#well until it threw up its own insides or whatever that was

[ratstuckinamarble]

@a-dauntless-daffodil thanks for tagging me :)

tagging: it is apparently Tumblr tradition, so give it a shot! @sketch-the-spectre, @lulughoul, @cherry-purple, @just-someone-online, @crystal-clear-crystalline, @bluebelleisabelle, @sparklyaxolotlstudent, @m0nsterartgarage. Dauntless reminded us to stay hydrated so I'm telling you to eat smt. Don't be like me and wonder why things suddenly seem awful only to feel fine after fulfilling your basic needs.

Last song -> 'Raus aus meiner Haut' by OOMPH! It's either about a bi trans woman or a drag queen, the lyrics work with both interpretations and I couldn't figure out which one was intended. I have some notes but it's surprisingly progressive for 2012 Germany. Or 'another life' by mazie. I can't quite remember.

Currently reading -> Entangled life (a wonderful book about mushrooms) and Queer Little Nightmares, an anthology of monstrous fiction & poetry. Yes I bought it because I crave queer monsters in fiction. It's good so far, the first short story was about lesbian werewolves. There was a scene where the love interest left a sapphic book on her bed for the protagonist to find and while reading it she went "is this what's wrong with me?" and I was transported right back to being 14.

Currently watching -> Barbie life in the Dreamhouse, The Midnight Gospel and all the old mh movies (almost done with those now). I also watched Pan's Labyrinth today from a TOTALLY reputable website, yup. I thought it was a horror movie but not really? Still good though. I would have liked to see more of the actual fantasy aspects, especially the faun, but I'm glad I saw it.

Current obsession -> Queer monsters of any type. Gimme. Also Monster High, mushrooms, tiny things, stopmotion, horror.

I can never pick just one thing, can I.

[reiderwriter]

This request is inspired by the season 1 finale when Elle and Morgan are on that tropical vacation:) could you do something where the team is somewhere like that for a case and after it’s closed they decide to stay another night and go to a club and the reader gets Spencer to dance with her and at first he’s really awkward but then they really get into it (can end however you want:))

A/N: I took this idea and RAN. When I tell you I was sitting furiously the entire way through this, I mean it 😭 thank you so much for requesting! 🥰

Warnings: smut, 18+ minors dni, semi-public sex, Munch!Spencer, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex, cum play, alcohol consumption, slight masturbation (m).

The sun was bright and hot in Jamaica. You'd landed a week ago for a case which had now wrapped and were enjoying the cool breeze from the sea and the hospitality of Derek Morgan’s hotel-resort-owning friend. 

Travelling internationally was always a little bit tougher than working on the domestic cases, but the international team was spread thin, and somehow, no case had landed on your desk until this one did. Graciously, the FBI had let you have another 24 hours before your return. 

You'd spent the day stretching out in the sun, an incredibly large beach umbrella set up beside you housing Spencer Reid who had let you know early into the trip that he burned easily. 

“All I'm saying is, I've read enough papers on skin cancer to know the sun is a deadly laser.” 

“A twenty minute game of beach volleyball isn't going to kill you, kid. Come on, these ladies are waiting, and I will leave your ass here.” 

“Stop bothering him, Derek,” you defended Spencer, partly because Derek was casting a shadow across you and cutting off your sun, and partly because you didn't want to acknowledge the pit of jealousy bubbling up in your body when the women threw themselves at Spencer. “Besides, do you really want Spencer on your team for a physical sport?” 

“Y/N has a point, listen to Y/N,” Spencer whined, nodding profusely at your words. 

Derek held his hands up in defeat and walked away, wondering how long it would take the two of you to sort whatever attachment issues you had out. 

When the sun had eventually retreated, and you'd pulled the beach dress you'd bought earlier that day back on, Spencer was still at your side. 

“You know, I think you caught some sun, Spencer,” you giggled, running a hand across his now permanently rosy cheeks and feeling their warmth. “Your cheeks are so red. It's like a grandma just pinched them and held on.” 

“I told you I could look at the sun and burn, and we've been out here all day,” he grumbled, pouting slightly. 

You beamed up at him, though. You hadn't forced Spencer out. In fact, you'd been fully prepared for him to stay inside all day reading. But when he asked you your plans at breakfast, he'd asked to join you, and you hadn't protested in the slightest. 

Walking slowly back to the main part of your resort, you softly hummed the music that travelled from the outdoor beach bar. The music had been constant throughout the day, and you swayed your hips in time to the music as you walked. 

“Y/N…” Spencer started, a few paces behind you. You turned to look at him. His usual wardrobe wasn't exactly the most beach friendly attire, so you'd hunted down a pair of board shorts and a short sleeve button down when you'd bought your dress that morning. You thought they'd hang awkwardly off him, but he filled them out surprisingly well. As he spoke, though, you found yourself unconsciously moving forward to straighten a wrinkle in his shirt.

 “I think Rossi, Hotch, and Prentiss mentioned they were going to get drinks in the bar this evening. Do you want to go, too?” 

Your hand stilled on his chest, and you looked up at him. It was golden hour, and the sun had halo'd him perfectly in its dying rays, showing off its beauty one last time. 

