#that's how people like him continue to thrive

[spatialwave]

"my ambition" - part three | the prequel

➸ pairing: jayvik x fem!reader ➸ word count: 4.5k ➸ tags: mdni! minimal nsfw, fluffly, poly relationship, relationship beginnings, blossoming love, s1 act 1, no mention of y/n, alcohol use. ➸ notes: so excited to get this out! had a fun time giving this relationship history and i spent way too much time overthinking whether the ending was too rushed or if it was too self-indulgent... and then i realized its a fic so i get to do what i want LOL! pls let me know if you would like more parts, or if you want some drabbles about this specific trio. i would really appreciate it.🥹

<- part 2

You had always been academically gifted. Rising to the top of your classes each semester, pushing aside anyone in your way. Especially for a young woman, who had been accepted into the Academy before you had even finished your secondary schooling – a gifted student with the proudest of parents and professors.

Born with an influx of ambition flowing through your veins, knowing from a young age your duties to the world. It took more than wordy false promises to make a difference to Runeterra, it took action. That’s why you vowed to help Zaun.

What better way to take action, than to help those who had been long forgotten about. You were smart enough to see the way the city had been tossed aside, forgotten about, while Piltover only continued to grow and thrive. There was sickness festering underneath, people dying because of the less-than living conditions and poverty that swallowed it whole.

There were many days when you wondered if it was too much, if you, as a topsider, could actually make a difference. Would anyone want your help? The bigger question being – how were you going to help?

Then, you met Viktor. 

That was when your ambition rose higher than ever. A smart, young man a handful of years older than you – a man from Zaun himself. The youngest assistant to the dean, a title that was hard to come by, and rather jealousy inducing.

You’d weaseled your way into his life quite easily, finding him in the halls and striking conversation whenever you could. He was polite, and good at slipping away when your attention became overbearing. You couldn’t help your over-excitement for a scholar from the undercity. Someone who matched your levels of ambition. Someone who was able to teach you about the place that had been nothing more than whispers and off-hand comments by your peers.

You fell in love. Quickly, and hard.

Viktor, too. It was your smile, your innate excitement, the genuine intrigue you had of him and how he was able to share the experiences of chronic illness with someone who wasn’t just a damned doctor – someone who understood the pain. How could he not fall in love?

Viktor found himself appreciating you more and more with each passing day, wondering when you’d sneak through the halls to find him to share your newest revelation.

Wondering when he could be expected to be pulled into a broom closet so you could ravage his lips with your own. He hadn’t been so experienced with romance until you appeared in his life, content with focusing on his studies at the academy. You changed the trajectory of his life—and so had Jayce.

-

”Hextech?” You raised an eyebrow, sitting on a stone bench within the academy courtyard and holding a half-eaten apple in your hand, “I don’t know. Sounds… unstable,” you murmured honestly, looking between Viktor’s eyes as he stood in front of you. You took another bite, the sweet flavour calming you.

You had to admit, as much as you were uncomfortable with this new scientific breakthrough, so to speak, you had never seen Viktor quite this excited about anything.

“Precisely,” Viktor said, eyes practically shimmering as he spoke to you, “that’s why you’re going to help.”

“No way,” you huffed, standing on your feet and waving him away, “you just told me that all the work got confiscated, how the hell would I even help?” You spoke in a hushed whisper, as if Heimerdinger himself was listening in to the conversation.

“Eh, confiscated is a loose term,” he said, taking a step toward you, a gentle hand on your shoulder. You tensed at the touch, turning your head from his gaze and shaking your head adamantly.

You had morals, and perhaps you listened to the dean a bit too much at times. Science was incredible, but ethics were important, and the explosion was proof that it was an unpredictable type of magic. If Heimerdinger made the call that hextech was unsafe, a yordle with decades over your own experiences, then you should listen, no?

“It has the capabilities of helping more than just the city,” he urged, fingers tightening on your shoulder, “Please. Let us show you.”

Those words tugged at your heartstrings, leaving you conflicted as your heart yearned to know more. You took a deep breath, closing your eyes momentarily as your mind reeled at all the possibilities.

The first image to pop in your mind was the proper union of Zaun and Piltover, an incredible feat that no one could ever pull off. No more distinction between the two – just one beautiful place to live. Your dream.

Could hextech really be the key?

“Fine,” you sighed, crinkling your nose and opening your eyes, “but I’m under no obligation to like this Jayce guy, he sounds like he doesn’t know how to properly take care of his research.” You looked up at Viktor through your lashes, watching the way the corners of his lips curved into a small smile, “Why are you smiling like that?”

—

“Crank it!” Jayce exclaimed from his chair, eyes full of childlike wonder, as Viktor stood at the chalkboard, crossing through equations and murmuring about the research he was still properly acquainting himself with.

You, however, stood next to Jayce, chewing hard on your bottom lip as your partner agreed with his words.

It all seemed fine, plausible, even. Yet, you remained apprehensive.

“And it if it doesn’t stabilize, what then? Part two of the great blue explosion that destroyed your apartment?” You asked, eyes focusing on the man sitting, his honey-coloured eyes shining as they watched you. Your stomach twisted tight, hating the way he made you fill with butterflies.

You knew him for less than twenty-four hours, and he already had you twisted around his fingers. Gods.

It was completely unfair to be caught between them both.

“It’s worth a test,” he was adamant, then a sigh left his lips, “but we don’t have access to my equipment.”

“Which is being destroyed tomorrow,” Viktor murmured, eyes back on the chalkboard and fingers touching his chin as he was lost deep in thought.

You jumped when Jayce stood quickly, the chair he sat on nearly toppling over.

“What?” he asked, panic rising in his throat.

“Oh, yeah,” Viktor cringed, looking over his shoulder at Jayce, “Sorry. I meant to tell you.”

You could sense the way Jayce was teetering on the edge of a breakdown, his breath hitching in his throat as he rambled on about how it was his life work, how they could show the council the equations to show them the proof. There had to be something!

But Viktor was right, proof wasn’t reliable on paper. They needed physical proof. A real test.

“We can’t do it without the crystals. The enforcers took them all, they’re gone,” Jayce ran his hands over his face as he collapsed onto the chair once more, deflated from the situation.

Your hand rested atop his shoulder, giving a gentle squeeze, much like Viktor did with you when you were overworked. Jayce flickered his gaze to you, those puppy-like eyes offering a silent ‘thank-you’.

“Mhm,” Viktor hummed, “locked away in Heimerdinger’s lab,” he continued, eyes settling on you.

“No,” you were quick to know where he was going with this, “Count me out, we are not breaking in.”

“She’s right,” Jayce said, eyes widening, “you heard the council, if we’re wrong–”

“Better be right then,” Viktor interrupted, and Jayce’s eyes sparkled with possibility.

You felt a tightness in your chest, shaking your head as you took a step back. The two of them spoke back and forth, but you hadn’t been listening. Just as you reached the boiling point, you turned on your heels and took a step away, but Jayce was quick to turn his attention back to you. He stepped forward, hand grabbing your wrist, and you felt your heart jump up into your throat.

“Stay,” he pleaded, hand tightening.

You huffed a loud sigh through your nostrils, brows creasing together and lifting. Gods, why did he have to be so goddamned charming? You hardly noticed the curious look that Viktor gave you two before rolling his eyes and turning back to the chalkboard. The smirk on his lips well hidden.

“Fine!” You snapped, pulling your arm from his grip, “but if we get caught I’m telling everyone that you two made me do it. I am not taking the fall for this.”

Jayce grinned, a toothy smile that lit your cheeks aflame, “Deal.”

You stayed a few feet behind the two men, arms crossed over your chest, as you careened through the halls quietly. You were hardly a rule breaker, in fact, usually a stickler for keeping peace. It was in your nature, like many topsiders.

When the three of you reached the door, you felt panic rising as footsteps echoed down the hall from where you had just come from.

“Shit,” Jayce whispered, “hurry.”

Viktor was fiddling with the keys, fingers filtering through them until he found the one for Heimerdinger’s lab. With practiced ease, he slipped the key into the door lock, twisting back and forth until it clicked.

Both you and Jayce were standing side-by-side, watching a flashlight in the distance, pointing in your direction, but too far to pick up on the three figures breaking in.

Viktor opened the door, and they stepped inside, but you were frozen. Unable to tear your gaze away from the enforcer that had been doing patrols and walking right toward you.

“Ah!” You gasped when there was a harsh tug on your arm, stumbling into the laboratory and crashing against Jayce’s chest. Viktor closed the door behind you without even the slightest creaking – a perfectly silent entrance.

“You've never broken a rule in your life, have you?” Jayce smiled, eyes watching you with curiosity as you pulled away from him yet again. You opened your mouth to answer but Viktor cut you off.

“She is a law-abiding citizen,” he answered, supporting himself on his cane as he walked further into the lab, looking around for the confiscated equipment.

“Can you guys keep it down? They’ll hear us.” You whispered, pushing past Jayce. Annoyed, and thankful the redness on your cheeks wasn’t visible in the darkened room.

“Huh,” Jayce grinned in response to Viktor, walking behind you as he looked around the lab, “you’re not kidding.”

“Shut up.” You hissed.

Settling in the lab, you stood off to the side, peering at some of Heimerdinger’s books as Jayce scrambled to find the pieces of his work. You listened to the sounds of the electrical whirring as he welded the parts back together, lost in thought as your fingers traced over the spine of a book.

A hand lifted to the small of your back, startling you for a moment.

“Sorry,” Viktor murmured, eyes watching you.

“It’s okay,” you chuckled, smiling as you leaned against him. Silence grew between you two as you slowly dropped your hand from the bookcase. You glanced at Viktor, biting down on the inside of your lip in habit, “Do you think hextech really has the strength to help people? Like us?”

Those honey-eyes softened as they flickered over your nervous expression, and he nodded, “I do.”

With a deep inhale, you tried to let go of your apprehension to the situation. This was for the best. If you wanted to reach your dreams, you had to run over a few toes, right?

“It’s all here,” Jayce called from his spot at the table, pulling the goggles off of his face and turning to look over at you two.

Viktor held up a blue hextech crystal to you, one from the handful that was confiscated, and when you offered him a questionable look, he insisted with the forward movement of his hand. Slowly, you reached out and took it in your fingers, feeling the rigid orb press against your skin.

This was it.

You pressed a kiss to his cheek before making your way to Jayce, who had been looking at you two with a small smile.

“Here,” you said, offering the crystal with an open palm as you stood next to him, Viktor coming up beside you.

Jayce reached out, taking the crystal, but not without a lingering touch to your hand. Viktor took notice, a sparkle in his eyes that you hadn’t noticed as you watched in curiosity as the hextech crystal was placed into the machinery.

It glowed a bright blue hue, sparks from the crystal illuminating the room. You had never seen anything so beautiful.

“It’s time to crank it!” Viktor said excitedly as he snapped close one of Jayce’s notebooks he had spent time looking through the past few days, looking in front of you and toward Jayce.

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” He asked, growing uncertain as Viktor sucked back a breath and shook his head.

“Do it,” you interjected, eyes wide as you stared at the beauty of the hextech. The inner scientist in you couldn’t be tamed any longer, you needed to see what this could do. It was almost addicting, and you couldn’t look away. It had sucked you in completely, “you have to try.”

They shared a look between each other, swallowing lumps down their throats. Viktor leaned forward, pressing the button of the machine, and it began to spin. It gained enough speed that it created a constant blow of wind that pushed your hair back wildly – electric currents flying wildly.

“I don’t think it’s going to hold!” Jayce said loudly, the electrical crackling of the machine deafening all other noses, “look at the buildup!”

“The resonance will stabilize it, trust me,” Viktor returned, sharing a thoughtful look with Jayce, an attempt to calm him.

You, however, were unable to look away. You stared at the wild glows of blue, a smile on your face, and blissfully unaware of the enforcers that were making their way up to the laboratory after seeing the blue light shining from the windows of the lab.

Moments later, the chaos settled, and you gasped with a big smile, hands slamming on the tabletop, “this is incredible!” You exclaimed in awe, watching as it stabilized.

Viktor smiled to himself, his hand finding your back yet again, “told you it would work,” he said encouragingly, eyes flickering to Jayce, “all yours.”

“It’s never done that before,” he murmured to himself, unable to tear his gaze from the slowly spinning crystal that sent waves of electricity to the surrounding runes, “...alright. Here we go.”

Hesitantly, he reached to the button Viktor had pressed, twisting the knob several times, so the surrounding runes began to spin and orbit the crystal.

You watched expectantly as Jayce twisted it over and over, creating different pathways for the crystal to spark energy. You couldn’t help but lean closer, even when the out flowing electricity stung your cheeks.

What the three of you hadn’t expected was a surge of energy to blast out, nearly toppling you all and breaking the lab’s windows. Within the impact, you fell right into Jayce with a yelp. Strong arms wrapped around you as he reached for the knob, and you clung to him, face buried into his chest.

The energy was strong, and for a moment you prepared for the untimely death of three scientists who just wanted to change lives. How fitting.

Then, the glass from the window flew back into place, as though time around you reversed, causing a brief moment of respite and enough time for Jayce to push forward and slam his hand on the button. The crystal fell back into place, and you were all able to breathe.

Slowly, you peeled yourself away from Jayce, feeling around your face and body to make sure your body was still completely intact.

“Incredible,” Viktor beamed, smiling, “we need to try again.”

You and Jayce shared a look, silently agreeing that it was now or never. And for you, there was no more backing out.

This time, you took a few steps back, not wanting to be caught up in the aftermath of a worse explosion, but still curious enough to peek over their shoulders. As you settled back, you swore you heard sounds coming from the hallway, but it was hard to tell over the crackling sounds of the hextech.

Pressing your ear against the door, you closed your eyes to focus, and you gasped.

“Someone’s coming,” you told them, hands holding the doorknob tight, “you better hurry.”

Viktor took a few steps to the door, sliding his cane through the handles of the door so it was snug, “better than nothing.”

The two of you shared a startled gasp, the rattling of the door loud when the enforcers reached the door and began to hit it with force, kicking and yelling for you to open up. Heimerdinger was with them.

“Stop this lunacy at once!” He called from beyond the door, and your gut twisted in guilt.

A few more heavy kicks and the door creaked.

“They’re almost through,” Viktor said, turning around back to Jayce’s side, “no pressure.”

“That sounds like pressure!” Jayce yelled, working hard to synchronize the runes with the knob. He looked over his shoulder at you, who was now pressing against the door with your weight. With each kick of the door, you huffed, doing your best to keep them from pushing it in.

A rather heavy kick caused you to stumble, but you got right back to it, watching over your shoulder as Jayce closed his eyes and focused on the hextech. 

Your attention was pulled back to the door when the cane cracked, and you tried to push against the door, but it was no use. One more kick and you’d be goners.

But the hextech won.

The sound of another surge pushed you against the door, and you panicked at the intensity that felt like it was going to crush you, and then suddenly… you were weightless. You turned to Jayce and Viktor, eyes wide, as you all had begun to float up into the air.

After one more kick, they broke inside, but the surge reached them, too. They stumbled back, while you had started laughing.

It was incredible, absolutely incredible.

“Excuse me, underfoot,” Heimerdinger spoke, pushing past the enforcer and stepping inside his lab, gasping when his eyes landed on you three.

You were nearly touching the ceiling, floating with your belly to the ground and caught slowly spinning between Jayce and Viktor. Your giggles erupted into a fit of laughter, unable to control it as you twisted around in the air. 

Jayce flicked a piece of metal, where it floated through a glowing blue orb that was just above you, and it shot out right at Viktor. You collectively gasped, taking everything in.

This was magic and science blurred together, a medley of perfection. Hextech worked. You did it!

“Will you please stop hovering?” Heimerdinger spoke, looking up as you spun your body around, touching and prodding at debris.

It was like swimming, you were able to push yourself, and you accidentally collided against Jayce, the two of you sharing a laugh. You couldn’t quite place it, but as your eyes caught his, you felt something – like a mutual intrigue of each other. Was attraction too strong of a word? Your cheeks reddened, matching his own, then he cleared his throat and turned his gaze away.

“I’m not sure how to do that, sir,” Viktor finally responded, pushing toward you both and smiling as the three of you moved around together smoothly, not touching. Floating. Feeling free.

Like all things in life, it didn’t last. The surged power of the hextech settled, and thankfully it was a smooth descend that kept you three from any broken bones.

Viktor had been wrangled by Heimerdinger, only after a good verbal lashing that included you and Jayce. Blabbering about the rules, ethics and how dangerous this was. At the end, your partner had been whisked away for damage control, trying to explain everything and to keep any of you three from penalties and punishments.

It left you and Jayce to clean up, gathering everything together into the back area of the lab, still in awe over everything that had happened.

Once finished, you stepped out into the brisk night air first, somehow still chipper enough to bounce down the steps while Jayce hustled behind you. You hadn’t been so inclined to do goodbyes, but he stopped you with a hand on your wrist, much like earlier. It sent a shiver up your arm.

“Wait,” he said, and you faced him, battling the redness that crept up your neck as you tried to remain composed, “will you stay?” he asked, grip loosening on your wrist, “to help us, I mean.”

“With the hextech? Of course,” you answered, rolling your eyes playfully, “Who in their right mind would see that and not want to explore it? That was incredible, Jayce. You should be really proud of yourself.”

A smile lifted at the corners of his cheeks, the compliment doing wonders to the insecurities that lie deep within him.

“Wanted to make sure,” he eventually said, dropping your wrist as you both ventured away and into Piltover, toward your homes, “I like you. Well, I mean – you’re good to have around. Smart, you know.”

A giggle bubbled up, a hand lifting to your mouth to try to stifle it, “you’re a dork, just like Viktor.”

Jayce smiled at you, biting down on his bottom lip as the two of you ventured down the streets together, “how long have you two been together?”

The question was quick to fluster you as you met Jayce’s curious gaze. You wondered if the question accidentally slipped out, and you could ignore it, but you could tell he was waiting for an answer.

“Oh, uh, just a couple of months. Officially.” You answered shyly, hands clasped behind your back as you walked side-by-side.

“That’s nice,” he murmured, “...so, has he always been so absurdly intense about science? Don’t get me wrong, I like everything about his ambitions, he’s a great guy for even wanting to help me. He’s just—“

“Surprisingly eccentric?” You laughed, nodding, “when he gets excited about something, it’s like his brain goes haywire. I suppose that’s the way of being an ambitious innovator”

“Yeah, I suppose so,” Jayce smiled, quietly admiring you in the moonlight. Studying and memorizing everything he could.

