#to a conclusion i made up in my mind & was never ever coming. the ending to game one is quite trash

[emdotcom]

Tbh, can't believe I'm cutting ties with Fnaf before Batim.

[rose-tinted-kalopsia]

≡;-꒰  𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐃 (?) 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒  ꒱₊˚ ପ⊹ 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆 & 𝑫𝒆𝒆𝒑𝒔𝒑𝒂𝒄𝒆 𝑩𝒐𝒚𝒔: 𝑨𝒘𝒌𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒅 𝑴𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔 𝑫𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑺𝒆𝒙

──  mdni sexual content. inclusive of: vaginal sex, slight pet name usage, shower sex, getting caught, sex as a stress reliever. but overall this is a lot of fun LMAO

the truth, is that caleb would always be willing to experiment.

he's had so much pent up for you, that you'll frequently find he has something in new in mind to try out with you—or, in short, he liked to find new ways to have his way with you. so it wouldn't surprise you that eventually, you'd have your hands pressed against the glass, your head tilting back to meet his kisses. of course, it would feel good, like it always did. his cock would fill you so well, and taking it from behind made you feel everything so much more deeply. it would be oh so asy for both of you to get lost in the pleasure, droplets from the shower, running down your back, the rush of water doing nothing to drown out your moans.

... but shower sex is never just rainbows and butterflies, and sometimes, being fucked silly allows all sense of rationality to go down the drain.

it's quick, when it happens—caleb accidentally knocks down the bar of soap, and the already-running water makes things progressively worse. you gasp, wide-eyed, as you slip, and caleb seems just as surprised as you. perhaps, his reflexes did him no favors in the moment, as his attempts to catch you only have him slipping on the very same trail of soap you'd also slipped on.

the both of you remain on the shower floor with agonizing pain, and perhaps you look more like a drenched, unsatisfied cat than anything else.

"shit—fuck—m'sorry, pipsqueak..."

"...we should just stick to the bedroom next time."

sex with rafayel is always so intoxicating.

he'd have himself buried inside of you in a way that just feels so right, so perfect, that you would always find yourself lost in the moment. whether he goes slow, or fast, or even if he lets you take charge, the result is the same—you could only ever focus on him, him, him. perhaps, it was intentional on his part, but you liked it that way. he made you feel good.

except sometimes, rafayel was too much of an airhead that your distraction wouldn't always end well... such as one particular morning, where he had you pressed against his couch, fucking you as well as he always did, and the sound of footsteps barely registered in either of your ears.

"rafayel, why aren't you answering my calls? i told you, this is an important deal, and—holy fucking shit! are you insane?!!"

rafayel never quite bothered to lock the door, and though you knew this and tried often to get him to do it, there were still times that he would... forget.

such as right then.

in that moment, you would yelp, hitting at his chest, barely having the strength to push him off of you as he hastily throws a nearby blanket over the two of you instead.

and thomas would storm away, eyes shut tightly.

"god! lock the door, rafayel, seriously! just—just finish whatever you're doing and call me back!"

"yeah, yeah. bye, now!"

"...rafa?! never let that happen again!"

in the years you've spent together, you had come to the conclusion that xavier liked to relieve his tension in very specific ways.

you didn't mind it, of course; in fact, you enjoyed it. it's become an established part of your week, him pressing you against the door in as soon as you get home from a particularly tiring mission, soft kisses gradually turning more heated and passionate as he leads you into the bedroom. these moments were some of the only times he'd allow himself to be more selfish with his desires for you, and with no surprise, you'd find yourself looking forward to it—expecting it.

but on one particular night, you find him to be less... dominant, than he usually would be with you in these moments, almost passive. but his hands still roam your body, brushing against all the sensitive spots he's memorized like the back of his hand, still kissing you in a way that would make you melt—so you don't question it immediately. perhaps, you think, he wanted you to take the lead this time.

except, you reach down, and he's...

...not hard at all.

even as you rub against him, as his lips place soft kisses on your neck—

there's no reaction.

he looks up feebly and then you find the telltale traces of exhaustion on his face, the tips of his ears pink with embarrassment. his eyes are nearly drooping closed.

"sorry, angel, i'm too.... i think... i think i just really want to sleep right now, after all..."

"...oh..."

over the course of the past couple of weeks, you'd found that zayne's adorable affection for cats had gotten the better of him.

the calico cat you'd often see roaming his street would now prance happily around his house, feeling almost more at home than zayne himself—surely, at least, that it was certainly home more often than him. you found it adorable, and sweet, and you loved it, you really did!

but...

your more passionate nights with zayne would be rare enough as it is considering his busy schedule, and it was unfortunate that you now hard a rather... entitled audience.

he would by thrusting into you so nicely, so deeply, your legs hooked over his shoulder as he leaned in to whisper sweet nothings into your ear. often, your eyes would be closed as you took in every bit of pleasure he would give to you, fully focused on the feeling of his cock stretching your walls the way you so desperately needed.

...only now, when you open your eyes, you find that a certain ball of fluff had casually walked over to lay on zayne's back.

your eyes lock, and it's almost as if the moment is completely lost.

zayne would stop thrusting, noticing your change in mood, and then he'd recognize the weight on his back.

"...sorry, sweetheart... should i—"

"....it's staring."

"..."

"zayne, maybe... we should do this at my place next time..."

⁺₊ / an: light moments to start the day!!! 💖 it was super hard to choose what exactly to write because there's a lot of awkwardness that goes into sex, but i hope this was a fun little read~

© rose-tinted-kalopsia. all rights reserved. do not: steal, copy, repost, reupload, modify, or claim any of my works as your own, regardless of credit given. absolutely do not use my works for AI training and other related purposes.

[heartfullofleeches]

[18+]

Introducing - Shy Perv/Horny Alien Darling who's happy to be kidnapped by cute little humans if it means they'll get their dick touched.

Bound and chained up in their kidnappers home - Darling has but one question as their obsessive stalker declares their undying love and how darling will never, ever leave their side again-

"s.... since we're dating now....may - can I touch your breasts?"

Alien Darling from a planet where sleeping with another person for pleasure is looked down upon and intimacy is not seen as common . There's hardly any need for it in terms of reproduction either as technology has mostly taken over in the entire process. Needless to say, Darling is blown away when they learn about earth and some of its cultures. They want to go on dates, and hold hands with someone cute, and maybe even kiss them, and- and.... There's just so much for them to do.

Darling ends up on earth one way or another - working their way up to a far enough life as a cashier. Approaching humans in a romantic/sexual tense is a bit difficult when you only have experience from the films you've seen in the short span of time you've known about them. Darling remains alone and finds fulfilment elsewhere on the internet and with human toys they purchase for "research" - How they'd love to be able to use what they've learned with a cute human, but no person in their right mind would want an awkward outcast like them...

Right?

When Darling finally released they're being followed - they come to the conclusion that it has to be some strange human mating ritual. Yan likely discovers the various blogs Darling has made detailing their journey they probably think nobody will read or believe. Regardless of whether darling truly is from other world - it's clear to see how depraved they are. Yan sees that for themselves when they leave a pair of their underwear in darling's bed and instead of questioning where they came from Darling skips an entire day of work just to drool all over them. Darling is too busy fondling Yan's chest to notice anything wrong - like how their boss hasn't called to check up on them in a while.

Oh....That's right - they don't have a phone anymore. Their lover said they didn't need it anymore.... Plus, their boss was found dead in a lake a few weeks ago.

Huh.....How could they forget something like that?

"Would you like me to take my shirt off while you touch me, love?"

"Yes, please!"

Darling feels the need to ask before every kiss. It's cute - until they're drilling their tongue(s) down Yan's throat everytime since they claim Darling can do whatever they desire to them. It's still impossible for them to believe a cute human would want them so badly. Captivity is a small prize to pay to finally act out the fantasies they've had since they've learned of earth and its people.

[javier-pena]

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

Word Count: 5k (so much for short drabble)

Rating: Mature

Summary: You work for the DEA in Colombia. Until one of your missions goes terribly wrong.

Warnings: hurt/comfort | attempted rape (nothing too graphic) | smoking | reader is being held captive | historical inaccuracies | period-appropriate sexism | difficult father-daughter relationship | canon-typical violence (kind of graphic) | panic and distress | brief description of wounds 

Notes: This is the first fic for my 10k follower celebration!!! Thank you, @lokischocolatefountain who requested “I’ll be here when you wake up” with Javier Peña. I hope you like it 🤭 This fic was very much inspired by Gabriel García Márquez' "Noticia de un secuestro" ("News of a Kidnapping") which I highly recommend if you're interested in what Narcos (Season 1) only covers in two episodes, namely the kidnappings of prominent figures in Colombia by the Medellín Cartel in the early 90s. As ever, huge thanks to Dani @alexturner who took the time to ask, "What does this mean?" and made me realize that I, in fact, don't know the answer to that question.

***

It’s night again. Or maybe it’s dawn. You don’t know. The blacked-out windows don’t let in any light. Your days are no longer structured according to the laws of nature (morning – midday – afternoon – evening – night), but according to the laws of your captors (wake up – bathroom – food – nothing – food – sleep). Maybe you’re awake all night and sleep all day. Maybe you only sleep for four hours and are awake for twenty. Neither your mind nor your body can tell the difference any longer.

Right now, for example, you’re in the “nothing” part of your day. It’s just you, rolled up on your mattress in your corner, and your thoughts, looping and looping, making you relive how you ended up here, in this room, somewhere in Colombia. And every single day, right at the end of “nothing” and the start of “food”, you come to the same conclusion: It’s all your fault.

It started with your childhood, you think. No, you can’t blame everything that went wrong in your life on your father, but he certainly did his bid – no matter what you did, it was never enough. Not even when you applied for a transfer to the embassy and you got selected, the youngest woman in DEA history who got an assignment like that. All he had to say to you was, “Huh”. So of course, you had to do better than that.

Here, in Colombia, you found yourself surrounded by men just like your father, old men in suits who sneered at you, confusing you with a secretary, asking you to make coffee and take notes. Old men with guns and enough war stories to fill a book, calling you “little lady” and pinching your cheeks. Old men that were just there, leering at you from corners and doorways. And they all had the face of your father.

Still, no one forced you to raise your hand that Thursday afternoon your floor ran out of coffee, the same afternoon Noonan called you all to a meeting and asked for a volunteer. “Dangerous assignment,” she said, “likely to get you killed.” You should have listened to her. But the looks on all those faces when you raised your hand and said, “I’d be happy to do it,” were worth it. Almost. Because, ultimately, it was the beginning of the end.

One of the men on guard duty today swears loudly and another one growls at him to be quiet. Sometimes they forget there’s a life outside those blacked-out windows and they’re not the only people in this city. You forget that too, but then you hear the voices of people living their lives, the sound of a car backfiring, a dog barking somewhere. If one of you makes the wrong noise, surely, you’ll be discovered.

The three men with you today (tonight?) know that, and so do you. They’re playing cards by the light of a dirty kerosene lamp, sitting so closely together their knees are touching. If they stretched out their legs, their feet would be touching your mattress. The room you’re in is barely big enough for one person, let alone for four. It’s the only room you’ve seen in months, apart from the bathroom they take you to once or twice a day. It’s across a small hallway you haven’t seen because they blindfold you. Every time, for every trip.

You can barely remember a time when not everything you needed to survive was dependent on another person. The autonomy you prided yourself on, your ability to achieve everything on your own, to survive everything on your own, those have been taken away from you. Could you even use the bathroom if no one gave you permission first? You doubt it.

You didn’t need anyone’s permission to go on that undercover mission that ultimately landed you in this tiny square room that is now your entire world. You were the fastest to volunteer, you fit the profile they were looking for: fluent in Spanish, low level enough to not be able to spill any secrets should you get arrested, pretty. It was supposed to be so easy. Infiltrate the Medellín cartel, gather intel, report back. There was even a plan in place to extract you should anything go wrong. And go wrong it did, and nothing was there to break your fall.

Before that, before you watched boys play cards all day, before your only window to the outside world was a small TV, there was one person who tried to get you to back down. You thought he didn’t think you capable of anything because you’re young, inexperienced and a woman, but in hindsight you should have listened to him. It doesn’t matter that the others called him an asshole and you thought he was trying to dissuade you because he was jealous. He knew what he was talking about and you should have listened to him.

The man closest to you lights a cigarette, his face briefly doused in a gloomy red light. You think of them as men because it somehow makes it easier, but he looks barely 16. Your room quickly fills with smoke and you try to suppress a cough so they don’t hit you again.

That’s how this all started, with you getting punched in the stomach.