You had to recapture the breath you'd hiccuped out when he'd held your gaze, willing your heartbeat to stay somewhat normal. 

“Oh, great! That sounds like fun, I was just thinking about how I wanted to dance.”

“I know,” he whispered softly as you turned away cheerfully. You almost didn't hear it, and though you desperately wanted to turn around and ask him why, you continued ahead toward the twinkling lights of the bar. 

Three hours later, you were in your cups. You'd worked hard on your case throughout the week, and now it was time for distraction. 

Besides, you knew that sun and alcohol weren't always the best pairing, so you'd stayed hydrated on the beach. Now the sun had gracefully set, you were happy to enjoy a glass or two of your liquid joy. 

Pulling Spencer Reid onto the dance floor in front of all your coworkers was just another symptom of your piña colada buzz, and he followed you with a small hesitation and a small laugh of protest. 

“Y/N, I can't dance.” 

“Shhhhhh, you don't have to dance, you just have to sway. Just sway.” 

“By my definition, swaying is dancing.” 

You rolled your eyes at him but pulled his hands around your waist always. Your coordination faltered, though, and you landed awkwardly high on your body. Without a care in the world for the trail of fire you were igniting down your back, you slid his hands lower, until his hands were sat nearer to your ass than your hips, and you stepped in. 

With his arms in position, you threw your own around his neck, and absent mindedly began playing with the curls at the base of his neck. 

“Now sway, Spencer.” 

His eyes locked with yours, and he obliged. Your chest had pressed up against his after all, your bodies practically flush, and now that you were moving in time to the music, it was inevitable that he should, too. 

Time travelled quickly as you stood in the glow of each other, laughing and joking about each clumsy step, each bump from other dancers. Your coworkers had each come up to wave a quick goodbye through the night, but you were still there. Still swaying. 

You were sure that his hands had travelled the length of your body, the heat that burned you from inside out having filled your body a millenia ago. 

He'd spun you out a couple times, and you'd giggled in delight at the motion, letting your dress raise and spin in the breeze, and returning to a closer position than before, more intimate somehow each time. 

The two of you were so lost in each other that by the time the DJ was shutting his system down, you hadn't even realised the music had stopped. You were now simply swaying along to the sound of the waves crashing in and out. 

“Y/N,” he finally whispered into your ear as the sun again began to show its head. “Y/N, the sun is coming up.” 

“I know. I think…. I think I don't want to let you go just yet, though.” You kept moving together in that silence for a few more minutes, but now your eyes were locked. 

It wasn't a surprise when his lips touched your own. After all, you'd seen them coming. But the jolt of electricity it sent up your spine stole your breath anyway. 

You opened your mouth to take in some air, and he saw that as welcoming. His tongue tangled with yours as his hand lifted to tip your head back, his back already bent slightly to accommodate your height difference. 

His guiding hand wasn't enough, though, he was still not close enough. 

You subtly lifted your leg and his hand instantly dropped to your thighs, hauling you up into his arms as you wrapped your legs around his waist. 

“Our flight is in six hours,” you panted as his lips left yours, suddenly sober again. “We should get some rest.” 

He nodded in agreement, but he was already walking back to your rooms. You each had your own, but he hadn't relinquished his hold on you yet, and you knew he wasn't going to. 

Good, you thought, because logic be damned but you weren't planning on letting him. 

He carried you like that all the way to his door, as you pressed chaste kisses across his face, head, ears, hair, anywhere you could reach on his body. Places you appreciated because they were beautiful and lovely. 

You longed to kiss everywhere else, too. 

“Y/N, we're here.” He said, meeting your eyes once more. There was an unspoken question there. An invitation to leave if you didn't want this. 

Your answer was a hand in his hair and hips pressed back against his. It was all he needed as he blindly pushed into the room. 

You thought he'd throw you down on the bed, but he was much too gentle for that. 

Instead, he sat himself down, taking care to make sure you were comfortable even as his tongue twisted and writhed against your own. 

With this new position, you could try to relieve some of the tension that had been burning in your body since you'd first pulled his hands to you. Your hips moved in slow circles, pressing down into the now obvious bulge in his pants, picking up speed with each caress of his hand. 

He'd pushed under the hem of your dress, his hands on your bare thighs gripping you tightly as you used his body to get off. 

You both moaned and whined through each wet kiss, the gentleness of your earlier encounters chaste in comparison with the animalistic need pulsing through yourself. 

You nearly growled when he lifted your hips again, but you let him continue his motions as he lay back, guiding your hips higher and higher until you straddled his face. 

“Shit, Spencer-” You lost the words as his fingers pulled the two ties holding your bikini bottoms in place, effectively discarding them and leaving you bare. You gasped as you held yourself above him, but he was strong and insistent.

Wrapping one hand around each of your splayed thighs, he pulled your core to his mouth and began to pleasure you. Your hands jolted to the headboard so you could steady yourself. 

Your dress still remained, spread across the bed and obscuring his face from view as he flicked his tongue against your clit, like a flower decorating the Emerald green sheets of the bed. 

“Spencer, fuck,” his hold on your thighs loosened now that he knee you weren't going anywhere, one hand sliding down to his own neglected cock. 