The two of you ended up walking around aimlessly, indulging in small chatter as you shared your hopes and dreams. You shared nearly everything you could about your life, and he told his story about him and his mother, and how that sparked his discovery towards hextech. It was easy to talk to Jayce, to get lost in his voice – he was just so damned kind.

Nearly an hour passed when you finally approached your apartment, which was rather close to the Academy. The two of you had simply taken a few detours around the neighbouring streets.

“Trust me, if you want to get on the dean’s good side, then you need to…” your voice drifted off when your eyes settled on a certain individual sitting outside on a stone bench. Broken cane in his hand and looking up at the sky. “Viktor!” You called out, rushing ahead, “if I had known you were coming back to mine, I would’ve hurried back.”

He turned to look at you two, raising a curious eyebrow and smirking as Jayce slowed his pace behind you, “I have only been here a few minutes, it’s all right.”

You dug around for your keys in your pocket, walking up to him and outstretching an arm for support as he stood. He could walk relatively okay without his cane, but you still enjoyed the way he would lean on you. It became habitual between you two.

“I should leave you both to it,” Jayce cleared his throat, giving an awkward wave as you two ventured toward the apartment.

“Why don’t you come in?” Viktor asked, motioning for him to follow.

You looked up at him in interest, figuring the two of you would be falling asleep the moment you got inside. Nonetheless, you went along with it.

“No, no, it’s late. I don’t want to overstay–”

“Come inside, Jayce. We don’t bite.”

Viktor was convincing enough, or perhaps Jayce had too much of a soft spot for him because he was quick to accept the invitation.

It ended up being a great night, the three of you crowding around your kitchen table. Drinking some nicely aged wine you had hidden away for only the most important occasions. You celebrated your shared success and discussed everything hextech, the possibilities and what you hoped it would provide. You shared laughs, especially as the night went on, and you had all begun to feel a bit delirious at times as the sun began lighting the sky above the horizon and the wine settled in your stomachs.

“Well, I hate to be the one to end the night,” you smiled, sleep beginning to win its war over you, “I’m tired and sore, I should get some sleep.”

“Yeah, I should get back to mine, or, what’s left of it,” Jayce agreed with a dampened chuckle, eyes flickering out of the window to gauge the time with the colour of the skyline.

“Why don’t you stay the night?” The question fell from your lips much too quickly, unsure if it was your overt politeness or an underlying desire that lead it, “if you’re okay with that.” You shot your gaze to Viktor.

It felt like hours, but the few seconds you took to share a look said lots. A silent agreement about your shared feelings for Jayce.

“Sure,” he answered. A shy smile tugged at your lips, and your lover turned back to Jayce.

The man seemed a bit uncertain, and maybe a bit too tipsy to understand the looks thrown at him. His amber eyes jumped between you two, “I’ve intruded far too mu–”

“Stay.” Your voice mixed with Viktor’s almost too perfectly, in complete synchronization.

“Okay.”

The night became a blur. It was Viktor who had led you both to the bedroom, the wine clouding all judgment from the three parties and allowing you to just be. To indulge in each other without wondering what would come next. To allow yourselves to act on attraction and lust with nothing holding you back.

“I’m glad you stayed,” you murmured, lips lingering along the stubble on Jayce’s jawline. Viktor, who was behind you, peppered kisses along your bare shoulders.

“Me too,” Jayce breathed in response, hands careening your naked body and intertwining with Viktor’s fingers with they met over your hip.

“Let’s stop talking,” Viktor mumbled with a quick nip at your skin, the confidence in his voice sending a shiver down your spine.

Jayce wasn’t quite certain how he managed to be wrangled in by you both, but he wasn’t going to complain. Not when, for once, everything felt right.

[gay-dorito-dust]

hiii can u plssss make headcanon for mr scarletella w a reader whos very stern or careless? Like, you can NAWT make jokes or make a conversation with this person because even if u text them its either: 1) they reply a year later or 2) they just send a ❤️ Reaction to your text. Like reader can not turn their frown upside down at all…

I hope this is what you wanted.

He finds your stern nature intriguing and appealing to him. Very appealing to him to say the least.

Does this sternness and Inability to smile and or laugh at a simple joke hinder his attraction? Does it fuck, he’s still very much interested in you to an obsessive and dangerously delusional level.

If anything Mr Scarletella enjoys filling the air with his one voice, telling you of his obsession with you and you’re not saying anything in response, only giving him a sideways glance, so that must mean you reciprocated them right? Right?!

He’d most likely talk your ear off and you can do nothing but listen to him, praying that you can at some point tune him out or something, knowing that Mr Scarletella would just follow you closely like a puppy dog. There was no true escape from this man and he’s too delusional and inside his own head to give you any breathable space.

Mr Scarletella would often keep asking you ‘you like me?’ And all he’d get was either a shrug or a grunt. Not having been much of a conversationalist as most people found your nature off putting and so they just avoid you all together.

Not Mr Scarlettella though, he was convinced that the grunts and shrugs were full sentences, thriving off of the idea that you’d only grunt and shrug towards him while giving everyone else a stoney stare or nothing at all. He genuinely believed that and it was terrifying to think of the implications of what he’d do if he believed someone else thought similar to him.

Death essentially but we all knew that. The man is not exactly stable in any sense of the word.

You don’t even bat so much of an eyelid when he gets up close and personal to your face, giggling like a lovesick school boy as his eyes darted across your face, taking in all the details and features you possessed that were uniquely yours and yours alone. Giving himself all the more delusional fantasies of you acting extremely out of character and clinging onto him, demanding for affection and so forth.

He’s most likely the type to fall for an idea of an person and if they act outside of what he believes them to be, he’ll either deny it as he tries to rewrite the image he has of you to better suit his fantasies, not wanting to think about how his false reality of the truth could easily make him even more unhinged.

Seriously the idea of someone not living up to his expectations that he’s made up is a thought you didn’t want to think about too deeply, especially with not how eager he is to kill for you, and instead remain truthful to yourself and keep an eye on him in case something happens.

Since your stern persona and people’s inability to make conversations or jokes with you, Mr Scarletella would find this more easier as he didn’t have to worry about someone taking you away from him. You were his and his alone and he had your nearly unapproachable expressions to thank for.

No competition for your heart? No worries for him as it meant he could cling onto you, continuing to ask whether you liked/ loved him throughout the day while kissing your face and pulling back in hopes of seeing if any change in your expression.

There wasn’t and Mr Scarletella hasn’t fallen for you harder then he already did.

[primeofprimes115]

Fresh Start - Supergirl x Male Reader

Note: Fluff/Wholesome 🥰

Coming from an Earth where it had been put into an almost, hell-like experience due to the many conflicts and battles that had took place within what was a beauty of life, now nothing but rubble and chaos incarnate, cities in dust and fires that seemed to never snuff out.

There was once a civil war that broke out between good alike, turning into a huge war over a disagreement in the way encounters should be dealt with, how criminals should be facing justice instead of being executed without parole, without proper justification.

Casualties were amount the millions-to-billions in this eternal conflict, a war that had lasted for a long time, many good and bad men and women died in this war alone, many innocents killed and caught within the crossfire.

Cities laid in rubble and dust throughout the entire Earth, some still stood but they weren't the same as they were before.

Y/N dreamed for a fresh start of some sort, his childhood ruined due to this eternal conflict which led to his growing abilities to shape matter into reality, shape weapons of any kind, able to weave matter as much as he wanted.

The war between former allies had raged on for years to come, even still when he was growing up, it still continued... At least up until the day of his sacrifice that is.

Having lost many of his family as he grew up due to the ongoing war, Y/N opted to stay behind and manually detonate a superweapon that was developed by the enemy, a weapon that would've wiped the rest of humanity out if it were to be deployed, a weapon of mass destruction that could potentially crack the Earth in half if used again in that case.

No one could believe that Lord Superwoman would ever go to that extreme to end the war that quick after many years, even with her powers dimming down due to the long exposure to Gold Kryptonite that her enemies had been using against her and those who were infused with Kryptonian blood cells to further make her army of followers powerful, she would risk wiping out the rest of humanity if it meant to win the war, it was always about wiping out the weak where the strong will thrive. If only her brother were to see what she was doing those days after he was killed, murdered.

Most of her followers, both are and without Kryptonian powers, had deemed it madness and decided to flee, before it caught the wind of the Resistance, leading to Y/N's noble sacrifice.

It all would've went quietly but Lord Superwoman was eager to prevent him from destroying her weapon of mass-destruction, all the blast doors had been sealed shut, keeping her inside with him alone until the detonation count goes to zero.

It was a tough and rough fight, Y/N sustaining many major injuries but he kept going, pushing himself past his limit, wanting to avenge all the people Lord Superwoman had killed in her efforts.

It was a far stretch, but Y/N managed to put up more of a fight, just until the detonation went off, taking her out with him, ending the war...

But that wasn't the last of Y/N... Unbeknownst to the Resistance, the detonation started a chain reaction which combined with many other unfinished projects regarding space travel and dimensional gateways created through machinations, it triggered a portal to be open, Lord Superwoman was closer to the explosion than Y/N was, which the dimensional gateway that opened had pulled Y/N in quick enough for him to escape through as he laid there, bleeding out with a smirk on his face, body sustaining many wounds.

The dimensional portal surprisingly saved him, taking him through an entire loop through space-time itself, before he eventually passed out from his wounds as his body travelled through the rift...

Eventually...

He arrived to an Earth quite similar to his, but not plunged in war and with some massive differences.

The rift had appeared on many radars across the States, one specific radar within the Hall of Justice itself. The rift had opened and spat out many debre and Y/N's dying body onto the Earth, within a city called National City, the city that a certain blonde, wavy haired female Kryptonian who wears a red cape and symbol much like a certain Man of Steel who was still alive in this reality, protected as the city's sole protector going by the name; Supergirl.

It was her who arrived to the scene first, investigating what she had picked up with her super hearing, eventually having flown over to the destination where she first heard the big boom, which had caused minor disruption throughout National City.

"It's like a... Battle happened here" Supergirl noted loudly with her cape fluttering behind her softly, scouting out the place as she stayed afloat from the ground, eying up metal-like-debre that was spreaded across the destination nearby the city itself.

She wasn't expecting to find anyone within the debre, she only investigated due to the loud disruption she heard while she was out doing her normal things, gaining a call from her cousin since she was the closest to the disturbance, saying he'll be there with some Leaguers to assist if necessary.

The noise was a job for Supergirl to investigate after all, it could be dangerous, and eventually... She found something, or someone in that regard.

Her super hearing picked up a faint heartbeat, faint as in the person was dying, deeming her to quickly rush over to find an unconscious and dying male, with many injuries left upon him like he had fighting in hell in her eyes.

Supergirl wasted no time carefully picking up the male and immediately called her cousin whilst carrying the male, detailing she found someone who was in critical condition and was bringing him to a nearby hospital...

But Clark stopped her and told her to bring the male back to the Hall of Justice for treatment instead. As odd as it may sounded, Kara decided not to question her cousin. Clark did mention it was a dimensional rift that had been detected on the radar, whoever this young male was, they needed to know if he was friend or foe, a hospital would be a bad idea to hold a stranger who popped out from a rift after all.

Soon enough, she brought the male back and it wasn't long enough until he awoke, with most of his wounds healed due to some magic being used on him to heal most of the damage done to his body.

His eyes shot open seeing some unfamiliar faces and shot right up in a panic, thinking he was being experimented on until a shadowy figure stepped in and it calmed down the young male almost immediately, with his eyes widening further.

"Impossible" he muttered, looking up and down a man wearing a cape and cowl colored in black. "Bruce?" he looked like he seen a ghost, causing the Caped-Crusader to frown judgmentally at the name the young man called him by.

"Wait... Did he just call you by your identity, Bats?" Hal Jordan looked toward the World's Greatest Detective.

"That's impossible, you should be..." he then looked at Hal Jordan. "You also should be..." his eyes turn to some more familiar faces, some he hadn't seen since he was a kid, some he seen that survived and died during the war on his Earth. "Am I in... Heaven? Or is this some cruel experiment?" he questioned to himself, ignoring everyone else in the room.

"I don't see why this would be a 'cruel experiment', whoever you are" an optimistic voice spoke to the young male, one face he once looked up to when he was a kid, and heartbroken the day that this one man had been murdered. "And... I don't know what type of heaven this would be, you're in the living world".

"Superman?" the young male said with a shocked expression before it disappeared. "I-I-I don't understand, you were killed. Murdered by Lillian Luthor, before Superwoman-"

"Wait, wait, wait... Murdered?" The Flash, Barry Allen, questioned. "He's standing right here, like right now".

"He's from another dimension" Batman quickly interjected after a quick observation of the young man's body language.

"And how do you know that?" Hal questioned.

"Isn't it obvious, Hal?" Barry zipped to Hal's left. "He's Batman".

"I also had the same feeling" Superman stated.

The young man observed his surroundings, his eyes spotting the magician, Zatanna and a few others like Blue Beetle aka Ted Kord before he began to feel something off within himself.

"Wait... Why can't I sense my energy?" the young man said to himself, grabbing everyone's attention. "Did any of you take my powers?!" he said with a tone that demanded an answer.

"You have abilities?" Ted Kord asked with an intriguing tone. "Nothing appeared on the scanners after Supergirl brought you in".

Y/N painfully laid down on the bed he was laying down upon since waking up from it, a small grunt escaping his throat as he looked confused but terrified of the reality that he was now thinking.

"You're saying... My powers are gone?" he said with a disheartened tone, realizing his healing factor wasn't working either, which already answers his question...

"The scanners we have installed would've detected if you had any or not" Batman approached the young man. "I... We... Want some answers... Who are-".

"I think we should let the kid rest for now, Bru-Batman" Superman subjected, placing a strong hand on the Caped-Crusader's shoulder. "Questions can come later, don't you think? He's not a threat from what I can see" the Man of Steel remained optimistic as ever in a situation like this. 

"It's fine... Bruce can ask me" the young man tried sitting up but failed as he seethed in wrenching pain. "Argh! Dammit!".

"Woah, easy there, kiddo. I wasn't exactly done healing your wounds before you rudely awoke without warning" Zatanna's hands were open to him, easing to calm him further with her soft voice.

"Like I said, you should probably rest, son" Superman suggested. "The questions can come later, uh-".

"It's Y/N... Y/N Bridger" the young man gave out his name to everyone.

"Y/N. Yes, like I mentioned, the questions can come later. Zatanna can continue to heal your injuries" Superman continued, as the name suggested he had heard something similar before.

"Hey, do I know you from somewhere? You remind me of Giovanni Zatara, the Magician. The name sounds very canny" the young male asked the superhero magician.

Zatanna smiled in response. "Giovanni is my father, I'm Zatanna, but you can call me Zee" she answered with a soft-spoken voice. "I'd advise you lay down for now, don't try sitting up, let the rest of my magic do its work to heal you" she told him.

"Oh he was a good man, fought to the end he did" he mumbled which alarmed Zee and the others around him. "I gotta ask, who saved me again? As much as I would love to chat with some legends here, I'd like to know who it was who saved me, again. I swear is it just me or did I hear that man in the blue spandex with an... Odd looking beetle say that Superwoman saved me, right? We uh... Well" he changed the subject. "Or was it... Supergirl if I heard that correctly?"

Before his question would be answered, a blonde haired woman, donning the same symbol as Superman, even the same colors on her suit, had walked in with her cape billowing behind her as she strutted on in.

"Speaking of the devil" Superman smiled towards his cousin.

"Heard my name being called, what's the catch?" Supergirl asked before the Flash scooted out of the way, standing in her view to see the young man she saved from the brink of death, awake. "Oh, he's awake" she gasped before a little smile crept at the corner of her mouth. "I was wondering why I was hearing a new voice".

Y/N couldn't even keep his eyes off her as soon as she was in view, out of everyone else in the room, she stood out the most in his eyes. "Uh... Hi" he slightly waved at the Girl of Steel. He eyed her up and down, taking note of her choice of fashion when it came to her suit, sky blue top with a thump hole in each sleeve and her custom-made S shield on her top, a red cape much like her cousins, only yellow outlined with her custom-made S shield, red high boots, red skirt with the golden V-shaped belt was something he never even thought someone would wear for a costume, but her overall beauty is what attracted him to her.

"Hi" she waved back sheepishly with a smile on her face.

"Y/N here was just asking who had brought him here, and now that you're here? I think he knows who did" Superman answered Supergirl's question earlier.

"Oh, right" Supergirl then answered, before looking at the boy. "That was me" She lightly chuckled. She had to admit that the boy did look handsome, especially with the little scar on his face. She swore she wouldn't catch feelings from just looking at some young man, as she learnt her lesson last time when it did happen. "It's good to meet you, Y/N".

But she couldn't help herself... Much.

"It's good to meet you too! But I just wanted to say... Thank you, there's a lot for me to explain but... Yeah... Thank you, Supergirl" he sent his gratitude toward the Girl of Steel, resulting with a little faint of pink flush across her cheeks. "I... I don't know how I ended up here, but... I think I remember what happened that's now brought me here as much is my head is still foggy. I can explain as much as I can in a short time, if any of you don't mind?".

"I suppose some information wouldn't hurt"...

This however wouldn't be the last time he'd ever see the Girl of Steel, or any of the Justice League for that matter. Upon recovering slowly at the Hall of Justice, answering questions that needed to be answered and gaining trust from other Leaguers, he spent most quality time recovering while Supergirl would regularly visit him every so often.

Y/N wasn't expecting it at all for her to visit him if she could, it was a welcomed surprise to have some company and someone to chat to about anything, even sharing her name with him almost immediately showed how much she already trusted him.

While Batman found it a little alarming for her to be trusting someone that quick without much known about him, Superman however found it rather pleasing to see Kara be this interested in him, he was happy to see how much she wanted to give him company, thinking he needed some since he was alone mostly during his recovery stage, it was a nice gesture, something he would've done if no one else stepped in.

It was quite obvious that Supergirl had a liking to him, her cousin knew, her friends knew, even her adoptive parents knew something about their daughter having some feelings for a young man once again.

No more than two weeks later that Y/N had recovered mostly, but he was saddened by the fact his powers were gone, he hoped they'd come back to him one day but he doubted it after some comforting words. 

The League offered to help Y/N get accustomed to his newer surroundings after he was cleared and was trusted to leave, which was when Supergirl thought of an idea on helping him with his newer surroundings, which was a nice gesture for her to even think of.

Superman approved of the idea, even brought up the idea of Y/N having his own apartment paid for him where he could stay for now until he can figure out what he wants to do in his newer life, as Y/N admitted he didn't want to go back to his Earth, he wanted to stay here, try to live a normal and quiet life.

