#there’s a plot brewing in the gray

[teecupangel]

Same person who asked Angel! Altaïr

What if Ezio and Connor turned into biblically accurate angels? (And maybe Haytham or Edward for fun-)

Hi, nonny! Thank you for making Altaïr suffer as a biblically accurate angel yesterday (⁠ﾉ⁠◕⁠ヮ⁠◕⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠*⁠.⁠✧

Now... Let's screw up Desmond's other ancestors' lives XD

Well, Ezio would definitely have a hard time doing anything else because he’s just become a biblical-accurate angel in one of the most religious parts of the world during his time. Like, if this was set during AC2, Ezio would probably run to Monteriggioni to escape all the worshipping and falling into the ground to pray and stuff, unintentionally turning Monteriggioni into a religious location.

A… holy land.

If this is the middle of AC2, Rodrigo Borgia wouldn’t be pope yet so his power will be limited and it’s really, really going to be easy for all of this to go out of hand and, honestly, Mario Auditore doesn’t strike me as the religious type but he’d definitely try to spin this entire thing to their advantage while worrying on how to get his nephew back to human form in closed doors.

Oh god.

If they hear about Ezio’s mother and sister…

Maria Auditore might be considered a holy woman!

CLAUDIA MIGHT BE CALLED A SAINTESS!

Oh shhiiittt. Claudia might actually milk this entire thing and do a Jeanne d’Arc in this setup.

And Ezio would be stuck in Monteriggioni because he can’t be an Assassin now, EVERYONE is looking at him.

And now… Claudia Auditore takes centerstage. This time, it’s Ezio’s turn to take care of the books. XD

.

Ratonhnhaké:ton:

Honestly, Ratonhnhaké:ton wouldn’t think of himself as an angel. He would believe that he had been touched by the spirits or something similar so he may protect his village. Redcoats would definitely see him and think that the end times have come. They have been judged and proclaimed as sinners. This would actually be the most dangerous setup because Ratonhnhaké:ton doesn’t necessarily have a good support system in place. Achilles is an old jaded man who can’t easily come to his aid. All of his white allies have their own desires and they wouldn’t mind using Ratonhnhaké:ton to achieve their goals. Then… the siege of Yorktown becomes the battleground of two heavenly beings as Haytham stands in front of Charles Lee… and turns into an angel as well.

Edward:

You know what would be funny… if Edward turned into an angel during the webtoon part. Like, just think of Noa’s “what? WHAT??? WHAT?????” reaction to watching as Edward suddenly becomes an angel and he gets desynced there and then because “holy shit, what???” and everyone in the room are just like “???????”.

In the Gray:

“Reader… Reader… you have to stop this.”

“I can’t… I’m connecting to Desmond Miles’ ancestors and this automatically happens. I cannot stop the connection.”

“Reader, if you keep doing this…………… You might have to pretend to be ‘God’.”

“………… what kind of logic did you have to jump thru to get to that idea???”

“Is that sarcasm I sense in your voice? Is this making you human again???”

“Focus, Layla!”

[bartxnhood]

cowboy casanova | t.o

tyler owens x fem!reader

based on this request: “Omg, how about Tyler Owens comforting reader on their first storm chase, maybe she’s really nervous or scared and he’s like don’t worry I ain’t gonna let anything happen to you… something like that???”

warnings: depictions of a tornado, reader has a panic attack. severe damage to homes and buildings.

w/c: 1.7k

a/n: thank you for the request! i added a touch of a backstory to help the plot go forward. i hope that’s okay!! i’m also currently in the theater about to watch it again (i saw it last night lol) enjoy <3

requests open

not proofread

Copyright © 2024 bartxnhood. All rights reserved. This original work is not allowed to be reposted on any platform in any format.

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you see a man standing in a wide-open field, as the sky above you darkened to a menacing shade of gray. the once-gentle breeze turns into a fierce, howling wind, and you feel a sense of unease settle in the pit of your stomach.

you were assigned to follow him and his crew around while they chased these monstrous tornadoes then went in and dissolved the threat. you worked for a huge journaling company from the north, but you grew up in arkansas and became familiar with these devastating weather patterns.

now, you were in oklahoma where you’d be joining this storm chaser during a week-long chase.

“you ready to chase some storms?” his back was still towards you, and his southern drawl was familiar.

as the man in the maroon shirt and white cowboy hat, spun on his heels to face you, you were taken aback.

tyler owens.

“y/n?”

his blood ran cold, not expecting to see you after all of these years. you laughed in disbelief, “this is crazy..” you shook your head and crossed your arms, shifting your weight to one leg.

“you’re the journalist?”

you and tyler go way back. the two of you were in school together, majoring in meteorology.he started chasing these storms, becoming famous on campus.

but, it all came to a head one day when you got trapped and lost your best friend. that’s when you dropped meteorology and took up journalism. you documented the destruction, the path, how they moved, etc.

and now, you were writing about who was called the tornado wrangler. you should’ve done your research but you didn’t want the assignment.

but, he had become so popular with his crew. they’d go inside the twisters and release a mixture to help dissolve the storm. and it worked.

“you’re the wrangler?” you ask, and tyler laughs. that signature laugh that always made you want to punch him in his pretty little face.

tyler turns around and rests his hands on his hips. “what do you see?”

the wind picks up even further, swirling around you in a dizzying dance, pulling at your clothes and hair. you sigh, taking a few steps closer till you are standing next to him.

“there” you point to the east, the air was thick with an unsettling hum as a dark mass loomed on the horizon. the skies darkened further, and a chilling gust of wind whipped up debris and sent trees bending at unnatural angles.

"another one" he murmured, eyes locked on the clouds as his adrenaline spiked and his lips pulled into a smile that he couldn't help but wear every time a storm was brewing.

glancing over at you he tried to hide the excitement in his chest that he felt when one appeared, but tyler knew hiding your feelings from another storm chaser was like trying to hide a tornado in an open field.

"how much do you wanna bet it'll touch down two miles east of our position" he teased, eyes scanning the clouds for clues.

“mm” you shake your head, even though you hadn’t done it in years you still had it. “three.” you continue, then point to the wind and how it carries against the wheat field.

“look at the way the wind is carrying. it’ll go east and hit north. perfect conditions,” you add crossing your arms

“i think you have yourself a ef5.”

uou had it. the intuition to tell where a storm was going to go by only looking at the clouds, the way the winds were blowing, and the speed at which the storm moved.

tyler had a similar gift, every storm chaser had it, but he had never met someone who could predict the size of a storm, which was a rarity he had never seen before.

“ah EF5, huh? i’ll hold you to that. If you’re wrong, you’re buying me a beer.”

tyler owens would be the death of you.

“i’m not buying you anything, owens.”

you load up into his truck, snapping pictures of forming a storm. he was flooring the red truck in a wheat field right towards the storm so he could get ahead of it.

“ya miss it?” he yells, over the thunder. occasionally turning his head to look at you. you say nothing, continuing to snap pictures.

“sometimes.” you blurt, not looking back at him. “i just don’t miss the destruction” you continue, rolling up the window and reviewing the photos.

“you were good,” he says, one hand on the steering wheel and eyes still taking glances at you. “mm” you just hum in response, not wanting to talk about your storm chasing days.

suddenly, a funnel begins to descend from the clouds, growing larger and more ominous by the second. the air around you crackles with anticipation, and you realize that you are witnessing the terrifying formation of a tornado. an EF5.

this was the second time you had ever seen an EF5 form in front of you, this was frightening.

you held onto your camera tightly as tyler drove right towards the black abyss. “shit..” you mumble quietly.

as the rain beat down on the windshield, the engine's roar could hardly be heard above the gathering storm.

tyler's truck sped through the wide-open fields, creating a trail of dirt and dust in their wake. with his eyes locked on the approaching storm, he clinched his teeth and gripped the steering wheel firmly like a man about to die.

he had chased tornadoes before, but never an EF5. the adrenaline in his veins was making his heart race and his senses heighten as he pushed the truck to drive faster, the roar of the wind and thunder in their ears.

“what a beauty” he muttered, admiring the sheer force and size of the storm in front of them.

as your heart pounded furiously in your chest, you felt a sudden tightening of the breath in your lungs.

your mind raced with panicked thoughts, each one more terrifying than the last. you fought to stay calm, but the fear was overwhelming, like a living entity trying to consume you whole.

sweat beaded on your forehead, and your hands trembled as you held the camera. the world around them seemed to blur and spin out of control, like the tornado in front of them.

"tyler, we should go back," you yelled. tyler smiled, eyes fixed on the whirling green giant in front of him.

he yells, "not a chance, l/n. look at it!" as he maneuvers through the difficult terrain. “we can’t give up now!”

“stop!” you proceeded to yell, flashes of that night you lost your best friend. the way the sky looked, how it sounded, the rain on your skin, how cold you were. it was all flashing in front of you, experiencing the whole thing again.

tears brim your eyes, your body shaking like a leaf. “please! just stop!” you yell over the growl of the thunder clapping.

tyler’s heart sank to his stomach as he heard the raw emotion in your voice. he had teased you and challenged uou, but now it was clear that this was not just another storm for you.

it was a personal struggle that was tearing you apart and he had triggered it with his arrogance.

without a word, he stomped on the brakes and brought the truck to a screeching halt, his own heart racing against his ribs.

"y/n, look at me," he said, voice suddenly hoarse and quiet.

you’re gasping for air, pulling at the collar of your crewneck. the cab of the truck felt like it was closing in on you, you unbuckled the seat belt and tried to unlock the door. “i can’t do this” your bottom lip begins to quiver. “i have to..i gotta get out of here.”

you can’t even bring yourself to look at him. your mind is fogged with the traumatic experience of the last time you were caught in the eye of a storm like this.

tyler’s heart dropped as he saw you struggling, your gasping breaths and trembling body. he reached over to her, gently grabbing your wrist, preventing you from opening the door of the truck.

“hey, hey, whoa. look at me, look at me, please.” he pleaded, his voice firm but surprisingly gentle.

he reached out and took your chin, gently turning your head to face him. his eyes searched yours for a moment before narrowing in concern.

“y/n, listen to me. you need to breathe, sweetheart.”

your breathless, unable to think straight until your eyes meet his sea green orbs. you take in a deep breath and mirror tyler’s breathing.

inhale, exhale.

you repeated this until you eventually calmed down.

your hands continue to tremble as you speak, “tyler, i cannot do this. i just can’t.” hour southern drawl escaping. “it’s too much”

tyler watched as your rapid breathing slowly began to match his own, your hand gripping his tightly. his heart ached as he saw the fear and the anguish in your eyes, and knew that this was not just a simple fear of storms.

it was a trauma, something deeply personal, that had left a permanent mark on your soul.

he gently raised his other hand to your face, gently stroking your cheek with his thumb, trying to soothe you. “i know, i know” he whispered, his own tone gentle and soft.

“ain’t nothin gonna happen to you, kay? i won’t let it.” he assures your worries, wiping away the stray tear that escaped your eyes then tucked some hair behind your ear.

“i’ve got you.” he continues. you watch as his attention goes from you to the tornado in front of you. “if you want me to take you back i need to know, now” he says, looking back at you.

you sniffle, following his gaze to the twister.

if he could stop something like this it would be a huge achievement to the community. no more damage, no more homelessness. it would all be fixed.

“no..” you begin, and find your eyes back on him. “i’ll be fine.”

tyler nods, putting the truck into drive. one hand on the steering wheel and the other reaching for yours, giving you a reassuring squeeze. “you’ll be fine, city girl.”

you choke out a laugh, and shake your head.

“then, let’s chase this beaut!” he yips and slams his foot on the gas and takes off towards the monster of a tower.

[renonv]

Spamano Week Day 2 & 3 : Mochis & 2p

Mannnn late yet again BUT ALSO on time 🙏😏

I think both of these concepts are so fun 😭 like the existence of mochis within the universe is crazy but it’s so fucking funny… and oughhh the two pees.. I used to not really care for them BUT I figured them out for myself and now they are a fun thing to rotate in my head nsnddkk

I’ll go more into detail of how I see their 2p versions under the cuttt but WOO I’m on tha rolll

@spamano-week

HI WELCOME TO THE RAMBLINGS OF A CRAZY OLD MAN

Flavio: Literally Flavio to me is what Romano would have been like if he wasn’t fighting the internalized homophobia/ machismo demons 🙏 he’s flamboyant he’s (still) loud, he stands his ground and he is a fucking divaaa. He’s cunning, takes great pride and care and time into his appearance, he expresses his love freely and loudly, and he’s not afraid to pick a fight. He lacks general anxiety and self preservation. He’s also a tad selfish, and just generally two faced. To me, while Romano puts out the harsh exterior, underneath it all he is a vulnerable and sensitive person. Flavio puts on the very approachable exterior, and will be nice, but inside he’s brewing some out of pocket shit. However, he loves and cares deeply and genuinely for a very special few.

If Romano was to meet him, he would call him a slur. But also be jealous of the way Flavio carries himself. If Flavio were to meet Romano, be would make him his next make over project, he is his new gay god mother. Flavio would be jealous of how many people genuinely care about Romano, even if the guy chooses to act like an asshole.

Santiago: He is a quiet and an intimidating guy, not because he’s plotting shit in his head, but because he just does not know how to carry himself around people. While Antonio is an approachable, sociable man who’s always working on putting out positivity and try to do good by everyone because that’s just how he is (and how he copes), Santiago withdraws himself from everyone because 1) Bro genuinely doesn’t get social cues or socialization and 2) thinks of it as better this way for the general public. He’s a little edgy, but in a “scared to hurt others” way rather than “society doesn’t get me” way. Since he yaps significantly less than Antonio, he’s a good listener and is also a bit less dense on certain things. He’s a bit more prone to picking up on the underlying emotions or when people are being sarcastic / say one thing but mean another.

If Santiago and Antonio ever met, it would be… interesting. Santiago would be put off by Antonio’s high energy, but at the same time wish he could express himself as easily as the other, and be as comfortable with physical touch. Antonio would absolutely loose his mind over the gray streak of hair, bro looks very punk rock. He would think of the other as awkward, but also be very impressed at his observational skills.

[warabidakihime]

★ characters: levi ackerman x reader | modern au

★ plot summary: levi helps you get through an episode

★ content warnings : implied su!cidal ideations, talks about mental illness (panic attacks, anxiety, and depression).

★ a/n: just a lil something i wrote out of sheer indulgence cause i am going through it ૮₍ ˃ ⤙ ˂ ₎ა . so i guess you could say this is true to life and the only difference is, i don't have a levi by myself doing all these for me LOL. BUT YEAH, i hope you like this one and i hope it could help other people who might be going through the same thing.

sending everybody hugs!

-

Title: Until When Do I Need to Run?

"What if I'm too tired by the time I reach the 'pinnacle' of my life?"

Your voice sounded soft and vulnerable as you let those words slip through your lips.

Normally, you wouldn't let these kinds of thoughts escape the confines of your mind, but today, your heart was desperately screaming for any semblance of salvation.

Anything that could shed light on your ever-gloomy world.

From the dining table where your boyfriend sat, enjoying his freshly brewed jasmine tea after dinner, Levi raised an eyebrow in your direction. "What?"

You were at the sink, washing the dishes, as it was your turn this week. You chuckled humorlessly as you rinsed a plate rather mindlessly. "It's nothing. I was just thinking out loud."

"And thinking ridiculous things too," Levi said, his voice louder than usual. It didn't occur to you that he had moved until you were spun around, facing him. He was already behind you while you were racking your brains for a response.

"What's wrong with you? Did something happen?" His frown was deep, his gray eyes piercing. Despite being shorter, his presence loomed over you.

Reaching for the kitchen towel to dry your hands, you stayed mute for a few minutes in an attempt to gather your thoughts.