Your undercover mission asked a lot of you, maybe too much. You were aware that it might be necessary for you to sleep with some of the men you were trying to get close to, and when they asked you about this back at the embassy, you wouldn’t have any problem with it... Until it was about to happen. The man touched you, breathed into your face smelling of cheap alcohol and expensive cigars, and in a moment of sheer panic, you fought back and blew your cover.

That’s it. That’s all. You ruined the mission because you couldn’t lie still for five minutes, and now you’re paying for it.

You know there have been attempts to find you and you know you’re not the only hostage. Right at the beginning, you shared a room with a Colombian journalist who, before that, had shared a room with a famous Colombian TV presenter. You know there are negotiations, you sometimes see on TV that a hostage is returned to their family. One time, there were shouts and sirens and gunshots, but they blindfolded you and put you in a truck. That’s how you ended up here, in this room.

At first, you focused on the stories of the people who made it out alive, not on the stories of the people who didn’t. You’re DEA, and even though you fucked up, you know those three letters are like a protective spell woven around you. Yes, they will hold you captive for as long as possible, yes, they will use you to fight everything you stand for, but they won’t kill you. The more time passes though, the more you doubt anyone is still fighting for your safe return. They might not kill you, but you also won’t be getting out of here.

With every day that passes, with every day you grow weaker and more tired, those men stare at you more and more. At first, they didn’t dare to look at you, ignored you when you tried to talk to them, acted like you weren’t there. Now you catch their eyes on you frequently, hungrily taking you in. They still don’t touch you – not like that, anyway – but they hit you when you’re too loud, they press their fingers over your mouth, the smell of cigarettes and gunpowder making you gag, and sometimes their hands wander, to the small of your back, to your side. Even if you make it out of here alive, you won’t make it out of here unharmed.

It's a different day. At least you think it is. You sleep more and more during your period of nothing, but it isn’t a restful sleep. If anything, it makes you more tired, wearier. You dread waking up and you dread falling asleep and you dread being awake. But something is different today, something has changed while you were asleep. There are only two men with you tonight, and they look at you more and more, their faces unreadable. It unnerves you more than their openly lustful gazes. You pretend to ignore them as best as possible, but it’s hard when you don’t want to turn your back on them.

A third man comes into the room, one you haven’t seen before. He’s big, broad, a tight shirt stretching over his belly, lines around his eyes, thinning hair on his head. He doesn’t look at you, just steps over the two boys and switches on the TV that comes to life with a static crackle. On your mattress, you come alive too, your heart starting with a painful lurch. Whatever it is, this can’t be good for you.

You barely recognize the face on TV. It takes you about a minute to make sense of what you’re seeing, so unfamiliar you’ve become with the ambassador you used to take orders from. She looks the same – it’s you who has changed. Her suit is still perfectly pressed, her hair is still perfectly styled, she still speaks into the cameras in that calm, no-nonsense voice. It’s you who you don’t recognize, you who doesn’t make sense anymore.

It also takes you a while to understand her, to make sense of what she’s saying. You hear the words “hostages” and “negotiation”, and you know she’s talking about you and whoever else there may be, but definitely you. It would explain your captors’ faces. Something has happened, some new development that’s inconveniencing them. Maybe this is it. Maybe you’re being set free. Maybe even tonight. The thought makes you feel light-headed; you have no idea who you are outside of these four walls and that mattress.

“… end of negotiations. We will no longer regard terrorists as equal opposites in this. Any American hostages they might still have, or pretend to have, will, from today onward, be considered missing in action.”

What does that mean? Surely, they wouldn’t just … they wouldn’t just let you die, would they? You’re DEA, you can’t be missing in action, you’re not a soldier. The cartels can’t kill you, they wouldn’t do that. Just how the US wouldn’t abandon you, wouldn’t go on TV to sign your death warrant in front of a live audience. It doesn’t make sense.

You turn to your captors, as if looking for guidance, but they look just as lost as you. Even the big man. He keeps running his fingers through his thin hair, sweat beading on his forehead. One of the boys looks at him too, as if waiting for orders, the other is running the tip of his index finger through the dust on the floor. Why won’t they look at you?

“So we just kill her?” asks the boy who keeps staring at the big man. His name is Andrés Felipe. You know that because another boy let it slip once. You’re not supposed to know their names, and Andrés Felipe made sure that mistake would never happen again, but by then it was too late.

“Not yet,” the man answers. “We have to wait.”

Andrés Felipe groans. “What for? You heard that woman on TV. They’re done negotiating.”

“You don’t know that,” dust boy chimes in. “It could be a ruse.”

Andrés Felipe laughs at him. “As if you know anything about politics. You can’t even read.”

You look at Andrés Felipe then, truly look at him. You need the distraction. You need to pretend it isn’t you they’re talking about, as if your fate doesn’t depend on these three men. And there isn’t much else to do in this room but look. Andrés Felipe is young, younger than you, but older than dust boy. His face is free of wrinkles, free of the tell-tale signs of hunger and a tough upbringing in the favelas. He isn’t here because he needs to be, he’s here because he wants to be. Which also explains why he dares to speak up in front of the big man, whose maturity puts him in charge.

You don’t like Andrés Felipe, never have. Maybe it’s because knowing his name humanizes him and it’s easier to hate a human than some faceless, nameless villain. Maybe it’s because of the cruel glint in his eyes, or the way he beat up that boy who revealed his name. And now there’s his eagerness to kill you. There is no reason for you to feel any sympathy toward him.

“He’s right,” the big man says then. “Maybe they want us to kill all the hostages so they’ll have an excuse to send in the military.”

“They wouldn’t do that,” Andrés Felipe responds. “Everyone would know they’re liars.”

“They’re not,” dust boy dares to speak up again. “Missing in action also means they can be found. If you’re missing, you’re not dead. If the missing people die –”

He can’t finish his sentence because Andrés Felipe slaps him. “Shut up. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The big man doesn’t come to dust boy’s aid. He just smirks. “Quit it, you two, we’re sitting tight until we get our orders.”

“I’m fucking done waiting!” Andrés Felipe shouts and you flinch. He’s too loud. Someone will hear him. And they don’t have any reason to keep you alive now. It’s easier to shoot you and then run. “All I’ve been doing is waiting. Do you think I don’t have anything better to do with my time?”

The big man shushes him. You wish he would hit Andrés Felipe, put him in his place, but he just crosses his arms in front of his chest. “I say we wait.”

You close your eyes and breathe in deeply. Andrés Felipe says something else in that sharp, nasally voice of his, but you refuse to listen. Nothing good can come of it. Either they will kill you or they won’t. You’re too weak to think about either of these options. And you’re not going anywhere until those orders arrive, so you might as well …

When you wake up, the room is quiet, and you immediately know something is wrong. Even before you feel the cool, sharp blade against your neck, and before you smell the stale breath of the man holding it, cowering above you.

“Not one sound,” he hisses, and you recognize Andrés Felipe’s voice, uncomfortably loud in the quiet room. It’s so quiet, too quiet with just the two of you. The sounds of him unbuckling his belt are like explosions against your eardrums. You fight the urge to tell him to be quiet, but then your brain catches up with what your body already knows, and you kick your legs and shake your head.

You almost don’t feel the cut of the knife, but you do feel the hot drops of blood on your neck. “I told you to be quiet,” Andrés Felipe hisses. “Just don’t move.”

But you do, you do move, at least your hands that you ball into fists. You don’t want your life to end like this, in some shack somewhere in Colombia with a knife against your throat and a criminal inside of you. This can’t be it. They have to put you in front of a firing squad at least, don’t they? Not like this. Please, not like this.

Andrés Felipe touches your lower belly trying to unbutton your dirty pants, and you flinch, a terrified groan escaping your lips. The knife cuts deeper into the soft skin of your throat. “Shut up, you stupid bitch,” he growls.

Then there’s blood. Everywhere. It’s in your eyes, your mouth, you breathe it in, you taste it on your tongue. Andrés Felipe collapses on top of you, the knife landing on the mattress with a dull sound. You try to get out from under the heavy body, but you can barely lift his shoulders before your arm starts to tremble.

“Hey.” You wipe the blood out of your eyes to find a man kneeling next to you, shoving Andrés Felipe’s heavy body aside so you can sit up. You don’t know who he is, you’ve never seen him before, but he has to be someone higher up if he dared to kill Andrés Felipe. Because that is what just happened, you slowly realize. Andrés Felipe is dead and you’re covered in his blood.

The strange man reaches for you and you flinch away. “Ma’am, my name is Javier Peña,” he says, his voice steady and calm as if he’s been in this exact situation a million times before. “I’m with the DEA. I’m here to get you out.”

“The DEA?” you repeat, the English sounds feeling foreign in your mouth.

He reaches for you again, touches your shoulder, and this time you don’t flinch away. “You’re safe now.” He squeezes your shoulder, then stands up and holds out his hand to you. You take it and push yourself off the mattress.

“What happened?” you ask, trying to ignore the dead body, half its face gone.

“Maybe we should discuss this –,” Javier starts, but you don’t hear the rest of the sentence. Suddenly it feels like there are cotton balls lodged in your ears and the whole world turns dark, darker than it already is.

Someone is carrying you. You think you must be outside because you feel a light breeze on your face. You don’t remember the last time you smelled fresh air, but when you breathe in deeply, you’re enveloped in cigarette smoke and gunpowder. It’s not unpleasant, you realize with a start. It comes from a heavy leather jacket you’re wrapped in, and from the man carrying you. They never would have carried you like this, carefully, as if you might break, so you know you must be safe.

When you next open your eyes, you’re inside again. The room is so big it startles you at first. But the longer you let your eyes wander, the more your brain adjusts to help you realize you’re in a normal sized living room, sitting on a leather couch, a knitted blanket wrapped around your shoulders. You must have just sat up because your head is spinning and your limbs are trembling, but otherwise you feel like you can finally breathe again.

“Feeling better?”

You’re proud of yourself for not jumping at hearing his voice. “Yeah,” you answer, swallowing to wet your dry throat. You feel an unpleasant tug on your skin where Andrés Felipe cut you twice. “Where am I?”

You turn to look at him. He’s sitting on the couch next to you but with enough distance between the two of you so you don’t touch. He’s holding a half-smoked cigarette between his fingers, trying to hide the look of concern on his face. It’s something you will see a lot from now on, people looking at you as if you’re about to break.

“You’re in my living room,” he answers.

“Why not,” you have to swallow again, “why not at the embassy?”

He taps his foot nervously so his leg is jumping up and down, takes a drag. “Us coming to rescue you … that wasn’t exactly sanctioned by Noonan.”

“So you really are DEA?” you ask, even though there are a million other things you should ask first. Like if the press conference you saw on TV was really true. If Noonan and the United States were really prepared to let the remaining hostages die. But the longer you look at the man next to you, the more familiar he looks.

Javier nods at the same time as you burst out, “You tried to warn me, didn’t you? Back at the embassy? You told me I was in over my head with this. You’re the asshole!”

The surprise on his face is almost enough to make you laugh for the first time in months. “I’m the what?”

You open your mouth, but instead of an answer coming out of it, you start coughing uncontrollably. Your sides are burning by the time you’re done, but Javier is right there next to you with a glass of water that you accept gratefully.

“Let me take a look at your throat,” he says, watching you swallow down the cool liquid.

If you think about it, you haven’t been touched in months. You know you’ll flinch away before he even touches you, so you stiffen your muscles, determined to remain in place.

He must see it all on your face. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“I know,” you say through gritted teeth.

His fingers are rough against your skin as he carefully tilts your head to the side. You barely flinch but you whimper because the movement hurts more than you would have thought. He hums quietly before standing up. “I’ll be right back.”

You raise your finger to your neck to find the skin there sticky with blood. Whether it is yours or Andrés Felipe’s you can’t tell. But the unfamiliar feeling makes you tremble again. You wish you could stop that, or at least suppress it. You wish the world would start making sense again. You miss your small room and your mattress and knowing what comes next. You don’t even know if Javier is telling the truth, if he really is who he says he is. Yes, he looks vaguely familiar, but until a few hours ago, you had no idea what time of day it was.

“Hey, hey,” Javier says softly. He is sitting next to you again, closer this time, but he’s still not touching you. “Breathe. You’re safe. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

“None of it makes sense,” you mumble. You’re not sure if he’s heard you, but you do feel the pressure on your chest lighten.

“You have two cuts on your throat,” Javier goes on, shaking a small bottle of disinfectant. “They don’t look too bad, but I’d still like to clean them. Is that okay?”

How do you explain to him that you just spent months asking for permission instead of giving it? How do you explain to him that you don’t know how to decide anything for yourself anymore?

Not sure what to make of your silence, Javier goes on. “You can do it yourself if you want to. I can show you –”

You tilt your head to the side. “No, please. I want you to do it.”