He often thought of a fresh start, but this? It felt rewarding in a way, it felt so much closer to the Earth he knew as a child, not the war-torn Earth he knew after his own Superman died, then all hell broke loose after that.

Kara opted to help him settle into National City, using her secret identity - - Kara Danvers - - as a way to help him navigate through the public without drawing much attention to himself when he hangs out with Supergirl, this city's own sole protector.

What was clear enough was that Kara wasn't too great at trying to keep her little feelings for him, hidden around others, there was times she'd talk about him freely around her friend; Barbara Gordon, formally Batgirl, now Oracle. Babs had a feeling Kara would fall head over heels for yet another boy, she only hoped that this boy wouldn't use her like the last one did.

Her cousin had already known, he could see it clear as day.

Another week turned into a month... And Y/N had his idea of being settled into his newer surroundings, he was happy to have some company help him, navigate him through most things he never got to see as a child, meet new people and get in on some action when necessary, though he was risking his life in doing so.

Kara did scold him once for it but couldn't stay angry at him for that much longer, he was a hero himself, with or without his powers, she felt bad but Y/N made it clear she didn't need to feel bad about scolding him. He was just doing what heroes do, help people and one another...

"I gotta say..." the boy's words hanged in the air as the wind intensified slightly, feeling himself in the air. "The view from here is beautiful" his arm tightened around Kara's waist as they together, soared through the sky thanks to Supergirl's efforts.

The Maid of Might softly laughs at his choice of words. He had seen the view from where she flew plenty of times already, the first time she ever shown him this view was, in his words, "breathtaking", and still he finds it just that.

"We can go higher like last time, above the clouds. Up, Up and Away" she offered.

"Y'know what? Go for it!" he said with optimism, sounding like a good offer in his mind.

The girl smiled while looking up, putting her fist up in front of her as she began to soar upwards, higher above the city than they were before, Y/N wrapped his other arm around her waist as they went up.

A playful giggle escaped from Kara as her cape flowed behind her more, along with her skirt and golden locks.

It didn't take long until Y/N found himself high above the clouds, now looking at his surroundings before his eyes fell onto Kara's, taking in the angelic view he could see right in front of him and around him.

The sky was dancing with colors, dancing with pink, orange and blue altogether as the two were high above the clouds, alone together, with no one to see or interrupt them at all. The only sound being heard was the breeze of the wind and Kara's cape fluttering within it.

Kara smiled as she looked into his eyes, trying to look for something, thinking she saw something in his eyes before she ultimately decided to take him on a flight yet again.

"Y'know? I always imagined I'd get a fresh start one day, after the war on my Earth was over... But this?" he pauses for a moment to take in the view in front of him, making sure to look into Kara's eyes more deeply. "This I wasn't expecting to be my fresh start... Starting with meeting and getting to know... You".

Kara's eyes gleamed with joy as she smiled quite happily, she really wanted to tell him how much she liked him but didn't know how to, so she just kept her cool for now until what he had to say was over.

"I mean... You saved me from the brink of death like... Almost two months ago, I don't know how many times I've said thank you but... I suppose saying thank you again wouldn't hurt, would it?" he asked.

"I suppose, but honestly, you didn't need to say it more than once. I know how grateful you are" she nodded, keeping her smile up. "I'm glad we met, I'm glad to hang out with you too... Yeah" Kara burst into a big smile with her cheeks flushing a little pink that bloomed.

"Me too, Supes..." he said, lowering his voice to that of a little, calm whisper. "Me too" he repeated, while unknown to his own mind, he had slightly drawn his face a little closer to hers whilst looking into her sky blue pearls within her eyes.

The Maid of Might soon took notice of his unbeknownst action of his face drawing a little closer to hers, her eyes widened a little slightly before setting back to a calmer expression, drawing her face closer to his.

There was a point where the both stopped for a moment as Kara's hand softly caressed the young man's cheek, right where his little "cute" scar was, she always thought scars looked a little cool but when it came to Y/N? She found it cute that he had a few, though one of his scars is one he hates to be reminded of, a reminder of loss, she best avoids touching it as she doesn't  want to bring horrible memories back up to him.

"What's stopping you?" Y/N then broke the silence with a soft whisper, knowing well that she wanted this more than he did, he had a feeling all along that Kara's motives around him were an act of liking him more than a friend, at least the one time she slipped and made it obvious that she was crushing on him last week when she cuddled into him, using her cape as a backup blanket for the both of them.

Kara treated him with so much kindness and protected him for almost two months now, it was no wonder as to why he was so attracted to her also, unlike her? He was good at keeping it unknown...

Until now that is.

"Nothing..." She cooed with a smile creeping across the corners of her lips. "Just admiring the view" she continued before blinking slowly.

Eventually, not even a minute goes by, she gave in and gently pressed her lips on his, feeling the need for his lips on hers, soon closing her eyes as she feels Y/N give into her soft lips on his, pushing deeply into hers gently also.

She had a feeling he's done this before, but it didn't matter to her right now, she only wanted to feel this feeling with him.

Her left hand rested on his shoulder while her other still caressed his cheek, still feeling his arms wrapped around her as they stayed afloat high above the clouds, the wind blowing any pieces of fabric like her skirt and cape, fluttering behind her.

Her golden locks flowed like a golden cape along with her skirt and cape, as if the wind knew it was the right moment to make her look angelic.

A minute passes by and with a soft smack of lips separating, Kara rests her forehead on Y/N's, wearing a golden smile.

"I suppose my fresh start is gonna be more rewarding than I thought. Who would've thought, huh?" Y/N noted playfully, making Supergirl lightly giggle at his choice of words.

"Who would've?" she played along before the two laughed softly at each other. "Care to go again?" she asked to kiss again with a little smirk on her face, wanting to feel his lips once more with his permission.

"I think you already know the answer to that"...

______________________________________________________________

Fin...

Word Count: 3971

Tag List: @jacenradio7 @jadenyukiyusakufujikiyutoduelist @6rookie-writer0110 @beestriker015 @rodimusprime2017 @ma1egamer @multi-fandom-enjoyer

[juliussilver25]

Harnessing Silver

In the bustling streets of London, a man clad in a shimmering silver outfit stood out like a beacon in the night. His metallic puffer vest and matching joggers caught the light from the sun, making him the focal point of the urban landscape. Passersby stole glances, some intrigued by his futuristic attire, others bemused.

This man in silver, known to his friends as Adrian, had always been a bit of an enigma. He thrived on the edge of the extraordinary, his fashion sense merely an outward manifestation of his colorful personality. Today, he found himself in the company of two young men in black hoodies and caps, their attire a stark contrast to his own. These lads, often dismissed as chavs by society, were anything but ordinary.

"Nice outfit, mate," one of the young men, named Liam, remarked, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

Adrian smiled, his eyes twinkling. "Thanks, Liam. Silver suits me, don't you think?"

Liam's friend, Ethan, chuckled. "You've got guts, I'll give you that."

Adrian's confidence never wavered. "Guts and style," he corrected with a wink. "But enough about my fashion choices. Let's talk business."

Liam and Ethan exchanged a glance. They had heard rumors about Adrian, whispers of his unconventional ways and his knack for turning the ordinary into the extraordinary. Today, they were about to find out if the stories were true.

"I'm listening," Liam said, crossing his arms.

Adrian leaned in, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "I've got a proposition that could change your lives. No scams, no tricks—just an opportunity to be a part of something bigger."

As Adrian continued to speak, Liam and Ethan felt a strange desire to touch the silver. Hesitantly at first, they reached out to feel the smooth, cool fabric of Adrian's vest. As their fingers made contact, their clothes began to shimmer and transform, the black hoodies and caps morphing into sleek silver garments that matched Adrian's own.  Their perceptions changed bringing them closer to realizing their untapped potential. 

"What the...?" Ethan muttered, looking down at his new attire in amazement.

Adrian grinned. "Welcome to the silver club, lads. This is just the beginning."

While Adrian spoke with Liam and Ethan, across the street another man, also dressed head-to-toe in gleaming silver, was having a conversation with a different group. This man, known as Jace, had an air of mystery and a charisma that drew people in. The group he was addressing consisted of a few university students masquerading as Chavs for a research project.  The students were completely engrossed by the conversation and captivated by Jace.

Jace's voice was smooth and confident as he spoke. "Silver is more than just a color or a fashion choice. It symbolizes power, prestige, and transformation. Throughout history, silver has been revered for its purity and strength. It's conductive, resilient, and reflective. It’s a metaphor for how we should live our lives—shining brightly, adapting to change, and conducting positive energy."

One of the students, a man named Max, raised an eyebrow. "Are you saying we should all start wearing silver?"

Jace chuckled. "Not exactly. It's about embracing the qualities that silver represents. It's about standing out in a world that often tries to make us conform. It's about being resilient in the face of adversity and reflecting the best parts of ourselves."

Another student, Ben, asked, "So, how do we start?"

Jace smiled. "By believing in yourselves and embracing the unique qualities that make you who you are. The silver? It's just a symbol, a reminder of your potential. But the real power lies within you. And once you tap into that, there's nothing you can't achieve."

As Jace's words resonated with the group, Max and the other students felt an irresistible urge to touch the silver. When they did, their plain clothes began to shimmer and change, transforming into stylish silver outfits.

The students looked at each other in awe, their skepticism melting away. "Wow," Max said, admiring his new attire. "This is incredible."

Jace smiled. "And now you understand. It is not about the clothes.  The silver you wear is a symbol of the potential within you. Embrace your individuality and shine brightly your silver clothes reflecting your inner strength."

As Adrian and Jace continued their enlightening conversations, another man in silver stepped into the urban scene. This third man, Rey, wore a tailored silver blazer over a crisp white shirt, paired with silver pants that shimmered with every step. His appearance was sophisticated and commanding, contrasting with the street-wise attire of those around him.

Rey approached a group of individuals gathered around in an alleyway bathed in smoke. These were the locals, the unsung heroes who knew the city's heartbeat better than anyone. They eyed Rey with a mix of curiosity and wariness as he walked up to them.

"Afternoon," Rey greeted with a warm smile, his voice deep and reassuring. "Mind if I join you for a bit?"

A man named Jordan, who seemed to be the leader of the group, nodded. "Sure thing, man. What's with the silver? Some kind of promotion or something?"

Rey chuckled, taking a seat on a crate. "Not exactly. The silver is a symbol, a representation of resilience and transformation. You see, in ancient times, silver was considered a mirror to the soul. It reflected light and repelled darkness. I believe that each of us has the power to reflect our inner light and transform our surroundings."

A young man, named Tom, who had been listening intently, spoke up. "So, what's the point? Are you trying to sell us something?"

Rey shook his head. "No, Tom. I'm here to share an idea. The power of silver isn't about wearing silver clothes; it's about recognizing our own strength and potential. It's about standing out, not blending in, and using our unique qualities to make a positive impact."

The group seemed intrigued, their skepticism slowly fading. Rey continued, "Think of the silver as a reminder. A reminder that we can shine even in the darkest of times, that we have the resilience to face challenges and the ability to transform our lives and the lives of those around us."

Jordan leaned forward, his interest piqued. "And how do we do that?"

"By starting small," Rey replied. "By supporting each other, finding our passions, and working towards our goals. It's about community and connection. Together, we can create a ripple effect of positive change."

Rey's words began to resonate with the group. As Rey continued to speak, Jordan and the others felt a compelling need to touch the silver. As their hands brushed against Rey's blazer, their clothes began to transform, the drab and worn fabrics turning into radiant silver garments.

Jordan looked at his new outfit, his eyes wide with amazement. "This is... wow."

Rey smiled. "These silver outfits are a reminder of your strength and potential. Embrace it and use it to create positive change in the neighborhood." 

Just as the conversations with Adrian, Jace, and Rey were gaining momentum, a fourth man in silver emerged from the shadows. His name was Seth, and his presence exuded a calm yet powerful aura. His silver attire was a blend of both futuristic and elegant, with a tailored silver suit jacket over a sleek black shirt, and silver shoes that gleamed under the streetlights.

Seth approached a small gathering of artists and musicians who had set up an impromptu performance area in a nearby park. The flicker of candles and the strum of guitars created an intimate atmosphere. The artists paused as Seth stepped into their circle, his silver suit catching the light in mesmerizing patterns.

"Hey there," Seth greeted with a warm smile. "Mind if I join your circle for a bit?"

A man named Nate, who was tuning his guitar, looked up and smiled back. "Sure, feel free. What's your story?"

Seth took a seat on the grass, crossing his legs comfortably. "My story is simple. I'm here to share the power of silver, not just as a fashion statement, but as a symbol of creativity and connection. Silver, like art, has the power to reflect and enhance the beauty around us."

Another man, named Ryan, who was sketching in his notebook, looked intrigued. "How does silver relate to creativity?"

Seth leaned forward, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. "Silver is a conductor, a medium through which energy flows. Similarly, art and music are conduits of our emotions and thoughts, allowing us to connect with others on a deeper level. When we embrace our creative selves, we reflect our inner light and inspire those around us."

As Seth spoke, Nate and Ryan couldn't resist the urge to touch the silver. When they did, their clothes began to shimmer and change, transforming into sleek silver attire worthy of musicians.

Nate strummed his guitar thoughtfully. "So you're saying that by embracing creativity, we're channeling something powerful?"

"Exactly," Seth nodded. "When you create, you tap into a source of energy that is both personal and universal. It's about expressing your true self and making a positive impact on the world. The silver we wear is just a reminder of that potential."

As the artists absorbed Seth's words, they felt a renewed sense of purpose. The man in silver had not only captured their attention but had also ignited a spark of inspiration within them. The night air buzzed with the promise of new beginnings and creative exploration.

Gradually, as these four men in silver continued to share their wisdom, the Chavs, the students, the locals, and the artists began to fully embrace the silver. Each felt more confident, more connected to their true selves. The silver became a part of their identity, a reminder of the strength and resilience they had discovered within themselves.

In the end each was ready to inspire others to embrace their unique qualities, to stand out and shine brightly in their own way. The silver clothes reflecting what was already within, letting it shine for all to see.  And so, under the stars of London, a new movement was born—one that celebrated individuality, creativity, and the transformative power of silver.

___________________________________________________________

Silver is Brotherhood.

Silver is Family.

Silver is Life.

Ready to join us on this journey? 🩶 Contact Our Cap @morphmastersilver

[crow-talks-hockey]

ah yes, tsn. i'm shaking in my motherfucking booties. i'm so scared. i'm absolutely terrified of a coward who's entire play style and career is shaped around targeting people. and of a bitch who refuses to take accountability for his own actions, much like many men i've had the displeasure of encountering before, so no. he's not scary. he's just a dirty fucker with way too much money and not enough consequences.

[embervoices]

A very useful thread on Bluesky:

(There is a lot more. Rather than give you all the images, I've copied the full text below.)

Meredith Rose‬ ‪@mrose.ink‬ November 8, 2024

This is not going to be a repeat of 2016-2020. It will be better, it will be worse, but most of all it will be different. Here are things I want every single person to keep in mind as we head into round 2 of a Trump admin.

My credentials: I’m a queer female public interest attorney working on tech policy in DC. I’ve been doing this for a decade--longer than some, not as long as others. I had to navigate three different administrations, as well as Congress, regulatory agencies, courts, and the advocacy world.

FIRST: don’t let despair override your media literacy.

The left has grifters, just like every other movement. If you’re able and compelled to donate, give to orgs with established track records. Avoid giving to individuals, especially anyone who emerges overnight with a one-weird-trick “plan.”

The left is not immune to misinformation, and everyone—EVERYONE—falls for it sometimes, present company included. There is no shame in it. When (not if) it happens to you, you should acknowledge it; delete or retract the post to reduce the spread; and move on.

If a source consistently shares half-truths or outright misinformation, it is not trustworthy, no matter how much “their heart is in the right place.” Unfollow and move on.

Prediction, analysis, and reporting are three fundamentally different things. Learn to identify them for what they are. Reject attempts by amateur “analysts” to predict the future. They know as much as you do.

Real subject matter experts know and acknowledge their limits. They’re also (usually) hesitant to try and predict the future. The best frame their predictions in terms of a range of possible outcomes. Subject matter experts may also disagree with one another! It happens!

SECOND: What we know for sure about how the Trump, how he operates, and how that will impact the next four years.

Trump is a narcissist who avoids reading and doesn’t care about details. He cannot be persuaded by argument or logic; he’s moved mostly by flattery, and will agree with the last person who flattered him. He can and will upend his own administration’s work without warning, often by tweet.

As a result, most policy experts—even those "on his side"—dread him taking an interest in their field. Ask any Republican staffer who worked in Congress during the last administration, and most of them will confirm that their greatest fear was Trump tweeting about anything related to their work.

As such, people who are serious about their work will do everything to make it as invisible and boring-seeming as possible. This is the policy equivalent of defensive camouflage. Lots of “normie” work will continue in silence. (The lion’s share of tech policy ends up in this bucket.)

If you have a niche issue that you care about, now is a great time to donate to orgs that work on it. Lots of money will be funneled to big legacy orgs working on headline issues: ACLU, climate change orgs, etc. Consider sending your donations where they matter most: local, niche, established.

Trump runs his cabinet like the Apprentice. He thrives on chaos and making people compete for his approval. Not only does he not reward collaboration between his subordinates, he actively undermines it.

Moreover, everyone who works with him knows that they’re vulnerable to being thrown under the bus at a moment’s notice, for any reason (or for no reason at all). His cabinet is going to be scorpions in a bottle. They will not be able to coordinate, for good or ill.

One scorpion can still do a lot of horrific damage. But large scale inter-agency coordination is unlikely, particularly after the first few months, by which point he will likely (prediction warning!) have gone through a handful of cabinet secretaries already.

FINALLY: The view from inside civil society heading into 2025.

In 2016, Trump was a largely unknown quantity. The left and establishment right alike wasted a lot of time trying to read tea leaves and make sense of this guy, because he was completely outside the realm of what anyone had dealt with. That’s not happening now.

He did us a favor by broadcasting his plans in advance (aka Project 2025). Civil society has spent the last 2.5 years strategizing around it. We’re not starting off flat-footed.

The Biden admin did a good amount to future-proof its own achievements. Folks can speak to their own areas of expertise, but clean energy and CHIPS and Science Act (investing in domestic semiconductor production) have benefitted from huge sunk investments. That money’s not getting clawed back.

