Soho if you fancy it?”

You look at him, eyes tightening a little. It’s been so long since anyone has shown you an ounce of interest, and now the beautiful man in a shirt and dress pants wants to take you for lunch, it all seems a bit too good to be true. But, you can hear the voice of your therapist tell you to say yes to more things, take more risks in life because not all of them are going to turn out to be bad, so you flip the front of your notepad over to cover your drawing and reach down to pick up your backpack.

“Lead the way.”

He doesn’t disappoint. Over the course of a glass of wine and a bowl of olives, you coax out his name. It’s Marcus. He’s got a PhD in Art History and moved to London from D.C. three years ago. He lives alone, near Notting Hill, he likes it because he can go searching for antiques on the weekend. He wants a dog, but he spends too much time out of the house to justify one. He likes to read and he can cook, but prefer eating out or ordering in because he’s not mastered the art of cooking for one.

When a waiter sets down your second glass of wine and your food - gnocchi with pesto and bacon for you and carbonara from Marcus, he turns the conversation back to you, sipping wine as he ask you where you live - Willesden Green, so not far from you - who you live with - myself, my dad was so proud I got into my course he pays for my rent, it’s the only way he can show he loves me - what you like to do with your free time - free time? When I have it, I read, or I walk, or I sit and draw sculptures in museums.

You don’t know whether it’s the wine or not, but the dark winter sinks in, outside cloaked in black, lights dimmed inside, and it makes him even more handsome than he was before. He makes you laugh, with his stories of his own PhD stress, how he would walk the streets of D.C. at 3am to get coffee and pancakes on his way back from the library and then collapse into bed and sleep for two hours until his alarm would wake him up and he would go all the way back to the library to do it again.

“If I ever get to that point,” You muse, stabbing a piece of gnocchi onto your fork, “I don’t think I’ll have the will to make it through.”

“You seem far too organised to me to fall into the bad habits I had.” He shrugs, looking at you over his own glass of wine as you take a bite of your food, too busy watching him to really notice the angle of your fork, green sauce smearing on the corner of your mouth as you fight it into your mouth.

Before you have a chance to reach down and grab the napkin from your lap, Marcus is reaching over the table, using the pad of his thumb to wipe the stray sauce away. It’s something that under any other circumstance would make you feel uncomfortable, but all it really makes you want to do is kiss him, especially when he apologises profusely for being so forward.

He pays for dinner, insists on it really, hidden behind the excuse that he knows how hard it is to live whilst studying. He takes you for cocktails at a bar on the end of Old Compton Street - orders himself an old fashioned whilst you opt for an amaretto sour. The bar is dark and busy, the only seats are in a corner, sat so close together your knees are touching and your shoulder is slightly leaned into his side.

“So, you said you got rejected from your first choice course?” He muses, taking a short sip of his drink.

You shrug with a nod, “I wanted to research the impressionist movement,” You start to explain, “I love Monet and Renoir but I think my research application was too broad,” Sipping your own drink you carry on talking, “There’s a great academic at UCL, Professor Pike, I was desperate to have him as my supervisor, but it wasn’t meant to be.”

You turn your head a little, watching as Marcus swallows on nothing, quickly taking another sip of his drink.

“It’s okay,” You hasten to add, “I guess if I’m not writing thousands of words about it, it won’t make me hate what I love most.”

“Smart,” Is what he says with a smirk, “You would have given him a run for his money anyway.”

“Do you know him?” You ask, “I know all of you academic types are familiar with each other.”

He swallows on nothing again, “I’ve heard of him but I don’t think we’ve ever met.”

You both order another drink, sit around talking about nothing much at all, slowly moving closer as the bar gets busier, you tell yourself it’s just so you can hear him better, but he smells good, some kind of musky cologne that suits him really well, so you don’t complain about soaking it up.

When it gets late, he offers to take you home, keep you company on the tube. You know it’s not really necessary, you’ve never felt particularly unsafe walking home from the station, but if it means spending more time with him, then you don’t really mind. He lets you take the only free seat on the tube, standing in the aisle just in front of your knees so he can keep talking to you, and when you reach the other side, he walks close to you, puts a hand on your lower back which you can feel through your jacket when a group of people walk past you a little too close. He even insists on walking you to your door.

It’s quiet in the building, like it usually is. It’s only recently been built and you think you’re one of only a few people who are currently living there. You pluck your keys from your coat pocket when you reach your door, leaning your back against it.

“This is me.”

“Nice place.”

“Yeah, although I usually prefer places with more character.”

He’s stood right in front of you, rocking on his heels, that same nervous hand on the back of his neck as this afternoon, “I know this might seem weird, but would you like to go on a date sometime?”

You can help but snort a laugh, shaking your head a little, before you meet his eyes, “This wasn’t a date?” You ask coyly.

He smirks a little, cheeks flushing a little, “Did you want it to be a date?”

“I wouldn’t have let you take me for lunch if I didn’t,” You say, “But there is one thing missing.”

“Oh yeah?” He hums, “What’s that?”