Javier stops shaking the bottle of disinfectant, grabs a cotton ball, and pours some liquid over it. “Tell me if I hurt you.”

He does hurt you. The second he touches the cotton ball to the cut, you want to scream. It burns so much you can hardly take it. But you grit your teeth and you don’t complain. Because you don’t want him to stop. You know it’s just the isolation and the confusion of the last hours and the fact that your world doesn’t make sense anymore, but the way he dabs the cotton ball across the cut, brow furrowed in concentration, makes you feel safe. And you can’t remember the last time you felt like this.

“You’re being so brave,” he mumbles, and surely you must have misheard or you must have imagined it, because he continues in a normal voice, “Tomorrow, you should go see a doctor. I don’t have any medical training and it doesn’t look too bad, but it can’t hurt to be safe.”

You raise your fingers to touch your throat and briefly brush his as he draws them back. “Thank you,” you say when you find your skin free of dried blood. The cotton ball in Javier’s hand is now a blotchy red. “What happened?”

“I was hoping you could tell me,” Javier says, standing up to dispose of the cotton ball. “I think he cut you with a knife.”

“No, not that.” You sink back against the couch cushions and tightly wrap the blanket around yourself. “With Noonan and the hostages.”

Javier, who is standing in the open kitchen with his back toward you, stiffens. “It was just you,” he answers, pretending to clean some dust off the counter. “You were the only American hostage left. Because it took so fucking long to find you.” He turns to you, cringing. “Sorry. I meant it took us forever to find you.”

“You can swear,” you tell him, your cheeks tingling from the unfamiliar sensation of a smile.

He walks back toward you, and it’s as if you’re seeing him for the first time. He’s no longer the jealous man who was trying to get you to back off from a mission he told you you weren’t qualified for. He’s the man who risked his job – and his life – to save you. And you don’t quite know what to do with that.

To your disappointment, he sits down in a chair, not on the couch, and lights another cigarette. “We had your location eventually. But then, two days ago, the cartel released the businessman, the only other American being held. We had to give them three men in exchange, and the exchange almost went wrong. Someone high up in Washington must have decided that’s enough.”

“So it was true, what Noonan said on TV?” You feel hot and cold all over. “It wasn’t a ruse? They were prepared to let me die?”

Javier nods. “Yeah, but I wasn’t.”

Your heart stops for a short while. “Why?”

He shrugs. “You’re one of us.”

“You warned me. You told me not to go on this mission. I thought you were jealous.”

He barks out a short laugh. “No, I thought it was a stupid mission. Too dangerous. Not worth risking the life of one of our agents for. And it was putting all our other informants at risk too.”

You look down at your hands, barely recognizing them underneath the dirt clinging to your skin. “What happens next? Will you get reassigned?”

“I won’t get a medal, that’s for sure.” He takes a drag of his cigarette and his face lights up with a red glow. “Noonan will thank me privately but reprimand me publicly. And then she’ll send you home.”

“Me? Why am I being punished?” Your voice, still hoarse from disuse, rings in your ears.

He laughs again, loudly this time. “Darlin’, Colombia almost killed you. I wouldn’t call it punishment.”

Your heart kickstarts at the use of the diminutive. “I want to stay here. There’s still so much to do.”

He stubs out his cigarette. “What you need to do is take things easy. You just went through a horrible ordeal you haven’t even begun to process. Even if you do stay here, you need a break first.”

You want to protest, but you can’t find the strength. You feel weary, exhausted, like you spent the last month trekking through the jungle without a break. Your body is a heavy lump you hardly have control over.

The next thing you feel is Javier’s arms around you as he holds you tightly. “Hey,” he says again, and you could get used to the softness in his voice. “Let’s get you to bed.”

“No,” you mumble, trying to push him away, suddenly trapped in the memory of closing your eyes and waking up to a man holding a knife cowering above you.

Javier doesn’t take no for an answer. “You’ll sleep in my bed. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

You’re still not sure this is such a good idea, but there is no alternative you can think of, and your body is begging you to lie down on cool, clean sheets and forget the world for a while. You let Javier pull you up, and you manage to stumble not more than once as he leads you into a dark bedroom. He doesn’t switch on the light.

“I’m going to let you sleep in,” he tells you, sitting you down on the edge of the bed. “Do you want me to leave the door open in case you need me?”

“No, that’s fine,” you answer, weakly kicking off your dirty shoes. You just want him to leave so you can close your eyes.

He runs his hand from the top of your head down to your neck in a well-practiced, automatic motion. “I’m a light sleeper – just shout if there’s anything you need.”

You nod, and he finally steps back with a smile on his face. “Good night, Javi,” you say, your head hitting the pillow before you can stop it. He’s already at the door when you add, “And thank you.”

You can’t have been asleep for more than a few minutes when the sound of gunfire wakes you. It’s not close by, but the echo of it still reaches you, and before your brain has time to process, your body is already responding with a sob that shakes you from head to toe.

“I’ve got you,” Javier says, wrapping you up in his arms. You bury your face against his naked shoulder, trying to steady your breath, but you’re crying uncontrollably now.

“I’m sorry,” you sob.

All he does is run his hand up and down your back. “Shhhh, I’m here. Nothing is going to happen to you.”

His warm breath against the top of your head makes your heartbeat slow down, and you finally manage to swallow your tears. “I’m so sorry,” you repeat, feeling like you’re about to die.

“Come on, lie down,” he urges you gently, trying to lower you toward the mattress.

“No!” You cling to him desperately, but he pries your arms off him without much effort.

“I’ll be here, okay?” he soothes you. “Right in that chair over there.”

You don’t know what chair he’s talking about; you didn’t notice one when he led you into the bedroom, but you stopped noticing things a while ago. “Don’t leave me,” you beg.

He brushes your hair out of your face and places a soft kiss against your temple. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

When you next open your eyes, there he is, asleep in an armchair in the corner of the bedroom, the early morning sun dancing across his skin.

[bunny-1111]

Hi!!!

Can you write something on theo nott like how he becomes vulnerable with y/n

By the way love your writing style❤️❤️❤️

Thank you so much! and thanks for the request, I hope you enjoy <3

...

Theodore Nott was nothing if not private.

He kept most thoughts to himself and his secret buried deep within.

It could be endearing sometimes, but when you looked at his face, the look telling you he has something he wants to say, something that's eating him up, something he wants to talk about, and yet, he says nothing. A small frown hinted at the corners of his lips, and a wishful thought threatened to spill from his tongue.

Whenever he got close to dropping his guard, he rebuilds his walls ten times higher, and stronger.

His worries, unbeknownst to you, became your own.

What's he thinking about, what's wrong, why won't he talk to me?

You tried to get him to talk to you, and tried, and tried, and tried again.

All your troubles were met with radio silence from Theodore.

While lying in bed, covered in blankets and body heat, the two of you spoke—well, you spoke, and he listened.

"And then, Pansy looked at me in front of the whole classroom and called me a bitch. Can you believe that, my own best friend?" You sniffled through your rant

"No, I can't believe that; she shouldn't have. It's gonna be ok though, I promise you, I won't leave your side for a second tomorrow, alright?" he comforted, wiping your tears and rubbing circles on your shoulder

"thank you Teddy, I'm so lucky to have you" You frown up at him "No, I'm lucky to have you" He smiled, kissing your slightly puffy cheeks

"I wish I could help you too if you ever need to talk about anything" you sighed

By the end of your sentence, you felt his body stiffen.

You didn't ask again.

You had accepted that it wouldn't come quickly or easily from Theo, but you were patient, so you finally let go of expectation, maybe you would never see your boyfriend vulnerable, maybe he was invincible, you just didn't know.

But out of protest, you stopped telling Theodore your own problems, you stopped confiding in him for even the smallest things, you couldn't constantly give and not take, you thought.

Only then did it hit Theodore, that he had accidentally pushed you away by not giving you a glimpse into his mind.

Sitting on the cold leather couches of the common room, you ranted to Draco about Snapes lesson

'Why the fuck is she telling him and not me?' Theodore thought, watching you go on about your teacher. He took a deep breath in and did what he always does. Left.

He ventured out into the cold night, finding a seat beneath the courtyard, lighting a cigarette, his head against the brick.

Why the fuck won't she talk to me, even about bloody Snape?

Why the fuck does she think Draco can help her, when I'm right here?

What else hasn't she told me?

His mind raced against him until he reached his unusual conclusion of panic. His heart beating hard against his chest, his head pounding with worry, "Holy shit" he muttered, this is exactly how you felt when he pulled away from you.

He took one last long drag of his smoke, dropping it, and stomping on its remaining ash.

It was now well past curfew, and he knew it; the last thing he needed was to be caught sneaking into the girl's dormitories, so he raced against the speed of his own feet until he found himself knocking on your door.

You crept out tired, "Hey" you yawn, shocked to see him without notice, he wasn't usually spontaneous at showing up to your dorm, always announced, never the less, you of course open the door wide to let him in.

"Are you ok?" you ask, doubting you would get an honest answer, but you ask anyway.

"No" he admitted, you almost think you didn't hear him correctly, he had made you stop dead in your tracks.

Turning to him instantly

"What's wrong, teddy" you begin, gently placing a hand on his face, he takes your hand in his.

He doesn't say anything back yet, just pulls you into a tight hug, OK, you think, this is at least, a start.

Your face must've shown what you were thinking, compassion, as your brows furrowed, you pleaded with your eyes, open up to me

To your surprise, he begins to talk, now sitting, facing each other on the edge of your bed, "I so fucking overwhelmed, and my fathers being a pain in my ass, constantly sending me letters about Merlin knows what, and I haven't even started studying for exams, and I don't want to go home for the holidays, it's so cold and lonely in my fucking house, and I miss you, I feel like we've drifted apart lately and I know it's my fault" he quickly spills out in one go.

You had to gasp for air yourself, he had held so much in, you didn't know what to process first. By the time you went to open your mouth, Theodore shot up, racing for your door, hands nervously running through his hair "This was dumb, I'm sorry, forget everything I just said." you rushes

"No! No, Theo, please, sit back down", you plead. To your surprise, he listens, though he doesn't look up, but that's ok as long as he stays? Baby steps, you thought.

"You don't have to reply to his letters, and if you really think you do, I'll help you write one back politely telling him to lay off, that you need to focus on your studies. Theo, you don't even need to study, your the smartest in every class, but you and I, can stay in the library every Friday night so you can get into routine" You started, he was looking at you now.

"You can come home with me for the holidays, or I'll come with you and if you don't want to leave! We will stay here, alright?! And Teddy, we will never leave each other, that, I promise, because we're fixing things, we're finally talking" your smile laced with sympathy

He watched you for a while, his eyes wide, his breath caught, his body practically frozen, until it wasn't, until he dropped his head into your chest, until he realised how easy it was to talk to you, that you actually had a solution.

"I'm sorry that I've never done this before, you know, open up. It's not easy for me," he says muffled, cringing at what he was confessing

"I know, my love, I hope this is helping, Teddy, I'm here for you for a long as you need me," you say

"You know, usually, I just save this all for my mum. When I get home, I visit her grave and I tell her everything I'd never said out loud, but it's so hard to get there most of the time and being at school for so long I just-" he says, as he looks up he see your eyes filling with tears

"Hey, no no, I didn't mean to make you cry" he says now holding you too

"Theo, that's horrible, I'm here. I'm here" you insist

"I know that now, I haven't done this before, I always thought it was wrong to, I don't know, communicate" he almost laughed.

You scruffled his hair, lacing your hands through his slightly tangled brown locks.

"Let me take those thought of yours, I'll kept them safe in my mind from now on, let me share the heavy load with you, we can help each other" you smile

He went on about everything else bothering him, and by the end, he felt a sense of relief, of lightness, of peace.

Even after almost a year together, that was the beginning of a new stage of your relationship. Trust was built, and now Theodore knew, even though he had previously resisted, all he had to do was find you, and you'd be there.

P.S, it's almost 1am for me so, I'm tired. This might not be the best lol, not edited or reread <33

Message for any requests, as always, comments, likes and reblogs are appreciated my loves <3

[hai7ani]

dark red / haitani rindou

prequel

There's an itching silence in the air begging to be broken. Wants you to speak. Wants him to speak. Wants you both to talk.

You only stare at each other.

This winter was going to be a rough one, you immediately thought 一 after waking up in the hospital with no memories of how you got there, why you ended up in that state, and why you don't remember anything.

Your mother was there when you woke up 一 held your hand when you were crying in your sleep about God-knows-what, mumbling something that sounded so incoherent to her, but she swore has never seen you cry like this in front of her since you were a child.

She had seemed a little different to you. A little older, chubbier, with more wrinkles around her eyes and the grey in her hair much more prominent than yesterday.