OVERALL TAKE-AWAYS:

It's going to suck. But civil society and the political left have some advantages we didn't have last time. We know him, we know his angles, and we know who he's bringing in--none of which we had in 2016.

We'll get through this. It will be grim, but we'll get through it.

John Cutting‬ ‪@johncutting.bsky.social‬

Thanks Meredith. I really valued your analysis over the past few years, and I think this is a reasonable, actionable framework to think about the upcoming storm

Meredith Rose‬ ‪@mrose.ink‬

I really cannot overstate how much time was (necessarily) wasted in 2017 trying to figure out this guy and his influences. The fact that he's not only a known quantity, but ran the most over-studied administration in this nation's recent history, makes this a very different game.

John Cutting‬ ‪@johncutting.bsky.social‬

I bet we can weaponize his narcissism. Let's say some ghoul starts making progress with a mass deportation effort, if we start calling that ghoul that "shadow president" en masse, Trump would fire him in right away and appoint Hulk Hogan or something

‪Meredith Rose‬ ‪@mrose.ink‬

This is exactly why I don't think Musk will last very long. Trump is very clear that he's the only one in the room allowed to have an ego or any kind of brand name.

[reidmotif]

Between the Books

Summary: Reader is a librarian at the library Spencer frequents while he's finishing one of his degrees. They find themselves in a precarious situation when everyone's left and they're the last two people there.

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Smut

Content Warning: unprotected penetrative sex, oral (f!recieving), fingering (f!recieving), themes of exhibitionism, public sex.

Word Count: 3.9 k

Masterlist

Being observant came naturally to you, almost as if it was a reflex embedded into the core of your nervous system. You’d say “hello” to a new face and as if under command, your eyes would naturally drift to the small pieces of hair on that stranger’s coat. 

Dog? Cat? Freakishly large gerbil? 

Whatever it was, you couldn’t turn it off. And that’s why when Spencer Reid caught your eye, you simply couldn’t find it in yourself to look away. 

And with time, it seemed like his actions mirrored yours.

You’d taken interest in a position at a university library for the summer. The job seemed to be a welcome change of pace from the likes of hectic summer jobs you’d go for typically in the past, a position that would mostly consist of monitoring graduate-level students who were, thankfully, much calmer than their undergrad counterparts.

 For the most part, you were right. Your days were filled with reading in an air-conditioned building, looking up titles of reference books for other students, and of course, the unexpected, yet welcomed, occurrence of Spencer Reid. 

The longer you spent at the library, the more you came to learn more about him. 

Well, as much as you could learn without actually speaking to the man. 

You’d learned his name from the library card he’d brandish when it came time to check out materials. He’d frequent books about Jean-Paul Sarte, Camus, and Nietzsche, opting to stay in the same, well-lit corner by the window every time he visited. While he could come in at any part of the day, he seemed to prefer later hours, when the library would be mostly vacant. His outfits weren’t over-the-top with formality, but he clearly wasn’t in the business of dressing casually.

 You found it attractive, honestly, how put-together he seemed. 

His return-rate on books was freakishly fast, and at one point, you’d assumed he was checking out books to read a certain page or chapter for research, and would then put it back, until you found yourself properly watching him and realized, no, he actually was just reading that fast. He could finish texts that would take almost a year to cover by seasoned professors and scholars in mere hours.

 How? You had no idea. Nevertheless, you desperately wanted to learn- to know him beyond the gazes of a library hall. 

You’d decided to try your luck at speaking to the man, noticing the three books he’d chosen all seemed to have one incredibly common theme amongst their authorship. 

“Existentialist?” You ask, trying to make your tone seem polite but still friendly. 

He blinks, as if he wasn’t expecting to be spoken to, and takes a second, his gaze meeting yours. “Sorry, what?” 

“Existentialist.” You repeat, motioning to the books you were checking out for him.  “Kierkegaard, Dostoevsky, Kafka. Your books seem to share a commonality.” 

He chuckles, realizing the meaning of your words and shakes his head. “No, no. Not an existentialist. I’d like to believe the world is better than what any of them make it out to be.” 

You smile, and nod. “I’d hope so.” Your eyebrows furrow, head tilting slightly. “Why the interest then?” There’s genuine fascination in your tone, and he seems to absolutely thrive off that, his eyes lighting up as you continue the conversation. 

“I’m completing my Masters in Philosophy.” He responds. “We’ve been doing an assignment on existentialism, hence the ridiculous amount of gloom and doom in my reading.”

 There’s a pause, before he cracks a smile, and then asks you, “Romantic?” 

You look at him in confusion. It’s your turn to not get the joke. “Sorry?” 

“Are you a romantic?” He asks. When you retain that confused look on your face, he continues. 

“You’re almost always reading some variation of a romance novel here. So far I’ve counted Austen, Bronte, and I think I saw a copy of Anna Karenina on the counter once.” 

You feel a bit of heat rise to your face, realizing that in his own way, he’d been observing you as well. In a second, the tables were turned, and the lens you often used on others was abruptly focused on you instead. 

“Well, Anna Karenina is hardly a romance, I’d argue.” You say, before nodding. “But, yeah. I guess I’d say I’m a fan of romance in novels.” 

He smiles, shaking his head. “I’m not asking you if you’re a fan of romance in novels, I’m asking you if you’re a romantic.” He says, putting emphasis on the last word, as if that was supposed to provide some grand difference to the statement. 

“Just as much as anyone else, right?” You respond, still a bit puzzled at his insistence on contrasting the syntax of his statement. 

“I see.” He says, nodding, continuing to look at you, as if he was sizing you up. “I’ll have to pick up a copy of Anna Karenina sometime then. See if it’s as much of a love story as I remember.” 

“I think you’ll find it’s absolutely not.” You reply, smiling. “I believe we have a copy of it here, as a matter of fact, if you’re actually interested.” There’s a hint of skepticism in your tone, wondering why he seemed to be taking so much regard to your conversation.

“Of course I’m actually interested. You seem passionate about the subject.” He counters, grinning. 

“I mean- yeah, I am! It’s a pretty misinterpreted book, I think.” You say. There’s a slight moment of silence, before you find yourself saying your next few words. “I’m also surprised you’re interested. I’m not always sure if it’s up everyone’s lane. Lots of people can’t get through it.” 

“I’m sure the least I can do is try.” He says, shrugging. 

You check out the last of his books, placing them in his outstretched hands. “Honestly, I’m even more surprised you noticed. You seem pretty into it in your corner over there.” You say, half-jokingly, but with a hint of seriousness mixed into it. 

He gives a softer smile, almost boyish, as he replies. 

“You’re pretty hard not to notice.” 

He keeps the smile on his face, giving you a slight nod of his head, before leaving you to deal with the sudden heat that had risen to your cheeks as a result of his words. You couldn’t find it in yourself to respond to his quick wit in the moment, your heartbeat still racing long after he’d left. 

Over that summer, the two of you get continually closer. To your absolute delight, he does end up reading Anna Karenina and better yet, he agrees with you. You immediately take an even stronger liking to him than before. Thus starts your tradition of recommending books to each other, the two of you discussing them when he’d come to the library, almost like a secret, private book club that only you two were privy to. 

You come to learn more about him. His doctorates, his job. The secret of his inhumanely fast reading was revealed to you later down the road, when he explained the abilities of an unconscious mind.. or something. While you wanted to give your undivided attention to him, there was an unspoken part of you that couldn’t help but find it ridiculously attractive when he explained things to you. He never seemed to notice that enduring part of your psyche, and you were grateful for that. 

Overall though, he made quite the friend. He shared your love of literature, and could be a wonderful listener at times. Your previous days of solitude in the library were long forgotten, and you found yourself looking forward to his daily visits, ready to share your thoughts on some book he’d last asked you to read. 

You find that his visits become less and less about the actual establishment, and more and more about you, especially when he opts to visit you at the front desk first, as opposed to over at his usual spot by the window. Somedays, he makes it obvious, not even bothering to peruse the selection of books he was previously accustomed to, and merely opts to talk to you the entire time, right up to the point where you’re locking the doors of the library and heading to your own place for the night. 

There’s a part of you that wonders why he hasn’t asked you out. You wonder why you hadn’t asked him out. It only seems natural, given how much time the two of you were spending- a date seemed like an obvious byproduct of the lingering gazes you’d catch him throw at you, the absolute joy that would bubble in your chest everytime the two of you shared an afternoon. 

You shrug it off. All in good time, right? 

It’s another night at the library, and you found yourself a bit frustrated. You’d asked your manager if there was any way she could take on the later shift of the day, increasingly tired with the hours of the job and simply needing a break from it all. She refused, and tonight, that refusal seemed to be on the forefront of your mind. 

“I just- I don’t get it, Spencer. I know she can take on this shift.” You say, wheeling around a cart of books to be reshelved, talking openly since the library was empty at this point in the day, all patrons packed up and soundly at home– while you were stuck here. 

He stayed, of course, following you around diligently as you completed the task, listening to every word.

 “I get that this is the worst shift to have, but come on. I’m a good employee, you know? I feel like I deserve a break here and there.” You come to a stop, picking up a stack of books with a huffy sigh. “But no. I’m the one who has to go home late. I’m the one who’s on closing every single night. I’m sick of it.” 

He nods sympathetically, and you continue to grovel, deeply appreciative that he was allowing you to vent to him like this. You stand on the provided step-stool on the ground, allowing you to have the height necessary to shelve some books that belonged further up than normal. 

“Like, is it really that hard?” You grumble, your face turned away from Spencer as you find each book’s proper place. “God forbid she sleeps at a later time than normal- or I don’t know, hires someone else.” The last book is reshelved, and you turn around, about to dismount the stool. “And another thing-” 

In the midst of your rant, you find yourself distracted,  missing the step on the stool that would’ve allowed a safe dismount, and you quickly realize you’re falling off, letting out a small yelp before a stronger force keeps you upright- a force that happened to be Spencer’s arms catching you. 

“You alright?” He asks with heavy concern, trying to look into your eyes or your legs, attempting to discern for signs where you might’ve hurt yourself on your descent. 

It takes a second for you to process that you are insanely close to Spencer. His features are almost enhanced by the low-lighting of the dark library, his eyes entirely dilated as he stares at you, his lips soft and perfect– and those cheekbones, god. You could practically cut yourself on them. 

You quickly return to your senses, trying to go back to a more suitable position that wouldn’t leave you so absolutely tongue tied. “No, no. I’m fine, honestly.” You step back, wiggling your leg a little. “See? Entirely fine.” 

He smiles a little sheepishly. “Sorry, I just get worried. I’m a doctor, you know.” He says, a teasing quality in his tone as he steps closer. 

“Not an actual doctor.” You say, rolling your eyes fondly. 

“Come on.” He says, letting his hand drift over back to your arm, which had taken most of the shock of falling onto him. “Humor me.” 

There’s that grin again, and you can’t help but relent. 

And so you humor him like he asked, letting his fingertips trail over the skin to properly check for any injuries, the action much more sensual than it should’ve been for a friend checking up on another friend. 

“You know.” He murmurs, his voice a bit lower than before. “I don’t actually think this is the worst shift to take on.” 

Your throat is dry, a physical reaction being drawn out of you as he touches you, and there’s a conscious reminder you actually have to respond to his words. 

“Oh? Why is that?” You force out. 

“It’s so quiet.” He mumbles out, immediately, his fingertips now tracing down to your waist, as the two of you made eye contact. “Nobody’s even in here at this point.” 

You swallow, trying to calm the rapid beat of your heart. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right.” 

“I like the quiet.” He says, continuing on. The previously feather-like touch on your waist becomes more grasping than anything else. “There’s just so much more you can get done when it’s quiet.” 

You nod and half heartedly mumble. “Mhm.” You’re far more focused on your growing proximity than his actual words, the act rendering you entirely breathless until he’s standing face to face with you, your breaths mingling due to the closeness. 

“I can feel your heart beating.” He mumbles. “So fast. Do I make you nervous?” 

You lick your lips and nod out of instinct, before squeezing your eyes shut and shaking your head. “No, no. It’s just the closeness. I’m not used to it.” You whisper, eyes opening– and his gaze is as intense as ever. 

One of his hands goes to cup your face. “Unless you tell me otherwise, I’m going to kiss you now.” 

You don’t move a single muscle. 

And then all of a sudden, he’s everywhere. He’s pulling you closer, absolutely devouring you like he’s been starved for your touch all along. His tongue slips into your mouth, and you respond in approval, humming with a deep content against his lips, your hands going to wrap around his neck, pulling your bodies flush together. You don’t want space– not now, or ever again. 

“Fuck. Wanted this for so long.” He mumbles, as soon as he breaks off the kiss, finding the pulse point on your neck, and going at it with his lips, causing you to quietly moan out in pleasure. You’d never heard him curse before, and the act only served to add to the steadily growing throb in between your legs. 

He pushes you even more insistently up against the counter attached to the bookshelves, your weight slightly more supported by the wood, as opposed to his body like before. 

“You’re so pretty.” He breathes out in between his assault on your neck, his mouth finding every inch of your nape, and marking it as his own. It’s almost like he’s hellbent on mapping out every plane of skin there, committing every spot that makes you whine or let out his name to memory.

You’re breathing so heavily, and you think it can’t possibly get any better than this, but he proves you wrong when he abruptly gets to his knees, your eyes widening. 

“Need to taste you. Please.” 

He’s begging, like, on-his-knees, doe-eyes, broken voice- begging to eat you out. 

And how could you ever say no, what, with those pretty eyes of his, and that expression on his face that made you practically weak with need?  

“Yes.” You whisper out, and in record time, he’s undoing your jeans and underwear in one clean swoop, not even bothering to fully remove the material before his tongue is all over your cunt, lapping up the wetness that had accumulated in the past few minutes. You’re half surprised he didn’t just rip your clothing off, given the enthusiasm he was showing at this moment. 

You’re suddenly incredibly aware of where you are- your place of work, a fucking library, and Spencer Reid was buried in your thighs like a man parched, lapping up wherever he possibly can. You can hear the obscene noises of your passion, his tongue lavishing over you, before he pays special attention to your clit, wrapping his lips around the nub and sucking softly.  You cover your mouth with your free hand- grateful that the wood behind you was supporting you, because without it, you truly think you’d topple over from the sheer pleasure of it all. 

“Fuck.” You whisper, voice high-pitched as you try to hold back your noises. “Fuck. Gonna come.” You warn, legs shaking as you barreled towards your release. 

Without warning, his fingers enter your cunt, and you’re fighting back a scream. 

How long had you stared at his fingers before this? How many times had you watched them run up and down the spines of the books he read, or gestured with them constantly whilst speaking? How long had such a simple part of his body captivated you? 

How many times had you secretly wondered to yourself how they’d feel inside you?

It didn’t matter anymore. You had your answer now. Fucking amazing.

“Spencer!” You whine out, his fingers naturally reaching that soft spot inside that you often struggled to even brush against. His lips find your clit again, sucking softly and you know you’re an absolute goner. 

“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck-” 

Before you can even voice in coherent terms how good this feels, you’re coming, the walls of your cunt spasming around his fingers as he relishes in the reaction, using the tip of his tongue to circle your clit, and slowing his fingers down as you ride out the remnants of your orgasm. He slips the digits out of you as he rises to his knees, and sucks on his fingers, one by one, practically moaning as he tastes your release.

The sight is downright sinful.

“You taste so good.” He whispers, crashing his lips against yours again, and you’re already needy again when you can taste yourself on his tongue. 

His hands drift down to his own slacks, undoing them and pulling his cock out, already dripping with precum. 

“You ready, pretty girl?” He murmurs, guiding his tip to your waiting cunt. You’ve situated yourself on the wood of the desk entirely now, needing the support for what happens next. 

You nod, and without even realizing he was already mostly there, he pushes into you entirely, and your jaw drops. Your head rests against  his shoulder, trying to accustom to feeling of him stretching you out so fucking perfectly. 

How could you ever fuck anyone else again, when he just felt so perfect for you? 

It seemed that he agreed with the sentiment, moaning softly as his free hand steadied himself by gripping onto the shelf. “You feel so fucking good.” He murmurs. “Can I move? Are you okay?” He asks, softly. 

His other hand rubs soothing circles into your hip bone, and you’re nodding, touched by his concern for you, even during such a salacious act. 

His thrusts are slow at first, still allowing you to get used to the feeling of him inside of you, before he’s truly going at it, his thick cock rubbing against your wet walls in a way that makes you feel light and full all at once. It's delectable, and you never want it to end. 

You whine, holding onto his neck, your head thrown back as you take it, feeling the books rattle around you with every hump he deals into you. You can’t even find it in yourself to care– all that matters right now is you, and him, and how fucking amazing it feels when he’s fucking you like this. 

You can feel yourself building towards another pleasurable release, before you hear the telltale click of the library door opening, effectively removing you from the moment. Fuck. The janitor. 

“Spencer, Spencer!” You whisper-shout, biting your lip. His cock doesn’t once slow inside you, and you find it hard to think when it feels that good. 

“We’re gonna be caught!” You whine out, dizzied by how you were simultaneously turned on and utterly panicked. 

“No, we won’t.” He whispers, gruffly. With your hands now around his neck, he lets his hand drop from the shelf and covers your mouth. He leans in even closer, if that’s possible, eyes dark. 

The sight makes a shiver go up your spine. 

“Stay quiet.” He murmurs, as he begins to deal slower, more deliberate thrusts into your cunt. 

“Feel that? Feel how I’m filling you up, nice and slow?” He whispers, the words barely audible, but with how close he’s standing to you, they overtake every one of your senses, and you nod desperately, eyes glistening as you feel yourself dancing on the precipice of release. 

“Shh. I know.” He murmurs. “Come for me, yeah? I know you want to. Show me how much you like my cock inside of you.” 

It's a combination of his tone, of the risk you two were facing, and the sensation of him that has you responding exactly the way he wants, and in an instant, you’re coming with a shuddering breath, holding back a loud whine, just like he asked you to. 

The feeling of your walls spasming has him releasing as well,  a warmth flooding in your deepest point. His head drops into your shoulder as he attempts to muffle his moans the best he can, and you both bask in the afterglow for a second, trying to pant as quietly as you could. 

Spencer immediately springs into action, redressing you with precision and care, guiding your underwear and jeans back up, buttoning them up for you. You’re still in a slight haze from the two orgasms he’d just given you, and when you properly come to, his slacks are back on, and he leans in for a much more chaste kiss. It leaves you with butterflies, despite everything,  and you find yourself smiling softly at him. The fondness reflected in his expression is undeniable.