"Work has just been... rough lately, and the stress is getting to me. But today was especially hard," you started. You were speaking slowly, trying to articulate your words as best as you could.

It was something your therapist had taught you years ago. Because of the things you went through growing up and the trauma you'd accumulated, you'd unfortunately lost your ability to speak coherently at times, almost to the point of being considered a person with a disability.

Having such a handicap was frustrating and humiliating, to say the least. It angered you when you couldn't get the right words out or when your mind went blank mid-sentence, rendering you temporarily mute.

Thankfully, you had Levi. He'd been your boyfriend for eight years, and since you got together, life wasn't as draining as it once was. You couldn't be more grateful to him. The two of you had met while you were on a coffee run at work. He was behind you in line, and when your card was unfortunately declined and you didn't have cash on you, you almost had an anxiety attack.

In his own way of displaying kindness, Levi scoffed from behind you and handed the cashier his card to pay for both your orders.

"If you don't want to go through something like that again, make sure you have cash on you, dumbass."

And the rest was history.

You went quiet again, and while Levi waited patiently, he took your hand, gave it a loving squeeze, and led you to the living room so that you could sit and talk comfortably.

Once you were settled, you took a deep breath, which sounded shaky as it escaped your lips. Your emotions were clearly piling up inside, and it was just a matter of when they would burst.

"Steady your breathing first, Y/N," Levi said as he rubbed your back gently, doing his best to comfort you while you grounded yourself. "Take your time."

Smiling sheepishly at him, you did as told, and then finally, you continued to confide in him.

"Nothing major happened, but work has been really hectic recently due to the amount of things we need to do, and it doesn't help that my team is severely understaffed. So, I guess the fatigue and stress have been piling up, and it's getting to me."

Levi noticed the tension in your shoulders and the way your hands were trembling slightly. He reached out and gently massaged your temples, his touch soothing.

"Any word on that incompetent manager of yours? They're looking for a replacement, right?" Levi asked, his voice tinged with annoyance. He knew the lore of what was happening at your workplace, and to say that he was pissed was an understatement.

Not only were you neglected by your immediate supervisor, but you also had to catch up and do his workload while still getting paid less than him. The whole thing was a mess, and to be completely honest, Levi was on edge, worried for your well-being. It sucked that his worst fears were manifesting.

"They're doing the best they can, so I'm just waiting patiently on that."

Levi let out a 'tsk' and rolled his eyes, clearly more annoyed for you. The gesture caused you to giggle a little.

"And to sum it all up, the whole thing kind of shoved me into another episode, and I started to overthink things again." You said with a pout, then continued, "I started to think of negative things again, like the fact I literally have to work like a horse just so I can survive for another two weeks. From that, I started to get dizzy because it dawned on me that it would literally take me years to succeed. And then I thought, what if by the time I reach the most successful point of my life, I'm too tired to celebrate or to even continue living because that's what I've been striving to achieve for so long, and that's where I've been pouring all my energy—"

"Okay, stop. Stop right there," Levi interrupted, his voice firm. He let out a frustrated sigh and pulled you closer, taking your hands in his. "You're spiraling, Y/N. You're making a mountain out of a molehill. We're going to tackle this together, one step at a time. Right now, you need to breathe and relax."

His gray eyes held a stern yet caring expression. "Focus on the now, Y/N. We deal with problems as they come. I'm here. I'll be your anchor, but you have to let go of the rope a little."

You looked into his eyes, feeling the weight of his words. Levi had always been your rock—the one who grounded you when your mind spiraled. You knew he was right, and his presence always brought you back to reality.

As you sat there, hand in hand, you felt a sense of calm wash over you.

"Thank you, Levi," you whispered, leaning in to rest your head on his shoulder.

Levi noticed the shift in your demeanor. He squeezed your hand reassuringly, his other hand coming up to stroke your hair gently.

"You know, Y/N," he started softly, his voice a stark contrast to his earlier firmness. "You're incredibly strong. You've faced challenges I couldn't imagine, and you’ve come out stronger for it. But even the strongest people need to recharge."

He paused, giving you a moment to absorb his words. "It's okay to not be okay sometimes. It's okay to feel overwhelmed. What matters is how you deal with it. And right now, you're dealing with it by talking to me instead of keeping all that to yourself, and you've also been really consistent with it, which is a huge step. Good job."

Levi squeezed your hand gently again. "We'll figure this out together. Maybe we can start by setting some boundaries at work. Or maybe we can find some ways to de-stress outside of work. We can try new hobbies, or just spend more quality time together."

You felt a lump form in your throat as you listened to Levi's words. Just him being there for you brought so much warmth; it's as if he's hugging you from within.

At that moment, you realized how lucky you were to have him in your life.

You looked up at him, your eyes filled with a mixture of gratitude and vulnerability. His words, spoken with such gentle sincerity, had a profound effect on you. It felt like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders. You realized how much you had been bottling up and how much you had been neglecting your own well-being.

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "Thank you for always being here for me. I don't know what I would do without you."

Levi smiled softly, reaching up to brush away a stray tear that had escaped your eye. "You don't have to figure it out alone, Y/N. And never, ever hesitate to reach out to me. I am the last person that would push you away."

A comfortable silence settled between you as you both took a moment to appreciate the connection. The soft glow of the living room lamp casts a warm ambiance, creating an intimate atmosphere.

"I know I've been a bit of a downer lately," you admitted, your voice trembling slightly. "I hate that I let this get to me. I hate that I'm becoming this person who's always stressed and overwhelmed."

Levi squeezed your hand tighter.

"You're not this person, Y/N. You're going through a tough time, and that's okay."

You nodded, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. It was comforting to know that you had someone who understood and supported you unconditionally.

The conversation continued, flowing naturally as you shared your fears and worries with Levi. He listened patiently, offering words of encouragement and practical advice. You felt a sense of peace as you opened up to him, something you hadn't done in a long time.

Hours seemed to fly by as you talked. The initial darkness outside had given way to the soft hues of dawn. Levi's grip on your hand never loosened, his presence a constant source of comfort.

Eventually, the weight of exhaustion began to creep in. You yawned, your eyes heavy with sleep. Levi noticed and smiled gently.

"It's late, Y/N," he said softly. "Let's head to bed."

You nodded, your head leaning against his shoulder. "Mkay. Thank you, Levi."

Levi kissed the top of your head. "You're welcome. We'll talk more about this tomorrow if you want, alright?" 

You nodded, a sheepish smile on your face. "Okay."

He stood up and stretched, a yawn escaping his lips. "I'll get us some water."

You watched as Levi moved toward the kitchen, feeling exponentially better, all thanks to him. When he returned with two glasses of water, he handed you one and sat back down beside you.

"Drink up," he said, his voice soft but firm.

You took a sip, feeling the cool liquid soothe your throat. After finishing the water, you placed the glass on the coffee table and turned to Levi.

"Thank you, Levi, for everything," you said, your voice full of sincerity.

He gave you a small smile, his eyes reflecting his affection for you. "Always, Y/N."

Setting his glass aside, Levi suddenly cupped your face with his hands, his touch gentle yet commanding. He leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was more passionate and eager than usual. His kiss conveyed all the love, support, and reassurance he wanted to give you, grounding you in the moment.

You responded in kind, your arms wrapping around his neck as you melted into the kiss. The intensity of the moment made your worries fade away, replaced by the warmth and love radiating from Levi. He pulled you closer, deepening the kiss, his hands moving to your waist, holding you securely.

When you finally pulled away for air, you rested your forehead against his, your breaths mingling. Levi's eyes were soft but intense, filled with a promise of unwavering support.

"You're not alone, Y/N," he whispered, his voice husky with emotion. "I love you, and I'll always be here for you."

Tears of gratitude filled your eyes as you looked at him. "I love you too, Levi."

With that, he took your hand and led you to the bedroom. You both settled into bed, the weight of the day's worries feeling lighter. As you lay there, wrapped in each other's arms, you felt a sense of peace and security that only Levi could provide.

"Goodnight, Y/N," Levi murmured, his breath warm against your ear.

"Goodnight, Levi," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

The room fell into a serene silence, only your steady breathing filling the space. Levi’s arms around you felt like a shield against the world’s troubles, and the steady beat of his heart was a comforting rhythm that lulled you into relaxation.

As sleep began to pull you under, you felt a tender kiss pressed to your forehead while Levi’s fingers lightly traced soothing patterns on your back—his way of reminding you that he was always there, ready to lift the burdens you carried.

[railingsofsorrow]

can I request Seth Clearwater x male shifter reader

plot male reader can't start the day without his coffee he make but leaves it unintended while busy doing something else real quick Seth see it and drink it so know the pack has to deal with grumpy reader and a super hyper seth

Coffee Stealer

[seth clearwater x reader]

A/N: grumpy x sunshine trope because that's what your request led me to :)

summary: a cup of coffee is stolen and two people deal with the consequences.

pairing: seth clearwater x male!reader

w.c: 1.3K

warnings/content: language; description of violence (someone is thrown into a tree); fluff.

navi

masterpost

[requested]

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Hey, did you get Embry's text?” You ask, frowning at the notification in your phone. It was early Saturday morning, you weren't supposed to meet until later in the day. It was Saturday!

Apparently, there was a new threat in the city and they need all the help they could get. Embry couldn't have been more ominous in the text.

Waiting for your coffee to finish brewing, you typed a quick reply back to your friend, alerting that Seth and you would be there in ten minutes.

Probably twenty if Seth didn't respond to you any second now. Although, it didn't take you long to realize you were home alone.

“Morning!” A wet kiss met your cheek and you blink at your sweaty boyfriend walking past you to reach the fridge. “Why are you up so early? We still have time before—”

“No, we don't,” you cut him off with arms folding across your chest. Slightly annoyed at his energetic persona before ten o'clock of a Saturday. He probably went on his morning jog. “Embry said we're needed now. The whole pack.” Seth is too busy dripping cool water on the floor of your kitchen to bother with you, apparently.

He kisses the back of your neck as your pouring coffee on your mug and you flinch away with a groan.

“Cold.”

He bites the skin on your shoulder softly and exits the kitchen before you can curse at him.

“Drink your coffee, baby. You're grumpy!”

“And you, stop making the whole apartment wet!”

Idiot.

You love him. You truly do — after the first sip into your favourite beverage you start remembering that. It's just rule number one for you, you can't function in the morning without your coffee.

However, when you check the hour, you sprint away to your room to get ready before even taking a sip of your cup. You're later than you expected given the time Embry sent the text.

Once you arrive back at your living room, your boyfriend scent is mixing with the smell of coffee you left at the kitchen. You don't think much of it, coffee is strong enough to linger through the apartment.

Until you see a culprit holding your mug and drinking your coffee. He grins up at your from the couch.

“Looks good on you.” He points at your outfit, sipping on the cup.

You had chose the first comfortable piece of clothing you could find, which end up being one of his sweaters that hang loosely around your frame and some gray joggers to match — those are yours, at least.

“Is that...is that mine?”

Seth gave you a confused face, then lowered his attention to the mug and then back to you. His eyebrows raising in sudden alarm.

“I thought you had it before and you left it for me...”

“You don't even like coffee, Clearwater.”

“Well, I thought—”

Shaking your head in disbelief was what made him shup up because he knew he had hit a nerve. If he thought you were normally grumpy before... now you'd just straight up murder someone — him. He wouldn't blame you, to be honest. It was true, he didn't even like coffee, just a cup made him hyped up the entire day. And your coffee was strong, that was like three times worse for him.

He couldn't stop saying sorry and you were rolling your eyes every time. You weren't angry, you were annoyed. That's all. What made the situation worse was that when you got to the supposedly pack meeting, Embry's text had been a joke. There was no new threat in Forks. No need for you to be up and about that early.

“I just wanted some company and you idiots were the only ones who actually believed me.”

Yes, you would murder someone today.

“Why are you children yelling?”

Seth felt Leah's presence before she made herself known. He didn't even need to look up to see his sister's legs hanging from the tree branch.

“Y/N is beating the daylights out of Embry because he woke him up early.”

A whoosh of wind beside him told Seth that Leah had jumped down. Her lips displaying a satisfied smirk.

“Oh. I'd say whatever it was Embry probably deserved.” Leah kicked the back of his knee which made him stumble back, glaring at her. “What's up with your leg?” He was moving it non-stop as if he was being electrified. “Why are you so hyped?” Now that she looked closely, her brother couldn't stay still. Even his fingers were twitching for some reason.

Before Seth could answer, a tree fell on top of another. They watched Embry shift back to his human form and groan loudly on the grass. Oh, that meant so much more than a few broken ribs.

Leah laughed, “Go, Y/N!” said wolf turned to her and huffed, paddling away further down the woods. “Oof, he's mad. What did you do?”

Seth gave her a bored look, “Why do you always think I'm to blame?”

“That's because you usually are.”

He sighed in a resigned manner, shoulders slumping. He was messing with the strings of his hoodie, rolling it around his fingers distractedly.

“Well, I— I kind of... drank? His coffee.” Leah blinked, eyes widening slowly as she connected the dots in her brain.

“Oh, my g— you basically fed the beast?”

“Okay, I didn't know—”

“Seth, you don't even like coffee,” Leah deadpanned.

Just as Seth was about to retaliate, he froze at your voice from behind him, shoulders tensing.

“That's what I said.” You tilted your head, your arms crossing over your bare chest as you stared daggers into Seth's profile. You loved that jawline, it was the perfect spot to kiss, but did he annoy you today.

Except that you couldn't stay mad at him for long, you just liked to add fuel to the fire.

“I'll make you two whole pots next time, sunshine,” you said, pulling your — his — sweater above your head, letting it sink into your frame.

Seth takes a careful step towards you and that is Leah's cue to leave, she chooses to bother Embry for the time being, he's still thrown on the grass.

“I'm sorry. I know how you value your coffee in the morning—” he's cut off by a soft peck on his lips, causing a gasp to leave his throat in surprise. “You're not... mad?” Moments like these — when Seth makes that puppy-eyed face, cogs in his head turning on new ways to make up to you, lips pursing into a pout — are what keeps making you fall for him even more.

“I love you, you idiot.” You kiss him again because you can. His body is slowly melting into your arms, you can feel the tension leaving him as your hands pull softly at his baby hairs on the back of his neck. “Just don't drink my coffee again. If you do, leave me some, don't be a monster.”

Seth nods, licking lips lips to kiss you again. “Okay, I promise. Sorry, I love you.” He repeats it while cupping your cheeks to bring you impossibly closer.

The thing is, he tasted like coffee. So, technically, you still had your morning coffee, right? It wasn't so bad, even if you had to deal with a hyped up Seth Clearwater for the entire day.

[usergreenpixel]

An art piece I commissioned from… @michel-feuilly , 😂. Always happy to commission things from friends when I can tho!

( @josefavomjaaga , @that-enragee , @maggiec70 , @amypihcs , @cadmusfly )

Anyway, this is an artistic representation ™️ of the meeting between the hero and the villain of the Peninsular War story.

“By the Maestro’s Side” has an aristocratic protagonist, which is definitely a departure from the norm for me, but it was a fun way to get variety.

Meet Carlos Joaquín du Plessis y Gonzaga del Prado, a 13-year old deaf boy who is the oldest son of a French emigré duke and a Spanish duchess from Zaragoza. (Yes, THAT Zaragoza.)

Joaquín lives in Madrid, and his family wanted to flee the capital when they got wind of the brewing uprising, but Joaquín accidentally got lost in the chaos and would have died if not for a benefactor who saved him and took him in.

The benefactor? Francisco Goya himself. Now, to avoid suspicion while he is trying to locate his family, Joaquín has to lay low and assume the identity of Goya’s distant relative/apprentice.