Yesterday?

"What day is it today?" You remember asking her as soon as you'd gained consciousness and felt her wipe your tears away with a soft towel. You heard the weather forecast talking about possible snowfall later that evening.

You see the smile on your mother's face drop.

It was still summer yesterday.

She looks sad. In agony, even.

There is no way.

"It's the 2nd of December, my love." She says very, very softly. "Christmas is coming soon."

And she cries.

It was really cold out today. It wasn't snowing when you left the house. You'd expected and looked forward to be home dry and cozy still after running errands for Ma. You wanted to continue watching your movie before she'd knocked on your door and made you put on your jacket to buy something for her at the store.

And then it decides to snow all around just when a bomb gets dropped on you while you least expect it.

You're angry.

You're filled with fury. You were raging when you'd dropped everything on your mind and dragged the poor guy home with you out of impulse. He said he loved you before. That makes you both each other's exes 一 you've dated him, he's dated you.

You loved each other, and you don't remember a single thing about it at all.

Like what the hell do you mean you still love me? We've broken up. There's no way, Rindou 一 or whatever his name is.

You don't trust this man one bit.

Which is why you'd dragged him along with you, plastic bag full of groceries now in his hands after he'd snatched it right out of yours. It was swinging around as you stomped, making this huge noise around the area and he wanted to laugh so bad. "Honey, please." You remember hearing him plead behind you, trying to coax you into calming down and listening to him, but he still follows behind you nonetheless 一 letting you pull him along while he watches out for cars and bikes and also apologising on your behalf to other pedestrians when you step into their space as a means to hurry home.

(He has never been one to apologise, only nodding or bowing his head a little as a gesture, but that has changed ever since he met you.)

"Don't call me that. I don't trust you at all. Who knows if you might be lying to me, you kidnapper. I'm going to report you to the police. You're going to jail." You spat.

He sighed, and then he realised the path you were both taking.

Back to your house.

You just said you didn't trust him, so why are you dragging him back to your house?

You'd thought of it too seconds into walking and you'd come to a conclusion that you don't really know why either.

Maybe it's because you really didn't trust him just like you said, so you want to drag him to your mother and make him look her in the eyes and say that he loves you 一 he still loves you 一 just to prove he isn't lying. You want to hear it from your mom 一 she has been the only person you can trust ever since leaving the hospital with an empty heart and a blank mind.

A tug at your hand pulls you out of your head.

"Honey..." He's back at it again. "You're gonna hurt your hand like this." He notes at the way you are grabbing onto his hand and pulling harshly. And you know it too 一 you are going to strain your muscle if you don't let go soon, but you just can't help it.

Just another turn and you'll arrive.

"Hushhhh. I'm going to expose you for the liar you are, Rindou-kun. Just you wait." You frown.

Perhaps you are feeling this way because you are guilty. Guilty for not remembering him 一 guilty for not being able to remember the man who has loved you with all his heart despite that it has only been 2 years.

Yet a part of you suspects there is another reason as to why you are so angry at him. There is an unknowing itch in your heart that you just can't seem to figure out what it is.

You keep calling him a liar. You keep saying you can't trust him.

Was it true?

"Mom," you swing the front door open and kick off your boots. "Mama." You yell for her. Rindou huffs behind of you and place both bags down on the floor after entering your cozy home, and he immediately spots the flowery dark blue blanket on the kotatsu your mother is sitting on.

"Yes, baby? You're back." She had been knitting while watching TV, and she looks back at you expectantly, probably expecting something surprising after hearing your rushed voice calling out for her.

And then she sees him behind of you.

"Madam."

Haitani Rindou, the man who she believed to be her daughter's endgame. Live in flesh, and he's so out of breath just as you are.

"Rindou...!" She gasps, and then she rushes up to him to pull him into a hug, her mission to finish knitting her blanket long forgotten as she busies herself with him. "Goodness, I swear! You've gotten buffer now! How have you been? And why are you both together... again?!"

You think you want to faint.

The silence is menacing 一 mocking you for being so hot-headed, mocking him for being such a coward.

Your mother had taken the liberty to finish her knitting upstairs in her room to give you both space to talk in the living room, where you're snuggled in the same blanket she had been warming up in earlier.

He stares at it for such a long time before helping you to cover your shoulder, making sure you're warm after all the activity out there in the cold earlier.

It warms him enough to know that your mother still uses the blanket he got for her despite knowing he isn't part of your family anymore.

He sits behind you in silence, legs sprawled out on the floor with his coat draped over his lap.

You turn your head to him a little. From the corner of your eyes you see him rubbing his palms together before blowing onto them. It didn't feel right to leave him out there while you're in here all warm and cozy (and a bit ready to fall asleep).

"Come here," you open up the blanket to him and look at him expectantly. He shakes his head, "it's alright. You're cold."

"You're cold." You open it up further and turn your body towards him fully.

"I'm fine, honey."

"...Just come here, would you?" You raise your voice and frown, annoyed that he isn't listening to you.

He stuns for a moment when he thinks you sound a little too familiar, before cracking a smile and crawling into the blanket with you.

"Was that so hard? You're so stubborn as always..." He listens as you mumble and nag and tuck him in before finally succumbing to the warmth (and the closeness).

The two of you sit like that for a few minutes in another wave of silence while watching your cat toss and turn on the floor in front of you.

There isn't much to describe the situation you're in with him. It may seem boring to the ordinary people who have no idea what you're both going through 一 just two exes sitting next to each other for warmth, a little too close together for exes, but still considered fine nonetheless.

But you don't consider it fine. It is not boring at all. Your heart hurts at the same time it feels fulfilled. There is so much running through your head that you don't feel like thinking anymore. You feel like you have found what you have been searching for all this while. You think it is him.

You want him.

Yet he feels so foreign.

But you never want to feel so lonely again.

"Rin." You turn to him and you look him in the eyes.

You can tell there is a lot of hurt and pain hidden inside those violets when he closes the gap between the two of you and bumps your forehead together.

And then it occurs to you that you'd called him 'Rin'. It'd just escaped your mouth with no hesitation at all. It felt so normal to call him that.

"Yes, honey?" He whispers to you.

You suppress a smile itching to form on your lips. "Have you always been this cheesy? Honey?" You let it form anyway when he smirks.

"Nah... But you always liked it when I called you that." He pulls away from you and reaches a hand up to comb through your hair 一 flattened out a few flyaways and fixed your hairline a little.

And while he is busying himself with you, the turtleneck that he is wearing has been looking a little suspicious to you, you realise. You haven't been able to tear your eyes away from the collar. There is a burning urge in you to pull it down and see what happens when you do.

So you do just that.

You reach a hand up, dip your pointer into the collar while feeling up the soft black cashmere against your skin, and you pull.

He lets you, surprisingly. Perhaps there really is nothing to be suspicious about it 一 it is true that your radar has been a little off since losing your memories. Perhaps you just felt like being a tease. Maybe you have always done this to him in the past when you were both still dating.

You haven't asked him why yet.

"Why did we ever break up?" You ask him softly.

You feel his Adam's apple bob when his neck is exposed to the air 一 to your eyes.

There is a fine-lined box, rectangular and long, tattooed onto his neck. Parts of it are filled up with a really dark black ink and it moves as he swallows.

You try rubbing it off and he coughs when you press too hard on his throat.

You remember seeing this symbol the night after you'd woken up and was still in recovery in the hospital. Shown as the headline news as the reporter speaks about recent gang activity going berserk.

"The largest crime syndicate of Japan is found to be directly involved in recent gang activities happening around Tokyo. The organisation who has been engaging in criminal acts on the low is now on the loose publicly for causing two car accidents on the Tokyo Expressway which has killed two lives and the third victim hospitalised in a comatose state, a result from two members of the syndicate fleeing from the police on said expressway after a raid in their warehouse located in Azabu. Both instigators are still on the loose for murder and drug trafficking, though authorities have managed to identify one member of the gang during the raid who is suspected to be of high authority. Testimony from eye-witnesses have stated that the man has bright pink hair with diamond-shaped scars on both sides of his mouth, often spotted with a traditional katana."

"Oh."

You slump.

"Honey."

You kept saying he was a liar.

"Listen to me."

You kept saying you can't trust him.

So it is true.

"...Too late, Haitani."

You feel a little something press against your forehead. It's hard and it hurts you when it presses even harder.

The both of you have been so engrossed in each other, with you focusing on your memories and remembering being lied to, and him finding out if there is any way, any at all, to not make you leave him again-

"Told'cha to hide her before I kill her."

-Too engrossed to notice that a man has entered your home, and is currently holding a gun to your head as he stands behind Rindou with a hand tucked into his pocket.

Bright pink hair, diamond-shaped scars on both sides of his mouth.

"Bye-bye, pretty girl." He mocks in a sickening grin.

byeeeee

[maxillness]

Happy Fucking New Years || T.W x rival driver!reader

Warnings: 18+, age gap, alcohol consuming, praise kink, degrading kink, Toto is called a Needy slut🤭, handjob, oral (M reviving), over stimulation, sub!toto

Wordcount: 2k

New Years. Something she wasn’t looking forward to

She had been invited to a New Year’s party with the rest of the drivers, as well as the team principals

She liked partying and drinking, but the thought of that many people made her shiver and thought about just staying at home

Of course she wanted to spend time with her fellow drivers, but she did my want to spend time with them all at the same time

She knew it was wrong, but she had come to the conclusion she only went because he was gonna be there

The rival team’s Team principal. Toto Wolff

She had only ever told her best friend and fellow driver, Lando Norris. He was the only who knew of her attraction to the older man

She was afraid to ever tell somebody, but she had to get it off her chest, and even with doubt, Lando had promised to never tell anyone, and she trusted him

She had arrived at the party with Lando and Oscar by her sides. They all went to the other drivers, sitting at the couch area in a corner

From her spot on the couch, she could see the whole room. When she spotted him, she couldn’t take her eyes off of him

Her eyes lingered on the way his hand ran trough his hair, the way his other hand had a grip around his glass, the way there formed small wrinkles at the corner of his eyes when he smiled or talked

Everything he did made her brain foggy. She stopped herself from biting her lip, choosing to bite the inside of her cheeks instead

He looked so fucking good like this. Surrounded by people, the different coloured light reflecting off of his beautiful soft skin

Lando sat down beside her, handing her a new glass with liquor “What are you looking at?” He asked, noticing she had stared into the abyss all evening

“Why does he gotta be so fucking pretty?” She asked, not answering his question

“I wouldn’t, would I? I’m not the one finding him attractive” He said, trying to ignore the fact his best friend was feeling this way about someone from her rival team

Even though they had their rivalry, she couldn’t stop her mind from picturing all kinds of inappropriate images in her hea

She would sit at a meeting, and she would imagine fucking that pretty smirk off of his face after one of the Mercedes drivers had won

She wish she could fuck him dumb. Making him forget his own name. Making him forget everything beside her and the way she would make him feel good

“Would you come back to earth, please?” Lando waves a hand in front of her face “I don’t want you to have an orgasm, not now at least” She rolled her eyes at his words, where after her eyes yet again turned to the man at the other end in the bar

“Enjoying the view?” She hadn’t realised the man she had eyes all night had come up to her

She stood by the bar, waiting for her drink. If she was any less drunk, she would have stopped her thighs from clinging together at the sound of his voice, but that wasn’t my the case

“What are you talking about?” She picked up her glass putting it to her lips, taking a short sip

“You’ve been starring at me all fucking night, Schatzi” His chest was almost pressed all the way on her back as she stared down into her glass

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re drunk” She sighed, taking yet another sip of her drink

“And you’re not?” He had leaned down to talk in a deep voice, just by her ear, making blood rush straight to her core

“I didn’t say that, but you’re more than I am” She chuckled, feeling the alcohol rushing trough her blood

“Fuck, you’re hot when you have a dominating voice, did you know that?” He said, his lips dangerously close to her neck “The things your eyes do to me” He groaned, his hot breath against her neck

She turned around in the bar stool, now facing him, making him take his head a few centimetres back “What are you doing?”