“Let’s get out of here.” He murmurs, grabbing your hand and guiding you in between the shadows of the shelves, effectively keeping you both from being caught. The janitor remains clueless, as you two sneak out, giggling like teenagers as you find yourselves outside, the summer night warm and cool all at once. 

“That was..” You mumble, laughing a bit, surprised that had even happened. 

“I know. I- uh. Might’ve gotten carried away?” He says. “I usually like to do that after a date. I just-” He steps closer, cupping your cheek. “I couldn’t wait. I hope that’s okay.” He whispers. 

“More than okay.” You whisper back. 

His thumb slowly strokes over the expanse of your cheek, and he bites his lip. “Could we? Date? Try this out?” He murmurs. “I know I didn’t get much of a chance to say it back there, but I really like you.” 

You can’t help the chuckle that escapes you. This man had just been inside you, and now he was blushing and stuttering whilst he attempted to ask you out. 

“Yes.” You nod. “Let’s try this.” 

He’s got the most genuine smile on his face, and a sigh of relief  can be heard as he leans in again to kiss you, and you can’t help the smile on your face as your lips meet his, the elation in both of your bodies absolutely radiating inside and out. 

You recount your first conversation and know now, there was a difference between liking romance, and being a romantic. 

You reckon Spencer Reid could make quite a romantic out of you. 

this is uploading an hour later than i wanted it to :( but whatever. i hope you guys like this one <3 i'm trying something new! not first person pov, but "you" ? pleaseee let me know how this works for you guys! i love experimenting out with new fic methods but if it's clear this isn't working TELL MEEE so i can go back to what did work. anyway, any likes, reblogs, comments are so so so genuinely appreciated. thank you thank you thank you for reading either way <3

[dunmeshistash]

Okay I think I'm ready to write the second part of this post about Milsiril

To make it easier for me I'll just divide this into her relationship with Kabru, Mithrun and Helki (her ex-canary prisoner teammate)

First about Kabru

This is an extra from the daydream hour 5. The caption says "Something like this might as well have happened" so its probably not canon but could be. I honestly think his reaction to Milsiril visiting and being overbearing says a lot about the type of relantionship they have. This is the fakest bitch in the whole of dungeon meshi, he never says what he trully thinks unless there's an advantage to doing so, he's a people pleaser that does and says anything to make people like/trust him. And yet he immediatly converts into "Mooooooom you're embarassing meeeeee" when he sees it's Milsiril.

This translation used "Mom" but as I understand the original he uses the more formal version so I think it would be closer to "Mother" but still he acknowleges her as his Mother, and he acts like her kid in every interaction we see between them.

I really don't understand where the idea that he learned to be fake from being "forced" to be her adoptive son comes from.

(Continuing under a cut)

The other interaction we see between them is the Kabru extra from the Adventurer's Bible

Kabru comes to her with a deep fear he clearly has had even before she adopted him, he trusted her with this fear and she did not disappoint him, she comforted him and then gave him the information he needed to believe what she was saying

I'd also like to point out in no moment she discouraged him from calling his his bio-mom "Mom". He also says she taught her children everything they asked

I doubt this would only be true for him, it also mirrors something she said in the manga

"You can go ahead and learn all you want about something else." I believe it when Kabru says she made every effort to answer her children's questions. I think this is also the way she expresses the love she has for them. Plus I love the thought bubble with Kabru mirroring what he learned from her. I also love this daydream hour, she sacrifices her own comfort to do something for Kabru.

Milsiril isn't a perfect mother tho, besides the fact she is overprotective she comes from a very different culture from her children. I like to call her Kabru's white mom cause I think that would be the real world equivalent. This extra is the one I think the most about showing this context perfectly

Kabru wants to share Utaya sweets but looks at his mom looking gloomy/rejected so he talks about fruitcake instead. This very rude for Milsiril to do since she's kinda trying to overwrite his actual cultural background, but I think its done more as a "I want you to like the things I like" rather than something nefarious, and once again Kabru doesn't hide at all his distaste for it, he does the bare minimum to please his mom since she's being dramatic but he doesn't lie to her, he shows how displeased he is about fruitcake, something he refuses to do when eating the harpy omelette that is way worse, because he must make a good impression for Laios. Kabru is honest with his overbearing white mom once again.

Now a little about Rin, from Kabru's context, this is her extra in the Adventurer's Bible

(look at Helki he's such a gremlin i love him) anyway, Rin has a trauma about elves, they really mistreated her so she hates them, but when they notice she isn't thriving they go to Milsiril for help (Helki specifically I'll talk more about him next). I think this indicates she really has a better understanding of short lived kids, her kids are thriving differently from the ones the other elves try to care for. I'd also like to remember she lives secluded from other elves so while Kabru probably had lots of interactions with elves during his life, most of it was probably spent with Milsiril and her other adoptive kids. She also asks Kabru if he would do this to help Rin, he isn't being forced or anything, I also think it's good that Milsiril knows she cant take in any more kids, this to me shows she's worried about the quality of life her kids have. That is all to say, Rin is the one with elf trauma, not Kabru, because Kabru had Milsiril to shelter him from them.

Helki

This will be short and sweet since there's barely anything about Helki, he's her prisioner companion from her time in the canaries, but he was pardoned after Utaya, it says so in the Canarie's Structure page in the new adventurer's guide but I cant really find it translated again... so here's google's machine translation (I remember it saying "Retired and pardoned as a reward after Utaya", something like that)

so officially he isn't a prisoner anymore, but I think he still works as a canary, even so he and Milsiril seem quite close, he is the one to go talk to her about Rin, He is there when she's training Kabru (both laughing at Kabru and then participating). I saw people theorizing she stays close to him because he is also someone who she can feel superior to, but I don't believe it at all, he's STILL in contact with her even after they have nothing to with each other, I think they really have a friendship, and there's no point where it seems like she feels like she's better than him or that he's less than her, people seem to interpret Milsiril and her relationships in the worst possible ways every time and I don't understand why.

This segways into Mithrun

I've also seen people assuming she only got close to Mithrun because now he needs her and has no power over her, once again with the theory that Milsiril surrounds herself with people she can feel superior to. But once again, Milsiril had a change of perspective about Mithrun after seeing his Dungeon

Rather than she feeling superior to him I think rather she realized he was just like her. (And I think she's friends with Helki for a similar reason, it's probably easier to see him as an equal than other nobles)

I've also seen this part used as proof of that. "He said that you've got suspicious ulterior motives and that I shouldn't listen to you" as if that's true, but this is past Mithrun, the one that didn't trust anyone and thought ill of all his teammates, ofc he doesn't believe someone would help him without an ulterior motive. This doesn't prove much about her real motivations.

Also before she showed up, Mithrun was being cared for by servants hired by his brother, he isn't someone helpless she has power over, he is still a member of an important Noble family that has a caring brother providing for him, he can do without Milsiril, he had done without her for 20 years before Utaya happened and she quit the Canaries.

This is all to say I think Milsiril is just a white(elf) adoptive mom doing her best, I don't see much of anything nefarious about her or her motivations, she is flawed as all the dunmeshi characters are, she isn't a perfect mom, she isn't an evil mom, she's just a person.

Elves in general also see short lived species as "children" so I imagine this makes her "You'll always be my baby" attitude way worse, she really treats pre-teen/teen Kabru like he's a toddler sometimes. But she also respected him enough to go all out in training him. I think they're a family with everything that entails.

PS: I didn't get much into Interracial adoption since this is something that happens irl too and I don't know much about all the issues that entails, but in the end, in this case, it seems like a net positive for the kids she adopts considering all we see about how she raised Kabru.

[moonyflesh]

dating Logan Howlett would include…

WARNINGS: smutty. p in v, oral sex, fingering, breeding kink, orgasm teasing/control, mentions of aggressive/risky sex, (language, obviously), etc. - [🔞]

CHARACTERS: James “Logan” Howlett (MARVEL/X-MEN/WOLVERINE)

🐾 .*.. 🩹

- possessive smacks on the ass when you pass him in the hall.

- all talk, but no bite (he would never actually hurt you).

- routine scalp massages (on both ends), usually ending in you both being passed out on the other’s bed.

- having to label what food is yours, or he will eat it.

- constantly scolding him for his chapped lips…where he continuously looses the chapsticks you graciously lend him (he always buys you more).

- playful banter that usually ends with you bent over whatever flat surface is nearby.

- having to get used to loud chewing. i mean, it’s Logan. what do you expect?

- not much physical show of affection in public- that’s reserved for behind closed doors. (an occasional press of his lips to your forehead, or his hand on the small of your back is as far as he’s willing to put on display for the student’s prying eyes).

- thriving off of each other’s warmth at night- tangled up in each other under some thin duvet.

- country, bluegrass, and old as fuck music. don’t you dare even think about turning on “that shitty music you like so much” around him.

- being turned on by your makeup on him in some way— lipstick prints smeared along the collar of his white t-shirt- your mascara running down your face and smearing onto his fingers when he wipes it off.

- (^) just you making an absolute mess on him in general. he fucking loves it.

- needing to take sharp intakes of breath in between his kisses, since he physically can hold his breath for much longer than the “average mutant”.

- rough, meaningful sex. there is no such thing as a ‘quickie’ in his book. he wants to savor your moments of vulnerability.

- more teeth than tongue. he wants to feel how you squirm under him when his canines sink into your lips, shoulders, and inner thighs.

- (^) lovebites and hickeys. you’re not allowed to leave the house unless there’s something that’s marking you as taken. as his.

- wearing his clothes when he’s gone for long periods of time.

- long motorcycle rides, usually at night. (he makes you wear a helmet and plenty of protective leather, much to his enjoyment).

- soaking in your scent. he always knows when your needy. he can smell it on you.

- oh, and he smells like cedar wood and pine. Maybe a bit of cigar smoke- his natural sweat smell he can’t seem to get rid of? Something Iike that.

- (^) him going absolutely feral when he can smell himself on you- his cologne, cigars- just his general aura on you is such a massive turn on for him.

- lots of loving nips and kisses, though. constantly has his lips pressed against the nape of your neck or crown of your skull.

- sleeps with you in his arms. no way in hell you’re allowed to wake up before him.

- face sitting. he wants every pound of you on his mouth and nose, his arms wrapped up and around your thighs, pushing your cunt into his tongue.

- wanting to feel good too. no matter how hard he’s been going down on you, he wants release, too.

- praise. lots of shrewd language and name-calling.

><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

“fuck, that’s my good fucking girl- you’re doing so good, sweetheart- so pretty all sweaty and wet cuzzah’ me, huh?”

><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

- face fucking. he’ll stop no matter how close he is to his peak if you need him to, but he wants it so far down your throat. and you better swallow every last drop.

- breeding kink? idk i just feel like he’s super into seeing you carry his kid (only when you’re ready, though. he of all people knows what a big deal pregnancy is).

- decent aftercare. he at least puts some amount of effort into it; probably brings you a glass of lukewarm water, a damp towel from his bathroom, maybe one of his t-shirts if he thinks of it.

- expect to wait a while for him to say “i love you” back. he’s been hurt. too many times. he loves you, he breathes you, he craves you. he just doesn’t know if he’s ready to actually admit that to himself yet, let alone to you.

[moonstruckme]

rooomate james. 😭😭 literally obsessed w himm!!

Me too I love him (and you!) sm <3

part 1 │ part 2 │ part 3 │ part 4 │part 5 │ part 6 │ part 7 │ part 8 │ part 9 │ part 10 │ part 11 │ part 12 │ part 13

roommate!James x shy!reader ♡ 808 words

You don’t recognize James’ car until he shouts at you. 

“Hey!” 

You give a little jump, turning midair to find James smiling out the rolled-down window. 

“Want a lift?” 

“God, you scared me!” You backtrack and open the passenger door. The seat looks to have been tidied in a hurry, receipts and takeaway containers tossed into the backseat. “How’d you even know I’d need a ride?” 

James refrains from responding to give you an expectant look. You roll your eyes and buckle your seatbelt. Satisfied, he puts the car in reverse, setting his hand on your seat to look behind him as he backs out of the parking spot. 

“You weren’t home when I got there,” he says, “and then I remembered on Sundays you usually get off at eleven, so here I am. Is Art not with you?” 

“No, he wasn’t working tonight.” 

James doesn’t seem too disappointed by this. He pulls onto the street. You watch him, looking almost unconsciously for signs of wear and tear. 

Now that rugby season is in full swing, he’s gone not just during the day for training but sometimes overnight for away games. You’ve been alone in your apartment for the whole weekend while he played in London and then Bristol. It was weird. You think you’ve accidentally grown used to having James around. You don’t fancy yourself a very tactile person, and the urge to hug him isn’t terribly strong, but it’s there. 

“How was work?” he asks you. 

“It was fine. How were your matches?” 

“They were fine,” he imitates you, grinning. “No, it’s like I said. Winning the second one’s always better than winning the first and losing the second. It’s nice to end on a good note.”

He’d texted continual updates while he was gone. You sat on your couch, pretending to yourself or perhaps to some invisible, judgemental observer that you were watching TV when really you were entirely focused on James’ texts. You imagined him sitting in his hotel room doing the same, or maybe in a pub with his teammates, smiling at his phone each time you responded. 

Your imagination has become terribly overindulgent lately. 

“Honestly, I was pretty disappointed you weren’t home when I got there,” James says, a familiar teasing lilt to his voice. “I was hoping to come in and catch you wearing one of my jumpers and staring tearily at a framed photo of me.” 

You roll your eyes, but your face burns. You did use his shampoo, once. In your defense, you’d run out of yours, but you thought that it wouldn’t be so bad to smell like him, nice and fresh and comforting. It had foamed more than you expected. It did smell really nice, but it made your hair feel dry (boy shampoo always does that, you’ve no idea how James’ curls seem to thrive under such poor treatment) and you felt silly about it for days, lovesick in the most derogatory sense. 

Didn’t stop you from sniffing your hair occasionally, though. 

“You weren’t gone to war,” you reply. “And where would I get a framed photo of you?” 

James looks affronted. “I assumed you already had one. How did you get through the weekend without even a photo? You brave, brave girl.” 

“I actually threw a rager,” you deadpan. “Rented out your room to six people traveling through with the carnival and let them invite over all their friends. Did loads of hard drugs.” 

“Well, we all have different ways of coping.” He reaches over to squeeze your shoulder consolingly. You pretend goosebumps don’t skitter all the way down your arm from the brief touch. “And what a marvelous job you’ve done covering up your escapades!” He exclaims as you pull up in front of the apartment. “I haven’t come across the cocaine dust on our bathroom counter yet, so you must have really done a thorough cleanup.” 

“Keep looking, it’s around there somewhere.” 

James laughs. You’re slower getting out of the car than he is, and by the time you emerge he’s in front of you, pulling you into a hug. You think your bones liquefy. He’s warm and strong and he smells like his shampoo, both arms squishing you heartily before he lets go with a little laugh. 

“Sorry,” he says, bringing his hands to your upper arms, “I didn’t even ask. I just missed you, you know?” James has this look on his face, smile brilliant and eyes wide open. So saccharine sweet you almost can’t look at him. “Guess I got used to having you around.” 

You do your best to smile back. “Yeah, me too.” 

He squeezes your arms before turning to go inside. “You smell like Italian food, too. I don’t suppose you’ve cooked anything recently that’s still in the fridge? I’m beginning to think about second dinner.” 

[azrielbrainrot]

The Offering

Pairing: Azriel x F!Reader

Kinktober 2024: Knife Play

Description: Two spymasters of different courts get sent on the same mission. What could go wrong?

Warnings: Smut, knife play, a bit of blood, enemies to lovers, dirty talk

Word Count: ~3k

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

People were filtering out of the banquet hall bit by bit, you almost wanted to sigh in relief, this had felt like the longest night. The corset was eating at your skin - it really shouldn't have been something you did by yourself, you tightened it far too much, - and the wine would have started getting to you if this night carried on much longer, something that you couldn't have let happen, especially with him here.

The Night Court's Spymaster had scarcely looked at you this whole time, pretty much ignoring your presence as your disguise called for, but even a quick glance was enough to make your skin burn. Maybe it wasn't such a good thing the banquet was ending, it meant you had to face him sooner. The thought makes you down the rest of your wine, drunken cheers erupting from the people around you.

Cozying up to rich and presumptuous nobles was unfortunately one of your strengths, you could talk almost anyone out of their secrets on nights like this, which is why Eris sent you here last minute, not wanting to lose ground on the Night Court.

You have been Eris' unofficial spy since before he had become High Lord, you considered him one of your closest friends really, and that's exactly why he had appointed you as his Spymaster when he took the throne. Over the years his and the Night Court's alliance had grown and shifted, never quite losing their initial animosity but working towards common goals. This meant you've had the displeasure of working with Azriel on multiple occasions.

Just as the last few attendants stand up, you mix in with the crowd, walking behind them for most of the way before turning a corner and disappearing from their sight, carefully making your way back to the banquet hall where the shadowsinger is waiting with his back turned to the door, powerful wings now on full display after being hidden behind a glamor.

As soon as you close the door, letting your exhausted body fall against it, he turns to you, hazel eyes dragging over your body untamed. You take this moment to study him as well. It will always take you by surprise how unbelievably beautiful this male was.

The two remaining candlesticks barely illuminated the room but Azriel always thrived in the dark. The dark blue suit he wore looked more expensive than anything you had ever seen him in, and Gods did it look downright sinful on him. He had to send his shadows away during dinner, but now they had returned, swirling around his form, making him look even more imposing. If you didn't know better you would have thought he was the High Lord of darkness himself.

Your eyes meet at last after studying each other's bodies and choices of attire, the tension in the room making you swallow as you struggle to fall back into your role as spymaster, your role as his reluctant ally from a court he had made quite obvious he despised with passion.

“I'm not sure how this alliance is supposed to prosper when you keep hiding things from us, shadowsinger,” you start, walking closer to the table in between you.

“I'm here on private Night Court business.” He tracks your movements, hazel eyes studying the way you hold onto the back of a chair as he continues, “It doesn't concern you.”

“Really? From what I gathered this affects the Autumn Court too.”

“It won't affect anyone if we stop them in time,” he dismissed you easily.

“They want to summon a God, Azriel,” you remind him, your glare sharpening.

“After I share all my findings with Rhysand I'm sure he will call a High Lord meeting and inform everyone accordingly.”

The more your mood soured, the more his shadows stretched out towards you, braving the lights on the table in favor of reaching your body. They were powerful weapons, powerful beings, but you've learned they can give away their singer's emotions and intentions if unchecked.

“You know what I think?”

“I'm sure you'll tell me anyway.”