At first, the cover story works fine, but when Joaquin catches wind of a French cavalry officer’s plans to steal a precious Murillo painting, he feels like he has to get involved, as said officer will stop at nothing to get the painting, and is not above killing Goya to get away with smuggling it out of Madrid.

The officer, Augustin Robespierre Klein (he has a Republican name, which was a trend during Frev) is the man Joaquín is looking at, and he seems to be plotting already… That flask in his hand sure does look suspicious…

P. S. Joaquín’s white forelock is deliberate. It’s a sign of his genetic condition, known today as Waardenburg Syndrome. It’s a genetic or sometimes a spontaneous mutation.

There are four types, but usually the telltale signs are heterochromia (different color of the eyes) or just vibrant blue eyes (like in Joaquín), hearing loss which can vary from person to person (Joaquín is COMPLETELY deaf), a white lock of hair and/or premature hair graying.

What Joaquín has is Type 2, which usually has less physical signs, but also has more profound hearing loss associated with the people who have this particular type.

P. P. S. I am NOT a fan of royalists and never have been. So here is a spoiler but the villain is NOT a stereotypical evil Jacobin.

[sagittarianpocky]

Heaven | Zamasu X Fem!Human!Reader.

First time posting my work on here. Um, hello. On a Zamasu binge right now.

Porn with very slight plot. And some fluff, but it's Zamasu, so, you know. I just like writing things that are self indulgent, and he deserves more love. Also not spell checked. We die like men, and spell checking with ADHD is practically impossible anyway. And it’s written in first person pov because I suck at second person. Otherwise. Enjoy, I guess.

Rating: NSFW. 18+. Obviously.

Word count: 3,095

Summary: Zamasu gets... a little jealous that another mortal dared to flirt with his special human.

“I’ve never seen you so nervous.” 

To have a Supreme Kai staring you down - it’s a harrowing experience. Especially because it was Zamasu. Gray, hungry, narrowed eyes were staring directly through my own, going all the way down into the depths of my soul. He was standing mere inches from me. We’d been having a discussion, which was absolutely normal, but I brought up the fact that some random dude on the street had asked for my phone number in passing. That’s when he first got that look in his eye, his voice got lower, and I could see that something was brewing within the darkest corners of his mind.

“Zamasu.” My voice came out quiet and weak, almost like a stutter. “What’s gotten into you?”

His fingertip just barely touched my chin, tilting my head up toward his own. I had to look at him, no matter how flushed my face was getting. He wasn’t much taller than me, but it was just enough for him to be intimidating. The height difference made me feel small and helpless, but in the depths of my own mind, I didn’t hate the feeling. And I think he knew that. “The idea that any of these barbaric, uncivilized mortals could believe, even for one moment, that they have the right to someone as divine as you is absolutely revolting.” 

I backed up a little. Just one step, but he followed suit. I responded, “That’s… why I told him no.” 

“As you should.” A smirk was pulling at the corner of his lips. “Do the same with everyone who dares to ask for even a sliver of your affection.” 

I blinked a few times, and I felt his thumb brush my jaw. “I… don’t understand. What is this about? You know how I feel about people, so-“

“What I am saying… is that there is but one being who is worthy of you.”

I swallowed roughly. “… Who?”

“Me.” 

The response came out so commanding, as if it were the absolute truth. My breath caught in my throat. His stoic, never-changing expression told me that he wasn’t lying. “You… want me? But I’m…”

“A mortal? Ah, no. You’re a…special case.” His hand rested on my cheek, and his thumb brushed my lower lip. He usually had a confident aura, but now, it was penetrating through my soul. Paralyzing me. “I’m surprised it took you so long to notice. Mortals do tend to be quite oblivious, so I won’t take offense.” 

“You… want me.” That came out barely audible, more repeating it so I could believe it myself. It made him smirk. My eyes couldn’t leave his, but I noticed him take a quick glance at me. My body, more specifically. “In, um… what ways?”

He moved centimeters closer as he confessed, “in all ways, darling. If that’s alright with you.”

“Wouldn’t that… break rules?”

“Supreme Kai law? Perhaps.” He brushed a piece of hair from my face. “But you of all people should know that I care little for those old-fashioned doctrines.” 

“I see.” A brief silence ensued until I whispered back, “then, it’s alright with me.” 

“Are you sure?” That came out almost teasing. “Once you start, there’s no going back. I’m sure you’re aware.” 

“…I’m sure.” 

He smirked in such a feral way that it exposed one of his fangs. “Good. That’s exactly what I wanted to hear, my dear.” 

That’s when his lips met mine. It startled me, but at the same time, I melted. I melted at such a quick rate that I couldn’t believe it. He pushed me against the wall, hands sliding down my sides. When I started to reciprocate, it was like all inhibitions were thrown to the wayside. His body was right against mine, and his tongue snaked right into my mouth. He tasted… like cedar. I wasn’t sure how to explain. A sap, more bitter than honey, but still retaining an intoxicating sweetness. On top of that, he was kissing me like he hadn’t had a taste of physical contact like this in hundreds, if not thousands of years. Then he pulled back and laughed to himself, murmuring, “exquisite. Even better than I imagined.” 

I was trying to catch my breath. “You’ve… been thinking about this?”

“Of course I have. You invaded my thoughts. Thoughts of grandeur being tainted with thoughts of desire. I tried so hard to resist, but I can no longer do so.” His hand was sneaking underneath my shirt, but I was too enamored with his eyes to look down. “I’ve wanted nothing more than to see you for everything you are. To devour you. To make you mine.”

With that, he began to kiss me again. I knew how privileged I was. To be in such close contact with a Supreme Kai - a being like Zamasu - no other being in the universe would be given the opportunity. His hand was slowly pulling my shirt up, and then he separated from me to remove it entirely. My face grew red because I knew he was checking me out, but again, it made me feel small. Finally, he said, “come here.” 

He pulled me toward my bed and he sat down on the edge. He spun my back toward him and pulled me onto his lap, guiding me to straddle one of his legs. With my back against his chest, I could feel his breath against my neck. His hands were sliding up my bare thighs, then to my hips, and then up to my chest. With ease, he undid the clasps, and my bra slid to the ground. Why he didn’t bother with my skirt was beyond me, especially when he turned my face to his. He whispered, “You are simply divine, darling.” 

He didn’t give me a chance to speak. His lips met mine and his hands groped my chest. I couldn’t help it - seeking friction, my hips rolled against his thigh. What pained me more was the fact that he was still fully clothed. I couldn’t get as much as I desired. When he started teasing my nipples, I could tell that he was playing with me, much to his own amusement. When he started pinching them, I moaned into his mouth. It was shameless. He pulled back from my lips, and diverted his attention to my neck. Kissing and nipping at my skin, my body was reacting exactly how he wanted. He was chuckling to himself. Embarrassingly, it was almost too much, even though he’d done so little. I groaned, “Zamasu…”

I could feel his body tense as he said, “oh, that was marvelous. I’ve never heard anyone say my name like that before.” 

He bit the side of my neck hard, triggering another groan. He would bite every sensitive spot he could find. One of his hands moved to my hip, guiding them in the same pattern they’d been grinding in, just with more force. I whimpered, mentally noting that I should’ve guessed he’d be some sort of sadist that liked to play with his food.

I heard him smirk as he said, “a sadist? I suppose so. Playing with you is far too much fun.” 

I blushed hard. I would often forget that Kais could read minds, and I had no doubt that he’d been reading mine the entire time. I felt his hand slide underneath my skirt, moving dangerously close to the area that most of my body heat was gathering in. My hips bucked toward his hand, which made him laugh. “So reactive. Would you like me to do something?”

Even the tone of his voice was enough to make my body hotter. “I… need you to touch me.”

“You’ll need to elaborate, sweetheart. Tell me what you want.” 

As he said that, his fingers inched closer. One of his fingertips was just barely grazing my clit through my panties. “I need… your fingers.”

“Where, darling?”

My hips bucked against his hand which made me blurt out, “in me. Please.” 

“That’s a good girl. I suppose I can oblige.” He pressed a surprisingly gentle kiss against my neck, and he took no time when picking me up and placing me down on the bed. The skirt was an easy thing to unzip and pull off, and my panties went with it, falling to the floor. His eyes were dark as he removed his overcoat, hanging it over the chair at my desk. He climbed over me with a predatory gaze as he mumbled, “oh, Gods, you are absolutely heavenly.” 

That’s when I felt his hand touch my core. He explored everything with his fingertip, giving me a light kiss as he did so. He pulled back, leaving his lips brushing against mine as he looked down. “To think you could get this worked up so quickly… that’s sinful, darling. I’ve barely started.” 

I tried to respond, but he pressed two fingers into me with absolute ease. He drove them into me as far as they could go, and he held them there, prompting me to try to move my hips. “Ngh, Zamasu-“ 

“Needy, are you?” He pulled his fingers back, and then pushed them into me once more, making me bark out a sound that resembled a groan. The smirk on his face told me that he was loving every second of this. I squirmed. He was holding his hand still. Then, he whispered, “I’m sure you can be louder than that. I suppose I’ll find out, won’t I?”

Only then did he begin to move his fingers. At a slow, but steady pace, always forceful when pushing them back in. He liked the way my body would jerk, and he liked the way my face would contort. I could hear it in his breath, which was getting deeper and more husky by the minute. Then, he curled his fingers, which made me groan his name again. It made him chuckle. “Yes, beautiful. Do it again.”

His fingers quickened in pace. My back arched up, pressing me against him. He kissed me. My fingers were gripping the sheets, and I felt him add a third finger. The stretch sent heat shooting through my body. It made my toes curl. It made my breathing go rapid, to the point where he pulled back just to watch me squirm beneath him. Finally, I mewled, “Zamasu… I… I’m gonna…”

And just like that, his fingers stopped. The high I was desperately seeking faded away, leaving me speechless. And he was smirking darkly as he slowly withdrew his fingers from me. When I was about to complain, he shushed me. “No, darling. You need to be patient. That was simply just to prepare you. Do you understand?”

I nodded shakily, every urge to complain fading away. I quietly responded, “Yes. I understand.” 

“Good girl.” I felt him press a gentle kiss to my forehead. He whispered, “Now, give me a moment. Relax.”

I felt him move off the bed. My head was spinning. Not just from orgasm denial, but from his sudden shifts in demeanor. He could go from cruel to sweet in the blink of an eye. I was trying to catch my breath, staring at the ceiling through lidded eyes as I listened to fabric moving around. Then, I felt him crawl back over me, once again rubbing his thumb on my cheek. “Feeling alright, darling?”

I nodded, leaning into his touch. “Yes.”

“Good.” He brushed hair out of my face. He looked so… nice. Genuine, like he usually did. “Now, I need you to move up just a bit. Can you do that?”

I nodded, slowly pulling myself toward the top of the bed. He urged me along until my head was resting atop a pillow, and then he moved atop me. That was the first time I felt his bare skin against mine. It was strangely cold, and it sent a shiver down my spine. He kissed me passionately, hips pressing into my own. I could feel his length rubbing along my core, which made my lips quiver. He pulled back from the kiss and said, “I’m going to ravage you now, darling. Are you ready?”

I nodded quickly, hesitantly folding my arms behind his neck. He allowed me to touch him without question or protest. Then, his forehead pressed against mine as he slowly slid himself into me. We both let out a groan at the same time, and the farther he pressed himself in, the more my mouth fell agape. My hands grabbed at his skin, and he once again hushed me. “I know, sweetheart. It’s a bit of a stretch for you, isn’t it? But I have no doubt you can take it.” 

“Oh, God…” I whimpered that with tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. When he was fully sheathed within me, I was holding onto him for dear life as my body adjusted. I had no idea what the anatomy of a Kai was like, but something like this was completely unexpected. I could see him sweating, using every fibre of his being to hold himself back until I was ready. Finally, I let out a deep exhale and said, “you… can move. Go ahead.” 

He wasted no time. He pulled himself almost all the way back out, and then pressed himself back in. He did it again and again at a slow pace. On his face was a look of pure ecstasy as he acquainted his body to mine, and then his eyes stared down at me. He leaned back just enough to push one of my legs up against my torso, and at that moment, I knew I was quite literally fucked. As he stared down at me, he said, “This… is a sight I could very much get used to.”

I didn’t get much time to look at his physique before he started driving himself into me down to the hilt. The whines and groans that were pouring out of my mouth were loud and lewd, my hands searching for anything and everything to grab ahold of. The pace he was moving at was forcing me upwards with every thrust, and he looked like he was in a state of complete bliss. It didn’t take long for me to be pushed over the edge, which made him groan in a way that could’ve made me do it again if I had the physical ability. I saw him smirk as he said, “Gods, that was amazing. I wonder how many times I can make you do that?”

I saw an idea flash past his eyes, and he was quick to remove himself from me before turning me onto my stomach. He grabbed my hips, pulling them upwards with a feral look in his eyes. I was looking back at him as he plunged himself into me once again, taking up the same brutal pace as before. He leaned over me, mouth just inches from my ear as he growled, “I don’t think I’ve ever felt anything as divine as this before. You must be from heaven. I’m wholeheartedly convinced.” 

“Y-You…” I could barely speak. The sheer amount of girth was hitting every single spot it could find. It was sending sparks of pleasure through every nerve in my body. I could barely mewl out, “so… good.” 

“You poor thing. You can barely speak, can you?” He bit my neck, which triggered an immediate moan. “Heh. You like being mercilessly dominated by a god, don’t you?”

His pace didn’t falter, not even as he spoke. My body was contorted, chest against the bed and hips in the air. Between breaths, I responded, “I-I… I do.”

Then, he grabbed both of my wrists and pinned them behind my back with one hand. With the other, he had a bruising grip on my hip as he asked, “And what God is giving you the privilege to feel such pleasure?”

His pace was unforgiving. I came undone again as soon as he said that, which made him grunt. My brain was having trouble formulating words, but I cared little.  No one I had ever done anything with made me feel anything close to what I was feeling. I whined, “You.”

He snapped his hips into me particularly hard as he ordered, “Louder. Tell me who you belong to!” 

I yelled out, “You, Zamasu!”

“Good girl.” His pace stopped for a matter of seconds as he flipped me onto my back again, plunging himself into me as he delivered a violent kiss to my lips. One of his hands remained on my hip, and the other tangled itself in my hair. He was overwhelming me, and the only thing I could think about or feel was him. My body was in a constant state of pleasure. I couldn’t have even known if I’d come or not. What got my attention was when his pace became much less rapid and disorganized, and he couldn’t continue kissing me. His head fell to rest against the crook of my neck, and my nails raked down his back. 

“Oh, Gods,” he groaned that right into my ear, which caused me to groan in response. With a few more hard thrusts, his pace slowed. He came to a complete stop deep within me. He must’ve hit a climax himself. Both of us were covered in sweat, and he caught his breath much faster than I could catch my own. He said in a sultry voice, “I’m surprised. You took that very well.” 

I opened my eyes just a sliver to look at him. My voice was so quiet that I doubted anyone could’ve heard it. “Thank… you.” 

“I think I’m going to stay here for a while.” I could see a satisfied smile on his face. I felt his body relax, and he held my head against the crook of his neck. “If you don’t mind, that is.” 

“No… I don’t.” Laying there with him, as he stroked my hair, I could feel myself falling asleep. Being in such close proximity with him - being in his arms - it made me feel untouchable. To be the one exception. The one treasure. “I don’t mind…”

“Hush. You’re rambling, dear.” 

“I... sorry…”

“It’s alright.” I felt him press another kiss to my forehead. Yes, safe. That’s the way I felt. To sleep in the arms of a God… it was nothing I ever expected to happen. “Sleep, darling. No harm will come to you so long as I’m with you. That, I promise.” 

[stellar-constellations]

An Alliance (Part 3)

        

        Fem! Spy! (Y/N) x Yuri Briar

        Parts: One, two, current part, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten (to be continued when Spy x Family has more Yuri content!)