“Well, if you haven’t noticed, I’m trying to fuck you” His lips were now only Millimeters away from hers

“Nobody’s stopping you”

The drive in the taxi was unbearable for Toto. Her fingernails dug into his inner thigh, just under where his cock was straining in his tight pants

He held his hand over his mouth, stopping any excess sounds from spilling out of him as she started making small circular motions on his inner thigh

They arrived at her apartment. She paid the driver and they walked toward the building. It was a rather tall building, and she did live in one of the top floors

As soon as she had pressed the floor button, she was pushed up against the wall of the elevator

He smashed their lips together, his hand behind her head so she wouldn’t bang it against the wall

The kiss was hot, messy, heated, and filled with saliva. Their bodies were pressed together, and she could feel his erection pressed against her stomach

The ding of the elevator didn’t startle Toto, it almost went unnoticed by him. It was only when she had pushed him off of her and pulled him by his wrist out of the elevator and towards the door

He interviewed their fingers as she pulled out her keys from the pocket of her jacket. She had barely closed the when she was yet again pressed up against the door

“I want you so bad, please” He mumbled, pressing his lips to hers “Please, need you”

“God, Wolff. You act all bad shit and tough, but do you know what I think?” She forced him to look down at her “You’re just a needy slut who needs to get taken care of” She smirked as he whimpered at the nickname

Her smirk faded “Isn’t that right?” He nodded at her dominating tone “Use your words”

“Fuck, yes. I’m a needy slut who needs to get taken care of” He whimpered at the way her eyes look up yet dominating at him “Please, I need you so bad”

“I can tell” She gripped his cock trough he is pants making him moan low “God” She chuckled “Such a needy slut”

She backs him up, pushing him down to sit on the couch, his shoes gone as well “Take your shirt off” He doesn’t hesitate to obey “Good boy” She caressed his cheek before taking a pillow to the floor so she could go down on her knees

Her fingers went to his belt, unbuckling it. She zipped down his zipper, and tapped his hips, indicating him to buck for her to pull both his pants and boxers down slowly

She spit into the palm of her hand and started stroking him slowly, but it was enough for him to grab her wrists, arch his back, and throw his head back on to the couch

The grip on her wrists wasn’t tight; he didn’t want her to stop, but it was more to steady home self, and to have a place to have his hands

“F-fuck, please” He bucked his hips, fucking her hand, wanting her to go faster, but it only resulted in her stoping, not taking her hand away, but stoped her motions

“No, please, I’m sorry. Please, i need it. I’m sorry” He whined and whimpered as he look down at her

“God, you sound so good when you whimper” Her words made him whimper and she stared stroking him slowly again

“Please, I need your mouth around me. Please-“ His last plead turned into a loud moan when she sped up “Fuck. Making me feel so good” He threw his head yet again back onto the couch, eyes rolling into the back of his head as his back arched off the couch

She felt him twitch in her hand “Are you gonna come, Toto? Are the needy little slut gonna come?” He didn’t want it to be true, but yes, he was already gonna come, and her words did just that

His load landed on his abdomen and the part that ran down his shaft, landed on her hand

He started whimpering and whining when she did halter or stop her actions. She was sending him into over stimulation

“Think you got a few more in for me?” She asked teasingly, kissing the inside of both his trembling thighs

He made a sound, but she didn’t pick it up “What was that, baby?” She asked soothingly

“I don’t know if I- fuck. If I can give you more” He said, trying to look down at her, but his body was trembling, making it hard for him

“Well, you have to have more in for me I won’t stop until I get at least two more” She knew she was stretching it far, but she want to see how long he could last without falling completely apart

“I can t-try” He stuttered as she lightly licked up his shaft, taking all the droplets of cum with her tongue as she did so

He turned back to loud moans as her tongue swirled around the tip of his cock, collecting the rest of his cum

“Fuck, please. I want you around me, please, I’m begging you” His hand came to tangle in her hair, but he didn’t dare to push her down

“Be patient, Toto, or you might not get it at all” He didn’t want to risk it, but he really needed her around him

“Please…” He whimpered softly, his thighs shaking, trapping her body between them

“God, you’re so pretty like this” She said “Fucked out, post-orgasm, hair sticking to your forehead, all sweaty. So fucking pretty” Her words sent him yet again over the edge, yet again shooting his load on his stomach but less this time

“Such a good boy for me. I just want the last” She said, licking the cum off of her hand “Think you can do that for me?” She looked up at him

He only nodded, unable to form any words. Her lips wrapped around his tip. A second went by before she hollowed her cheeks, his cock hitting the back of her throat, making her gag, sending vibrations all trough his body

“F-fuck. You feel so good around me” He cursed something in German as she started bobbing her head, holding onto his waist, making sure to leave marks for him to see tomorrow

She hummed around him, sending even stronger vibrations through him, making him moan loud again, his body convulsing, yet not near his third orgasm

He was still sensitive, but he took it well, better than she thought he would “Fuck, you’re taking me so good” She said, pulling off of him, beginning to stroke him again

“Come on. Come for me again, baby” Her words and a few bites to the inside of his thighs made him come for the third time

He was exhausted as she stood up. Her knees felt sore, but it would have been worse without the pillow

“Come on, baby. Let’s get you cleaned up” She pulled him off of the couch, holding him steady, helping him walk to the bathroom

He got into the tub as she opened for the water “Is the temperature okay?” She asked softly. He only nodded at her question

“Are you okay, Toto? I’m sorry” She kissed the side of his forehead “I really am”

“I’m fine” He looked up at her with the prettiest brown doe eyes she had ever seen

[blueberrymocha]

Hi ! I saw that u already made hxh headcanons on a reader who's always cold, could you do then headcanons of the main 4 (hxh) with a reader who is actually always really nice and sweet, friendly and polite? But gets absolutely feral and relentless when someone is rude or hurts their loved ones??

Ty ahead and have great day 💗💗💗

main 4 with a reader who goes feral when someone hurts their loved one

gon

✰ he adores how kind and sweet you usually are

✰ while he can get along with virtually anyone, he prefers friendlier people like you

✰ and he’d probably also rely on you to keep him in check and be the calmer one

✰ so when someone makes a rude comment towards him, he definitely doesn’t expect you to jump to his defense

✰ and if you got physical with someone, he’s even more shocked

✰ his biggest concern is stopping the disagreement, he just doesn’t want to watch you get hurt over something trivial

✰ so as much as he loves you defending him, he’ll tell you it’s not worth the trouble and to let it go

✰ don’t get me wrong though, he’s quite happy that you’re willing to do that for him in the first place

“i’m so lucky to have you by my side… but seriously where did that come from!?”

killua

✰ he finds this pretty intriguing

✰ because under normal circumstances, you’d never result to aggression/violence

✰ and yet when he’s involved… you immediately drop those hesitations to stand up for him

✰ now at first, he might jump to the conclusion that you think of him as weak

✰ so while he bandages a cut you got in the fight, he’ll bring it up

“idiot… why’d you have to get hurt for me anyway? i could’ve dealt with it on my own.”

✰ but once you explain things, he realizes he was overthinking it

✰ and when he does, he becomes the biggest cheerleader

���yeah! beat his ass y/n!”

✰ to be honest, it reminds him a lot of gon

✰ which would make him love it even more

✰ however, if you go too feral, he’ll probably get you to stop

✰ because at the end of the day, whatever the person did didn’t even matter to him

kurapika

✰ he himself would be more protective over someone sweet and kind

✰ the world can be very harsh and someone who’s polite to everyone would come across as naive to him

✰ which is also why he’s the most surprised of all when you get defensive

✰ you going crazy on someone for insulting him is just completely out of character in his mind

✰ that being said, if you can handle it yourself, he won’t stop you

✰ after all he’s the exact same way

✰ not to mention he’s honored you’d do so much for his sake

✰ if it got out of hand, he’d just tell you to lay off

✰ and once the two of you were alone, he’d make it clear he thought your actions were justified

✰ although, if something similar happened in the future, he’d remind you not to engage and try to cool you down

✰ mainly because he’d prefer you don’t get into any fights at all

leorio

✰ you’re giving him whiplash

✰ like he can’t understand how someone as sweet as you could switch up so quickly

✰ we all know that he’s no stranger to getting into arguments

✰ so if you’re merely defending him with words, he’s got no problem

✰ if you started fighting the person, he’s conflicted

✰ cause part of him is like

“punch him harder!”

✰ but his rational side will probably break up the fight

✰ if you ended up getting injured for him, he’s really flattered

✰ and of course he takes care of every injury

✰ but also “don’t do that ever again”

[raguonmynieceandnephew]

"It's so unfair to the Rat Grinders that they are killed instantly and the Bad Kids get to roll death saves." SHUT UUUUUUUUUUUUP

THIS IS LONG, AND HONESTLY FOR MYSELF, SO YEAH READ IF YOU WANT

I swear to god, this discourse is going to fucking be the end of me. Idk what kind of mind boggling spell Brennan Lee Mulligan wove into the fabric of the universe that spread through the data center of Dropout in order to absolutely hijack y'all's brains when it comes to Cocklord Assgape and her ragtag of character foils but whatever it was has made you Rat Grinder stans INSUFFERABLE in this site.

The levels of treating fictional characters as if they were real people have reached a level I honestly have never anticipated, to the point of y'all actually being mad AT THE CAST for "mistreating" them and ACTUALLY QUESTION BRENNAN'S CAPACITY TO DM. Do you not get how fucking insane that is?

We can't make fun of Copperkettle, one of the most pathetic, petty and incompetent villains in D20 history anymore (even though she is masterfully written and developed to generate this reaction from us) anymore because it's bullying apparently. I saw an account flip the fuck out because someone compared her rivalry with Kristen to Drake and Kendrick's beef. KIPPERLILY IS NOT A REAL GIRL. SHE IS A MAKE BELIEVE CHARACTER IN AN IMPROV SHOW SPAWNED FROM THE BRAIN OF A 36 YEAR OLD MAN

And then what truly pissed me off the MOST about this whole hell is the fact that, being chronically online avid consumers of this goddamn show, I would think you would have but a grasp of the main cast of characters' characterization.

Why the uproar about Riz saying they should chop Oisin's head off? The same Riz who tortured that pixie from Freshman year by shooting off their finger one by one? The same Riz who murked a disarmed and unconscious Coach Daybreak without battin an eye? The same Riz who ATE THE CORPSE OF KALVAXUS?

And the whole Fabian vs Ivy debacle MY GOD, THE GIRL WAS RACIST TO HIS GIRLFRIEND AND USED HER LAST BREATH TO CALL MAZEY "OBJECTIVELY UGLY". And the funniest thing is that is not even the most unhinged shit he has ever said.

And finally, Death Save Gate: THE RAT GRINDERS ARE NOT PLAYER CHARACTERS. THEY ARE NPCS! THE RULES FOR EACH WORK DIFFERENTLY, ESPECIALLY THEM BEING BOSS ENCOUNTERS. Imagine having to still hit Ivy or Oisin 2 more times to kill them when there is 14 foot tall Porter throwing legendary actions left and right, with Jace, and other 3 spell casters + Mary Ann and KLCK up and running. It's called balancing the fucking game. Also, game masters are entitled to break, mold and make up any rules they want if they find necessary in order to service themselves and their players. IF YOU PLAY WITH ALL THESE RULES AS THEY COME, GOOD FOR YOU AND YOUR TABLE. THIS IS NOT YOUR TABLE.

Not only is Brennan DMing for his CLOSEST FRIENDS EVER, he is also shooting and producing an ENTIRE TV SHOW. So yeah, i think he knows wtf he is doing.

"But the Ratgrinders had no real development": True. But it wasn't for lack of trying from the players. Everytime they tried to know more, the dice didn't let them, so they decided to focus on the mystery. It simply do be like that sometimes.

"But they are just kids!": And so were Penelope, Dayne, Ragh, Zayn, the Bloodrush Players, Aelwyn and Biz. Why wasn't it a problem then? Because most of them were evil to some extent and were about to bring the fucking apocalypse to the world? Yeah, sounds familiar right? And the ones who were manipulated or had any sort of redemption worked their way into earning it, right? Yeah.

In conclusion, I fucking love the Rat Grinders, I truly do, and not unlike 90% of this website, i'm still holding on to hope that they have any sort of development and redemption in the last episode, because I agree, they ARE children and they WERE manipulated by Porter and Jace, but like, can we also agree that they are fucking assholes and had it fucking coming? Also, the BKs are children too y'know. SO STOP BEING FUCKING ANNOYING.

[oh-snapperss]

creature comfort

“We won’t win today,” Cleo says, and Etho knows she’s right. Knows their time has been running out since the first secret was whispered to them in voices all too familiar, has known that this day was coming, has known that all this time, it’s not been a question of if–it’s been a question of when. 

They’re going to die today. Distantly, Etho wonders if the domesticity they’ve worked for will die with them, or if it will follow them back home. 

Will his home ever be a physical place again? Home is where the hearth is, where the warmth is, where the world is shut out and it’s just the three of them. 

Home is where Cleo is. 

“That’s alright,” Etho smiles instead of voicing all of that, wishing, of all things, that he didn’t still have that awful cough that Cleo had insisted he rest over for a few days. “We’ll be alright.” 