“I think this need you have to always be the one to figure everything out on your own and making yourself useful comes from being that insecure little kid who couldn't even fly.” The vile words fall from your mouth far too easily, it's almost like you're always trying to prove the rumors about you right. “Scared they'll throw you away? Find someone better than you?”

You thought his shadows would crawl up your body at the verbal attack, maybe even try to hide his if you truly crossed a line, but much to your surprise they scatter around the room instead. Azriel's head tilts to the side, a smirk falling onto his handsome face as he starts walking around the table, slowly making his way to you. It takes far too much self control for you not to back away, years of training and experience rendered null in his presence.

Azriel wouldn't hurt you, that would compromise the alliance between your courts, and, as cruel as your words had been, they were also true, - he would be too scared of the repercussions of failing his brother far too much, - but that wasn't what made your heart race so. You were scared of what else he could do to you, of what you would let him do.

His hand reaches to cup your face, and you struggle to keep up the glare as you take in the hunger in his eyes. Azriel hums when you make no move to pull away, eyes dropping to your chest for a moment before meeting yours once again, letting you know he could hear the way your heart was trying to escape through your ribcage.

“You really don't know how to do anything else but bite when you get backed into a corner, do you?”

His voice sounded deeper as he whispered so close to you, his breath hitting your face as you looked up at him.

“What else am I supposed to do?”

Azriel lets out a cruel chuckle, leaning in until his lips brush against yours. “I thought you already knew you can drop the act when it's just me,” he murmurs, “guess I'll need to show you again.”

His lips fall over yours as soon as the words leave his mouth, your hand coming up to hold the back of his neck, pulling him in even closer. It had been far too long since you had last tasted him and you needed more, needed to drown yourself in him.

His own hands start trailing down your body, pulling up the skirt of your dress until it gathers at your waist, lifting you up onto the table and standing between your legs before you have the chance to react, always getting so lost in him.

“What are you doing?” You ask, pulling away as you try to remember yourself, remember your role and where you are. Anyone could walk in this room and find you like this. You don't know what would be worse: everyone figuring out you were spies working to uncover their whole operation, or someone seeing the spymasters of two opposing courts tangled up like this.

“As long as we are in this house we need to keep up our cover,” Azriel explains against your neck, unwilling to let you hold on to your sanity, “Can't you hear them upstairs? We're the odd ones out.”

You had been so caught up in him you hadn't even noticed the mingling scents and wanton moans traveling all the way from up the stairs. It almost sounded like the universe was working against you. Tightening your grip on his silky hair as he moves lower, kissing your skin all the way down to the neckline of your dress.

He stands up suddenly, eyeing your covered body one more time, before pulling out his trusted dagger, Truth Teller, and running its tip down your throat lightly, the cold blade barely touching the skin. Your eyes widen a bit, but the way his track the blade's movements makes you relax against it. It looks like you're in for an unforgettable night.

“This is a beautiful dress. It was incredibly hard to keep my eyes off you the whole night,” he says, eyes meeting yours for a split second, “but it's getting in the way now.”

“It's an expensive dress, Azriel.” Your voice was far too breathy for this to sound like a heartfelt complaint. He humors you all the same.

“I'll buy you a new one,” he promises just as the sharp blade starts cutting at the corset holding your dress tight against your skin, destroying the fabric far too easily. Gods, he could cut your skin so easily if he wanted to.

He throws the offending corset aside, making you finally breathe properly for the first time tonight. As you take a deep breath, his scent assaults your senses, making the wetness gathering in your underwear grow even more. You bring his lips back to yours but he only allows you a short kiss before he's pulling away again.

Just as you go to protest, he gets back to work with his knife, running the cold blade over your heated skin, sending shivers down your spine, gasps escaping you when he actually cuts through fabric after caressing your skin with the deadly weapon for so long.

By the time your dress was in shreds at his feet, and you were finally naked to his eyes, you were unbelievably turned on, so wet you think he could slip right in with no resistance.

“Lay down for me.”

It takes you a moment to fully think through what he wanted you to do, studying the shadowsinger intently for any sign of deceit. He lets you, simply staring back into your eyes, as open as you've ever seen him. The knife in his hand didn't feel threatening, not after he ran the blade all over your skin without so much as a scratch, and you fear you would never actually feel threatened by it as long as he was the one holding it.

You obey him, falling back against the table you had just been eating at, surrounded by a dangerous cult who was still lingering inside this very house, and could very well catch you both in this vulnerable state. He was right though, you couldn't help but at least show your teeth.

“Are you interrogating me now?”

Azriel hums, a dark, excited look falling over his eyes, one that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand, whether because of fear or anticipation you can't be too sure.

“We can do that,” he starts, running Truth Teller's hilt down your sternum, “It's not often I get the Spymaster of the Autumn Court under my knife after all.”

“And what do I get in return for answering your questions?”

The smile on his face grows, laying the knife down your torso, the blade fitting perfectly between your breasts, and spreading your legs apart further, helping you plant your feet on the table too, keeping you nice and open for his greedy eyes. “I think you know.”

“Did Eris send you here to spy on me or on them?” Azriel asks as he leans over you so he can meet your eyes properly.

The problem with this position is that you can't really keep your eyes on him, only seeing his shadowy figure through your peripheral vision unless he leans over you or you strain your neck. You felt completely at his mercy.

As if hearing your thoughts, - something you were sure only his High Lord and Lady could do, - his shadows gather under you, bringing in a rolled up table cloth so you could hold your head up, and meet his eyes. Being confronted by his hazel eyes again makes you clench around nothing, momentarily forgetting everything else.

“Both,” you answer honestly. It's not like you both didn't already know the truth. “You keep hiding things from us so what other choice do we have?”

“Your High Lord isn't entitled to know about everything that happens in Prythian,” he scoffs, his disdain for Eris so obvious it almost makes you flinch when he touches you again, his thumb running down your stomach, from the tip of his knife to where you needed him most.

“Neither is yours.”

Now it was his turn to glare up at you, leaning over your body and looking down with sharp eyes. You almost think this would turn into another argument before he keeps running his thumb down your folds, collecting your wetness and spreading it around, not quite giving you what you needed.

“Tell me,” he starts, picking up the dagger once again, “have you told your High Lord you keep letting a bastard like me fuck you?”

It's only when blood starts dripping down his wrist that you notice he had grabbed the dagger by the blade. Just as you go to get up and stop him, not wanting to see him hurt, he runs the hilt of his favored dagger over your folds just like he had done with his fingers, getting it coated in your wetness, and making you stop in your tracks as a gasp escapes you.

“Would you tell him how easily you fall apart on my cock?” His intentions were becoming clear in your mind, and for some sick reason it was only making you wetter instead of scared. “Need an answer, little spy.”

“No,” you confess, eyes staring back into his, silently begging him to do something.

“Embarrassed?”

“Not of you.”

The problem wasn't him. You were embarrassed of how easily you forget yourself when he so much as looks your way, even though he's more enemy than ally and makes his hate for your court and High Lord well known every time you meet. You're embarrassed at how you still let him touch you like this and be a constant presence in your thoughts knowing he would kill the person that saved and gave you the opportunity to be someone of importance in a heartbeat.

A shadow passes by his eyes, you're not sure what it meant, but luckily he doesn't linger in unwanted thoughts either, spreading your folds apart with his thumb as he starts feeding your cunt the hilt of his dagger. You tighten involuntarily around the unfamiliar material, even though you were so wet you were dripping down onto the table under you.

Azriel lets out a sigh at the sinful sight, circling his thumb around your clit. “Relax for me,” he murmurs, “I promise I'll make you feel good.”

And as usual your body listens to him immediately, allowing him to slowly insert the hilt of the dagger completely inside you. The scent of his blood mixed in with your arousal was making your head spin, and you can't help but call out his name, ready to beg if that was what it took. It seems his patience was wearing thin too as he starts pumping Truth Teller inside you, slowly fucking you with his dagger.

“Fuck, you look perfect.”

You should definitely feel a bit ashamed at the noises erupting from your lips, but if you did it was only adding to the pleasure, a high building inside you far too rapidly. You stand no chance as he leans down and sucks your clit into his mouth, circling his tongue around and speeding up his thrusts, your hands falling to his hair, tightening around his curls painfully, keeping him right there.

Your orgasm almost takes you by surprise as you let out an untamed moan of his name, the Spymaster's name echoing around the room like it couldn't get you both killed. Your legs dangle over the table again, trembling slightly as your body works you through the intense pleasure.

Azriel's mouth only abandons you when you start pushing at his head, too sensitive as you come down. His dagger follows, the sound of it being placed on the table next to you making you open your eyes and look at it, heat spreading to your face and ears as you do, still soaked with your cum on its hilt and his blood on the blade.

You look his way to find him studying it as well, his bloodied hand holding onto your hip, staining your skin as well. He was so focused that the shadowsinger didn't even notice you sitting up until you grab the back of his neck and pull him into a passionate kiss, feeling even needier now than when you first started even though you just came so hard you had seen every star in the sky.

Azriel returns the kiss with the same intensity, both of you getting lost in each other's taste and touch. Time seemed to stop around you. His hand travels up your body, painting his blood over your skin, making your scents mix completely into one, until you were anyone that walked into this room wouldn't be able to tell them both apart.

You feel him tense up against you suddenly, lips freezing against yours, prompting you to pull away, scared something had happened. Your eyes fall on the door immediately, thinking one of the cult members had wandered in, hand reaching for his dagger, but when you find the door still closed and no one even close to this room your eyes fall on his questioningly.

What you find in his wide hazel eyes scares you more than anything else could, ice running through your veins, snuffing out your fire as you see an inescapable fate come alive, shackling you together. His dagger drops onto the table once more, slipping through your fingers.

Azriel was your mate.

[mychapel-004]

FNAF SPOILERS! SCROLL! TALKING ABOUT THE SPRINGLOCK SCENE!

i’ve seen so many people discussing the springlock scene in both negative and positive ways and i think it brings up really cool points about how matthew played that scene and balanced fan expectations with his own characterisation.

i think the discussions around this movie have rlly exposed the disconnect between fanon and canon in fnaf, especially talking abt the core games in isolation, bc frankly in the game universe (ignoring the books) we get Very Little characterisation for William other than the obvious, but Matthew managed to add so much in the way he talks and his body language.

in the reveal scene, we see afton at arguably his peak. in his first scene, he comes off as somewhat demeaning and judgemental until he recognises mike’s name, at which point he seems to have this nervous energy, rushing to cover it up but stumbling slightly, his reaction to the tables being turned even slightly is massive.

this is a man who committed multiple mrdrs in essentially broad daylight, hid the bodies in the most obvious place, and still got away with it, and then kept the crime scene as a trophy of his actions, and an ongoing prison sentence for his victims. he has been in complete control for decades, and is confident that he can deal with any kind of threat quickly. his confidence in his reveal is palpable

it changes when vanessa shoots him. the whole parallel with vanessa and the animatronics is hugely interesting too- how william refers to the animatronics almost endearingly as “kids” when he wants them to obey, how both vanny and the animatronics have an unearned loyalty to him, almost a pseudo-adoption through what he did to them, taking them from their parents and keeping them under his thumb, forever stuck as naive, forgiving, obedient children. vanessa breaking from that control shakes him, but the mask slips back into place almost immediately.

then, he’s outsmarted by the brother of one of his victims, and the child he planned to end next. his pseudo-children turn on him and he can no longer manipulate his appearance or shed his skin to escape. he explodes on them, and his language is incredibly telling that he is being dishonest.

he calls them small, trying to belittle them into submission, even though they are ten feet tall metal animatronics powered by rage. he is grasping at straws to regain control, and failing miserably.

finally, the springlocks go off. the locks in the movie look more like a ribcage, so the first two likely puncture his lungs. they’re slow, and painful, but he doesn’t scream or beg or sob. he grunts and groans, gritting his teeth and only letting out sounds of pain that sound almost involuntary. there is no way in hell he would visibly let himself show weakness or pain in front of these creatures that he believes he has control over. he isn’t brought to his knees until there are eight metal spikes embedded in his abdomen. he doesn’t let the mask fall for even a second, until he literally PUTS THE ACTUAL MASK ON and finally collapses. even then, he’s fighting for consciousness, twitching and writhing with no control over his body. william afton thrives on control, and his soul will not rest until he gets it back.

it’s why he keeps the pizzeria- he always comes back. he can’t help but return to the scene of the crime, putting on his old costume, continuing his killings. he revels in being a constant threat on the horizon. and now, he knows he is going to die, and he knows the suit will bring him back, and noone will be able to get rid of him then. so he puts the mask back on, and waits.

in terms of the sfx- they’re pretty accurate. with stab wounds, you need to leave the knife in the wound as long as possible for best chance of survival, as it stops the blood from escaping. in terms of the springlocks, there wouldn’t be copious amounts of blood as the locks are keeping the wounds filled- which is good because it means a slower, more painful death.

[redvexillum]

Dedicated to my fluff-loving friend, Ms. 🍑. I'm getting whiplash. The last four days were probably the darkest and smuttiest writing I've done - and today, it's ...fluff to the max. I stuffed all the fluff in my mouth. I want this story to be so fluffy that I become fluffy.

 A smile was said to be worth a thousand words, a silent language that could light up the room, soothe others, or even hide the darkest of truths.  

But what did it mean if you couldn’t smile? If every time you tried, your lips refused to cooperate, did that make you worthless? 

All your life, people said the same thing: “Just smile, honey.” And when you didn’t, they assumed you were upset, angry, or just a frigid bitch. 

But that wasn’t it. It was never that simple. You weren't upset, at least not in the way they thought.  

So, you started practising, standing in front of the mirror day by day, willing yourself to smile. You’d stretch your lips upwards, trying to mould them into something that looked natural. But the face that stared back at you was wrong.  

It didn’t look like you.  

The curve of your lips felt forced, your eyes not lighting up the way they were supposed to. The reflection almost mocked you with its emptiness, the smile looking more like a grimace, a mask of something false.   

And you hated it.  

You hated how fake it felt, how alien it looked. It didn’t bring you any joy, just a hollow, bitter taste.  

If a smile was truly worth a thousand words, then maybe yours was worth nothing at all. 

Alastor had spent months trying to coax a smile out of you. When you first arrived at the hotel, your lips were a perfect, unyielding line, your eyes flat and devoid of any spark. At first, he paid you no mind. The hotel was bustling, full of fresh souls seeking redemption, and he had no shortage of entertainment.  

The “Princess’ Redemption Program,” as much as it irked him, was thriving. There were countless other residents, and yet...you stood out, your lack of expression gnawing at him more than he’d care to admit.  

He didn’t like you – not at first. While others laughed and grinned, you remained stone-faced, and it irritated him. You befriended everyone in the hotel, navigating its chaos with grace, but never once did your lips so much as twitch into a smile. And��that irked him more. 

Eventually, something in him shifted. Perhaps it was the challenge you presented, or maybe he had eternity to burn. Either way, he decided he was going to make you smile. Once, just once, and then he’d be on his merry way.  

So, he tried everything. At first, you merely raised an eyebrow, curious but silent as he suddenly began spending more time with you. Yet, you never complained. Instead, you listened, offering no reaction other than attentive silence.  

He’d tell jokes, ones that normally left him in stitches, but you’d sit there, unblinking, lips still pressed into that same stubborn line.  

Then, he tried pranks. He’d tap your shoulder and watch you startle when he appeared behind you, his laughter echoing down the halls. Every time, the same trick, the same reaction – but never a smile. Only a flicker of surprise before you carried on, as if nothing had happened.  

“Knock, knock!” He said one day, his voice lifting to its usual jovial pitch, eyes gleaming with mischief.  

You tilted your head, blinking innocently at him. “Who’s there?” 

“Boo,” he said, leaning closer, the tension in the air thickening with his creeping grin.  

“Boo, who?” 

His neck tilted, cracking unnaturally to the side as his microphone staff crackled with a sharp burst of static. “Oh, don’t cry now, dear! You’ll really have something to weep about once the fun begins!” His smile stretched wide, cutting into his cheeks as the ominous word settled into the space between you.  

But you stared back, unfazed. “That joke is pretty on-brand with you,” you said in the same soft monotone, nodding slightly before continuing on your way as if nothing had happened.  

Alastor’s left eye twitched as he watched you walk away, completely unfazed. He had told you674 jokes. Six hundred and seventy-four. And not once had you cracked a smile. It couldn’t be that his jokes weren’t funny – that would be an outrageous, preposterous impossibility! 

No, it had to be you.  

No matter how many jokes fell flat, Alastor wasn’t deterred. When punchlines didn’t work, he decided to escalate – physical humour.  

One afternoon, while you were quietly reading in the hotel library, he summoned a shadow tendril with the flick of his hand. It slithered across the floor silently until it reached your side, then gently wiggled under your arm.  

A soft, startled yelp escaped you, a sound so unexpectedly cute that it nearly startled him. You looked down at the mischievous tendril, now waving back at you in playfulness. Your cheeks flushed, embarrassment creeping up your neck as your eyes flicked toward Alastor, trying to understand what just happened.  

And Alastor? He blinked, for the first time in what felt like an eternity, he realized something new about himself. There was something oddly...endearing about the sound you made. It reminded him of a small, startled puppy, and he couldn’t help but want to hear it again.  

But why? 

Why did he suddenly crave that pathetic little noise? He almost wanted to scold himself for it, but the curiosity was far stronger.  

A booming laugh erupted from him instead, loud and dramatic as always, masking the strange and unfamiliar sensation bubbling in his chest. His heart – what was left of it – beat harder, faster. Palpitations? After death? How bizarre.

Over time, however, things changed in subtle ways. He noticed how easily you fit into his life, sliding into his routine with an almost unnerving grace. Somehow, without ever asking, you convinced him to join you for breakfast each morning. While you quietly nibbled on toast with jam or a simple egg, Alastor would indulge in more ...exotic fare – perhaps a raw deer carcass or the seared flesh of a particularly deserving sinner. Yet, your expression never wavered. No grimace. No disgust.  

There was something oddly comforting about your presence at the breakfast table, the quiet companionship as the two of you sat together. Alastor hadn’t realized how much he missed that – true companionship – since arriving in Hell. Surrounded by chaos and destruction, he hadn’t noticed the absence of something so simple, so human.  

He didn’t mind the morning with you. In fact, he began to look forward to them.  

Days blurred into weeks, and then months. Despite the time you spent together, Alastor had still never seen you smile. Occasionally, he thought he caught the faintest hint of something – a softening in your eyes, perhaps, when you glanced his way – but it never quite reached your lips. At this point, he figured he was smiling enough for both of you.  