The looser grip meant you could move, just slightly, and so you began to ride his face. 

You moved your hips back and forth as he flattened out his tongue, and you heard the music that had carried you into the night start up again. 

Your moans were melodic, a tribute to your lust for him, an offering made to show him how truly desired he was. 

You came with a shudder, the full weight of your body falling down onto his tongue, but he didn't stop. 

His tongue started moving again now your hips had twitched to a stop, prolonging your orgasm by an eternity. 

You finally rose up on your knees when you felt a second orgasm begin to build, craving something different this time. 

He didn't come out from under your dress so much as rip the thing off of both of you. 

You'd already rid yourself of your bikini top earlier in the dar, so you sat bare above him as he pulled you again into his lap, his cock now free from his pants. 

Your lips came together again as you hovered over him, his length running through your folds, readying himself for the sweet moment he'd finally be inside you. 

“You taste sweet,” he said before you sucked on his tongue, desperate to taste your joint lust. 

The music played once again as he pulled your hips lower down and sheathed himself inside you, but louder, a crescendo of perfectly resonant notes sounding one after the other. 

You were too lost in it to be any help to him, and he kissed away your fatigue as he lowered you to the bed, gently placing your head on the pillow and smoothing the hair out of your face before pulling out until only the tip of his cock was inside you and again pushing in. 

His rhythm was steady, pulsing through your entire body. You felt the pleasure of his body inside you everywhere as his lips returned to your ear. 

You thought he would talk and say something again, but his teeth found you instead, his to gue licking the spot where your neck met your lobe before he gently nipped the side of your ear. 

He couldn't talk, but he didn't hold back any moans. 

Your whimpers, his groans, the steady rhythm of your hips meeting and pulling apart, the sound of your arousal slick between your legs, all joined together in a symphony of love as your hearts sang to one another. 

“Y/N,” he finally moaned, and hearing your name on his lips like a prayer was enough to send you over the edge. 

“Spencer! I'm cumming again, Spencer. Please don't stop-” You begged even as your body tensed up beneath him. 

He continued that rhythm, not letting your music end until it was absolutely necessary. 

But as the sun shone through the curtains again, you knew you were reaching the end of this song. 

“Where should-” he couldn't form the full question, elbows holding his weight off of you as he held back the full force of his orgasm. 

“P-Pull out,’ you whispered, and he did. 

It took him only a few strokes to find completion on your stomach. He sat back on his knees, mindful not to press his weight back down upon you. You wrapped your legs around his waist and grabbed at him anyway, needing to feel his lips on yours one more time. 

You wondered if your entire life would now be the moments in between his kisses. 

“Y/N, our flight is in 5 hours.” 

“We can sleep on the jet. We can't do this on the jet,” you said pulling his head back down for a kiss as you heard the music start up once again. 

[roosterforme]

Always Ever Only You Part 25 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: A long weekend with your parents is exactly what you needed. But when they keep asking what happened to your car and inadvertently force you to tone things down in the bedroom, you and Bradley realize you have more to discuss than just a replacement for your totaled pride and joy.

Warnings: Swearing, drinking, fluff, smut, loud sex in public, spanking

Length: 3800 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order. Always Ever Only You masterlist. Gorgeous banner by @mak-32

As soon as you and Bradley unloaded the Bronco and had your parents settled inside the Craftsman, you had the uncontrollable urge to fuck your husband. You were trying your best to listen to your mom as she opened up a bottle of wine from your refrigerator, but Bradley was standing on the other side of the island, nodding as he answered one of your dad's questions. Your husband looked hot, and it was then that you realized you hadn't had sex with him since Sunday night. Since before you found out your car was totaled. And something about the impromptu funeral he just threw for your car was making you needy.

Well. You fucked up.

"Bradley didn't have any more hotel points?" your mom asked, finally drawing your attention her way. It was almost laughable now. Bradley had made up the entire thing about the points that were about to expire last year. It was all a ploy to get them to stay at a hotel so you and he could do whatever you wanted, whenever you wanted to do it, in your own home. You nearly moaned just thinking about it. 

"Nope," you replied softly, reaching down some wine glasses. "No more hotel points, sorry."

"Nonsense," your mom said, waving you off. "Your house is beautiful, but you're still newlyweds. We get it."

You snorted as you sipped your wine. "Mom, it's July. We got married in November. I don't think we're considered newlyweds any longer."

"Hmm," she hummed as she drank from her glass. "Don't tell Bradley that."

When you glanced over at him, he was already looking at you, a soft blush rising in his cheeks. He looked so damn good, shaking his head slightly like he was annoyed you weren't alone, but still smiling like he couldn't believe you were his. 

"That man adores you," your mom added, inspecting the label on the bottle of wine. "Make sure you let him know you adore him, too."

An hour later, after your parents had retired to the spare bedroom, you had Bradley's cock buried deep inside you with his hand covering your mouth and his voice in your ear. "Do you regret it yet?" came his harsh whisper.

Your legs were already shaking as he fucked you from behind, standing up just inside your bedroom with the door closed. You tried to nod as you grasped the dresser and the wall for support. Neither of you had even been able to take the time to get undressed; you just needed it that badly. 