They’ll be dead–and what are the dead, if not alright? The dead don’t have coughs, or pain, or fear. They’re just dead. Etho thinks he might not mind it so much, this time. He’s finally learned to spend his time wisely, and he’s built a home no flaming arrow could ever take down. 

Just by the cow pen, there’s a stupid little porch Etho had built a while back. They’re nowhere near it now, but every night he and Cleo had watched the sunset, drank a final cup of tea, and turned in to sleep over gossip and giggles only they could draw from each other this time ‘round. Before, Bdubs had made him laugh like that–now, Etho wonders how long before there’s a sword at his throat. 

Even so, while Cleo laughs and watches him set Scar’s porch on fire, Etho hopes he might have the privilege of watching the sunset from the porch one last time. He’d survive the day, if only for another sunset with Cleo. 

BANG. 

Tango’s gone–Etho knows it in his heart. Surely he should feel an ache for him, should ask how he went. Instead, it’s easy to accept it. 

The wardens are fun. That’s all they are, now. Before, they had been terrors, then the answer to a desperate prayer he and Grian had made. The carnage of those terrifying beasts feel muted compared to before, but with the wind flying through his hair, the elated cries of Cleo in front of him, Etho can’t care. Not this time. They lead two clear to the middle of the server before they’ve decided to finish having their fun, and Cleo’s just stepping up some rocks when she says it. 

“You’re my favorite, you know that? You’ve always been my favorite.” 

He does know, he does know now. He’d guessed it that first sunset, when Cleo sat down with a giddy smile to recount their day. He’d thought it, when she’d wrapped a blanket around his shoulders after his failures and rested her head on his shoulder without a word. He’d lived it, when she had shouted that she would kill him if he tried to kill her–but was reassured otherwise that night on the porch again, with the curse ebbing from his bones. 

Today, he knows it in the blatant rebellion against what’s supposed to be the end, the dread, the fear. 

“You’re mine too.” Etho grins back, and knows that they’ll see his smile even through the mask–knows they’ve come to recognize it in his tone and way his eyebrows scrunch together. . 

They wind up in the sky base with Grian–Grian, who hasn’t quite reached the same conclusion they have. Etho knows by the shadows under his eyes he won’t give up, that he’ll fight clear to the end. Once upon a season, Etho had been the same. 

Not this time. Never this time. 

Around ten minutes to sunset, Etho and Cleo set down their dripstone and bows, and sit on the edge of the cobblestone wall. 

“I don’t think we’re gonna make it back to our base for it this time,” Etho jokes, nudging his shoulder into Cleo’s. Cleo laughs, a carefree thing, and wrinkles her nose. 

“I don’t think we’re gonna make it back for it any time, if we’re being honest.” She leans back, one hand half behind her to support her weight. 

“I know,” Etho says. He brings his leg up to his chest, wrapping his arms around it. Behind them, cobblestone is placed–Grian, ever the survivor. “It was nice, though.” 

“It was nice!” Cleo beams. “Are you alright with this?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Etho hums. “‘s not so bad. Dying with a friend.” 

“It won’t be,” Cleo agrees. 

Because that’s just it, isn’t it? Etho’s never died like this–he’s died at the flames of an arrow shot while protecting his king, he’s died in fights after his allies were killed. Hell, he’s died hand in hand with a soulmate hellbent on killing him now–but he’d been in a frenzy then, a rage-induced thing meant to burn up the place that had never been a true home to them. 

He thinks he won’t mind dying with someone. 

The sun sets in brilliant hues of orange and pink, and they sit together, this final tradition not lost in the face of inevitability. Just as the first star twinkles, Grian comes over, hoisting them back to their feet. 

“They’re coming,” he says. 

It’s time. 

They shoot a few arrows, break some dripstone, all to no avail–but that’s alright, he’s got Cleo, and they’ve got him. 

But oh, the games are never kind, are they? Etho slips, his foot landing weird somehow–and he’s whistling through the air towards the ground at a speed too fast. It knocks the breath from his lungs when he lands–does he hit the clutch? Stars, he doesn’t actually know, because there’s arrows shot at him, shouts of glee from the hunters, and suddenly Etho’s not Etho, he’s just prey–and prey only know to do one thing. 

Run. 

Etho flies forward, dragging his sword out. There’s not many safe spaces left on the server–stars, Grian had even mentioned their base was but a crater in the hill. 

But the porch… the porch was intact. Supposedly. 

He enderpearls, and enderpearls again, and it’s still not enough. The screams behind him are closer, and closer, and then further–and oh, Etho knows it’s time. He’s dead, he’s gone, he’ll be but a wisp of the wind in a few minutes whether he likes it or not. 

And he won’t die by Cleo. 

Cleo, Cleo, Cleo. Oh, he’d not meant it to be like this. He’d meant to die with a smile, right by her side–just as they were meant to die by his. This wasn’t the plan, this wasn’t the plan. A sob claws its way up his throat, the beginnings of the blind panic he’d never meant to feel tonight. He’s going to die, alone, without the comfort of his Cleo. 

Home. He wants to go home. 

Home is in the air, a hundred blocks above him. He’ll never make it–but he can make it back to the porch, the one place of peace. Now, he can feel the twinge of something broken in his ankles, probably from the fall–and the cuts, the bruises, the blood scent thick in his nose. He’s so tired. 

He wants to die at home, he wants to die at home. 

“Oh, he sounds like a wounded animal… let’s put him out of his misery.” A voice said. Cold fear grips Etho’s heart, and he stumbles forward–the porch is in sight!

Let him die at home. Let him die at home. 

A shadow fills his vision, and Etho’s not even had time to lift his shield before blinding pain fills his stomach, and it’s over. 

He’s not allowed that creature comfort of dying at home. 

[lu-is-not-ok]

*rises from the grave*

*trips and falls flat on my face*

Heyyyy, it's ya boy, your favorite chronically exhausted Hong Lu identity that forgor about posting to Tumblr. Hi. Hello.

So. Timekilling Time, huh? Very fun, very exciting, we love focusing on Sinners that are misunderstood both in and out of character. We love Rodya, Hong Lu, and Ryoshu focus. We love Ryoshu's butch mustache swag.

Anyway, allow me yap about it a bit, because I took frame by frame screenshots of the teaser and I haven't yapped on Tumblr in a while. I'll also give a general update on how I've been doing at the end of the post for those who are interested.

The first thing I've noticed in the teaser is Dante actually lays out the exact traits that their choice of Sinners would need. These being (exact wording):

Someone who can support Dante

Someone who can remain laser-focused on the case

Someone who can be free from biased judgement while making rational, quick spur-of-the-moment decisions

In other words, we need Sinners who will help Dante out, are able to stay focused, and who can think on their feet without relying on their own internal biases.

I think it's important to lay those out as clearly as possible, because it makes the selections made by Dante and Verg very interesting, and also kind of funny.

Let's look at Dante's picks - Yi Sang, Meursault, and Faust. These are all, at a surface level, decent general picks, as all three of them are seen as smart and rational. However, if we look at them while keeping the previously mentioned traits in mind, it turns out these three might just be some of the worst picks Dante could ever fucking make.

The biggest issue - none of these bitches can think quickly. Faust is especially notorious for this, as it's consistently pointed out how she always needs a long time to come to a conclusion or otherwise has to pause to come up with answers. We also know Yi Sang is the type of person to get lost in his thoughts and just meander instead of getting to the point. Meursault is a bit of an outlier in that we see that he can think quickly, but if he's not given any orders he's never gonna act on those thoughts. Admittedly, he has been getting better at speaking up over time, but he's still mostly in this "only does what he's told to do" mode of operations.

This is where their issues split up a little bit.

Yi Sang is probably the most likely to be supportive of Dante out of the three - we see that he cares about others and has learned to interfere and give advice when he feels it's necessary (though who knows if he's doing well enough to keep that up after Canto 6, oof). No, rather his other issue lies in the focus department. This is the guy who, as I previously mentioned, meanders all over before getting to the point. Again, like Meursault, he has been getting better at not doing that, but he's still got ways to go.

Faust and Meursault on the other hand have the opposite issue. While they're fairly goot at staying focused on what they have to do, the issue is that they never fucking speak up. They're probbably the furthest from being supportive of Dante. They're most likely to learn info and just keep it to themselves until everyone has wasted way too much fucking time. Hell, Meursault would probably make a decently good detective if allowed to do the case all on his own, but since he's meant to be a part of a group, he's unlikely to help out that much without Dante directly ordering him around.

Now, onto Verg's picks - Rodya, Hong Lu, and Ryoshu. This is where things get really, really interesting. Because we have the reverse situation to Dante's picks - on the surface the choices seem random and counter-intuitive, but if we look deeper, it turns out they all fulfill the requirements surprisingly well.

I'm about to go on a tangent here, but I find it extremely important that we're focusing on this group of Sinners in the first Intervallo between what I consider to be the most thematically different arcs within Limbus. The first half of Inferno has been pretty squarely about confronting one's past, whether learning to face it properly after running away from it (Gregor, Rodya, Sinclair), or learning to move past it after refusing to let go of it (Yi Sang, Ishmael, Heathcliff).

However, looking at the Sinners we have left, it feels like the second half of Inferno might be focused less on the past specifically, but more about the Sinners' general reality. Especially the next upcoming trio of Cantos - Don Quixote, Hong Lu, and Ryoshu - have some heavy thematic focus on the idea of one's perception of reality, especially fitting for the three Sinners with weird eye shit going on.

With Timekilling Time focusing on the Sinners most misinterpreted by others in-character (and out of character), it feels like the perfect intro to this switch in thematic focus - exploring the actual realities of people who are otherwise hard to understand.

Anyway, back to discussing how Rodya, Hong Lu, and Ryoshu fit Dante's requirements.

Supportive of Dante - this is the requirement all three fulfill pretty well. Let me explain.

Rodya is probably the most obvious - she's a hypegirl through and through, and happy to take the reigns in some way or another if nobody else is able to, as we see in Canto 2. She's often one of the first people to point out when someone is not doing well, and shares a lot of her insight if in the mood, but she also knows when discretion is necessary.

Hong Lu is a fun one here - he's extremely perceptive and insightful, often sharing his thoughts with very little prompting. His only issue is that he tends to backpedal when he feels like he said something wrong, or generally just words shit in weird slightly offensive ways. He's supportive, he just doesn't always talk like he is.

Ryoshu is one I find most interesting here, as a lot of people seem to miss this about her character - despite her short temper and peculiar manner of carrying herself, she's actually pretty understanding and helpful towards people she's on amicable terms with. She always explains her acronyms if asked (and when she doesn't it's usually because people stop asking or Sinclair translates instead), she listens when told to stand down or otherwise do something when asked of by Dante or Sinclair, and the reason she tends to stay quiet is because she only speaks when she feels what she has to say is important.

Staying focused - this one is a bit harder to judge, but I'd say the only one who might not fulfill this one is Hong Lu, but only by a margin. Ryoshu is shown to get so focused she gets impatient when she can't get to the point, and Rodya always has her goal in mind even when she might act like she doesn't. Hong Lu is a bit harder to judge, as he seems to be the type to prioritze gathering information and satiating his curiostiy over the main goal, but in a case like this that might just be a massive plus.

Unbiased quick thinking - again, all three fulfill the quick thinking part very well. Rodya shows it constantly throughout Canto 2, Hong Lu shows it best in social interactions, and Ryoshu just doesn't want to waste time and so she naturally thinks quickly as well. It's when we come to the unbiased part that things get extremely interesting.

As individuals, Rodya, Hong Lu, and Ryoshu are all very biased people. Rodya sees the world from the perspective of someone who suffered in the poor Backstreets. Hong Lu sees the world from the perspective of a rich Nest dweller coming from a family of dubious morality. Ryoshu sees the world from the perspective of (probably) an ex-Ring member obsessed with the art that is reality. Their backgrounds color the information they take in a lot.

However... this means that as a group, all three balance each other's biases out. Rodya's cynicism gets balanced out by Hong Lu's idealism, which is balanced by Ryoshu's realism. Their backgrounds couldn't be more different, and thus give the widest possible perspective when put together.

I think this is the point Verg is making with this selection. Dante's selection is the easy way out. It's people that Dante already knows how to deal with, and would rather pick even if their skillsets don't fit the situation. Verg is making Dante learn how to work with Sinners who might be harder to deal with, but have skillsets more fitting for the situation at hand.

Dante can't keep half-assing everything by always turning to the same few people. Every Sinner in the group has their use and are smart in their own unique ways. They have to figure what every Sinner's strong point is, otherwise they'll end up putting everyone in danger by relying on people who are simply not good in a situation while ignoring those who could help.

So... that's what I think.

Anyway, personal general update - I'm still alive! And also very swamped with college and constant exhaustion. So, things will have to change a bit moving forward.