Then, something strange happened. He stopped obsessing over making you smile. Somewhere along the line, it ceased being a game or a challenge. He just...stopped. And as for what he was doing with you now? He wasn’t entirely sure.  

He found himself becoming more involved in your daily life, his presence intertwining with your routine. He shared more meals with you. He strolled beside you through town, spinning tales of his past, both in life and in Hell, as you listened with quiet, patient attention.  

And now, here he was, sitting next to you in the library, the two of you reading in comfortable silence, side by side.  

Your arms barely touched, but when you turned a page and the lightest brush of your arm grazed his, Alastor found himself leaning ever so slightly toward you. The movement was so subtle, so imperceptible, that even he wasn’t sure why he did it.  

But he didn’t pull away.  

“ROOOWRRR!” A ghastly yowl echoed through the halls, followed by a chorus of scream – most notably, Charlie’s. Her frantic voice rang out, sharp and panicked.  

“ALASTOR!” Charlie’s scream tore down the hall, urgent and distressed.  

You jolted in place as you instinctively turned to Alastor. Confusion and a flicker of fear danced across your face. Without thinking, Alastor’s hand reached out, patting your arm in what should have been a casual gesture.  

Yet, it felt different – this was the first time he’d touched you in an attempt to comfort. His eyes flickered down to where his hand rested against your skin, realizing the weight of the act. Suddenly, he pulled back as if he had been burned, his fingers tingling from the contact.  

Clearing his throat, he straightened up, trying to cover his uncharacteristic slip with a wide, winning smile. “Ah, it’s nothing to worry your silly head about, darling! Just...that thing again. Visits every three years, though it’s a bit early this time,” he said, his tone light as he brushed imaginary lint off his sleeves, his movements slow and deliberate.  

“That...thing?” You tilted your head, your wide eyes full of innocent curiosity and a touch of lingering uncertainty. Your shoulders hunched in slightly, unconsciously trying to make yourself smaller, to shrink away from whatever chaos awaited in the lobby.  

Alastor’s gaze softened, and an unfamiliar urge tugged at him. He wanted to rub your back in reassurance, to ease the tension in your frame. He had hugged Rosie, hugged Mimzy – so surely, hugging you wouldn’t be any different.  

Yet as his eyes traced the delicate line of your figure, he froze. His heart thudded in his chest, the heat crawling up from his core to his cheeks, unbidden and unfamiliar. The feeling, strange and sudden, made his left eye twitch.Heartburn? Now, of all times?

“It’s nothing, darling,” Alastor assured, folding his hands neatly behind his back, masking the odd sensation that threatened to rise. “You might as well come and see for yourself – it's quite the hideous little thing,” he added with a smirk, trying to inject a bit of humour.  

Curiosity lit up your face, your lips parting in a soft gasp, eyes gleaming. “A hideous little thing?” you asked, your voice gentle as you picked up your pace to walk beside him.  

He couldn’t help but notice that each of his strides required you to take two steps to keep up. Without much of a thought, he slowed his pace until you matched him easily. “Yes, hideous and annoying. I’ve repeatedly told everyone not to feed it, yet here we are,” he muttered, his eyes narrowing in mild distaste as you approached the source of the chaos.  

When you reached the lobby, your eyes widened in pure awe. There, bouncing off the walls with a guttural yowl, was a red-furred four-legged creature the size of a cat. Its eyes were comically pointed outward, each one staring in opposite directions, and the tufts of black tipped fur on its ears bore an uncanny resemblance to Alastor’s own. To top it off, the creature sported a monocle on its left eye – just like Alastor’s.  

“Alastor!” Vaggie’s voice cut through the air as she stood in the centre of the room, sweating and pointing an accusatory finger at the beast. “Deal with Catastor!” 

Your eyes darted to Alastor. “Catastor?” you repeated, the name settling on your lips as you tried to suppress the amusement creeping into your voice.  

Alastor sighed, his grin never faltering. “Yes, Catastor. Don’t ask,” he muttered, casting the creature a look of pure disdain. He turned his attention to Vaggie, his grin tightening as his eyes narrowed. “I’ve told you many times, that thing looks nothing like me,” he spat, thrusting the head of his staff toward the red-furred creature now lazily stretching its body and wiggling around the room, seemingly oblivious to the chaos it had caused.  

“Really?” you mused, stepping forward, your eyes sparkling with mischief. “It does look a bit like you,” you teased, inching closer to the bizarre creature.  

Alastor’s gaze darted to you, and his voice lowered, an edge of warning in his tone. “Careful, darling. That thing has a taste for sinners,” he muttered, grimacing. “Considering, it always manages to sneak into my stockpile of them.” 

The beast, as if sensing the conversation was about it, suddenly lunged in your direction. Alastor’s eyes widened in horror. His heart leapt into his throat as he instinctively reached out, but before he could summon even a flicker of his power to protect you, you had already acted.  

With surprising grace, your hands slid under the creature’s armpits, effortlessly catching it mid-lunge. You cradled it as though it were nothing more than a stray kitten. “Hello again,” you cooed softly, your voice calm, eyes brightening with a gentle warmth as you tilted your head in amusement. 

The room was a mess – the lights still swayed from the beast’s earlier rampage, and a bit of the floorboard lay shattered and torn across the space. Everyone’s hair was in disarray, save for Alastor and you.  

Offering an apologetic smile, you looked around. “I’m sorry,” you said softly, glancing at the others. “I didn’t know we weren’t supposed to feed him.” 

Alastor blinked, too stunned to respond. You held the creature against your chest, your fingers tenderly petting its head, and to his utter disbelief, the beast – this monstrous, chaotic thing – melted in your hands. Its lower half sagged like goo, limp and boneless, as you held it up by its torso.  

A burst of laughter slipped from your lips, light and full of joy. “Silly boy,” you murmured, playfully bopping the creature’s nose. Then, you looked up at Alastor, your eyes curved in a gentle, delighted line, and your smile – radiant and bright – struck him like a punch to the gut. “I promise I’ll take care of him properly, so he doesn’t cause any more trouble. Could he stay?” 

“Absolutely-” Alastor began, his voice rising in protest, but the words caught in his throat. His gaze was glued to your lips, curved in that dazzling smile. He hadn’t even noticed the creature snuggling closer to your chest, its purrs filling the air like a mocking reminder of its victory. That hideous, absurd thing had succeeded where he had failed for months.  

Before he could fully voice his objection, Angel Dust’s voice broke through the moment. “Wait - you’ve been feeding it?” Angel coughed, climbing out from beneath the rubble, dusting himself off. “And that thing didn’t try to eat you?” 

Vaggie, eyes narrowed, stomped her foot in frustration. “How do you know it tries to eat people, Angel? Did you feed it too?” 

Angel shrugged, glancing at her sheepishly. “Maybe...” 

Alastor’s eye twitched, irritation surging through him. Months – months of trying to get you to smile, and now, here you were, beaming because of that disgusting creature. He clenched his jaw, attempting to suppress the growing wave of annoyance.  

Vaggie shot a glare toward Charlie, groaning in exasperation. “No...don’t tell me. Have all of you been feeding Catastor after Alastor explicitly told us not to?” 

Alastor gritted his teeth, the growing resentment gnawing at him. The fact that the creature’s name had been twisted to mimic his own was an insult he could barely stand. He opened his mouth, ready to snap with a biting retort, but before he could, you stepped in front of him.  

The beast had fully stretched, wrapping its long, serpentine torso around your neck like a scarf, purring contentedly as it nuzzled into you. Alastor’s eyes flickered between the creature and your smiling face, and for a brief moment, the world seemed to shift.  

That smile – your smile – he'd been chasing it for so long. And now that it was here, he wasn’t sure what to do with the flutter of emotions tangled up inside him.  

“Alastor, if he causes any trouble, I’ll-” you faltered, eyes scanning the floor, searching for words before meeting his gaze. “I’ll deal with the consequences. So, c-could you give him a chance? I promise I’ll take good care of him, we-we'll stay out of trouble!” Your voice wavered, eyes pleading, as your once hopeful smile slowly began to shrink.  

Alastor’s eyes flicked to the red-furred beast lounging lazily around your neck. The creature had been nothing but a nuisance, sneaking into his stock of food and leaving foul messes all over his bayou. The obvious answer was no. It was so clear in his mind – he could already see himself punting the cat-like creature far across the pentagram, dusting his hands of the whole ordeal.  

But as your smile withered, and your eyes searched his, slowly realizing the inevitable refusal, something tugged at his chest. That sinking look in your eyes...it ate away at him.  

The obvious answer was no.  

But instead... 

“I swear,” he began, his tone sharp, deliberate. “If that thing causes any hint of trouble in my room, particularly, I’m going to eat that cat.” He enunciated each word, his grin widening as he flashed his sharp teeth, shooting a glare at the foul creature. In response, the creature mockingly stuck its tongue out at him, which only further soured his mood.  

What surprised him was how your face lit up – how your eyes widened, shimmering with joy, and how your once solemn expression now blossomed into something so bright it seemed to light up the entire room. You grabbed his hands in your excitement, shaking them up and down with a bubbling laughter that filled the air like music.  

“Oh, thank you, thank you!” you exclaimed, laughter spilling from your lips like sunshine.  

Alastor stood frozen, utterly stunned. He stared at you, his grinning mask forced on as he took in the sight of your laughter, the warmth of your smile. It was as if something inside him had cracked open – he hadn’t realized how much he wanted to see you like this, to hear that laughter, to witness the unfiltered joy in your face.  

His heart pounded against his rib cage, thrumming in his ears like a chaotic rhythm, and for a moment, he was paralyzed by the strange, unfamiliar sensation washing over him.  

How had you managed to convince him to take care of that beast? That thing would undoubtedly invade every corner of your life... and, by extension, his.  

He couldn’t understand it.  

Was he ill? Dying? 

But then you called his name, your voice soft, sweet, still laced with that bright smile that now adorned your face as if it always belonged there. And in that instant, he knew. With dawning horror, he realized what was happening.  

His tongue felt heavy, his chest unbearably tight, and his left eye twitched erratically. He took a giant step backward, trying to ground himself, then another, and another, until he melted into the shadows, disappearing without a word.  

Alastor realized, with a deep, unsettling dread, that he fancied you.  

Follow #vexitober 2024 to read my questionable kink/fluff stories!

[evilgwrl]

Super in love with your work it's amazing.

So I had this idea maybe you'd like? Just an idea: Do with it what you will

So reader is a coworker with Simon, and she's like super strong-willed, doesn't take bullshit from anyone type person, good at what she does and knows it, and Simon fucking loves that, loves a woman that can put someone in their place. He thinks it's just respect at first, but one day, he sees her yelling at some recruits and gets so turned on from the sight that he can't think of anything else.

Interested with what you might do with it or how you'd continue it if you decide to write it

Have a nice rest or your day either way

I love this!!

CW: Military inaccuracies, Ghost gets boners for you, sexual tensions and allusions to further smut but nothing graphic

They called you Hawk due to your impeccable eyesight. You were hard-headed with a vast efficiency to pinpoint a target miles away, your bullet already penetrating the air before others could even see it. You were a quick fit into the Task Force with a shabby sense of humour and ability to take control.

Working in a male-dominated industry should’ve scared you, but it didn’t. You were a whirlwind on your feet, easily able to toggle areas and courses without even a remote struggle. You thrived at what you did, constantly garnering respect from those around you. Maybe that’s why Ghost was so intrigued by you.

He tied it down to a “respect thing”, enjoying that a woman was able to put anyone in their place no matter the size of who she was dealing with. That’s why he was slightly confused at the growing bulge in his cargo pants.

Your face was contorted in frustration, tangled eyebrows furrowed as you yelped commands at a group of soldiers. Your hands were resting on your hips, a scowl on your face as you groaned.

“Private Matthews, did I or did I not say that you should never take your eye off an opponent?”

“You did, ma’am.”

“You will refer to me as Sergeant, private,” you snapped, “Get back in the ring and do it correctly this time.”

Ghost adjusted, turning his attention back to the group of soldiers before him, barking out his own orders, umber eyes occasionally darting over to you, entranced at how simple it was for you to command.

You were seated next to Soap, ass flush on the seat as you grumbled about how idiotic some people were, bragging about how certain you were that you were never there incompetent.

“Aye, lass, can’t all be like you, can we?”

You nudged the Scotsman’s shoulder, offering him a toothy smile as you went on to joke around. Ghost watched you as he approached, looking at the way your eyes were always high, never stooping to the ground with discomfort. You smiled as the Lieutenant joined you, missing the way his eyes racked over you.

“Bonnie here was just saying she could easily tackle you in a shuttle run, LT,” Soap joshed, earning you an eye roll.

“That so?” Ghost’s voice was naturally loud, a deep husk protruding from every word as he looked at you. You shrugged, tossing him a teasing smirk.

“Won’t know until we find out, will we Lieutenant?”

Ghost could feel himself straining again, pants tightening at your display of confidence before you excused yourself, muttering about hitting the gym to wear you out. Ghost was quick to follow, scoffing down the remainder of his food and rushing out a goodbye before heavy feet were trailing behind you.

You were clad in a loose pair of gym shorts, a well-fitted green singlet sporting against your skin as gloved fists pummelled a punching bag. You were quick, feet skidding against the ground as you huffed out shallow breaths.

“You have good form,” Ghost spoke, clearing his throat.

You turned around, hair swishing in a messy pony as you looked at him, brow raised, “Did you doubt me, Lieutenant?”

“Unsure. Never sparred with you, ‘ave I, Hawk?”

“You asking to spar with me, Ghost?”

He rolled his eyes as you walked up to him, a cocky smirk on your face as you got into position. You were both quick, entangled limbs battering against one another as you both ducked, blurting out expletives as your clothes moulded with trickles of sweat.

Ghost was practically mesmerised by the way you moved, somehow making sparring look elegant. The Lieutenant knocked you to your feet, your body crashing onto the ground with a slam as you groaned, staring up at him with irked eyes.

“Didn’t anyone warn you to take it easy on a lady?” You miffed; your face contorted with annoyance as you glared at him.

Ghost frowned slightly, taking in your pained expression before he was knocked between the ankles, joining you on the ground as you giggled out a laugh, clambering on top of him with a finger gun pointed to his head.

“Shouldn’t underestimate your opponents, LT, no matter how annoyed they look.”

Ghost let out a grunt as he flipped the two of you over, your hands pinned above your head. “Never underestimated you, sweet’art.”

Your bodies radiated heat, thick smog of tension pummelling into the atmosphere as your eyes interlocked. You licked your lip, forehead wet with salty moisture as you maintained composure.

“You gonna keep me like this all night, Lieutenant?” Your tone was sultry, wringing him in with every syllable as he pressed against you, growing bulge prominent against your clothed sex as you glanced down.

“Thinking about it.”

[myfictionaldreams]

Day 9: Size Kink - Ari Levinson

Summary: Ari was your grumpy (handsome) boss, who never smiled at anyone. So why did he care so much if you smiled at someone else?

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, grumpy vs sunshine, arguments, size difference, size kink (Ari is huge in every way), showing off strength, manhandling, spit as lube, fingering, possessive, rough sex

masterlist 📚 

kinktober masterlist😈 

AO3 Link 

It had been a long day already; the sun was beaming down, which meant the bar was packed to capacity, with endless drinks and money being swapped. You thrived on days like this, enjoying the perks an extra broad smile could get you from willing customers who hadn’t appreciated service with a smile. Today, there was one specific customer, Matt, who was sitting on a stool in the middle of the bar and had been complimenting you for the entire afternoon.

He was harmless and continuously gave you tips with every drink, so you plastered a great, broad, fake smile that ached your cheeks every time you went near him. Ari watched from the end of the bar at how you smiled towards the stranger and how the man smiled back, and the second your back was turned, his eyes would be searching your body greedily.

Ari’s hand tightened around the beer bottle to the point that he was close to shattering it and had to take a long breath through his nose to calm himself down. Yet, he continued to watch. He always used the excuse that because he was the boss, he needed to keep a close eye on the goings on in his establishment and his employees, but deep down, he knew there was another reason he was always sitting at the bar rather than in his office.

The liquor you needed for your requested drink was empty as you lifted it to show the customer with a closed-lipped smile, “need a new one”, you quickly explained before leaving out the back of the bar. 

All of the stock was kept in the cellar, so you descended the steps carefully, taking your time to have a quiet moment to yourself. Scanning the rows of liquid against the wall, you sighed, seeing that the one bottle you needed was on the highest shelf, which you would struggle to reach. Straining up on the tips of your toes, your arm stretched out as far as it could, reaching for the bottle, but a searing warmth burned through the clothes on your lower back as Ari pressed against it, using it as leverage to reach above you to grab the liquor easily.

You jumped at his sudden presence but were also not surprised, as he usually found an excuse to follow you throughout the bar. Peering up at him, you exclaimed, “God, Ari, you scared me. Wait, what’s that look for? What’s wrong?”.

He didn’t say a word, but you knew something wasn’t right by the angry scowl, which usually softened whenever you smiled up at him like you were attempting to do now. Unlike behind the bar, this smile was genuine, and the joy reached your eyes, making them appear as if they were twinkling. Ari would always do feats like this, showing off his staggering size and strength so that he could experience this smile to the point that he seemed to be always standing over you, with his towering height that made your neck ache, one of the few people to make you feel small in stature, dainty even, especially when he became all dominant and acting like the resident bodyguard for the bar. Everyone knew not to mess with the boss.

It was hard not to fall for him; sure that everyone who was attracted to a man fell in love with him as soon as they saw him sitting at the bar or over your shoulder. To be truthful, there were times when you faked not being able to lift a table or heavy pot of glasses just so that he could come and lift things whilst you oggled at his psychic, but he was happy to help, even though he always had that deep frown.

The frown that he was currently still looking at you with enough that it had you feeling slightly uneasy as you looked away to the alcohol in his hand, reaching for it. “Oh, thank you! Don’t think I would have been able to reach that anyway.” Your hand extended to grab the bottle, but he held it back and out of your reach.

Ari’s eyes darkened in colour as he stepped forward, and instinctively, you stepped back until you were pressed against the cool brick wall with his towering body hovering over yours, his arm resting above your head. Despite stepping away from him, the stance didn’t phase you. Once again, he was doing it to show off the size difference, and you made sure not to waver with your smile, still beaming up at him.

Ari’s shoulder-length hair fell to shadow his handsome face, and all you wanted to do was run your fingers through the soft strands and brush them behind his ears. Even though he may appear threatening, you trusted Ari with your entire life, and the two of you always seemed to be teetering on the edge of being flirtatious. Still, you’d never have the courage to make a move, mainly because he was your boss.