"Yeah, well you should, Baby Girl. Oughta be filled with nothing but regret and my cum."

You tried to moan his name against his hand, but it came out soft and muffled just like he intended as he slammed into you. He knew better than to trust you if he removed his hand, so he kept it right there, pressed tight to your mouth to the point it was almost painful. 

"Next time they visit, they stay at a hotel unless we finish the attic," he grunted as his free hand found your clit. "You look fucking perfect in this little dress, and I'd have had you in the kitchen if they weren't here."

Then his lips found your neck, sucking hard as he fucked you until his thrusts became even more demanding. Your fingers quivered as you held onto the dresser for dear life as he managed to hit just the right spot inside at the same time his rough fingers pinched your clit.

Your orgasm left you shaking as you bit Bradley's palm so hard, he shoved two fingers in your mouth instead. "Fuck," he growled quietly. "Oh, fuck." Then his steady tempo gave way to short strokes and his lips came softly to your ear. "I love you."

He filled you up so well, your dress and thighs were a mess afterwards, and you had to waddle into the bathroom so you didn't drip onto the floor. "Oh my god, Roo," you gasped as you finally took the time to pull your dress off to get yourself cleaned up. He walked in to turn the shower on with his shirt balled up in one hand, and then he smirked as his cum dripped down your legs. 

"Just to be clear, I love your parents. I love when we get to visit with them. I love having them here. But I also love fucking you, and you and I both know you can't keep quiet."

You slipped past him and into the shower. "I know what you want me to say."

"Then just say it, Sweetheart."

You rolled your eyes. "You were right about the hotel. But I was trying to save money for the car."

He wrenched his jeans and underwear off as he joined you in the shower immediately backing you up against the tile wall making you thrum with need all over again. With his left forearm leaning against the wall, he tipped your chin up with his right hand and pressed his body against yours. He could have been intimidating if you weren't so in love with him and also outrageously turned on. 

"Money is not an issue, okay?" he asked, his voice nothing but a deep rumble. "It's never going to be an issue. Pick out the car of your dreams, and it's yours. We will figure out the rest as we go."

You whimpered, "Okay, Daddy." Then you were moaning into his mouth.

-------------------------

The next morning, Bradley felt a little bad about leaving you without a car, but Nat offered to stop by and pick you and your mom up for brunch. He also felt a little bad about how Bob got booted out of the golf foursome so your dad could join in.

Your dad was sipping a travel mug of coffee on the way to the golf course when he suddenly asked, "How did her car get totaled anyway?"

Bradley almost swerved off the road as he scrambled to point out the window at essentially nothing special as he said, "Did you see that?!"

"What?!" he asked in response, turning to look back.

Bradley swallowed hard and said, "Oh, nevermind. So, uh, how often have you been golfing this summer? Because I'm anticipating being pretty terrible myself. I haven't been out in months."

"Oh, well I told you about Jerry, right?" he asked in response, and Bradley knew he had your father safely distracted as he talked about his golf buddy that he'd known since college for the rest of the drive.

But the next issue arose when they actually made it to the golf cart and Jake started liberally handing out hard seltzers. "Oh, I've never had one of these," your dad told him. 

"They're great," Javy promised, patting him on the back with a grin. 

Bradley already had to share his clubs with your dad, but when he was tipsy by the ninth hole, Bradley had become his glorified caddy. When he looked at one of the cans, he realized why the three of them were laughing so much. These things had 12% alcohol by volume. 

"Jesus Christ," Bradley muttered, considering texting you for help, but you were probably out with your mom and Nat right now. And he was supposed to have your dad home by four for a beach cookout and fourth of July fireworks. 

"So why don't you tell us what you really think of your son-in-law, sir?" Jake drawled obnoxiously as he grinned back at Bradley. It was a shame Bob got the boot instead of Jake or Javy who currently couldn't find his golf ball even though it was on the green right in front of him. 

"Bradley?" your dad asked as if Bradley wasn't standing ten feet behind him. "He's great! Love the guy! Although I have the sneaking suspicion that he was the one who totaled my little girl's car. She just loved that ugly thing, you know?"

"Oh yes, sir," Jake replied. "I've seen that car many times, and it truly was nothing to look at. But what would you say if I told you I know exactly what happened to it?"

"Hangman," Bradley barked. "Tee off. Let's get a move on."

You dad didn't even seem to notice anything was off as he cracked open another seltzer and said, "Oh, there you are, Bradley. Have you tried one of these drinks? They are absolutely delicious."

-------------------------

You and your mom stood side by side on the front porch after lunch when Bradley got back home with your dad. He'd texted you to give you a heads up about the hard seltzers, but you were still surprised when he had to help your father out of the Bronco. He was completely drunk and wearing Javy's New Orleans Saints hat while he laughed hysterically. 

"Oh... shit," your mom said, and she started laughing, too. "Bradley must have had a fun time today."

You had to hold your own giggles at bay as you watched your husband try to wrangle your dad who was now walking to check if there was anything in your mailbox. 

"Mom, he's a mess!"

"Just think, if we move to San Diego, your dad can ruin Bradley's golf outings all the time."