Number one - I will not be returning to old analysis requests. There's too many at this point, and I just don't have the time to sit down and write longass posts whenever I want anymore. However, that isn't to say E.G.O and Sin analyses will never return! I have plaaans for what I want to do with those moving forward, it just may take some time to materialize.

Number two - I'm generally just more active on Discord than on Tumblr. Yapping on Discord feels more natural for me, as it's just... less formal than making a full post I guess. So, if you want to discuss things with me, or if you're on a server that you think would do well with having me yapping in there, feel free to shoot me an invite link in replies (or in DMs if you don't want it to be public)!

Number three - Go check out the Absolute Pride Resonance event on Youtube! I'm not a part of it maybe next time wink wink nudge nudge, but you should still check it out cause it's a bunch of cool people doing very scuffed streams, as is fitting for the scuff Project Moon is known for.

Alright, that's it. I still don't know how to end Tumblr Posts. Bye.

[cherubmm]

✖🔪 ⇢ ˗ˏˋ ON MY.Knees࿐ྂ

⊱.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ━━━━FEATURING: CROSS.sans

⊱.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ━━━━CONTENT WARNING: Yandere in general. Soft yandere. Obsessive & Possessive behavior. Unhealthy attachment. Implied neglectful behavior. Established relationship. Delusional mindset. Vague hint of worshipping behavior. Subtly implied abandoment issue. Violence mention. Implied submissive behavior. ANGST. Stalking. OOC. Not proof-read (I got lazy near the end if you can tell)

⊱.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ━━━━PROMPT BY : oozgin

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: why am I keep messing up!?!!?😭😭😭😭 I'm merely editing this on my scheduled post but then it keeps publishing????? Huh?????? Why does the Tumblr keep doing this to me😭😭😭 this is supposed to be for Oct.13!!! But *sigh* whatever, its already here. Enjoy the early treat, again >:(( Hope this won't happen' to another one fic for 14.... Tumblr fuck you :(((

It wasn’t often for Cross to come home.

Well, at least, not anymore. He’d leave before the sun rose, returning long after it set. You used to wait for him, staying up into the late hours of the night, but now? You barely bothered. He’d stumble through the door, mumbling something vague before disappearing into the bedroom or onto the couch without so much as a glance your way.

You understood—you really did. Cross was busy, whatever his job was, it demanded a lot from him. He hadn’t exactly shared the details, and you’d stopped asking after the first dozen times he dodged the question. But no matter how much you tried to rationalize it, it was starting to gnaw at you.

At first, it was just a pang of sadness. Then it became annoyance, maybe even anger. You weren’t one of those cliché lovers who needed constant attention—far from it, actually. You valued your independence, enjoyed your solitude. But this was beginning to feel less like space and more of a...neglect.

He was your lover, wasn’t he? You were supposed to be partners, but lately, it felt like you were the only one holding onto that thread. Every time he came home, he avoided you. No more soft conversations over breakfast, no stolen moments in the afternoon. Just excuses, avoidance, and silence.

The worst part was, you’d started to get used to it. Slowly, your love for him had dimmed, like a flame starved of oxygen. You found yourself becoming comfortable in your own company again, just as you had before Cross ever came into your life. It wasn’t a sudden fall out of love—it was gradual, quiet and subtle. You no longer saw him as your lover, just someone who passed through your life occasionally—acquaintance.

Eventually, you couldn’t do it anymore. The words weighed heavy on your tongue as you prepared yourself, sitting at the edge of the bed. Cross had just come home, dragging his feet, knives still strapped to his side. You waited until he was settled, cleaning his weapons at the table.

“Im breaking up with you.”

...

Cross always thought he was the luckiest skeleton in the entire multiverse.

Of all the infinite versions of himself—sometime's even far, far, better than him—of all the different timelines and universes, he was the one who had found you. He was the one who had you by his side, as beautiful and perfect as you were.

Not even the original version of him—the one from the timeline he could never go back to—had what he did. and that made him feel so special.

Even now, as he wiped the blood from his knives, his mind was filled with thoughts of you. He knew he wasn’t home nearly as much as he should be. Every time he left, there was a pang of guilt that dug deep into his bones. He hated leaving you behind, but what choice does he have? His boss wouldn’t hesitate to come after you if he comes to the conclusion that cross was 'slacking off'' of his work due to his lover. Hell, it was merely a stroke of luck that nightmare decided to not only keep you alive and well, but also provide protection —unbeknownst to you— even knowing his distaste for 'distraction' that attaches to those on his side.

This, of course, was a constant weight on his mind — a sense of indebted. Forcing him to swore his loyalty and obedience to the latter even againts his will. But at least, while he was out there doing Nightmare’s dirty work, you were safe, and that's all that ever matters.

While he couldn’t spend time with you like he wanted to, he could make sure nothing— absolutely nothing—harmed you. The Star Sanses? No threat. Any danger from outside your universe? He handled it.

And on the rare nights he did return? When you were already asleep? Those were slowly becoming his favorite moments. Cross would sit at the edge of the bed or crouch beside you, watching you sleep peacefully. He’d run his fingers through your hair, brushing your cheek, whispering softly to your unconscious form. Confessions of love, of guilt. He’d wish for a world where the two of you could just live a domestic, quiet life—where he didn’t have to kill for survival or settle in the constant state of paranoia— again.

He didn't want the history to repeat itself ever again now that you're here. God, he couldn't even imagine what will happen to him if you're no longer on his side to keep him sane.

But alas, he couldn’t give you that, yet. So, he settled on making you safe instead, hoping you’d understand one day.

...

"Im breaking up with you."

The sound of sharpening knives stopped abruptly. Cross froze, his back still turned to you, as if your words had doused him in cold water. Slowly—almost mechanically—he turned his skull in your direction, his pinprick eye shrinking to a tiny dot before flickering in and out like a dying lightbulb. There was something unsettling about the way he stared at you. For a brief second, his usual stoic expression faltered, a flash of... something. Confusion? Betrayal? Fear? But then, he laughed nervously, trying to play it off as a joke.

"Hahaha... t-that’s a good one, darling. You almost caught me,” he stammered, his grin unnaturally wider than the usual as he tried to shake off the tension.

"I’m not joking, Sans,” you replied, your voice steady despite the unease creeping into your gut.

Y-yeah, sure, whatever you say.” He turned back to his knives, trying to focus on his task, but his hands phalanges trembled.

“Sans, listen to me. I wasn’t—”

CRRK!!

The dagger in his hands broke in half as Cross shot to his feet, staring at the shattered blade as if it had betrayed him. His breathing grew uneven as he slowly turned toward you again, his eye flickering with a mix of emotions you couldn’t quite place.

“Why?” His voice cracked, barely above a whisper as he took a hesitant step forward. You took a step back instinctively. "Why are you saying this...?"

You tried to explain, though the words didn’t come easily. You told him how you felt—how distant things had become, how lonely you were. How the relationship was falling apart and you both are better off no longer being in each other.

But every time you spoke, Cross took another step forward, his hand reaching out as if to grab onto you, and you found yourself taking another step back.

In a blink, he was in front of you, faster than you could process. Then, there was a small 'ping' sound before you felt yourself flung backward, slamming into the nearest wall that knocked the breath from your lungs. His hands gripped your shoulders, hard enough to hurt, as his face hovered inches from yours.

"Oww-! Sans what the fuck—!?"

His bony hands gripped your shoulders tightly, an anchor that pinned you in place. “Just LISTEN to me first darling. You have to understand—” Tears began to stream from his eye sockets, glistening like pearls against his skeletal face. “I DON'T have a choice” he cried, his voice cracking with desperation. “It’s all for you! To make you safe! Please, you NEED TO UNDERSTAND THAT!!”

You tried to pull away, but his hold only tightened.

His knees buckled, and you stumbled as he dragged you down with him, his hands still clinging to you like a lifeline.“No, no, please— reconsider!! I-i’ll try to change, I’ll do whatever you want—I’ll beg, I’ll be on my knees forever, just—please?”

Ⓒ𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐮𝐛𝐦𝐦 ──── 10/11/24 Navigation | Masterlist

[kurogane2512]

All this talk about catgirl!reader but what about puppy/dog girl!reader? Give me a big fiercesome dog girl!reader whose protective of her charge and is constantly scaring off would be assassins or steering people away from bothering a clearly stressed out Ningguang! And then on the flipside, dog girl!reader whose such a service top, loves to take such good care of Ningguang. Only for Ning to call her a good girl or a good puppy and things just click in reader's brain and she's going to town, breeding Ningguang and growling and rumbling in her ear. Aghhhh.

😩🥵 I need this so bad ughh

18+ CONTENT

Game: Genshin Impact

Characters: Ningguang x doggirl!Reader with a dick

Type: Smut and fluff

Ningguang treasured you to a great extent. She had a custom-made collar for you made from the best materials and her name engraved on it with her own jades, proudly showing everyone who you belonged to. And you didn't ever let her down either. You were loyal beyond measure to her, and you didn't hesitate to show that whenever required. Whether she used you as a guard when roaming Liyue or as a partner when attending parties, you never disappointed her.

Ningguang didn't miss to reward your exceptional behavior either. Just like today, when an unnecessarily long meeting frustrated her to no end. The conclusion reached nowhere and just wasted her precious hours, she was furious by the end and ready to throw out the investor. Thankfully, she had you. The moment everyone went out, you locked her office door and wasted no time to drop to your knees and lap away at her folds.

Ningguang sighed in exhaustion and grabbed your head, gently gripping your hair and petting your ears as your tongue licked her walls hungrily. She looked at you with hooded eyes, chuckling in a sultry tone as she pulled you deeper. Your tongue plunged inside her and prodded her sweet spots, her head shooting back in ecstasy and her chest heaving as she approached her release.

"Aaah~ Yes... good girl....right there.... pleasure your mistress like a good puppy!~"

You whined and wrapped your lips around her clit then sucked on the bundle of nerves, her fingers gripped your hair harder and pulled you even closer as her thighs enclosed your head. Your own cock was tight in your pants and leaking pre-cum by now, desperate to be released, but you valued Ningguang's pleasure above yours. Ningguang's body arched up with a deep moan as she released, your tongue lapping her release and cleaning her up.

She watched your tail wag happily the whole time and your ears drooped, followed by her gaze dropping to your hard cock struggling to be held in your pants. Ningguang sometimes liked to tease you and make you wait, only because she loved it when you got riled up and fucked her out of her mind. But today she was impatient herself. She grabbed the leash on your collar and pulled your face up, then pulling your body closer as well.

"Who's my good puppy, hm?~"

Your tail wagged happily showing your excitement, "Me, mistress!"

She smirked and wiped away her juices still coating your lips then raised her leg to settle between your own, her knee grinding against your cock.

"Does my puppy want to cum?"

"Aah... yes, mistress!"

"Will my girl breed me like a good puppy she is?~"

"Yes! Yes!" you were ready to lunge forward and start right away but Ningguang stopped you with a flick of her finger.

"Now now, be patient. Go to my room and prepare yourself. I'll see you soon~"

You happily nodded and licked Ningguang's fingers before running to her room. She chuckled as she watched you excitedly run; she was so eager for later. Sometime later, you finally had Ningguang seated on the edge of the bed as you ate her out once again. Both of your clothes completely discarded now, her foot rubbed up and down your hard length to stimulate you.

"Mmh, that's it... good girl... come here now, put it inside me~"

You pulled away and watched her turn around to crawl atop the bed and stand on all fours, her butt facing you and clearly inviting you in. You practically jumped at her and mounted her from behind, wasting no time to slip your hard and girthy cock inside her. You moaned together at the contact; her tight walls held you so well you felt you would burst right away.

You grabbed her hips and began thrusting in and out, forming a rhythmic motion. Your tip penetrated her deep inside and touched all her pleasure spots, her back arched as you pushed forward with all force. You growled and leaned forward on her now, resting your body on her back while your hands planted on the bed and your hips continued plowing deep and hard.

"Aaah! Aahhn! Yes! Fuck me! Archons....oh yes—! Faster! Good puppy! Fuck your mistress well!~"

Ningguang's pleasured cries excited you to no end. Your tail wagged intensely and slapped against the bed, your tongue lolled out as pleasure took over you and you could only think of breeding Ningguang now. Your cock became harder at the thought and Ningguang could swear she felt you go even deeper as a loud moan was pushed out from her throat.

You grabbed her arms and pulled her up on her knees then hugged her closely and continued moving. Your arms wrapped around her torso, while hers looped around your head as she moaned in your ear and you growled against her neck.

"Aaah~ That's right.... you are doing so well, my sweet puppy~ Mhmmm f-fuck!~"

You licked her neck and shoulder as growls and whines left your mouth feeling your release coming close. Ningguang already felt your knot continuously slapping against her thighs, she was waiting for you to put it in. You let go of her body and pushed her all the way down, making her lie flat on the bed while your hips hammered down into her.