        (Y/N) is given her own backstory that is important for the story!

        The setting for this story is based off West and East Germany's (because Spy x Family is heavily based off Germany in the 1940-1950) laws (or at least replicated to the best of my abilities since it's unknown what time period Spy x Family is exactly in, we'll go with 1950 for the sake of this story). 

        Historically-accurate women misogyny and mistreatment! Only small comments and historically-accurate laws (replicated to the best of my ability). 

        The story, plot, and settings might not match up to the Spy x Family manga as it's not completed and the manga is still being crafted.

        This series contains spoilers for the manga and anime!

        The man’s alarm went off, causing him to jump up immediately. He quickly turned his head to look at me, seeing my glare.

        “Turn it off…” I mumbled, turning my back away from him. 

        “I’m surprised you decided to stay.” He spoke, genuine shock in his voice.

        “I have my reasons to stay. Don’t think it’s because of you.” I huffed, then covered my head with the covers. 

        “Hey! Don’t go back to sleep! We have work!” he complained, grabbing the covers and lifting them off my head and to my chest. 

        “There’s no ‘we’ in work.” I whined, grabbing the covers as he held onto them.

        I pulled the covers back to me, only to have them pulled back from him. 

        “There’s no ‘i’ in work either!” he retorted. 

        “There is in State Security Service. Go to your job.” I huffed.

        “Our job!” he spoke, completely grabbing the covers off of me. 

        The cold hit and I shivered, glaring at him.

        “When I walk out of that bathroom you better be dressed and ready to go.” He spoke, glaring back at me.

        “I won’t promise.” I commented lazily.

        He rolled his eyes, getting up from the bed and walking to the bathroom.

        What a jerk, making me wake up at… I looked at the time and my eyes widened. 5 A.M?!

        I sighed, getting up from the bed and lazily pulling the covers up to fix it. I carefully placed Flower on the bed in the middle to make sure she was safe before grabbing my suitcase and grabbing clothes, quickly changing.

        I put on a black long-sleeved shirt and black tights, wearing dark gray shorts over them and sliding into my black shoes. I brushed my hair (if you have it) until it was tangle-free, then put on my glasses (if you have them) and did quick sprays of perfume.

        I walked out of the bedroom and to the kitchen, looking around the cabinets. I noticed in one that there was coffee in it.

        Coffee? Well, he does seem like the type of guy to make coffee in the morning. He seems like a successful person, and successful people drink coffee. I thought to myself, then grabbed the coffee grounds. 

        I should poison it, then escape. I know I signed that contract, but what are they gonna do? As far as I'm aware, they don't have a tracker on me.

        I placed the coffee grounds in the coffee filter, making sure the machine had enough water as it started to brew in the pitcher.

        “You’re a fast changer.” He spoke, causing me to jump. 

        He noticed, smiling, but he decided not to tease me about what.

        “What? Were you planning on seeing me change?” I teased. “How bold of you, Sir.” 

        He flushed, an angry expression on his face. 

        “No!” he shouted.

        "You don't need to be shy. I'm flattered that you love me so much!" I smirked, swaying side to side as he screamed.

        "I DON'T LOVE YOU!" he screamed.

        "Now, now. You have to calm down. We still have neighbors." I pointed out. 

        His face went red as smoke crawled out of his ears and nose, yet he hushed up as the coffee machine went off, signaling the coffee was done.

        "You made coffee?" he questioned, looking at me.

        "Yeah. You seem like someone who'd like coffee, I mean, you had it in your cabinets." I spoke. 

        "Oh... T-thanks..." he muttered. 

        "Don't thank me, I was planning on poisoning it, but then I realized that your boss took my poison." I admitted, nonchalantly grabbing the pitcher and pouring the coffee into two mugs. 

        "Oh, really? I'd drink it so I'd never have to see your face again." He smiled, taking the mug from my hands.

        "How do you make your coffee?" I questioned. 

        "Six spoonfuls of sugar and 3/4 cup of milk. Why?" he questioned. 

        "D-dude!" I exclaimed. "Six spoonful?!" 

        "What? How much do you add?" he asked.

        "...Four spoonfuls." I sighed.         

        "Yeah! That's 2/3 as much as mine! And how much milk?" he questioned.

        "Like... an eye-full amount. I don't measure it..." I admitted. 

        "Let me see how you make it." He huffed, crossing his arms as he stepped to my side.

        My face went red from embarrassment as I showed him how I make mine. 

        "That's literally just like my coffee! Just a tad less sugar and a tad more milk!" he shouted.

        "Well make yours than we'll do a taste test!" I declared. 

        I watched as he made his and sighed. 

        His looks exactly like mine when it's finished!

        "Okay, we both take a sip of ours, then each other's." He spoke. 

        I nodded as we both dragged the mugs to our lips and took a sip. 

        "Now each other's." I spoke.

        We took sips and I huffed. 

        "It taste just about the same. Yours is just a tad sweeter." I frowned.

        "And yours is just a tad less stronger." He admitted. 

        I sighed, but my disappointment quickly turned into excitement. 

        "Hey, sweetie~" I teased. 

        "How many times have I told you not to call me those names, brat?" he huffed, red in the face. "What do you want?"

        "We just shared a kiss~" My face lit up from happiness at his reaction.

        "NO! NO WE DIDN'T!" he screamed.

        "There's no reason to be so shy, my love~ After all, we're...t-together." I stuttered, my teasing turning to embarrassment and disgust at just saying it. 

        "I WOULD NEVER KISS SOMEONE LIKE YOU!" he shouted. 

        I giggled, taking my coffee from his hands and switching it with his. 

        "You're so cute, honey~" I teased more as his face blew up.

        "You're a brat, brat!" he huffed, covering his face with his arm.

        I smiled as he swiftly turned around and walked to the door, quickly grabbing his jacket. He took an audible deep breath, then turned around. 

        "You gonna hurry up or are you gonna walk?" he grumbled.

        "I'm coming." I answered, grabbing one of his coats and running over to him.

        He rolled his eyes, turning his head away to hide his smile poorly.

        "Are you growing soft on me?" I teased. 

        "Of course not! It's just going to be cold tonight, that's the only reason I'm allowing you to wear that jacket!" he shouted, trying to justify himself. 

        "Sure," I smirked, "Honey~" 

        He rolled his eyes. "I'm seriously going to punch you." 

        "Let's get going before we're late." I spoke, latching onto his arm.

        "Hey! What are you doing?" he exclaimed.

        "I'm acting like your..." I softly choked, building up the courage to say it as I muttered "y-your...w-wife..." I whispered, almost inaudible to hear. 

        Luckily, he heard me so I didn't have to repeat it.

        "You said that when we're in public and at work, we'll act close, remember that?" 

        "And behind closed doors, we're nothing. Remember that?" he spat harshly. 

        I pouted, but nodded as me smiled brightly. 

        "Good, now let's go." He spoke.

        He opened the door, having us both step out before he turned around and locked the door. 

        Yeah. We're nothing. I thought to myself, ignoring the powerful sting in my heart. Is this what rejection feels like? Damn, I feel sorry for everyone I've ever rejected.

        I turned my head to the side so the man couldn't see my face as I silently sighed to regain my posture. What am I thinking? I don't even know this man's name, so why would I grow attached with this...jerk! 

        I would've started brewing up a better insult until someone spoke up behind us.

        "Oh, Mr. Briar!"

        The man turned around so fast, making me do a small ballet spin at his quick movements. 

        "Oh! Miss Nanami! What a surprise!" he spoke, his face bright. 

        He looked at me and spoke with his eyes: "say anything wrong and you're dead."

        "I didn't know you had a girlfriend!" the elder woman gushed. "You two look just like me and my husband when we were younger." 

        "Ahaha... yeah. This is actually my wife, Mrs. Briar." He smiled, hiding his left arm as I did the same since our rings would be on our un-dominant hand's ring finger (we both appear to be right-handed).

        "Oh! She's your wife? I'm sorry, I haven't seen you around here!" she smiled.

        "Oh, don't worry about it! I don't really go out that much unless it's for groceries or work." I fake-smiled, my eye twitching slightly.

        If this woman was a spy or extremely-observant, she'd notice that my twitch meant the smile was fake, but luckily, she's old and not wearing glasses. 

        "We'd love to stay and talk, but we have to go to work. Sorry, Miss Nanami." The man, Mr. Briar, apologized. 

        "Oh dear. I'm sorry for bothering you two. Have a good day." She smiled.

        "You too, Miss." We both said in union.

        When she turned around, we both immediately glared at each other. 

        "Mr. Briar, huh?" I smirked, finally learning something about his identity. 

        "Don't you dare start it." He hissed through his teeth.

        "Mr. Briar. Mr. Briar." I tested the name on my tongue. 

        "What are you doing?" he deadpanned at me.

        "I'm testing your name." I spoke. "Briar. Briar. Briar." I chanted, thinking. "It'd be nice if I knew your first name." 

        "It would be nice." He smiled. "Too bad you're not getting it." 

        "Hmph!" I huffed. "Be that way! I didn't care much anyways!" I lied, before resuming to my chanting. "Mr. Briar. Mr. Briar." I hummed, thinking. "Mrs. Briar!" I smiled, looking at Mr. Briar as he glared at me, red in the face. 

        "Shut it!" he demanded.

        I giggled, following him as we walked to the elevator. 

        "Mrs. Briar. Mrs. Briar." I chanted. "(Y/N) Briar. I kinda dig it." 

        "Don't expect to keep the name for long..." he grumbled, pressing the first button.

        I groaned, grabbing the elevator bar with one hand and tightening my grip on his.

        "I should just click the buttons over and over again until the elevator malfunctions and we'll be stuck in it. It'll be payback for being a pain in my ass all the time." He smiled smugly. 

        "Oh? What are we going to do while we wait to be rescued?" I teased as his face lit up.

        If he's seen enough movies, he must know what that means.

        He huffed, covering his face with his free hand. 

        "Don't say stuff like that!" he exclaimed.

        "I just asked what we're gonna do." I smiled, giving him smug smile back. 

        "Just shut up." He groaned.

        I gasped, acting shocked as I pretended to know what crossed his mind. "Mr. Briar! I can't believe you would assume something so lewd!" 

        "I DIDN'T! YOU'RE THE ONE WHO DID! AND STOP USING MY LAST NAME!" he screamed. 

        "Whatever. Come on now." I spoke, walking out as the elevator doors opened, tugging him along with me. 

        We walked out and to his car. I waited for him to open his own door before trying to open mine, but the bastard locked it.

        “Come on! I even waited for you to get in first!” I huffed, a not-so-pleasant expression on my face.

        “It’s still just as funny as the first time.” He chuckled, unlocking the door.

        I opened it and got into the seat, letting out a relaxed sigh at the drive we’re going to have to do. It’s not a far drive, but it’s not exactly around the corner either.

        “I can’t believe you get up at five in the morning to go to your job. The sun isn't even up.” I groaned, looking out the window.

        “Do you not get up to do your job?” he questions.

        “I do, but I got up early on special occasions. Most of my spy missions required me either tailing someone or helping behind the scenes; I was never one who liked to jump into the gunfights and stuff. That’s not my speciality.” I sighed.

        Reminds me too much of what I had to go through back in the army...

        Briar hummed, thinking.

        “Do you perhaps know of Twilight? The Westalis spy?” he questioned.

        “Of course I do. Every spy is aware of him, even the newbies.” I answered.

        “Do you know his face?!” he shouted, leaning over the car seat to mine, excited with a smile on his face.

        “No!” I answered back quickly, moving my body away to give us some space in between as my face heated up. “He’s the top spy. I’ve never seen his face since he’s a master at disguise. I helped him once or twice for a mission, but that was to find some missing links and codes. Me and him don’t really like being around each other.” 

        “You sure you’re telling me everything?” he questioned.

        “Yeah. Sorry, man, but not even Twilight allows other spies to see his face. He’s cautious about it since all the spies are getting captured and ratting each other out. So, he’s smart.” I admitted, distaste in my voice at his success. 

        Of course that bastard is away doing whatever while I’m here stuck with some dude who absolutely despises of me and trying to use me for information. He did what I didn't do and that's how I got caught... part of it at least.

        “Damn it.” Briar sighed. “He’s our top suspect. The SSS has been trying to get for years.” He groaned.

        “Eventually, he’ll make a slip up. All spies do, they’re human too, you know?” I pointed out.

        “They may be human, but they have no hearts.” The man growled, his grip on the steering wheel tightening stark white.

        I wanted to say something back, but I didn’t want to make him mad this early in the morning.

        What a lapdog. I thought to myself. He shouldn’t be saying stuff like that without understanding how the enemy and their civilians live their own lives.          .         .         We got out of the car, Briar locking it as I quickly ran to his side and grabbed his hand, holding it as he smiled for anybody nearby.

        “If anybody asks about us, I’ll do the talking.” He spoke through his teeth.

        He could be a ventriloquist. I thought to myself, noticing how his smile didn't shift at all when he spoke.

        “Okay.” I mumbled back, showing I understood.

        We walked hand-in-hand to the normal looking building. He opened the door for me as I waited by the side before grabbing his hand once more and walking into the office. We walked through a door, entering a room with many computers and people with headphones, listening to whatever.

        Probably bugged rooms. 

        “Let’s go to the Director and get things settled.” Briar whispered into my ear.

        I nodded, walking past the computers. 

        We made our way to a different hallway, turning and going down yet another one.

        “Second-lieutenant.” Someone spoke. 

        What’s with people ambushing us? I thought.

        We turned around and Briar smiled.

        “Hello, lieutenant!” he spoke, letting go of my hand and saluted. 

        I panicked and quickly followed with the salute.

        Lieutenant! He’s above Briar’s authority. There’s a chance he might not know above our little situation here—are those stitches on his face? And why does he look so damn dead?!

        “Is there anything you needed, sir?” he questioned, stopping his salute which led me to stopping mine.

        “Who is the girl?” he questioned.

        “This is my wife, (Y/N) Briar.” He spoke. “She just recently joined the squad yet hasn’t received a uniform yet. I’m taking her to the Director to get last-minute plans all sorted out.” 

        “Hm. Very well then.” He spoke. “You’re dismissed.” 

        We walked away from the Lieutenant, making it to the Director’s door.

        “Ugh. I can’t believe I called you that.” He gagged, sticking out his tongue.

        “I don’t know, you said it pretty smoothly. It sounded to me like you were accepting it.” I smiled, poking his shoulder. 

        He glared and slapped my hand away, causing me to giggle while internally pouting at his hostility.

        That hurt too. He’s strong, but it makes sense since he’s apart of the Secret Police.

        We walked into the Director’s office as he was on the phone speaking to someone. We walked into the office, waiting patiently with our hands behind our backs as we waited. Occasionally Briar would look over at me, only for me to stick my tongue out at him playfully as he shoots me a not-so-playfully glare.

        “Yes. Uh-huh. Alright. Understood. We’ll send some of our officers over. Alright. Have a good day, sir.” He hung up the phone and looked up.

        “You may sit.” The Director spoke.

        I looked over at Briar and spoke. “You can sit. I don’t feel like it.” 

        He silently walked over and sat down on the chair across from the Director. I strolled over and leaned up on Briar’s chair, placing my arms on his head as he growled.

        “Stop it.” He spat.

        “No.” I responded, gently playing with a piece of his hair sticking out from his hat.

        The Director smiled. “What brings you two here? Already looking for a divorce?” 

        “That would be great.” Briar smiled, causing me to glare at him.

        “I’m not that bad.” I spoke.

        “She couldn’t even get out of bed this morning.” Briar pointed.

        “Not my fault we went to bed so late.” I rolled my eyes.