You snorted. There had been some discussion earlier about your parents potentially selling the house in Maryland and making the move to be closer to you. It was all still hypothetical, but you loved the idea of having them nearby. However now you weren't so sure Bradley would share your sentiment. 

"No, no, this way, Dad," he was saying, trying to coax your father up to the porch. 

"How many did he drink?" you asked as your dad awkwardly patted your mom on the head before walking inside and collapsing onto the couch with Tramp licking his face. 

"Not that many?" Bradley replied, running his hands over his face. "I'm sorry, but Jake and Javy were a nightmare, too. I had to drop them both off, because there was no way they could drive. And now we'll be late for this neighborhood beach cookout."

"It's okay," you told him, wrapping your arms around his waist while your mom went to get your dad some water. "You got everyone home safely. It's so fucking hot when you're responsible." You kissed the scars on his neck and added, "We could always just make dinner here and watch the fireworks from the back patio?"

The way he sighed in relief let you know that he thought that sounded like a better idea. "Only if that's what you want to do."

"That's exactly what I want to do," you promised him. 

When you turned to walk away, he caught your hand and asked, "Did you give any more thought to what kind of car you want? I didn't like leaving you without one today."

You just shrugged; it still made you completely and utterly sad inside to think about it. You couldn't even imagine anything else parked in the driveway next to the Bronco. "No," you whispered. "Let's talk about it more next week? After they go back to Maryland?"

He nodded. "Serious conversations will include your car and some home renovations."

You looked from him to the couch where your dad was currently snoring and then back to him again. There was no escaping your parents at the moment. "Add San Diego real estate to the list, Roo," you told him with a peck on his cheek as you went in search of what you could make for dinner. 

----------------------------

Sunday afternoon was bright and gorgeously sunny. It was the perfect day for a baseball game. Bradley was nursing a beer at Petco Park while he held your hand, occasionally leaning closer to you so he could converse with your parents who were sitting on your other side. But every time he did so, it got a little harder for him to sit there and behave; you smelled so sweet, and you looked sinful in that shirt. Bradley could only think about the second date he took you on where you and he ended up on the Kiss Cam.

"I was wondering," your mom mused between innings, "how the car got totaled. Who was driving it?"

Bradley shook his mostly empty beer can and jumped to his feet, absolutely unwilling yet again to discuss the truth with your parents. "I am so thirsty," he announced, pretending he hadn't even heard her as you looked up at him with panic in your eyes. "Anyone else need a drink?" 

"I'll take a beer," your dad said, eyes glued to the game as the bottom of the inning started. 

"Absolutely," Bradley replied, silently shocked the man was still drinking today after his hard seltzer incident the day before. There was a beer vendor down at the bottom of the stairs, and Bradley hightailed it in his direction. 

He bought two and turned to look back at you. Christ almighty, he was so fucking horny right now. He'd been in the mood for bed rattling sex, the kind where your voice was hoarse from screaming his name. Last night you fell asleep before he even finished cleaning the kitchen and joined you in bed, and he didn't want to wake you just to clamp his hand over your mouth again. 

"Sir?" the beer vendor asked, trying to hand him the cans. 

"Thanks," Bradley grunted, taking two steps at a time to get back to his seat. He could wait for the loud stuff since your parents would only be here for a little while longer. As he settled in next to you, he passed one beer to your dad and pecked you on the cheek. "Dad, you're supposed to be on a diet," you reminded your father while he ordered two more hot dogs from a different vendor.

"Aww, let him have some fun," Bradley said. "He's on vacation."

You rolled your eyes at him, probably annoyed that he ditched you to answer your parents' never ending attempts at learning exactly what became of your little shit mobile. "You're not helping, Roo."

Your mom just shook her head. "Your father has no self discipline. I'm referring to the junk food as well as yesterday's seltzers."

Bradley leaned in close to your ear and kissed you before whispering. "Is that where you get it from, Baby Girl?"

You quickly turned toward his smirking face. "I have plenty of self discipline," you told him defiantly. "Except when it comes to one thing." You let your hand drift up his thigh slowly as you turned toward the baseball game, feigning interest in the player up to bat. And then you gently palmed Bradley's cock through his jeans and squeezed.

He grunted, but he didn't move your hand away. Rather, he said probably loud enough for your parents to hear, "Do I need to discipline you right now?" It was honestly a wonder they hadn't pieced together what really happened to your car.

Bradley bit back a moan as your lips connected with his earlobe, and you whispered, "I need it." That's exactly how the two of you ended up in the family bathroom, with your jeans and panties pushed down around your thighs and your hands planted on your knees.

"You can't keep your hands to yourself in public, can you?" Bradley asked, rubbing his large palm along your ass and down to tease your pussy with his fingers before spanking you hard.

"No, Daddy," you whined, wiggling your butt back toward him for some more.

He spanked you again. "What's your punishment for grabbing my cock in front of your parents?"

You moaned so loudly, the sound echoed off the tiled walls. "Spanking," you answered, but it really wasn't a punishment at all. He knew it. You knew it, too.

As his palm connected with your gorgeous ass over and over, you didn't even try to keep quiet. Bradley let you be as loud as you wanted here since you couldn't scream his name at the house with your parents there.