The giant man studied you for a long moment, inspecting your face to the point you became self-conscious until they lingered on your smiling lips.

“You need to stop smiling at him”, Ari demanded with his voice low and gravely. Your smile finally dropped as you released a choked laugh, causing your shoulders to shake with the force.

“What? Smiling at who?” you asked, dumbfounded. He gestures with his head, nodding towards the stairs and to the bar when it finally dawned on you who he was referring to. Crossing your arms over your chest, you continued, “What? Matt, the guy at the bar? He’s harmless, and didn’t you always tell us that we need to serve our drinks with a smile?” As you teased Ari, you raised onto your tiptoes to lean closer and gloat the broad smile that was back on your face.

He didn’t break, continuing to frown, but now his shoulders were tense. “You need to stop”, he growled, stepping even closer until you could feel the warmth from his chest, “You don’t know what he wants, so stop smiling at him; he’ll get his hopes up”.

“Oh, and you know what he wants, do you? You can’t be upset with me because I’m being nice to a customer, and what makes this smile different to all the others that I’ve given to the others?”. You’d come to the realisation that Ari was most likely jealous, and even though it made your heart pound in your chest and excitement wanting to burst from your smile, you had tried to act like you usually did. Even though seeing him being somewhat possessive and obvious with his feelings made you want to shout it from the rooftop.

“Not. With. Him”, Ari grounds out each word with enough venom that you almost wanted to shrink away.

“Fine”, you say with confidence whilst shrugging your shoulders, “So who am I allowed to smile at then? I like happiness and want to smile at someone who returns it. Who else am I supposed to do it with because you sure as hell don’t smile at me”.

Ari doesn't say anything, so you lift a hand and rest it on his shoulders before tapping with your fingers and resisting the urge to give the muscles that you could feel a good squeeze. “You need to relax a little, Boss, it’s fine. I won’t smile at him, I promise. Now, can I go back to work, please?”

All he does is grunt in answer, giving him a Neanderthal appearance as he holds out the bottle of liquor and moves away from the wall to provide you with room to move past him. Accepting the bottle, you thanked him genuinely before walking back towards the stairs with him only an inch behind.

Returning to the bar, you’d expected him to return to his seat at the end, but he stood behind you, staring at Matt with his arms crossed. You wanted to sigh but thought it best not to poke the bear, as they say, especially when he was so riled up.

Pouring the guy's drink, you passed it to him and stated the price, all without a smile. The customer didn’t look in your direction as he eyed Ari, asking, “What’s his problem?” All you did was shrug in response whilst handing out your hand still for the money. Instead of reading the situation and knowing when to keep his mouth closed, Matt made the mistake of muttering under his breath, “I bet he’s an asshole to work for”.

The money for the drink fell into the centre of your palm just as Ari suddenly was at your back, but you tried to push him back, feeling the heat already burning your face with anger as you pointed towards the door. “Get out”, you demanded confidently.

“What?” Matt shouted, astonished that you’d even say such a thing.

“You heard me; get the fuck out” The adrenaline was deciding your actions as you became increasingly angry at what he’d said about Ari. Slamming the money onto the bar counter, you pointed at the door again for emphasis.

Matt finally snapped, kicking back his stool and slamming his drink on the counter, “Are you fucking joking? I’ve just paid for this drink; I’m not leaving!”

Once again, you weren’t sure logic was in control of your body anymore as you did something so out of character it shocked even Ari. Reaching over the bar, you grabbed the drink and poured it over the guy's head before pointing at the door once more, “You don’t have a drink anymore. I’m not asking again. Get the fuck out of his bar, NOW. You don’t talk about the boss like that”. 

It was a rare day when you truly lost your temper, so the entire bar had quietened by this point and stared in anticipation. Thankfully, even though the guy looked ready to throw his chair at your head, he instead turned and stumbled out of the doors.

As the atmosphere began to return to normal, the realisation of what you’d just done came to you. Your fingers began to tremble as anxiety sat heavy in your stomach as you tried to take a deep, steadying breath.

That burning, warm palm returned to your lower back as Ari dipped his head to whisper into your ear, “My office, now.” Trying to ignore everyone else's stares, you moved past him as he nodded to the other bar staff to cover your area of the bar whilst he followed you out.

You walk, anger still prevalent even with the anxiety worsening as you realise that you’d technically assaulted one of the customers by throwing his drink at him. What if you get reported? What if Ari thinks you’ve gone too far?

You’re nervously chewing on your thumb when you reach his office at the back of the building. You looked around at the scarcely decorated room with a desk, two chairs and closed blinds so that it was only just illuminated by streaks of sunlight but nothing else, so it was dimly lit. Ari hardly ever used this room, which is why you knew you were in trouble, especially needing a private space to reprimand you so no one could hear if he wanted to shout.

Walking into the centre of the room, you jumped on the spot, turning towards the door that had just been slammed closed by your boss. He stalked towards you, head tilted low as he backed you into a wall like in the cellar.

“I’m so fucking done”, Ari seethed, a vein bulging in his temple and tense muscles lining his arms and shoulders.

You were initially unsure what to say, your lower lip trembling as the anger seeped away, and only the nerves remained. “I’m sorry, Ari, I shouldn’t have thrown the drink at him. I don’t know what I was thinking”.

You had lost confidence and lowered your face to look at the carpeted floor, but Ari was quick to grip your chin in his thumb and forefinger and tilt your face so you were looking back into his bearded face. His voice was low and steady as he spoke, “I am so fucking done with this bullshit cat-and-mouse game we have going on”.

This caught you off guard as you blinked away the anxiety, asking, “What?”

Ari dipped his face even lower, and you took a moment to appreciate how big he was and how much lower he had to make himself so that you were face to face. With him this close, you could smell the aftershave he’d sprayed onto his neck this morning, smelling spicy and had your mouth drooling.

“I’m your boss”, Ari interrupted your dirty thoughts, “It’s unprofessional the things that I dream about, but you make it so fucking difficult to remain your boss when you’re smiling all the time. I want to kiss that smile away so you can return to work and stop distracting me. But today, seeing you there shouting at that asshole for me. I can’t stay professional much longer, so here’s your chance. Leave and walk out that door right now, and we’ll never talk about this again, but if you stay”, his eyes lowered from your lips to assess your body in the darkness. “If you stay, I promise you there will be no other thoughts than my name coming out of your pretty little mouth”.

Ari gave you a moment to contemplate and decide. You, however, were not thinking at all, your mind was empty, and the only response was the warming of your cunt, clenching already around nothing as you knew there was no way you were leaving.

Your arms wrapped around his neck before any of your anxiety returned, pulling him down for a heated kiss. Mouths moving with need against the other, causing Ari to moan; actually, MOAN into your mouth as his lips instantly parted and warm tongue brushed against yours. His arms were around your waist, pulling you as close as possible until your breasts were squished against his firm chest.

It felt like your boss was completely surrounding you as his arms expanded over the area of your back, just as firm as his chest, and you could feel the muscles bulging beneath his plaid shirt. Your feet were suddenly off the floor as he lifted you into his arms, your legs securely wrapping around his waist as one of his arms rested beneath your arse as your back connected with the wall again.

He tasted so good, even though it mainly tasted of the beer he’d been drinking; you’ve fantasised about this moment for months. He was just as dominant as you’d predicted, his mouth forcing yours more open to caress his tongue further into your face, almost like he couldn’t reach far enough within and needed to feel every crevice. The hand that wasn’t supporting your weight then moved to your cheek, his long fingers stretching so far they wrapped around the back of your head as he tilted your head slightly to once again attempt to deepen the kiss.

Ari’s jean-covered hips then ground against yours, stoking the fire inside your cunt more. His actions were desperate, wanting to feel every single part of you. It was almost overstimulating to your senses because all you’d managed to do was keep up with the pace of his tongue and lips and stroke your fingers through his hair just as you wanted to do. But Ari, he was all over you, his mouth now exploring your throat, sucking and biting on the areas that made you moan more and send tingles between your thighs.

The sound of clothes ripping then echoed around the office as Ari had become frustrated with the amount of clothes you wore that was stopping his exploration. Your shirt disappeared with a single tear down the middle and then disintegrated onto the floor. Once again, he was showing off his strength, and you really didn’t care, completely and utterly, at this disposal, especially when his mouth was now sucking on your left nipple.

He lapped against the sensitive bud with his tongue flat, then sucked it into his mouth, a tight seal forming with his lips before gently biting with his sharp teeth, causing your back to arch and fingers to grip more firmly into his locks. Ari moved to the other breasts as his fingers then replaced his tongue with the wet breast, pinching and pulling until you were begging for him to touch you there.

Your mewls were not stifled at all, head tipped back and mouth wide open; nothing was filtering your volume, and somewhere in the back of your mind, you were thankful that the bar was so busy that the music and talking would hopefully cover your moans of joy.

“Ari! Please give me more!” Pulling on his slightly damp hair from the sweat, you forced his face away from your breasts so that you could devour his mouth. His hips thrust harder into yours, and even though you were both still clothed, you could feel the hardness waiting for you in his tented jeans.

Tugging on his bottom lip with your teeth,  Ari groaned and asked, “Tell me you want this, one last chance to change your mind”.

“I need this, Ari, don’t stop”.

Your back left the comfort of the wall as he began to carry you over to his desk, holding you up with one arm. The other wiped any objects onto the floor, giving him the area to lie across.

The wooden surface was cool and welcoming as he again started kissing you, both hands cupping your jaw, holding you firmly in place. Lower he moved, down your throat, collar bones and breasts. As he licked over your stomach, he finally reached to undo your jean button. As he kissed lower, he pulled the material down with him, and only when you felt startling bare did you realise that your underwear had been removed as well.

Sitting up onto your elbows, you silky commented, “You’re wearing too many clothes”. You’d wanted to explore his body with your mouth, but he was just so tall and muscular that you weren’t able to reach him even if you sat up entirely on the desk, so with a rush, you pulled on his shirt, attempting to help remove it from his body and then the same with his jeans. You noticed how his muscles were defined as they became revealed; his abs, covered in a sprinkling of hair, had your mouth watering to touch and lick, but you became distracted by what was between his legs.

Ari Levinson was fucking huge. It was definitely the most enormous cock you’d ever been with, and it shouldn’t have surprised you, but it did. His shaft was thick, and a few veins bulged like he had in his temple when mad. The tip was bulbous, glistening in precum and a deeper shade of red than the rest of his cock. Even his balls that rested beneath his length seemed more prominent than usual, and for a fleeting moment, you contemplated if it was even going to fit.

Seemingly reading your mind, Ari grasped the base of his cock that seemed to throb as your eyes moved up and down it, “Don’t worry, Princess, it’ll fit”.

Looking up at him through your lashes, you wanted to tease him a little, so you leaned forward to kiss the tip, your lips becoming salty from his juices. As you licked up the taste, Ari hissed in a breath and pushed against your chest until you were lying lengthways against the desk once more.

As he had been before, Ari manhandled you with ease, lifting one of your legs until it rested on your shoulder. You thought he was going to start fucking you straight away; however, he was just giving his hand a better position. Whilst keeping his eyes on yours, Ari spits a glob directly onto your already-soaked pussy, collecting it with his index finger before pushing it into your cunt. Your back arched into the touch; even his fingers felt thick and made you feel full. He twirled his digit, doing this mostly to stretch and pleasure you. That could be for another time, but right now, he needed to fuck you but respectfully not hurt you either.

One finger turned into two as he added his middle digit, scissoring them both, which made your hole squelch from all of the liquids. One more finger was added, and you felt fuller than ever before. The entrance to your pussy burned slightly from having three of his fingers coaxing you wider, in and out slowly, whilst turning and opening your hole. Your thighs were trembling from the stimulation already, breaths hot and heavy as you gripped the edge of the desk above your head.

How did you even end up in this situation with your boss in his office, customers and staff just outside the door as his fingers pumped into you with expert ease to attempt to fit his cock.

Your leg dropped from his shoulder, but only so he could wrap them both around his waist as he moved closer, a hand next to your head whilst the other gripped the base of his cock as you realised he was finally, at long last, lining up with your throbbing cunt. Reaching you, your fingers dig into his shoulders, gripping him like you’d always dreamed of as his tip slotted to your entrance.

Slowly, he began to push in, and your cries turned desperate. It burned more than the three fingers; his cock was so girthy and thick that you had to concentrate on taking deep breaths to remain relaxed. Inch after inch, he pushed in, and even though the burn didn’t fade immediately, you already loved the sensation of it. It was intense but something only he could provide for you, and with time, your body adjusted, and soon you were trying to rock your hips. Even though he wasn’t even fully penetrated, his tip was pushing into your cervix.

“Ari, you’re so fucking big, Jesus Christ!” your mouth dropped open as high-pitched cries filled the thick, pleasured air.

For one beautiful second, Ari actually chuckled at your desperate reactions, wanting to stay in that moment forever, seeing you laid out beneath him like his own personal platter.

As your warm, gummy walls clenched around his cock did he snap out of his admiration. Still being careful, he moved in and out slowly and held onto your waist tightly to keep you from sliding down the desk with how tightly your cunt was hugging his cock.

Eventually, you became used to it a bit more, which meant that you began to beg for it harder, needing to feel him closer, so he dropped himself down until his lips were next to your ear and his hand around your throat to hold you still.

“You’re mine, do you understand that?” he growled with a promise never to let you go.

That beautiful grin he loved so much was suddenly beaming up at him, your fingers moving to grip the wrist that was golding your throat as you declared, “I’m all yours, Ari Levinson”.

“Fuck, I love that smile”, he admits between thrusts, his eyes unblinking so that he didn’t miss a single twitch of your face as it flooded with pleasure. However, his need to taste you took over once more as he kissed you deeply, groaning and squeezing your throat a little harder but not enough to cut off your air.

The wetness of your pussy leaked over your thighs as his desk wobbled with each thrust. Your entire body felt like it was on fire which all resonated down to your core, feeling it tighten to match the hardening in your gummy walls, suffocating his cock further in its harsh grip. 

“So big, you’re so damn big, Ari, fuck I’m going to cum”, you shouted, pulling on his hair to snap his head back so that you could breathe and shout out between thrusts. He leaned up on his arm to watch your reactions again, from the furrowed eyebrows, eyes wide and pupils blown, the swollen lips that were forming the perfect O shape as you finally came.

Your cunt had been stretched so wide that when you came, you could feel it more in your abdomen than the contractions that usually fluttered through your walls.  The orgasm, therefore, lasted longer because you were overstimulated and confused with the sensation. Still, even though you couldn’t necessarily feel how your pussy squeezed, Ari sure could as he cursed loudly, releasing your neck to slam his hand on the desk as he unexpectedly pulled out just as he began to cum.

Looking between your bodies, you watched in amazement as thick spurts of his seed shot out the end of his cock and coated your stomach. With his cock now resting over your body as he shouted through his orgasm, you could see that if he had been able to fit his entire cock inside of you, it would have reached your navel. It was that big.

As both of your moans quiet to just heavy breathing, your head dropped back onto the desk, arms and legs having no more energy, also collapsed to your side. Thankfully, Ari could see the exhaustion you were experiencing, and once he’d calmed down enough, he found a box of tissues on the floor and gently wiped away the mess he’d created on your stomach.

Peaking open an eye, you looked down your body towards where your boss knelt, “I hope you aren’t expecting me to go back to work.” your voice was thick and croaky as you smiled down at him. His blue eyes flicked up to your tired face as he raised a single eyebrow, midwipe, so you continued, “I don’t think I can walk, and you’ve ripped my shirt”.

Ari smirked, standing up again to throw the tissue into the bin. He looked your body up and down, “You know, you could just wear my shirt”.

“Oh yeah, I’m sure that’ll go down well with everyone like it wasn’t already obvious that we’ve come in here for a quick fuck”.

His body leans forward, hovering over yours, all bulging muscles and hulking size making you feel small again as he confidently states, “Well, they better get used to it. You’re mine, remember?”.

[madeofstardust17]

So what really bothers me about this season was how they reducer every single character to their most basic cliches, when in previous seasons they were so much more than that. Hear me out:

Luther was made into this happy-go-lucky, dumb himbo, when in reality, he's a guy who takes stuff seriously, who does his best to take care of everyone, and has emotional depth. They took that away from him. He's smart, even if they try to make it out like he isn't. They reduced him to just endless positivity and a pretty body (and even that they turned into a joke, giving him an ape body again and ignoring all his trauma related to that).

Diego was reduced to this useless, bitter, suburban dad, who thinks he's owed more than he has. In reality, he was so excited to be a dad. He's a good detective, he's empathetic, he has this sensitivity that he tries to hide but shines when he talks to others. More than anything, he's a provider, he thrives when he has someone to protect, to care for.

Allison has always been a badass, and a good mom. They made that shine, but she was so much more than that. She was complex, and endlessly optimistic, fighting for what was right. She was a good sister, and they made her bitter about that too.

Klaus was reduced to just humor, and not even well done. His little adventures used to mean something for him, and to the plot. They just made him a whore and did nothing for him. The only good thing I will say was that they took his addiction seriously for once. Still, he was useless to the plot, when once he was the key they were all missing.

Five. Oh my fucking God. They did him the most dirty. He would come off as aloof and uncaring, but underneath it, we all understood he loved his family more than anything, that he did everything in his power to protect them. They reduced him to that facade, they made him cold and selfish, willing to hurt his sibling just for his own personal gain.

With Ben, they spent the entire past season making him into this guy who was really rubbish at being the bad guy, who wanted a real family deep down. They reduced him to this asshole who spent the entire season swearing up and down that the umbrellas where not his family.

With Viktor, they tried to make him this cool, confident, independent (apparently womanizer?) dude who gave zero shits about his family. WHEN ALL HE EVER WANTED WAS HIS SIBLINGS' RESPECT. HE WANTED TO BE PART OF THE TEAM. And then they proceeded to make him work??? With his abusive dad???? Who suddenly cared???? And he ignored the rest of his siblings until the last possible minute.

Lila was always the cool, independent, secure woman, who didn't really need a man. They spent two seasons assuring us that she could be on her own just fine, but Diego completed her. He was the perfect person for her, bc he could give her what she craved, a family, people she could rely on. Instead on continuing that, finding a way to balance her family and a job (or something) to let her be something more than just a bored suburban mom, they made her into this insecure woman in her marriage, who just tosses it all aside for FIVE. Who is so incompatible with her that is not even funny.

If you've read this entire rant, congrats, you have my respect.