        The Director coughed. “Oh. Well I see the relationship is going swimmingly.” 

        “Ah! N-no! Not like that Director!” Briar gasped.

        “I don’t mind the misconception.” I smiled, laughing at Briar’s reaction as he told me to “shut up.” 

        “No, you see, Sir. We were wondering about the arrangement. What is she exactly going to do?” Briar questioned.

        “I thought you had that part settled out?” I questioned.

        “I lied.” He smiled, looking up at me. 

        I looked at him, irritated as I flicked his forehead. He muttered a small “stop it, brat."

        “She’s going to be accompanying you in all your missions. So whatever you want her to do, she’ll be forced to do it unless I otherwise say so.” The Director spoke.

        "Hear that? You have to do whatever I say." Briar smiled evilly, crossing his arms.

        "Oh nooo. Please be gentle." I spoke, causing Briar to scream loudly and the Director to burst into tears laughing. 

        After Briar eventually decided to shut up and the Director stopped laughing, the Director spoke up. 

        "Is that all you two need of me?" he questioned.

        "Why did you choose me to be babysitting her?" Briar questioned. 

        "Babysitting? As if! I'm the one watching over him!" I spoke.

        "I feed you and you live under my roof." Briar pointed out.

        "I..." I paused. "I...uh..." I tried wracking my brain as Briar smiled at me smugly. "I made you coffee!" I declared, crossing my arms. "Psh. Can you believe this guy?" I spat out, pointing a finger at him. 

        "I know?" the Director sighed, playfully glaring at Briar as Briar looked at him with a look of betrayal. "But as for your question, second-lieutenant, I chose you simply because you're young and single." the Director smiled.

        "You haven't been using that playboy face for anything? I'm shocked." I giggled as Briar looked awestruck.

        "...T-that's it? No, like, motivation speech about me or something?" Briar responded, his face pale.

        "Nope. You were just lonely." The Director spoke as I bursted out laughing.

        Briar's face went even more pale as his mouth opened and closed like a fish. 

        "I like you, Mister-Director-Funny-Man!" I laughed, pointing at him as he gave me a thumbs-up.

        "I can't believe my boss and my enemy are getting along..." Briar mumbled, putting his hands on his face and letting out a loud groan. "AND I'M NOT LONELY! I HAVE MY SISTER!" he screamed, then realized he screamed at his boss. "Er... Sorry, Director, sir!" he stood up and saluted, then sat back down in his chair. 

        "Ahaha! Sister-complex! Sister-complex!" I laughed, pointing at him. 

        He flicked me hard on the forehead, causing me to yelp and touch the spot as it effectively shut me up. 

        "Is that all?" The Director questioned.

        "Briar told me I was gonna get a uniform or something; is that true?" I questioned.

        "Ah! Yes! Your uniform." The Director spoke, opening a cabinet drawer and picking up a see-through plastic bag. "I knew you were going to stop by soon so I got it custom-made and tailored." The Director smiled, showing me the bag proudly before handing it over to Briar who gave it to me. "Go try it on! Second-lieutenant lead her to the changing room! Then let me see! I worked hard on the design." he cheered. 

        Briar sighed, nodding as he stood up.         

        "Come on, brat." He demanded.

        I ignored the insult and followed behind him as we walked out of the hallway and went down hallway after hallway. 

        "Come to think of it. You're going to be the first woman in the force." Briar spoke up.

        "I am? Do you have changing rooms or bathrooms?" I questioned.

        "You're in luck. We have individual bathrooms." Briar smiled.

        "Good. Like I'd let you see me naked." I smirked.

        "Like I'd ever even want to see you naked!" he scoffed, his face turning red.

        "Says the virgin." I smiled.

        "I—! Why you!" he stuttered, his face going an even darker red as he tried to think. "Doesn't matter! You have four minutes to change before I cave the door open to catch you setting up bugs somewhere." Briar ordered.

        "Ew. Who would do that in a bathroom?" I questioned, walking into the bathroom and shutting the door.

        I made sure it was locked before quickly grabbing the plastic bag and opening it. I didn't know how long it'd take me to put on the uniform, but I was guessing that it would be slightly-difficult. 

        I took off my clothes and replaced it with black tights, a white button-up shirt, a dirty-green jacket to go over it, a dirty-green skirt, black boots, and a black tie. 

        Wasn't as hard as I'd thought it'd be. But a skirt, really?

        I huffed, grabbing my old clothes and putting it in the bag. 

        "Oi! Honey!" I declared, slamming open the door. 

        "You're supposed to button the jacket and wear the tie correctly!" he complained, eyeing me.

        "Why can't I wear pants?" I questioned.

        "I'm not the one that made it." He deadpanned.

        "Well, I know that! But I don't wanna wear a skirt!" I complained.

        "Calm down, sheesh! You're going to get me in trouble!" Briar shushed.

        "Your boss is gonna be in trouble when my foot is up his ass!" I replied.

        "Let's just go to the Director and sort this out. He wanted to see it anyways" Briar sighed.

        I huffed and sped-walked down the hallways, running to that Director's door with confidence and kicking it open.

        "You have five seconds to call that tailor and demand pants!" I demanded.

        "Let me explain this, see—"

        "One."

        "This is simply for the sake of SSS—"

        "Two."

        "Just hear me out!"

        "Five, you've been heard." I huffed.

        "Could you not run down the hallway like that, brat?" Briar spoke, appearing behind me and grabbing my waist to prevent me from attacking the Director.

        "You said five seconds!" the Director exclaimed, wiping sweat off his brow.

        "I'm impatient." I grumbled, crossing my arms as Briar lead me to the chair, sitting down and forcing me to stay between his legs as both his legs and arms wrapped around me, preventing me from jumping the Director. 

        "Nice save. Now as I was saying." The Director sighed. "You're the only girl on the force. This can help with advertisement since members of the SSS have been disappearing, most likely getting scrapped by Westalis spies too. This can also help getting easy information out of people being interrogated. It's statistically shown that people are more likely to be comfortable around women because of their motherly nature, and when people are comfortable, they let things slip. They'd be more honest and we would have less... accidents." The Director chuckled. 

        "Do I look like a mother to you?" I grumbled. 

        "We can change your attitude to be motherly and nurturing." He smiled. "But this could really help with the war. You do want it to end, don't you?" he questioned.

        "Of course I do. I've seen some things. Do you see how people are in the streets? Everyone avoids the newspapers. Everyone runs when they see someone in an authority position or wearing an officer uniform. Kids run whenever they see someone with a briefcase. Everyone is living in fear, and that's no way to live." I stated firmly, then started to play with Briar's hair (much to his annoyance).

        “It’s a small sacrifice for peace. Besides, I think it’ll suit you. He agrees, don’t you?” The Director spoke.

        I turned my head to look at Briar, daring him to lie to me while having the audacity to make eye contact with me. 

        “It doesn’t suit you. In fact, you look stupid.” Briar responded immediately, causing the Director to sigh and me to hit his arm.

        “Jerk!” I huffed, squirming to get out of his hold but to no avail. 

        "At least it's not pink. I was thinking of it, but I thought that'd ruin your camouflage." The Director admitted.

        “We have no more questions.” Briar spoke.

        “Good. In that case, you have your first SSS mission, (Y/N). Second-lieutenant, you’ll show her the ropes of how we do things here. And again, Mrs. Briar..." the Director smiled, specifically looking to see Briar's face.

        Briar cringed, letting out a disgusted groan as I giggled.

        "Your husband is in charge." Now I cringed with Briar as he let out an even louder groan of disgust at the word 'husband' before springing up once he heard that he was the one in charge.

        "Here's your mission. You'll be attending Lieutenant down to city hall to capture Jim Hayward. He's a potential suspect of espionage." Me and Briar both looked at each other at the same time.

        I mentally smiled as he looked at me, shocked in his eyes. "Now hurry on and go join Lieutenant. They're getting ready to leave soon." 

        "Yes, sir." Briar saluted. 

        "Yeah, what he said." I smiled, causing Briar to give me a tired-glare.

        "Have fun, you two. Consider this my wedding gift." He smiled. 

        Both me and Briar groaned, leaving the room together.

        "Let's hurry on. The Lieutenant is an impatient man when he's on the clock." Briar spoke, speed-walking down the hallway as I quickly followed in pursuit. "I can't believe you knew it." He sighed, walking into an office a little similar to the Director's, but smaller.

        He grabbed a yellow envelope on the desk and shoved it in his pocket. I curiously eyed it but decided not to pry into it. 

        "You actually doubted me? I'm offended!" I shcoffed.

        "You're a spy—I can't just anything that comes out of your mouth." He spat.        

        "You're so mean to me. I thought we were getting along since we shared a bed." I sighed.

        "D-don't say it like that!" he shouted as I laughed. "Let's hurry up and get this over with." Briar grumbled.

        Parts: One, two, current part, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten (to be continued when Spy x Family has more Yuri content!)

        Want more Yuri content? Check out these headcannons and one shots!

        Yuri Briar x Sick! Fem! Reader

        Slightly mean! Yuri Briar x Fem! Reader

Yuri Briar x Fem! Reader headcannons + other fandoms!

        Have any requests? Check my masterlist to see the characters I write for: Masterlist (Please request, I have too much free time and too little fics).

[arminsfavoritepookie]

SOLITUDE by @arminsfavoritepookie

Pairing: MIKASA X FEM READER

(modern au pt.1). pt2 | I’ll post pt.3 if anyone requests it

Synopsis: In which you engage in a illicit forbidden relationship with your boyfriend’s best friend

Contains: Cheating, WLW smut, toxic relationships, cursing, smoking, alcoholism, forced proximity, jealously, public sex, secret relationship, choking, sexual tension, idk gay shit, etc Plot is nonexistent it's just smut...

Mikasa reached for her ancient, sputtering lighter and held it to the end of her cigarette. The flame flared up and illuminated her relaxed pose - her legs spread wide, her eyes hooded with some unidentifiable emotion.  Smoke quickly pervaded the room as she took a deep drag, and a sense of anticipation spread throughout. There was something powerful in the way she inhaled and exhaled, and it held you captive, watching her as you felt an unfamiliar feeling swell up in your chest. 

The tobacco aroma wafted across the room, enveloping you in an embrace of a million sensations that were as mystifying as they were magnetic. There was a certain peace in the moment and you couldn't help but to admire her enigmatic presence as you tried to puzzle out her silent and emotion-filled expression.

Mikasa kept smiling, no hint of her true emotions peeking through her relaxed facade. You found it almost infuriating how nonchalant she was about the whole situation, yet you couldn't bring yourself to get angry. A heavy, uneasy silence fell between the two of you, and all you wanted was for the moment to pass quickly. Why was she here, you wondered. Your boyfriend was, unfortunately, not present, yet Mikasa had shown no sign of surprise.

And you, with your gracious and hospitable attitude, had extended an offer of refreshments, regretting the invitation even before it had left your lips. All you wanted to do was escape the oppressive atmosphere that had developed, but all you could do was sit there, waiting for some kind of cue to give you an excuse to leave.

You shifted restlessly on the couch, your fingertips almost itchy with the urge to reach out to her. An unknown unease brewed within your being, it could have been from the anticipation that had filled your being since the start or it might have been the massaging of your own thighs in an effort to draw her attention to you. As the charged atmosphere hung between the two of you, an immense desire to make your feelings known took over, enveloping you completely. Just being in her vicinity had caused a flurry of intense emotions to arise within you

❝How you been, pretty?❞ she whispered, her arm stretched out along the couch and her lavender scent filled the room. Her gaze directed at the television, yet you could tell that she was entirely focused on you.

You lifted your head up from the depth of its hibernation, responding to her faint plea for acknowledgment. You hesitated before delivering your words, contemplating every possible answer you could conjure up within your soul.

"I'm doing alright, just feeling a bit exhausted," you said. She gave you a subtle nod, yet her eyes betrayed her discontentment. Your words hung in the air, and you could feel the tension building. You knew she wasn't pleased with your answer and it left you feeling very uneasy. A weary smile grazed across your face as the minutes dragged.

As you forced your gaze to the ceiling, a red hue passed through the otherwise gray fog from the burning tip of the cigarette. Even with your lungs slowly dying, the overpowering fragrance of the smoke seemed like a powerful reminder of her presence in the room. Her smoky tendrils danced across the floor like a spell was being woven and captivated your senses. You turned to Mikasa, coughing and found yourself momentarily transfixed.

Her formfitting clothes revealed the well-toned muscles beneath her shirt as she smoothly exhaled her smoke with every movement. A playful glimmer lit up her eyes as she cocked an eyebrow, clearly aware of the effects she had on you. Her grin widened and she carelessly flicked the remaining embers of her cigarette into the tray. You sighed in response, wishing you could focus on anything but her. Yet you couldn't look away from the enchanting figure as the smoke engulfed the room, capturing you both within it.

Mikasa's sensual laugh reverberated around the room, sending a thrill of anticipation down your spine and making you feel flushed with embarrassment. Despite trying to ignore it, you could still feel her piercing gaze upon you, knowing that smirk was never too far away.  "Fuck, pretty, I'm sorry, I should have asked if it was okay to smoke in here," Mikasa said in a voice that was both sweet and dangerous. "Forgive me?"

Your heart raced against your chest, as you locked eyes with Mikasa. She had come closer to you, and your body tensed as her thigh pressed against yours. Taking a deep breath, you said with a feigned confidence,

"I'm not a baby Mikasa, I've smoked plenty of times". To emphasize your point, you let out a raspy cough.  Mikasa seemed amused by your attempts to impress her and gave you a mischievous smirk. "Don't be afraid to tell me the truth, pretty, there's nobody here except you and me." Her words had a playfulness in them that made you feel annoyed—her dark eyes sparkled as she held your gaze

And to everyone else, that statement of hers could've come off as polite and conversational, like she was just a good friend of Armin's. But you knew the truth - she was up to no good. It was her trademark move - unannounced visits, overly intimate touches and gestures, endearments like 'pretty,' when she had no right to say them. Knowing how you reacted to words like that. And she kept at it despite the fact that Armin was in a relationship with you - and she was his best friend.

Your sweet boyfriend whom is completely oblivious to her flirting, blissfully unaware of the simmering desire that swells in every exchange of looks and touch.

❝What are you thinking now?❞ You saw the smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth, almost as if she had read your mind, and that is what sends shivers down your spine: her power to guess what is going on inside of you, tease you, ask you what you are feeling when she probably knows already. She was merely unabashedly flirting with you.

Deep down, a dark and twisted side of you enjoyed the situation, but you couldn't bring yourself to tell her off and simply kept your gaze fixed ahead and pretended to be entertained by her flirting and touches. You lacked courage, and she was all too aware of it. "Are you just going to ignore me, pretty?" Mikasa came closer, placing her hand on your thigh, sending a wave of alarm, nervousness, and excitement through your body as the boundaries slowly faded away.

❝Come on, tell me what's going through your mind,❞ she said, her breath caressing your skin. Her hands gently moved dangerously near your clit,  sending jolts of electricity to your heat. You let out a desperate sigh, a need so strong that you could barely control it. In the midst of your desire, you surprisingly asked if she had any more cigarettes left. She stared at you in shock before slowly retrieving another cigarette and lighter from her pocket, her lips quirked in amusement.

❝Shall we do a shotgun since you seem so eager?❞ A knowing smirk painted her face and the air around them suddenly seemed to crackle with something new, something captivating, something electrifying. You felt a flicker of unease; you had stepped into unknown territory.

❝Don't be scared, my love, it's only a lil smoke, I promise just inhale for me,❞ she cooed as she raised the cigarette to her lips again, her eyes glimmering in the darkness. You nervously took up the lighter and flipped it open, holding the flame to the end of the cigarette. Your heart raced and you looked up, meeting her gaze in the momentary burst of light.