"You are doing so well, Baby Girl. You ready for me to fuck you now?"

"Pease, Daddy!" you nearly shouted, and then he was inside you.

He wasn't going slow or trying to make you feel good, he was just fucking you hard and fast. Which was definitely working for you, based on the sounds you were making.

"You're always so fucking wet for me," he growled, hands wrapped tight around your hips. The slapping sounds of skin on skin filled the small space, along with his panting and your whimpers.

"I need it, Daddy," you gasped, voice getting higher as he felt the first squeeze of your pussy around his cock.

He grabbed your waist tighter to keep you steady as he said, "I'm going to fill you up. Fuck you full of my cum. And you'll keep it inside you for the rest of the day." His palm landed on your ass one more time, and then you were spiraling into your own orgasm as he came in your pussy.

A moment later, he watched his semen soak through your lace panties and drip down to the inside of your jeans as you pulled them up. "Oh my god, I love you," Bradley groaned as you opened the door. The line of unamused people waiting for the restroom had you and Bradley laughing as he wrapped his arm around you.

"That was fun, Roo," you said with a grin, placing a kiss on his neck. "I really learned my lesson, too."

"No, you didn't," he whispered, squeezing your waist and making you giggle as he led you back to the seats. "You're a brat, Sweetheart." 

But now he was thinking about how badly he wanted this to be the one that took. He'd spend the rest of his life talking about how he knocked up his wife at a Padres game, but he knew it probably wasn't possible. While he tried his best not to think about it too much, he knew vaguely when your cycle would be starting. 

He pulled you a little closer to his side and kissed your forehead. It didn't matter though. He wouldn't trade this feeling or his smiling wife for anything else in the world. 

------------------------

You were always in tears when it was time to say goodbye to your parents. The more you thought about it, the more you wanted them to sell your childhood home and move to California, but you thought you'd better wait a few days before really discussing it more with Bradley. 

Before you met him, he'd been on his own for so long, you were beginning to think he struggled a bit with sharing his space, which was kind of a revelation since he had never been that way with you. He had welcomed you to move into his home with him almost as soon as he purchased it, and you only saw a few glimpses of frustration from him in those early days. Bradley had an ease about him that made you feel comfortable, but you still knew he'd never truly opened himself up to a woman before you, and that included his living space. The fact that he loved and accomodated your parents as much as they did for him was important to you.

He unloaded the luggage from the back of the Bronco while you hugged your dad and then your mom on the sidewalk outside of the departures door for the airline. "I'll let you know if I'm coming to Annapolis for work in a few weeks," you whispered as your mom kissed your cheek.

"We can try to have dinner together one night," she replied. You watched your dad shaking hands with your husband before he pulled your dad in for a hug. 

"That sounds nice," you told her as tears blurred your vision. You'd been crying so much recently, feeling overly emotional about your car and spending a ton of money on something that you didn't deem necessary. But these tears were the welcome kind. Your heart felt full of love instead of disappointment. 

As your parents disappeared through the sliding doors, Bradley wrapped his arms around you from behind, his chin coming to rest on your shoulder. "It's kind of late, but when we get back to our quiet house, we should talk about a new car, renovations to our house, and the San Diego real estate market. Me and you and a bottle of wine." Your eyes fluttered closed as one big hand slid down over your belly before settling on your jeans zipper while he kissed your neck. "Just as soon as I fuck you so hard in our bed that you're screaming my name with tears in your eyes."

You moaned as your parents waved through the window, and you and Bradley waved back before you spun in his arms and looked up at his warm eyes. "Take me home right now."

--------------------------

Bradley was a sweaty mess underneath you as your head came to rest on his shoulder. His heart was still pounding, and his cum was slick and sticky between your pussy and his abs. The sound of your voice, soft and hoarse in his ear, gave him goosebumps as your fingers ran up and down his bicep, slowly tracing his tattoo. 

"I love you."

He turned his head to kiss your cheek and rub his mustache along your ear until you laughed. 

"You were loud as hell, Baby Girl," he rasped, knowing full well that he'd been vocal, too. 

"Yeah, well, it's nice to have the house to ourselves again," you responded as you yawned.

"I knew you'd see things my way." Very gently, Bradley asked, "Do you want to talk about new cars?"

Another drawn out yawn escaped you as you rolled off of him. "No, I'm too tired, and I don't really feel like it."

Bradley kissed your shoulder as you burrowed under the blankets. Getting you to focus on this task was clearly going to take as much stamina as he'd just given you in bed. "Fine. We'll do it later."

"Mmhmm," you hummed. "I love you."

"I love you, too." 

But Bradley wasn't ready for bed yet, and he knew that the next time your mom and dad were here, he'd need the physical separation. After he got himself cleaned up in the bathroom, he pulled on his boxer briefs, and Tramp followed him upstairs to the huge open space that the two of you only used for storage. It would be a project, but it would be worth it.