Your cock slammed in and out, sounds of skin slapping, Ningguang's moans and your growls resounding in the room. You finally couldn't hold on longer, your hips violently jerked down making your knot slip inside and plug up Ningguang as your cum poured out. She moaned out loudly feeling your hot and voluminous cum fill her up, her eyes rolled to the back of her head.

You grinded into her a few more times as your cum kept pouring out, she knew you had stored away a lot since morning and she was ready to have it all in. You panted out and rested on her back as you finally stopped cumming, Ningguang caressed your cheek and scratched your chin to praise you.

"My sweet puppy, always doing so well~"

[gffa]

Hello! Thank you again for answering my question about Jedi quarter doors having locks. I was wondering if personal photos are a thing in the gffa? I think I remember Ezra maybe having a picture of his family and there are of course paintings and portraits of people, but I can’t remember of personal photos are a thing. Thank you in advance if you end up answering!

Hi! This one took me a bit, because I really had to think about it, and ultimately I've come to the same conclusion: It's kind of up to you! You're right that Ezra had a holo of his parents but I don't think we've ever seen it in universe as anything but a holo. (You can find it as a picture in some reference books, but they're not in-universe.)

In Attack of the Clones, there are a couple of deleted scenes where they go to Padme's house on Naboo and all the pictures on the wall (including one in the dining room, as well as Padme's bedroom) are holos as well:

On the other hand, Hera has the physical painting of her family and Luke and Rey had the old Jedi physical books/texts, so we know physical forms do exist! But we don't really see that much paper in the GFFA, sure, it exists in books/comics as flimsi (or flimsiplast), but we don't really actually see it much, which-- oh, wait, okay, so you have just sent me down an awful rabbit hole here, because! I always assumed that flimsi and paper were the same thing--and they probably are to most authors in Lucasfilm, I'd bet--but the novel "The Rebellion Begins" by Michael Kogge says they're actually different things:

Which blew my mind! But doesn't answer the question, other than that paper and flimsi were pretty rare, but not totally unheard of. So that made me think, okay, personal photos were a thing, because physical material seemed to be seen as extremely rare/outdated, but then I remembered, there are posters plastered all along the walls in The Clone Wars in the Underworld:

I guess we can't say for sure those are paper or flimsi, but they sure do look like it to me. And the animators probably weren't thinking that hard about worldbuilding (flimsi has only ever appeared in the comics/novels, I think...?) so I think it's a mistake to try to insist that Star Wars is coherent when it comes to these things, and thus that ultimately means: Up to you! We've never seen paper/flimsi personal photos in Star Wars that I can remember, the two instances we do have in visual media are digital pictures, but there's content in TCW that such a thing could exist if you wanted, so pick whichever works for you! If pressed, I would say that someone could go out of their way to make a paper/flimsi photo of someone, but it would be an effort on their part and considered hundreds of years out of date, but, you know, some people like old-fashioned, less efficient things because they like the feel of them!

[fawnprincessblog]

Hi everyone, guess who's back.

After 2 months of absence i've decided to bring myself back on here and explain some things that have happened.

💗

After publishing a post a while back regarding incest, i had recieved a lot of hate since then. When i posted it I had no idea how much hate I was bound to receive from all of you once you guys saw it, and honestly i didn't think it would get that much attention. After realising it was clearly causing so much hate I posted an apology, which all you also thought was total shit, so I deleted that too.

And right after, I was bombarded with an ungodly amount of death threats through my inbox, people asking me to kill myself and end it. It was a whole lot, and I really didn't think that one measly post would set you guys off so fast. And honestly I was surprised to see how much there was. My inbox was full of them, and I couldn't handle it all.

Soon enough as expected one person had gone anonymous, sending inbox messages to my followers to report the 'heinous crime' I've committed by posting one silly thing, which by the way, put out a lot of false information. The person was over exaggerating, putting shitty words in my mouth. And I'm here now to talk about all the accusations the person has made. To the people who recieved the inbox message, here's your real explanation from the blogger who made the damn posts.

1. I 'nonchalantly' wrote twincest about Tom and Bill.

First of all, I have never in my life intended to ship the damn twins. If you have checked tumblr well enough, you should be aware there's tons of threesome sex fics about Tom and Bill, where they both fucked the reader at once. And if you fucking bothered to read my fic properly and not jump to conclusions to try so damn hard and cancel me, you'd know damn well Tom and Bill never even touched eachother in the fic that I wrote. They didn't have sex with eachother, they didn't DIRTY TALK eachother, and they did NOT do anything that would have come across as incest.

They both simply fucked the reader and talked to the reader, having nothing to do with each other in the fic. Get your damn facts right b4 you try to sound like a fucking smartass.

2. I want to be 'chained up and used.'

Kinks and fantasies everyone, c'mon. People have FUCKING KINKS. And mind you, this is tumblr. If you srsly see shit like this and start acting out because it makes you sad then clearly it's not for you so like just scroll? You have a damn finger, don't you? Unless, y'know, you cut the damn thing off.

Anyway, I think it's pathetic you're acting all petty over it cause you wanna cancel someone so bad and be the fucking hero of the day. Nobody cares, cunt.

3. I wanted to 'abuse' Bill.

To clarify this one, I do agree that the term 'abuse' was too strong. I don't intend to fucking abuse the poor guy, I just had no idea how to fucking word my sentence and how I was trying to get the damn message out. I've already edited my post on this one. So, chill out.

4. I'm 'anti-lgbt'?

This shitty one has been going around a LOT ever since I posted something regarding how annoying Bill was in the Kaulitz & Kaulitz series, where he talked alot about his sexuality.

First of all I'm not fucking homophobic. To let you guys know I am a Catholic Christian, (ik, not a very holy one) and supporting the lgbt community is definitely not on the list. And even if so, I do not disrespect anyone who's part of it. We aren't told to treat you guys any less. And for me, although I never encouraged the idea, I don't look lower on the person. Even I myself catch myself in a 'lesbian-feeling' situation sometimes.

And if you've seen the comments on the post I made about that Bill thing, all the comments agree with my anyway. We all collectively agree he went a little overboard but so what? I'm just saying. Suck on that, stupid hoe!

5. I support pedophilia.

Babe, check the post again and see how many people were totally okay with the damn post in the first place. I have never agreed ever that pedophilia was okay, and there's tons of older Tom fics with this age gap. Please, istg, do your research before crying over spilled milk to save yourself the embarrassment.

And, to let y'know, who ever sent these inbox messages, one of the friends that you sent these to—I think her name was 'pain of l0ve' or smtg—was totally one of the biggest supporters on that post asking for a full blown fic of older tom and the 17 year old girl. She uses to be my follower too. Dw, I have a screenshot before she blocked me and tried to act all shocked and surprised that I post those malicious things you said! ^^

mm...that really pissed me off ngl 🤷‍♀️

Anyway, that concludes it. Hope this answers your questions about all this misinformation that this person has spread in attempt to cancel me.

I also just want to put it out there that I'm really sorry for posting something like that, and now looking at it I do agree that it was weird. I apologise for anyone who got uncomfortable. All the death threats I've received weren't necessary though. I don't ever think it's right to go that far on anyone. Please be mindful sometimes. Other than that, I'm really sorry.

And I also wanna thank @itsangelll for being there for me when I couldn't answer all the haters myself. Girl you really helped me out, standing up for me and explaining the situation. Ilysm always 💗💗

But for the cunt that sent out all the inbox messages, I hope you had fun doing so anyways :3 I really do appreciate all the stalking and effort you put in just for me so you could cancel me and be heard! 🥺 Seriously the hero of the day! You really read through all my stuff so you could dig out the littlest things! Talk about dedication!! Quite obsessed I must say.

Kisses, love ya! 💋💋💗

[juelzsstuff]

Telling armin about your crush (spoiler it's him)

!sfw! idk how to write i didn't pass english class dont come at me.

you two were best friends since childhood and you've always had a crush on him even a little more than a crush and the two of you never spared any details when it came to your lives. you often hungout with jean, connie and sasha and mostly went on missions with their group. you two were talking around a camp fire to catch up after everyone had gone off to sleep, too deep in conversation to head to bed.

————————————————————

"imagine if the captain saw us up still, he'd probably make us dig each others grave" you say laughing quietly. "yeah i know but hey at least we wouldn't be dying along as a titan snack" he smiled back at the thought of you two being buried next to each other with matching headstones. A memory sparks in your mind, "omg i forgot to tell you", you turn toward him ready to spill your latest gossip, something you two did regularly. "i went out to go do my cleaning in the mess hall and i saw the hottest man i have ever seen in my entire life and okay so my first thought was holy shit, my second was the realization that i looked like i just crawled out of a pile of horse shit and i was already staring at him and yk what this man did" you pause covering your face in embarrassment. armin has a huge smile on his face waiting to hear how badly you fumbled, "what did he do?" you slide your hands off your face and turn toward him putting a hand on his leg to brace yourself from what you are about to admit "he came up to me because i'm staring still and said 'are you okay, did you come from the infirmary?' and i just made a weird noise that was supposed to be words and walked off". armin starts laughing trying to hold back, "you need serious help, there's no coming back from that y/n", you respond half laughing half fake crying "I KNOW". the laughter dies down and armin speaks up "so what did he look like?" you try to think of what he looked like and draw a blank, only remember some key points, "he had like brown hair and was sort of tall definitely shorter than you.....i guess now that i think about it, i really didn't see his face so he was probably average looking. not really my type". armin chuckles and he asks, "so what is your type then".

you think for a moment, a pang of anxiety runs through you. you've always pushed down your feelings for him and just enjoyed your friendship but tonight you might as well get a little bold. you think for a moment and look up at the starry sky, "i like smart guys yk? like the ones who aren't just a feral idiot ready to pick a fight or so full of themselves that it's annoying and weird". "blondes are okay too, my favorite actually" you say while stealing a glance at him, he's looking down at the ground and not really paying attention. so you keep talking "i've had a crush on this one guy but either he's oblivious or he's not interested so i've given up and so ive gone for the opposite type". armin looks at you intrigued, "a crush? like a serious one or like i barley saw his face and i made a weird noise one?" he says holding back a smile, his perfect teeth flashing for only a second. you nudge his shoulder and roll your eyes, "like a serious one". "can i guess who it is?", a nervous zap runs through your body and all your confidence is running out the window. armin seems to notice and is now even more excited and confident in his conclusion. he speaks with pure certainty, "it's reiner isn't it?"

your face drops and all the anxiety you had before has become straight disappointment, the only thought in your mind: omg he's an idiot. how is the smartest man in the scouts really this oblivious, you might as well have said your crushes name started with a ar and ended with a min. well maybe he knew what you were trying to say and he's giving you an out. it's too late now, time to commit or dig that grave you two were talking about earlier. you sigh and look at him in his sky blue eyes, "do you seriously not know? i'm talking about you armin" he sits there eyes wide and a blush on his cheeks, "w-what? me?" "yes who else, seriously? don't say you actually thought i was into reiner" you say sheepishly. armins heart is beating fast, he never thought you would think of him that way in a million years and all of a sudden his dreams have come true. all the years he spent listening to you talk about boys and his attempt to shove down his feelings for you and try to fall for another girl no longer mattered. all the times he got excited when you came to talk to him and no one else, every time you accidentally brushed his hand and it went straight to his soul. it now means something more than before but now his brain has basically stopped working and he might as well be dreaming. you talk again as you watch his brain short circuit "i love you armin and i always have, more than just a friend". he doesn't look at you and looks up at the camp fire with a smile and says, " i love you more than you know y/k, everything about you is so perfect. i always told myself anything you need i would be there first before anyone or.... any other guy could be. i would listen to you talk about the guys you see or liked and i would make a note in my brain of how maybe i could do the same so you'd talk about me and get that same look in your eyes". he chuckles, "one time i even tried to style my hair differently and i unbuttoned a few buttons on my uniform but the captain saw it before you could. that was the day i had to run laps till i collapsed". he smiles and hesitates before looking at you, soaking in your features in the moonlight contrasting with the dim coals of the bonfire. he speaks softly and tucks a strand of hair behind or ear, "you're so beautiful, i thought it was too good to be true". you blush and lean closer to him, the two of you like magnets. you stop inches away from his face, feeling his breath hitch and you look up at him and see his eyes closed. he's nervous, how cute, you wonder if he's ever kissed a girl before but that's better to ask after. you close the distance and his body relaxed and you melt into it with him, his hands reach up and hold your face so lightly. you've always wondered what it would be like, what he would be like and it's even better than you imagined.