She inhaled deeply from the cigarette, holding the smoke in her mouth while her palm was placed on your face. A cool sensation swept through you as she exhaled the smoke through your lips, their softness just barely touching each other as if a silent game was being played between you, and a fight ensued to see who would surrender first. Mikasa flicked her tongue across your lower lip, which resulted in a quiet moan erupting from you. Her heavy eyes locked with yours, an amused expression gracing her features.

"God, baby you really are filthy you know that?." White streams of smoke lingered in the air while she pulled back and studied you. The feel of her mouth pressed against yours stirred up a frenzy of feelings inside you. Every inch of your body was enveloped in sensations that can only be described as chaotic and blissful all at once.

As you gazed upon her with your heart ablaze with desire, she inhaled the last bit of the cigarette with her eyes closed, the hint of a smirk spread across her lips and her head tilted back against the sofa. The smoky air was heavy, almost palpable.

And then—Suddenly, you heard your cellphone ringing.

[specter319]

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓'𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄? (Ace Combat x CoD 141)

A/N: As a little Christmas present, I decided to work on a little something something, seeing a random anon state in @mockerycrow's Ask about fighter jets and Task Force 141 got my interest real quick, having been someone who got introduced to these two fandoms 1-2 years ago I absolutely adore the storyline in regards to Trigger and Count, but also the storyline as a whole, neatly wrapping up the reason why three strikes is called three strikes, if only a certain other game could have the same sort of stable plot- Complaints about the plot aside for those who stumble upon it have fun with this little short story that's been brewing in my head! Please enjoy the Homoeroticism of Ghost and Soap Trigger Warnings: Mention of Blood Word Count: 2.5k Words Characters: John 'Soap' MacTavish x Simon 'Ghost' Riley, mentions of Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick and Johnathan Price.

From the moment John MacTavish’s Scottish blue eyes gazed upwards into the beautiful atmosphere above him, he knew he was utterly and completely fucked. It all started with one moment in time, watching the infamous ‘Ghost’ launch one of their newly brought F-35s testing it out for another squadron, making sure all systems were in check. Watching it from the fences as the utter decimation of their ears thanks to the lack of protection were good faith to the man taking it, for what seemed to be a joy ride. And as Kyle and John stood there, seeing it hovering just mere meters above the runway, their joy was all but uncontainable in knowing just who was behind the sticks.

Conversations were the only thing that took over the engines' mighty roar as Kyle and John yelled at the inanimate object in celebration.

“Ooh yeah! Ooh yeah!” Kyle yelled out.

“Ooh, go ‘un, go ‘un” John egged right back.

And then, just as it pulled up, sure it was now at best pulling upwards of 5 gees, the men on the ground cheered.

“Go on you fuckin’ beauty!” Just as it was making its way further into the clouds, graciously curving its own form into the shape of them. 

They were ecstatic, joyful, even, at least one was, to see a man so tall, almost built like a damn statue from ancient history managing to tame a beast so wild, and wicked. And yet, knowing that it was almost second nature in that man's blood to fly it, because that bastard was the only one allowed, thanks to the great charm of the bastards in the west, to have an F-22 Raptor. The only one in the UK, belonged to a man who had no name, never showed his face to the people he didn’t know, including the two men who stood there on the grassy knoll outside of the airbase cheering him on. 

What a weird shitpot of luck that was, almost as if the gods of fate above had been watching the two men above, seeing them be so supportive of a man who never had the cheers of his fellow squad members, but instead, feared him. Tried to rebel against him, just to get a far enough away distance to stay away from a man and his, as some people called it ‘Raptor’s Ghost’.

Those that had seen it, had been lucky enough to tell the tale, at least, on the side he came back to, fellow squadron and captain, but those who had been on the receiving side of those guns as they lifted from their molded seam, only saw a wisp of a dark gray aircraft, before a fiery explosion filled their cabin.

Yes, there was one thing to be known about this ‘Ghosts’ jet — he’d specified that he must have it in a darker gray. Just a couple of shades darker than what the original metal was painted as. And the thing was? Somehow, amongst his captains ranking, the government and even the fuckers down in Lockheed — they’d said yes to the request. Even if a few bureaucrats in the Pentagon were waving the red flag from the start.

So he guessed that’s what the plan was then, to go and catch a sneak in the middle of the night of what it looked like, though Kyle tried with all of his might to persuade him otherwise, John was dead set on seeing the beauty that stood in the dead of the night in Ghost’s hangar, wielded far away from the rest of the base, but close enough to know that the rest of the team always, haunted by a Ghost, he guessed that’s where the name came from then. Given that this was usually seen beside the B-2, a call sign of Ghost would’ve been fitting for someone in a something like this. And it seemed like fate was tempting him all and amongst this, because, as John approached the hangar, as big as it was, there was a crack left open, not closed, like all the other times he’d passed it in his own jet. Only to then realize this was the reason why they had called him Ghost to begin with, no one thought he was around, until it was too late.

Everyone knew this Ghost, was a guy, they’d heard his voice, never heard him laugh, was only ever a man of a few simple commands and went off when requested. What caught John MacTavish off guard however, was not only the hangar open, but the place had reeked of oil and fuel, only to be diverged its acoustics of the tin metal in the sound of Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata, a far cry from the throat roar of the hotdogged engines, John could already tell what Ghost had been doing to the poor thing. Either someone had been here recently or there was still someone here, but that never mattered as his Scottish blue eyes once more, got him fucked over, classical music be damned.

The metallic gray was no longer present, much like he had seen on the various photos that had beautifully given the thing a personality of beauty, and yet deadly. But instead, it was given a more, mature grayed look, as if it was a rehashed version of the F-35, the very same one he had been seen in this afternoon in a reskinned jet. Sudden realizations hit the man when thinking in Ghost’s logic, not too shabby for a Ghost when John had realized that much to his enemies disliking, when they suddenly realized that the jet was no longer a most recent US fighter, it was too late to break off anyway.

And much akin to John’s own footsteps, he’d realized that he was pulled in by the absolute sheer squared beauty of the thing and had moved right into the Ghost’s trap.

“What are you doin’ in my hangar?” Ghost lowly spoke, standing to the side, having seen him since he strolled in here. 

“Jesus wept!” John spoke as he suddenly turned around, the closed distance between them was something almost scary at just how close and personal this man had gotten, and all amongst that, he seemingly had the goal to wear a bloody balaclava, all the while wearing a stripped down version of the gear they would have to haul around on their bodies. Was he really that comfortable in wearing the same shit each day? At least the only thing invading his senses was oil and fuel. 

“I said what are ya doing here?” Ghost questioned before his eyes glanced over at the hangar “Squadron leaders gonna know about this,” his voice loomed.

“Sorry,” That’s all the weak bastard had as he tried to pick himself up faster than he could pull back on his own stick. “A’m interested in that piece of art ye’v got there, heard you were the one flying the Lightning around this mornin’”

“So you were the two hanging around the fence”

John stiffened at the sheer mention of that, he’d seen them? He didn’t think he had given the height already gained as he passed the pair of them from the runway.

“Wanted to watch her give her a proper launch, sir” John hesitated as Ghost only snorted and shook his head at the mention of the last word.

“Flight Lieutenant to you” This Ghost guy seemingly didn’t want to have him out of his hangar after all, but there was no doubt that heavy brown eyes were on him, painted darker then the plane before him as his eyes registered on MacTavish’s uniform still barely on given the zip that was seemingly fought with, the sheen of sweat that was just above the ridgeline of his eyebrows gave away just how much he’d been working during the rest of his day, when he seemingly wasn’t cheering this man on, then again. MacTavish did seem like a familiar last name, what could hurt but to take a guess.

“Apologies,” John moved ever so closer to the jet, almost as if he were to go ahead and, to the thought running in the back of Ghost’s mind, steal it. Poor bastard, probably wouldn’t be able to handle the ride as well as he could. “Does that mean I get to call you LT then?”

The cocky chatter over the radio, often with another teammate, only gave Ghost all the more confidence to take that stab in the dark to try and pinpoint just who he was.

“You can, so long as you tell me if you’re the one flying that bloody F-16 around.”

John’s eyes suddenly went wide, and of course, that cocky Brit saw it, and with his own pair too. His soul had actively left his body in the acknowledgement that someone had noticed his maneuverability, everyone else had F/A-18’s. But MacTavish was the one that stood his ground when he said he wanted a former fighter pilots F-16, ready to be given back to the Americans, decommissioned, probably in a scrap heap, and yet, here he was, breathing new life into it and treating it like it had just come off the factory rollers. Though, his only fault that he seemingly had with it, was that of the lack of gun ammunition, paling in comparison to something like the beast that stood before him.

“Uh, and why would tha’ be?” 

Ghost paused, raising a brow in confusion, maybe he was going to have to talk to John’s squad leader, had he really not seen beyond his two feet at just who he had under his wing, the man could maneuver the thing as well as he could like the jet he stood before and maybe, if he ever took the chance (which, in high unlikely doubt he would) he could probably pilot Ghost’s, if not, with just a bigger amount of hesitation.

“Just wanted to give a recommendation to the squadron leader as to who to take under our wing, old talents retiring at the end of the year, figured I’d give whoevers flying that F-16 and the one with the yellow strip along the body of the ‘18 a fighting chance at joining the 141” He brushed it off, like it was a chance to come clean. Ghost knew that MacTavish was the one flying the thing, often put in a good word about it to Price. And Price often agreed, that and ‘Gaz’ who was often his wingmanaccording to Price’s notes were often hotshots, but never in an egotistical, ‘wanting to show who’s boss’ way, it was always one of teamwork, and he quite enjoyed seeing them chant as one of their other teammates took down a target before they did.

“The 141?” MacTavish asked

“Yeah, just need to find out who the pair are in the two jets first” Ghost was toying with him as he finally made a move over to his own, inspecting the various scratches that were seemingly evident in the light, but gave the aircraft a seemingly weathered look, one that, Ghost admired. 

“There a reason why they call you the Ghost?” Quick this one was to change the subject, avoiding it, but copying him all the more in his movements as John did the same, placing a gentle hand along the aircraft as his calloused fingers felt a deep scar along the face of the jet, maybe that’s why he rarely had repairs done to the thing other than ones that were required. Maybe that’s why he wears the mask, he’s damaged, just like the bird before him – but he still flies, still finds meaning in the daylight and blue hues of skies.

“There a reason why you’re dancing around the question?” Their hands moved along the surface of the steel at almost the same time, unknown, but as if they were tracing one another's patterns as the question was left in the air for a bit too long before they finally moved to the nose of the aircraft, having no choice but to look at one another as they did so.

“Could say the same,” He watched as Ghost moved towards him, facing him, how he towered over the man with that stature of power, and yet, the only real dominating power he seemingly had left was his rank, and the jet. Because all the smug bastard did was place his hands behind his back and look down at the Scotsman, as if inspecting him as he did the jet, to see if like him, he too had scars beneath that mohawk and blue eyes that seemingly contrasted ever so beautifully along the dark gray. “What happens if one of us already knows the answers?” 

“Then I guess one of us will have to await the answers of the future, but if they already know the answers, they shouldn’t have to wait too long” They both knew one another were staring, helplessly, but stopping it neither as eyes behind that mask squinted ever so gently. So he did have his scars, one on the chin, must have had a bad accident for it to get that bad, and the blood from it too.

“Then I guess I’ll ‘ave ta’ see me way out of this museum then huh? Wouldn’t want ta make a scene now aye?” John smiled, physically having to retch himself from the spot he stood in, not wanting to move away from the view that was before him.

“Don’t quite appreciate customers making a scene and disturbing the nature of this art” So he wasn’t the only one to quickly move along with what he was suggesting as he followed him, only ever a few steps behind, maybe that’s why he got that name, loud as anything in a jet, then he never exists once the engines shut off.

Ghost eventually stopped following him as John made his way out near the doors of the hangar, lingering around just a bit more before he stopped in his tracks, just maybe, if he really did have the answers, he could see how his future LT would respond. “Don’t think I could handle two pieces of art in a museum, never been able ta handle more than one” He swore up and down he saw the man’s head snap into place about that comment, a slight squint at the body language that John was trying to portray as he moved through the hangar doors. “Have a good night, LT”

“Officer Mactavish.”

Payback time.

“Aye sir?” And they’d fallen into line already, a wingman, of sorts, to a Ghost.

“Call me Simon”

Now MacTavish was standing there, being a complete idiot, baffled by the fact that he, of all people, managed to get into the inner circle of a man named Simon, a Ghost. A snort was then heard through the airy atmosphere as he suddenly turned around and walked back towards the stairs of his office, looking back over his shoulder, leaving him in a scrambled state that was the brain of John MacTavish.

“You’re not too bad yourself,” He paused, “For a F-16 Pilot.”

So that’s his name.

[hb-writes]

The Thick of It

Summary: Charlie Specter is in the midst of an absolutely terrific new fantasy series and she won't let anything get in the way of devouring it...well, with some minor exceptions such as the minimally required amount of sleep to stay functioning and revenge against her cold-handed brother.

Prompt (from anon): "Your hands are cold" with Charlie and Harvey <3

Characters: Harvey Specter & Charlie Specter

Warnings: some allusion to cursing, but nothing really. Pretty in love with this one, actually.

Suits (Lines to Live By) Masterlist

With a little more than two hundred pages left to the third book in her new favorite series, Charlie hadn’t found much reason to stop reading the night before. She was exhausted from a long week at school and she had a paper due on Monday that probably should have taken at least slight precedence, but it was a weekend. Time to let loose. Time for a little self care. 

That’s what she had told Harvey anyway when he returned from his date to find Charlie there on the couch in her robe and three blankets. He had scoffed at her excuse and her excessive blankets—it was a little cold out, the temperatures in the city plummeting a bit prematurely considering it was only October—but he had shifted the thermostat by a few degrees anyhow. Better to do that than to listen to her complain all weekend. 

Because Charlie had made it clear that she had no interest in leaving the house, not with the temperature where it was and the rain that was forecasted, and not considering she was in the grip of those books he had barely seen her without over the last few weeks. 

He’d amassed nothing from the titles. If someone had asked, he’d have told them his sister was reading something called The Royal House of Stone & Fire & Snowfall…or something like that. He didn’t have a clue what it was, but Charlie had told him they were fantasy novels, leaving it at that.

Falling asleep when she did, sprawled on the couch at 4:37 am, with the apartment dim and just one little lamp left on to illuminate the words on the page…well, that had been an accident. Charlie hadn’t meant to fall asleep, especially seeing as she’d made it so far—only two chapters left in the book. 

She wasn’t sure how she had even left things off where she did. She’d always had the distinct feeling that by setting down a book in the thick of it, she was just leaving the characters she had come to love steeped in crisis, leaving them suspended there in whatever terrible bit of plot the author had written them into. And Charlie had left her new favorite characters in something akin to hell since falling asleep nearly two hours before. 

She fell asleep with the sounds of a fictional battle echoing in her mind, but the apartment had been still and silent when she awoke. Still and silent and…empty? Some part of her was disappointed for giving in to her mortal needs not finishing the book already, but another distinct part of her thought maybe falling asleep had been a blessed thing seeing as Harvey was already gone, a note left on the kitchen counter explaining that he’d gone out for a run. A run that he no doubt would have dragged Charlie out on if she was awake when he’d come through. It sounded like a particularly unsavory type of hell to her—running in the freezing cold, gray skies threatening rain and preventing the sun from making any sort of noticeable rise.

Truth be told, Charlie was a little surprised Harvey hadn’t tried to wake her, hadn’t tried to convince her to join, but considering how out of it she felt now, barely functioning as she went about starting the coffee maker, Charlie thought it possible that her brother did try to wake her before giving up and determining her to be a lost cause. 