---------------------------

If any of this sounded familiar, it's because we have reached this exciting point in the story of Roo and BG. Thank you for being here! Thanks for reading and reblogging and putting a smile on my face. Big thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 26

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[burningcheese-merchant]

A Thought About Shadow Milk Cookie

I actually meant to make this post months ago, but I sort of let it fall to the wayside for the sake of other things. Now Blue Gatorade Cookie is coming out tomorrow and I'm like "ahhh shit I'm late" lol. Consider this a sequel/accompanying piece to the Burning Spice Cookie post

Shadow Milk always gave me a bit of the impression of being a Victor Frankenstein type. If you haven't read the book (please do, it's fantastic), then this quote sums up both the character, the story, and my perception of Shadow Milk pretty well:

"Learn from me, if not by my precepts, at least by my example, how dangerous is the acquirement of knowledge, and how much happier that man is who believes his native town to be the world, than he who aspires to become greater than his nature will allow."

Knowledge is power. Knowledge is freedom. Equally so, perhaps even MORE so, knowledge is fun. It's fun to learn new things. And with all of this in mind, Shadow Milk did his best to pursue the knowledge he so championed, and share it with the world, whatever it was. You give a man a fish and he eats for a day; you teach a man to fish and he eats for a lifetime. So Shadow Milk made it his mission to teach all men to fish. To teach them to read, to cook, to sew. To teach them magic, to teach them science, to teach them whatever filled the gap between. Perhaps he even went so far as to become a close associate of a certain academy, if not outright being its founder (Blueberry Yogurt Academy theorists, where you at lol). Anything to achieve the ultimate goal of inspiring others to learn and thrive as he does.

But as I said, knowledge is fun. There doesn't necessarily need to be a reason for it. Maybe Shadow Milk never actually needed one; even if there was no one left to teach, he could always teach himself, for he was always his own greatest student. And so whenever he had time, he read every book he could get his hands on. Practiced every spell. Sang every song, recited every poem, memorized every bit of meaningless trivia. Anything and everything to feed his endless hunger for more knowledge. Because it was... fun. It was freeing, to have those little burdens of doubt lifted from his shoulders, however inconsequential they actually were. And - however much he was able to admit it, to himself or to others - it made him feel powerful.

Until he started learning things no one else had before. That no one else could. That no one else should.

Maybe he learned how to peek into people's minds, and saw exactly how vapid, selfish, stupid and cruel so many of us really are beneath the façades we wear. Maybe he uncovered secrets that accidentally tore apart families, scandals that threw governments into chaos, acts of betrayal that may have started wars. Maybe one day, he learned the ultimate truth of the world; who and what cookies were really supposed to be, and what their makers really thought of them. (Not too far off from White Lily, really.)

In his desperation for solutions as well as some semblance of self-comfort, Shadow Milk just kept on learning. Kept searching for answers. Kept acquiring more and more knowledge. Because it was all he ever knew how to do. It was all he believed himself to be good for. But it was never enough. Not only did he never truly find the answers he sought - whether it be because they never existed in the first place, or because whatever he found only made him ask even more questions than before - but he just kept going down more and more rabbit holes. And he couldn't stop himself-

No. That's not true. Of course he could. He just didn't want to. Because knowledge is power, and deep down inside, he was always power-hungry. And besides that, he was just so curious. Morbid curiosity can be a terrible sin. Perhaps a small part of him, one he never wanted to give credence to, relished in being smarter than everyone else. And maybe that same part of him was also hubristic enough to believe he could learn whatever he wanted to, whenever he wanted to, just because he could.

Perhaps Shadow Milk tried to sound the alarm, so to speak. Share those great and terrible truths he uncovered with the world. But nobody listened, no matter how much they believed in and respected him otherwise. Because the truth is stranger than fiction, more often than not, and there's only so much strangeness people can tolerate. Knowing this - knowing how foolish people can really be, how quick they are to shun the truth to protect their own feelings - he looked for another answer, like he always does. Shadow Milk always had a fondness for theatrics; he wasn't just a scholar, he was a poet, a playwright, an artist. And thus, it was with these talents and loves of his that he tried to teach people what he knew. He wrote stageplays that became famous. Fantasy novels that became bestsellers. Poems and essays that were read aloud in classrooms. Everything he could throw at the wall with as much panache as possible. Because that's who he is, and that's what people are more likely to listen to. People like bread and circuses, so he gave them a whole bakery and performed every circus act himself.

But it was never enough. Those threads of truth he so carefully wove into the tapestries of his work; no one felt them. Those easter eggs he hid; no one found them. Nobody ever saw what he saw, whether he snuck it into the picture or plastered it right in the center. And so Shadow Milk came to realize that no one ever actually wanted to know the truth, no one ever actually wanted to learn anything, no one ever actually valued knowledge. All people cared about was what they could personally gain from it and nothing more. No higher purpose of any kind. Just what conveniences and inconveniences them.

And what's the point in helping people like that? How do you teach the unteachable?

Shadow Milk likely became bitter (or sour, because lol milk). Maybe he slowly began turning truths against people. Hoarding people's secrets and spilling them randomly, just out of spite (and discreetly, because he wasn't looking to be caught, and nobody was smart enough to catch him anyway). Making puppets and plays depicting people at their absolute worst, and watching them all smile and clap because they fell for it. They fell for his jokes. For his ruse. They didn't notice he was mocking them without a shred of irony or remorse. The only art Shadow Milk became interested in after he succumbed to despair was telling cruel jokes at others' expense and painting pictures for all the Dorian Grays of the world so they can keep lying and pretending they're good and that they're worth something. Because lies are all people really want to hear, right? Because it makes them feel better about their miserable lives?