Instead of speaking, you take a step forward, hands gripping the lapels of his jacket as you press up onto your toes and plant your lips on his. It’s clumsy and it’s impulsive, but you’ve wanted to do it all day. You can feel his arms wrapping around your back, dragging your body flush to his as he opens his mouth against yours right as you do the same. He tastes like mint from the gum he’s been chewing and the whisky from his drinks - it’s all you can think about as he walks you back, presses you against the door as his tongue meets with yours.

You’re thankful no-one is around. Your arms move from his jacket to wrap around the back of his neck, fingers tangling in the curls there as you tilt your head to one side, a slight smacking sound from your lips as the disconnect, only to come back together seconds later. He’s good at this, you think, as his hands drop from your back to rest in the pockets on the back of your jeans, palms warm through the material. You can feel him squeeze you there a little, and you’re so close to saying fuck it and inviting him in, because if his lips are this good against yours, you can’t imagine what they’d be like in other places.

Marcus is the one that pulls away from you, resting his forehead gently to yours. You’re both breathless and you’re itching to press your mouth back to his.

“I should go.” He breathes against your mouth, pressing his lips to your in a chaste kiss.

“Yeah,” You agree, “You should.”

He steps back, takes the warmth of his palms with him, but reaches in to his pocket and hands his phone to you, “Put your number in here and I’ll call you.”

So you do, press the eleven digits into his phone along with your name and then kiss him once more before he’s turning on his heel and walking away, leaving you with a dull ache between your thighs that you’re working on relieving within five minutes of getting inside. You’re fucked.

Marcus curses himself as he settles into the seat on the bus. It’s late enough that it’s not too busy, no-one sitting next to him as he leans his head back and runs his hand over his face. He already knows he’s fucked up. The words Professor Pike and rejected from my first choice spinning around in his brain as he watches parts of North London flash past the window on his ride home.

Why hadn’t he stopped it then? He knows the rules, knows that even though he doesn’t teach her, any kind of relationships with students, no matter how mature, are off limits. And how is he supposed to keep the facade up now? It’s only a matter of time before she puts two and two together and figures out who he really is.

You’re sweet and you’re smart and you’re fucking beautiful and the best kisser he thinks he’s ever met. You have so much in common with him that it actually hurts him a little and one stupid choice to keep lying to you and the fucking ethics policy are going to keep him from something he thinks would actually be fucking good for him.

He thinks for a second, pulling out his phone and looking at your contact card that he should probably just delete your number. It’s for the best for everyone. He could avoid the museum for a while, keep his head low on campus, he knows he can avoid you. But with his finger hovering over the delete confirmation, he finds he doesn’t have the strength to do it. Stuffs his phone back in his pocket and tries to will his mind to forget the way you’d gasped into his mouth when his hands had squeezed at the swell of your ass, or the way your lips had been soft against his when he’d kissed you.

Then, led in bed, frustrations sorted by his own hand, he picks up his phone and damns himself to hell with a single text.

How about a walk around the National Gallery and dinner this weekend?

[blueiscoool]

Roman Marble Statue Found in Bulgaria

Archaeologists uncovered a fully preserved statue from the ancient city of Odessos. Archaeologists from Regional History Museum in Varna (Bulgaria's biggest maritime city) reported this afternoon, October 15, about this exceptional find during the excavations of the ancient city - a marble sculpture from the Roman era, slightly taller than a human height.

It depicts a middle-aged man with a short beard, dressed in a toga, with a scroll in his hand. On the front of the pedestal there is a well-preserved inscription, and from a preliminary reading it is clear the name of the person depicted: G(ai) Marius Hermogenes.

The only part that is missing is the wrist and there is some minor damage to the face, so restoration is needed before it can go on display, Archaeologia Bulgarica said on its Facebook page.

The statue was discovered during construction work in an area of sandy deposits, outside the walls of the ancient city. It was promptly reported to the museum by construction contractor Georgi Kraychev. The sculpture is believed to be from the end of the 2nd and the first half of the 3rd century.

The present-day city of Varna, Northeastern Bulgaria, originated as a settlement named Odessos (Ὀδησσός) which was founded by Ionian colonists from Miletus around 600–550 BC. The Greeks established their colony on the site of an earlier Thracian settlement.

In 335 BC, Alexander the Great conquered almost the entirety of ancient Thrace, and Odessos became part of the Macedonian Kingdom.

Odessos flourished most significantlly during the Hellenistic Age (end of III – I BC), when the city served as a starting point of troops of the successor of Alexander the Great – king Lysimachus (323–280 BC) who proclaimed himself king of Thrace. Big public buildings like temples, theatre, gymnasium (school for boys) and others were built during this period. Due to the increase of Thracian population in the city, a temple of the Thracian god-rider Heros Carabazmos and a temple of Artemis Phosphoros were built in II – I BC.

In 15 AD, Odessos became part of the Roman Empire, in the province of Moesia (later Lower Moesia), and became its main port on the Black Sea (Pontus Euxinos). Huge and ornate warm baths (Roman baths), the fourth largest in Europe, were built 7000 square meters of land.

It was called Varna by the Ancient Bulgars after the First Bulgarian Empire conquered it in the late 7th century AD.