The coffee maker began brewing and Charlie shuffled back across the room, to the couch and her book, burrowing back beneath the covers and reclaiming the warmth she’d left there. She’d be done with this book within the hour and she was glad that she had the next one beside her on the coffee table…glad she’d thought ahead to get it out of the library before the weekend, but for now…Charlie dove back into battle, rejoining her friends in the thick of it.

“Do I need to get your damned ears checked?” 

Charlie didn’t even remember hearing her brother come in though Harvey’s tone suggested there’d been at least a few other questions preceding that one. Charlie thought she might have even heard a whisper of those questions, but it was hard to tell. If anything, Harvey’s voice had been on the distant periphery of Charlie’s awareness almost like the ghost of an echo or a calling from another world entirely because as far as she could tell, she wasn’t really here. Not in New York. Not in their penthouse. Not on the couch in her pajamas. Certainly not in the same space and time as her brother.

“Huh?” she asked, not bothering to pull her eyes away from the book. She didn’t need her eyes to hear him. Or her focus. And if she did those things, whatever Harvey had to say was going to have to wait because Charlie was busy, and about 97% elsewhere, with only a handful of pages left to go.

She jumped as Harvey’s hand, the one that was indeed located in the very real, very cold world that was New York, clasped down on the exposed skin at the back of her neck. Reconciling very quickly with the concepts of time and space and temperature, Charlie scrambled to push him away, still holding the book open with one hand as she grabbed at his arm.

“Stop it, Harvey. Your hands are cold!” 

Harvey chuckled as Charlie struggled, part of his savoring the warmth because his fingers were, in fact, frozen. “Are they?” he asked, releasing his grip only to settle the back of his chilled hand against her cheek. 

“Yes!” She hissed, lifting the book and using it to smack his arm. “Do it again and I’ll break your fingers.”

Harvey pulled his hand away, but Charlie still hit him again for good measure, finding she rather enjoyed the resounding thump the paperback made upon contact even if the deviation was keeping her from finishing the story.

Harvey raised an eyebrow and Charlie stilled, arm mid-swing. “You hit me with that book again and I’m chucking the goddamned thing off the balcony.”

“I’m almost done with it so whatever,” Charlie lowered her arm, finding her page once again as she settled back into the couch. “Give me three minutes to finish reading and maybe I’ll take a whack at your head next time.” 

She was about to start reading again, but Charlie turned to Harvey instead, the sickly-sweet, smug smile she’d intended on giving him falling from her face as Harvey held up the next book in the series after he snatched it from the coffee table.

“Yeah, and what about this one?” 

Charlie set her current book down, readying herself to stand. “You wouldn’t dare. Give it back or—” Harvey shrugged, fitting the book under his arm and Charlie growled.

“Harvey, give it back!”  

She reached out for the book, leaning over the back of the couch even as Harvey took a step back.

“How about you tone down the grumpy and take a nap, and I’ll think about it?”

Charlie huffed, turning away from him to resettle amongst her blankets and her book. “You’re a real jerk, you know that? A real ass—” 

Charlie shouted, quickly ducking down under the covers after the book slammed against the back of her head, the thump no longer quite as satisfying when it was her body it was making contact with. She had half a mind to go after him again, to start an all out war if that’s what he wanted, but it was a fleeting thought as she weighed her options. 

As she weighed the book in her hands and recalled that not only did Harvey have a fair bit of weight and height and strength up on her, but he also held the fourth book in the series in his hands, the longest and thickest book of the series so far. 

“Alright, alright. Truce, please,” she called out from beneath the blankets, already deciding that although she would let it go for now, Charlie would get her brother back later, whenever she finally got to the sixth book and it’s impressive 1067 pages…a verifiable tome that she had already confirmed was only available in hardcover format at the local library.

Suits (Lines to Live By) Masterlist

[meowjaa]

✧ stalker-ish ✧

warnings: mentions of stalking, 18+ mdni, mention of fake users, instagram (LOL)

context: levi ackerman fem!reader - y/n having a huge thing for levi and stalking his instagram account but plot twist levi was stalking y/n too?!

a/n: I got my new keyboard its teal and white its so cuteee but anyways enjoy my loves!! <33

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and tea enveloped Y/N as she sat at her usual table in the corner of Rose Cafe. She peeked up from her book, heartbeat quickening when she spotted him strolling through the door right on schedule - 8am on the dot, like clockwork.

Levi Ackerman. Just the sight of him took Y/N's breath away. His piercing steel gray eyes that contrasted strikingly with his jet black undercut hair. The way he carried himself with an aura of mystery and magnetism.

Y/N yearned to talk to him, to unravel all his intriguing layers. But she could barely muster the courage to meet his gaze, intimidated by his brooding allure.

So instead, she had crafted a fake Instagram account - "tea_lover_89" using it to lurk and fawn over Levi's profile anonymously. Scrolling feverishly though artsy shots of graffiti murals, bookstore shelves, rainy city streets. Pausing on the occasional moody black and white selfie that left her pulse racing.

This morning, as always, Y/N pulled up Levi's page first thing, double-tapping his latest post a hazy nightscape of neon signs reflecting off wet pavement.

"Gorgeous shot," she typed out in the comments from her alter ego account before locking her phone and attempting to refocus on her book. But soon her eyes drifted up, irresistibly drawn back to the real-life version just a few tables away.

Little did Y/N know, Levi's eyes were also stolen glances when he thought she wasn't looking. He too felt inexplicably magnetized by this warm, bubbly girl who frequented his favorite cafe. Her chestnut hair shining in the sunlight, eyes crinkling adorably when she laughed. He was utterly smitten.

Levi never worked up the nerve to talk to Y/N directly either. Instead he created his own fake account - "wanderlust_photog" using it to follow her and fawn in private. Her feed was full of cozy book nook shots, delectable pastries, and radiant selfies that left Levi breathless.

This morning, Levi pulled up her latest selfie - smiling brightly with a dusting of flour on her cheek, captioned "Tried a new snickerdoodle recipe!" He double-tapped, leaving a quick comment: "Looks delicious!"

Then Levi forced himself to pocket his phone, sipping his black coffee while sneaking glances at the real girl behind the enchanting photos, completely enthralled...

It was a bustling morning at Rose Cafe as Y/N waited in line for her usual vanilla latte. Speakers played soothing acoustic music amidst the chatter and aroma of brewing coffee. Y/N scrolled through her phone, giggling at the latest silly meme her best friend sent her.

Suddenly she felt a gentle bump at her shoulder, nearly knocking the phone from her hand.

“Oh excuse me, I’m so sor—“ Y/N’s voice caught in her throat as she looked up into stormy gray eyes. Levi Ackerman stood before her, the very man she had been secretly admiring through a fake Instagram account.

Flustered, Y/N fumbled her phone, watching in horror as it slipped from her grasp toward the tiled floor. But before it could shatter, Levi’s cat-like reflexes kicked in and he caught it smoothly.

“T-thank you,” Y/N stuttered, mortified at her clumsiness.

“No problem.” Levi handed back her phone, but not before his eyes darted down, catching a glimpse of the Instagram app open to none other than tea_lover_89 – the very same account that had been liking and commenting on all his posts for weeks.

Y/N wanted to evaporate on the spot. But suddenly, the hint of a knowing smile formed on Levi’s lips.

“I should have known it was you…” he murmured.

Y/N blinked, confusion evident on her flushed face.

Levi leaned in slightly, voice low so only she could hear. “Did you really think I wouldn’t realize who wanderlust_photog was, constantly liking your posts?”

Y/N’s eyes widened. “Wait…that was YOU?”

Levi nodded, a slight smile breaking through now.

Flustered and elated all at once, Y/N laughed brightly. “Well, I guess neither of us were very subtle then!”

The barista called Y/N’s name, snapping her focus back. Levi insisted on paying for her drink. They sat together with shy smiles, all anonymous pretense gone.

Finally Y/N spoke sincerely. “I’m glad I don’t have to secretly admire you online anymore.”

Levi’s gaze was tender. “Oh but that makes it interesting"

At last they spoke freely together, fake accounts no longer needed when the genuine connection between them was everything they had each secretly dreamed of.

[whorediaries-09]

put your life out on the line"

hello my loveliest people. thank you so much for 400 followers.

i hold this event for the festive season knocks at our door, the cold air biting our noses and the laziness forces us to stay under the warmth of our blankets.

so grab your cup of hot chocolate and favorite snacks as i host my early winter event.

the event lasts from 20-11-23 to 3-12-23.

the slut club

you want in but you just can't win

while sending in requests please be nice and care enough to write a greeting. i'm human too and being kind helps. please be specific about your request. there are certain characters i don't write for, and you will find it in my navigation (pinned post and linked above).

please excuse me if i don't write your request. it may happen if the request did not hit my creative spot.

please request through the inbox. if you directly message me, there are chances i may miss them.

❁❁☆☆

you want in but you just can't win 🌠- this one remains the oldest one in the book. send me a trope along with an emotion and a character and i'll write you a blurb or a fic.

for example: friends to lovers (jealousy) with james potter.

a little party never hurt no one 🧨- send me a request with a character and an au! and i'll write you a blurb or a fic.

for example: cult!au with sirius black.

shining like gun metal 🚅- this blog celebrates all your horny thoughts without shaming you. send in a request for a smut blurb or a fic.

for example: use of collars during sex with billy russo.

you try to ignore them 🪻- send me a request with a character, offer a little plot for an angsty blurb or a fic.

for example: unrequited love with remus lupin.

'cause you want more 🎗️- send me a request with a character for a fluff blurb or a fic.

for example: lily finding out she smells reader in her brew of amortentia.

so you stay out late 🧭- send me a request for a moodboard. please remain specific with a trope and a particular emotion.

for example: arranged marriage with sirius black.

you're crazy all the time 🎇- send me a request for a dark themed blurb or a fic. remember if you request this, you're probably going to get nsfw content. so please be specific.

for example: dark!dorian gray x artist!reader

ᓚᘏᗢ ❁❁

here are some prompt lists by amazing creators you can use for inspiration.

yandere prompt list fluff prompt list angst prompt list smut prompt list

tropes

au!'s

tagging lovely people who have participated in my events before; @siriuslycaptainofthedawntreader @dreamalittledreamofthemarauders @eternallybipanicking

[bonefall]

would love to see how you end up plotting out DOTC eventually bc as someone who has never read DOTC & is only reading your Reactions to DOTC… i think it could be a very fun exercise for me as a writer to try and write out your version of DOTC without any pre-conceived notions or baggage from reading & being attached to the original version

Man it would be a dream come true to eventually collaborate with ghost writers to bring the outlines to life. I'd love if that came together someday

So far I have a couple fragments and thoughts for how I want to rework DOTC, but it's not totally pieced together yet.

Concepts and thoughts, vague goals:

First and foremost I want to fix the xenophobia. It is a problem that the mountain cats bring civilization to the uncivilized.

At the same time I don't want to reverse course so hard that the Tribe migrants are themselves a foreign, violent, invading force.

Ideally I want the Park Cat culture and the Tribe Cat culture to mix, and form the beginning of Clan cat culture. For all its strengths and weaknesses.

The politics of the five groups should be delightfully messy.

There should be more girls in important roles to make up for how badly Storm and Bright got fridged

More of these bloodlines need to survive to contribute to the gene pool

Budding ideas, fragments:

I'm splitting up the Gray/Clear/Thunder kittens and giving them to the families that went extinct.

The Clan rank-names stem from Park Cat culture, the two-part naming stems from Tribe Cat culture.

SkyClan and ShadowClan are going to be the first two to form.

Jagged Peak's death and Clear Sky's rejection of his son is the climax of the first book, and the moment the two Clans split.

ThunderClan is going to battle SkyClan for the right to live in the forest

Thunder is missing his back leg in the same spot where Jagged Peak lost his

Thunder's name is Thunder Storm. His mother was Bright Storm.

New Tribe name scheme; they have last names. Last names are chosen by the parents. His name was Thunder Sky before Clear Sky rejected him.

Quiet Rain's name is going to change to Quiet Wing. Clear/Gray and Jagged had different fathers, explaining the three different last names.

Political Sprouts; some thoughts on the history of each Clan and how it influences relations;

SkyClan and ShadowClan are the first to split and have very bad blood between them; but are open to uniting against a common enemy

WindClan is a Park cat response to SkyClan and ShadowClan; It was previously loosely associated families with individual territories

RiverClan WAS united, the cats who become WindClan later broke off from this group.

WindClan and RiverClan are willing to defend each other when applicable.

Thunder Storm is raised in ShadowClan. His group is initially an expansion of ShadowClan, like a satellite territory.

I'm thinking of making it so a big part of Thunder's development is seeing the poor treatment of people like Bumble and realizing that SkyClan and ShadowClan share a common disease.

Defying Tall Shadow's orders to purge people like Bumble is potentially what causes the Thunder/Shadow split.

ALL FIVE CLANS WILL BE PRESENT AT THE FIRST BATTLE.

And that's what I've got of the early conflict so far. The later conflict with One Eye is still brewing.

[sophisticated-creepy]

          The friends spent the next several moments cleaning up the parlor before continuing on their quest of exploring the Manor House for ghosts. With all that had transpired during the attempted séance with Lazare, and Modesta’s tarot reading, they approached the remainder of their investigation with caution. The energy in the house wasn’t threatening, per se, but the air seemed to crackle with a pent up need to release a burst of paranormal activity. It just needed a catalyst to give it the spark and ignite. As a group, they traversed into the underground rooms of the basement, exploring the reserved private party space, trying their best to capture disembodied voices and dancing skeletons. Eventually, their steps brought them outside, where they took advantage of roaming the grounds under the protective gaze of the silver moon peeking out between billowing thunderclouds. A summer’s storm brewed in the distance, the occasional glimmers of lightning leap frogging from cloud to cloud as the cooler air of the storm front fueled a steady breeze to finger through the treetops with a hint of rain scenting the wind.

          They congregated under the old, wooden gazeebo, where a spontaneous play broke out amongst them to perform an impromptu rendition of an amalgamation of fairytales both traditional and newly made up before the watchful eye of Jack’s camcorder lens. He balanced the device on the railing so he, too, could participate in the drama-filled shenanigans of playacting. He jumped into the role of bard, sing-songing his lines effortlessly, Raphael obviously playing the hero knight in shining armor, while Modesta adopted the role of town baker, Lazare, the dastardly woodsman-thief, and Lola donning the guise of duchess. Laughing almost the entire time, they muddled through their “plot” of rescuing the town baker, who had been kidnapped by the woodsman-thief to thwart the duchess’s birthday, for without a baker, there would be no cake, the play then culminating in a swordfight to the death between knight and thief with some sticks they found lying around, whereupon the duchess’s birthday was saved thanks to the power of teamwork and creative ingenuity of the silliest kind.

          Lightning flashed more frequently, and a low growl of thunder was their cue to pack up and head indoors for the remainder of the night. Despite being a haunted house in the path of an oncoming thunderstorm, the rooms felt peaceful, the previous underlying thickness of energy having abated, and the close-knit cluster of friends agreed it was time for bed. Once everyone said their goodnights, they headed towards the grand staircase, but Lola lagged behind to lean in the doorway of the main parlor, observing in the stillness the stately room where the Gray Lady met her passing. A warm arm encircled her shoulders, Raphael’s presence comforting and unhurried, patiently waiting until Lola was ready to retire upstairs. After a heavy sigh, she waved goodnight into the empty room, and hooking her arm around Raphael’s waist, the two of them walked in step towards their bedchamber.

          They showered, the two squeezing into the intimate glass cubicle to quickly wash the day’s events off of each other before the storm grew closer, but it was inevitable to start sharing sweet kisses, each press of their lips lingering longer and longer as the shower continued. Eventually, Lola darted out first, wrapping herself in one of the white, fluffy spa robes hanging on the back of the bathroom door provided by the Manor House, and tossed Raphael his own robe as he stepped out of the shower enclosure after her. The two went about their nighttime routines, Lola finishing first to wait for her love in bed. She stretched herself out on top of the plush, gilded comforter with a pleasant sigh. Absentmindedly, she held out her left hand, admiring her engagement ring around her finger, the other hand twisting the band side to side, catching sparkles in the dim room lighting.

          The jewelry was a fourteen karat white gold vintage inspired twisted band set with diamond accent stones, brandishing a cushion cut amethyst at its center. The ring was stunning, to say the least, and an unexpected surprise when Raphael proposed to her with it, the item far more beautiful than she had ever dreamed of receiving. It was too beautiful, too precious to remove from its black velvet box, but the amount of love emanating from the ring, as well as the man offering it to her, eclipsed the imagined tender fragility of the thin metal, and when Raphael placed the ring upon her finger, it felt as if the jewelry had always belonged there from the start.

          “You’re not having second thoughts, are you?”

          Lola turned her head at Raphael’s voice to see him leaning against the threshold doorframe of the bathroom, the terrycloth of his robe tied at his waist barely containing his broader form. He was smiling, his expression one of contentment as he had been observing her upon the bed. “Perish the thought,” she scoffed, going back to admire her ring.

          “What has you in such deep contemplations?” he asked, walking over to the bed. He sat down at the end on Lola’s side, picking up her legs so her feet rested across his lap, and began to massage one foot, feeling her body melt as he worked the muscles along her arch.

          “Did you notice what Annie called us while giving the tour?” Lola asked. When Raphael shook his head, she continued. “She called us Mr. and Mrs. Glenbrook. That’s the first time anyone has called me that, and we’re not even married yet.”

          “And how does it make you feel to be called my wife?” he asked, a smile slanting his mouth in a handsome grin.

          “Excited,” she replied easily. “Terrified,” she added after a pause. “Happy,” she continued. “Delighted…but nauseous, like I’m going to throw up a bucket full of butterflies.”

          “I didn’t know the idea of becoming my wife had your stomach in such knots,” he laughed, the sound warm and intoxicating.

          “In a good way,” she stressed, laughing with him. “I think I’m just feeling all the feels, and I know it’s technically only a ‘title’, but it’s a pretty big title. What if…I’m not…good enough?”

          “You are more than enough,” he punctuated, leveling her with a look that meant she should know better than to say something so ridiculous.

          “I’m serious. What if we get married, and it turns out I’m horrible?”

          “You have nothing to worry about, as you are already an excellent wife.”

          “We’re not married, you can’t know that,” she countered.

          “Dandelion, how would you describe the role of a wife?” Raphael asked, switching to massage her other foot.

          “Someone who’s loving, attentive, a good partner and communicator, as well as listener,” she answered, ticking off her mental checklist on her fingers.

          “You’re already all of those things and more. Firstly, you have my absolute trust. You’re kind and generous with your mind and heart. You challenge me to be the best version of myself without me feeling judged or belittled, and that’s not even beginning to scratch the surface of your many bewitching attributes in how we work together in this partnership. I have, with every confidence, no doubt that you will not only fit the ‘title’ of wife, but flourish as the already exquisite woman that you are.”

          Lola wiped unshed tears pooling in the corners of her eyes, his loving words reassuring her heart and soothing her soul. “Thank you for believing in me, Honey Love. I will be a good wife for you, and for the record, you’ll make for a pretty spectacular husband yourself, even with your cheesy albeit endearing one-liners.”

          “Naturally,” he preened, “for what good is a husband if he’s not filled with cheese? Now, no more frowns.” He lightly waggled his fingers against the sole of the foot he held, and the appendage was gone before he had the chance to acknowledge the force of her pillow smacking him across his face, the blow sending him sprawling flat on his back over the mattress. His wrists were pinned next by the sides of his head as Lola’s weight settled on top of him as she straddled his waist. Turnabout was fair play, in her mind, and if he was going to be cruel and attack her weakest spot, then she had every right to go after one of his.

          “Thou art a wretched, saucy fellow,” Lola growled as she hovered above Raphael. “Prepare for a taste of thine own medicine.” Her words were all the more satisfying as she watched the expression of his smug, cocksure arrogance shift into terror.

          “Now, Lola, wait just a minute---.”

          But she didn’t wait, she lunged, and buried her nose to snuffle and snarfle like a pig hunting for truffles against his ear. Her tufts of breath and light nibbles around the soft skin sent Raphael into a laughing frenzy, unable to control the dam of his mirthful outburst as the unbearably ticklish sensations of her lips short circuited his senses.

          “Lola!” he guffawed heartily. “Dammit I yield! I yield!”

          She relented in her attack, pulling away from his ear to plant a loving kiss upon his cheek before settling back on his hips, victorious. She released his wrists, resting her hands on the broad plane of his chest that was flushed and slightly heaving from the recent bout of play. He laid beneath her, catching his breath, his hair disheveled and robe splayed open. His eyes sparkled from his laughter, his smile wide and relaxed, and Lola’s heart cocooned in warmth as she remained observing the man with whom even the stars themselves could not compare. A glint of light twinkled in the corner of her left eye, and she reflexively flicked her eyes towards her engagement ring.

          “Are we going to change?” she asked, her voice quiet and tender.

          “Probably,” he answered, equally soft to match her tone.

          “I mean, is this going to change?” Her fingers lightly traced the edge of his chest exposed from the loosened robe. “When we’re married, are we going to eventually drift away from these games and affections?”

          Raphael’s hands came to rest on Lola’s thighs, his thumbs disappearing under the hem of terrycloth bunched up around her legs. “We are going to change,” he said, “but not in the way you’re thinking. If anything, we’re going to find even more ways to be weird. Our relationship is going to grow and evolve the more we grow and evolve to accommodate all the new ways you’ll cause mischief and mayhem and loopholes and schemes.”

          “I’m not all trouble,” she laughed.

          “It’s one of the many reasons why I want you to be my wife, because of your troublemaking talents.”

          “You’re not so innocent yourself, mister. I’ve known you to be a scallywag on occasion,” she teased, prodding his chest playfully.

          “A ‘scallywag’,” he repeated. “I wasn’t aware I had such a devious reputation." His hands moved higher up her legs, completely, now, disappearing under the folds of her robe. She gasped, shifting forward as his palms filled with the roundness of her backside. “However, you are correct. I have plenty of schemes hidden up my sleeves.” He moved his palms in soothing circles on each cheek, and she shivered.

          “Yes, but your schemes involve me more often than not usually underneath you,” she said with a roll of her eyes, the back of her mind having trouble deciding if the sensual attention to her butt was threatening or promising based on his statement.

          “And I plan on spending the rest of our lives crafting more clever and mischievous ways to find you so,” he pledged. His hands stilled when she reached behind her, stopping his ministrations, and he quirked an eyebrow in question.

          “Thank you,” she said, and leaned down, kissing him soundly.

          “I love you,” he announced as their lips parted. “Past, Present, and Future, I love you.”

          “I love you,” she declared against his lips, falling forward to kiss him again. Their mouths worked against each other’s passionately, Lola giving appreciative little moans of encouragement as his hands resumed to knead her ass before trailing his fingers in tingling, heated tracks up and down the backs of her thighs. She had to brace herself against the mattress as he yanked the sash of her robe open, pushing herself up with her hands falling to either side of his head, breaking their kiss and creating a curtain around him of her hair and now fully opened robe. She was completely exposed to him, and he savored every angle and curve and dip of her body, his eyes drinking in her supple form. He swallowed; hard.

          “You’re going to want to grab onto the headboard,” he spoke, his voice laced with gravelly lust, eyes deepening into a darkened sapphire the longer he stared at her hovering above him on all fours.

          Lost in a fog-cloud of hazy, amorous feelings, she soon found herself clutching the top of the sturdy, decorative wooden headboard, her knees still straddling Raphael’s waist, his own body sitting propped up against the soft plethora of satin pillows. She wasn’t sure how he moved them into this new position so quickly, but she didn’t care, as once again his distracting lips landed on her mouth. She moved her hands to grasp his shoulders, wanting to feel him, but he stopped her, guiding her hands back to the headboard.

          “Keep them there,” he said, his lips brushing along her jaw and neck. She nodded in understanding, and he purred. “That’s my girl.”

          “Oh, Jesus,” she gasped as his praise caressed her heart. He commanded in a way that wasn’t commanding, his guiding confidence unraveling her into a sopping puddle of pure bliss. Her head fell back, exposing the vulnerable surface of her neck, and he descended upon her, making sure to favor the fluttering pulse point in feathery kisses, his hands, all the while, exploring, teasing, whispering over tender places. He took his time, treasuring every sound and shivering tremble he coaxed out of her, savoring each pleasurable jolt of electricity that caused her breath to hitch. Her arms began to shake, and he rubbed her elbows as a subtle reminder to keep them from locking up, and she sighed, relaxing when his lips returned to hers.

          The weight of the terrycloth combined with the mingling of their tongues was causing her body to overheat, and she huffed out her frustrations, gruffly mumbling “too hot” as she released the headboard to rid her body of the too cloying fabric, never breaking stride with Raphael as he helped to remove the affronting material. A deluge of rain could be heard pattering the roof as the storm unleashed its fury, the hard staccato of water hitting the windowpanes matching the timing of her wildly beating heart, a crack of thunder rattling her bones as well as the timbers and framework of the house. She embraced him, her hands diving into his hair, her arms wrapping tightly around his neck, flushing herself against him with every plane and curve molding harmoniously together of their bodies.

          “Hands, Dandelion, hands,” Raphael reminded, breaking their kiss to utter his request as he unraveled her arms, again guiding her hands towards the headboard.

          “You’re killing me, Honey Love,” she groaned, taking hold of the bedroom furniture. She shrewdly lowered her hips, slinking down his body to make contact with what she craved, but a light tweak on her backside caused her spine to straighten, a startled yelp of surprise escaping as she reared up high onto her knees.

          “Patience,” he chuckled. “I’m not done honoring your birthday.” Before she could retort, he placed his hands on her waist, holding her steady, and leaned forward to move his lips against her throat. “Happy birthday to you,” he began to softly sing. His heated breath fell over her neck, the vibrations to the low acoustics of his song creating goosebumps to explode and pebble over her skin, her mind frizzling when the kisses at her neck shifted to touch her collar bones to then graze in a devoted, revered gentleness over the tops of her breasts. His nose trailed down her sternum, inhaling her natural scent as he scooted down the mattress, following an imaginary line leading straight to her bellybutton.

          “Happy birthday to you,” he continued the song. His tongue dipped into the hollow of her navel and she nearly fainted from the touch, a strangled, rattling noise of pleasure sounding from the back of her throat as her head fell back from the sensations dancing along the tender skin. Her fingers ached with how hard she clutched the headboard, her body flinching from each delicate swipe of his tongue.

          “Happy birthday, my sweet, delicious Lola,” he sang, descending lower. Teeth nibbled her hip bone, and she could have leapt out of her skin. She was delirious, her head swimming as tiny, electric tickles skittered over every nerve ending, her body hyper aware of her lover’s intended final destination. He lingered too long at her hips, and although the attention wasn’t unappreciated, she feared she was going to collapse if he didn’t proceed.

          “Raphael…please,” she begged, the torturous anticipation of when his lips would move next leaving her breathless, teetering on the verge of her wit’s end.

          He grinned, unable to deny his love of anything. He dragged his fingers down the sides of her waist to grasp her firmly at her hips while peppering her panty line with tantalizing, breathy kisses, easing himself farther down the mattress, concluding his song.

          “Happy birthday to you.”

          All at once, she was flying, surrendering to the dreamy, euphoric weightlessness her soul yearned for, disconnecting from all earthly attachments, her body singing the ancient and sacred song of the angels. A warmth familiar as home bloomed from her chest, crawling up her neck to flush prettily upon her upturned face as every fiber of her body thrummed and pulsated with the language of the universe. Stars erupted behind her eyes in a multitude of cosmic colors as she skyrocketed higher and higher, leaving the world behind, and upon shattering through the clouds of an ethereal dimension, realized heaven had never looked so beautiful.

~*~*~*~*~*~

H-eeey, everybody! Hope you all enjoyed a glimpse into these two lovers' world. Normally, I write closed door/fade to black scenes when it comes to mutually consenting adult special fun time activities, at least, for the public, but I wanted to prop the door open just a little bit.

Plus, we've had a lot of spooky chapters back-to-back, so it was fun breaking up the pace a little bit. More spooky happenings are on the way, so keep an eye out for more of this tale!

Thanks as always for being awesome, and until next time, happy reading!

~Melissa

[buriedwithit]

INTRODUCING: EZRA SHAW

⸻ ( oliver jackson-cohen, 36, cis man, he/him ) — Look who it is! If you take a look at our database, you’ll find that EZRA SHAW is a TRAM DRIVER that works in SECTOR 3. According to the file, they’re a mutant with the power of CORRUPTION MANIPULATION. That must be why they’re DARING and VIOLENT. If you ask me, they remind me of a grin full of sharp teeth, the acrid scent of smoke, and the feeling of being watched. They are affiliated with THE DAMNED.

basic information:

character name: ezra shaw

alias (es): shade

face claim: oliver jackson-cohen

mutation status: gen ii mutant ( corruption physiology )

birthday: october 27th

sexuality: bisexual

moral alignment: chaotic evil

occupation: tram driver

work sector: sector 3

affiliation: the damned

3 positive traits: versatile, perceptive, witty

3 negative traits: conniving, self-centered, irresponsible

character summary:

after violently emancipating himself from his family, ezra has come from a settlement in europe to explore life untethered from his old bonds. naturally, that leaves him free to be the worst person ever.

questionnaire:

how do they feel about living in sol city? have they always lived there or did they travel from another settlement?

ezra is welcome to the change in scenery and the new opportunities that sol city brings him, especially with rampant corruption brewing. he's from a european-based settlement originally, but left to avoid persecution for criminal activity.

do they trust the council's leadership? why or why not?

the council is only interesting as far as it effects him, but i wouldn't say he trusts them. or anyone. he can sense the self-serving agendas from a mile away.

if they chose their sector and profession, why did they make that choice? if they didn't, why not? were they happy with their assignment or not?

he chose his profession upon applying for citizenship with the city and did so to more easily familiarize himself with the layout.

what's one object that they always keep on their person?

a lighter!

what is your character's ability (or abilities)?

corruption manipulation.

are they gen i or gen ii?

gen ii.

what can your character do? what are their strengths?

control and manipulate the forces of corruption, particularly of the moral variety. this allows him to take control of the minds and hearts of others ( with certain limitations ), resist damage, destroy bonds, augment/corrupt other’s abilities, and more.

what can't they do? what are their weaknesses?

the use of his powers comes at a heavy cost—corruption sickness. too little use will cause weakness, too much causes an overload which will physically corrupt him until he can expel the excess corruptive energy. he can’t control people or objects for long periods of time or at long range. he is extremely susceptible to any abilities having to do with purification.

is there anything else you'd like to specify about them?

his skin pattern is very much like a siamese cat in that his extremities are darker gray than his face and torso, minus the center of his chest. dark veins branch out from his heart to the rest of his body, until the color bleeds into his hands and feet. his eyes have no pupils and are completely black. instead of normal teeth, he has needle-sharp fangs. basically cannot pass for human in any way lol.

possible connections:

other damned members: in particular, the mutant(s) that recruited him! we could plot out the specifics but most likely murder was involved.

enemies: people he has wronged, yes, already. or maybe that just don't trust him! he is a crow of a human being with no respect for anyone else.

partner in crime: someone who he struck it up right with... because they're both terrible people who bring out the worst in each other! could be part of the damned, but doesn't have to be.