I'm sure Shadow Milk tried to turn back, even if only once, for just a minute. He's smart, he's wise, he knew what the end of that road looked like. Maybe he sat up all night just arguing with himself about it. About the nature of his work. The meaning of the knowledge he acquired. The meaning of knowledge itself. What was he doing this for, really? What has he EVER done this for? Was it really for others, or for himself? What if he gained all the knowledge in the universe, then what? What would he do after that? What if he did manage to convince people, what then? What if they panic? Turn on each other? Turn on him? Were they really better off not knowing?

Was he just slowly talking himself through that door until it was closed and locked? Did he do so knowingly? Did he delay the inevitable for... for what? Did he even know that?

All the knowledge in the world didn't save Shadow Milk from falling to darkness, nor did it save anyone from the chaos he chose to wreak afterwards. Maybe knowledge never saved anyone from anything. What is knowledge, anyway? What is truth? What is deceit? The more you know, the more you realize you don't know anything at all. Maybe truth and deceit are one and the same. Maybe reality is only what you perceive it to be. Maybe life is a joke. Maybe people should just have fun. Lie all you want. Tell truths just to drive wedges and shatter hopes and dreams. It doesn't matter. It's all the same. There's no way out.

TL;DR: Knowledge is power, but power corrupts. Perhaps not all truths are worth knowing, after all. Be careful with what you learn, and what you know. And be careful not to believe yourself to be smart enough to dictate what truth and lies and knowledge are to others, for no one truly is. That kind of hubris will only lead to disaster.

(I'm sorry if some of this sounds weird or doesn't make full sense. I wanted to get my thoughts out before the update to see if it turns out that anything I say has official merit lol)

[leggerefiore]

NSFW joke:

November is over. The second the clock ticks over to December 1st, Emmet and Grimsley are going absolutely feral (and possibly Lear, depending on if he lasted the whole month). Cancel any plans you might’ve made, because your man’s not letting you go anywhere for the rest of the day.

cw: 18+ content, nothing explicit though, horny men lol

characters: Emmet, Grimsley, Lear

▽Emmet△

○ He had been taking night shifts to prepare. Ingo had looked at him strangely after he had requested the shift but had made no moves to not approve it. A battle was a battle, and if it was not serious, it was not fun. Emmet had truly believed those words as his mantra for life. He loved challenging battles that made him think, and he loved winning. You, however, made him question that. An entire month without sex or masturbation. Emmet felt as if it was too cruel, but your insistence to at least try – as a challenge – had made him agree. He hated this challenge. Yet, he was not one to lose. The younger twin threw himself fully into work instead. Poor challengers were facing the Subway Boss at his most frustrated. Small victories and all that. Yet, he clocked out and stared at the date. December 1st. He tilted his head as a thought crossed his mind. Sure, it was two in morning, but…

○ Emmet found you waiting up for him, making his grin grow wider. Your gazes met as he slipped off his coat and cap. He knew that look in your eyes. Anticipation. A chuckle left him as he marched right over to you, leaning down to your sitting level on the couch. “Darling,” he cooed playfully, “I have something for you, something verrrry good.” You could only swallow as he began to undo his tie. Somehow, you ended up with the blue fabric around your wrists as he held your hips down his lap and bucked up against you. His smile was something mischievous as a moan escaped your throat. A giggle left him as you wriggled in his hold.

It was going to be a long night – He was far too pent-up to go to bend any time soon. At least, you would say that the Subway Boss truly knew your body as well the tunnels of the Unovan transit system.

♠️Grimsley❤️

♤ The gambler had a cigarette in his mouth as he sat on the veranda. An entire month to win a bet was not unheard of from him. He felt his eyes narrow as he checked his phone again, five until twelve. November 30th had never felt so long in his entire life. He placed the cigarette out in his ashtray and leaned forward to gaze out on the lights of the city. Not giving into temptation was not exactly his style. Indulgence was simply a part of this life. Why would he deny himself such things? A shaky breath left him. An entire month – Without any true sexual release. Grimsley felt as if he had gone mad nearly halfway through and attempted to make you drop out with him. Your refusal left him in shock and heartbroken. Well, “heartbroken.”

♡ His eyes went back to his phone. Midnight. An almost manic laugh left him. Right. Walking back inside, he found you sitting and watching something on television. You looked at him, seemingly aware. His suit coat was long gone, leaving him in just his shirt and slacks. That white shirt half undone to just reveal some of the pale skin underneath. You did not even flinch when he was on you in an instant. Cool hands found their way under your shirt, trailing over the softer skin. A soft groan left you, making him sigh as his hips pressed against your own. Those piercing eyes went right through you. “Well, I'd say I won our wager, no?” his voice was teasing, “You agreed that we would do whatever I wanted with no questions asked if I made it.” You shivered. What could he possibly want? His grin felt like nothing but teeth, like a Sharpedo staring down its prey.

The answer was cat ears and some lacy lingerie. That night was spent with the gambler showing that his stamina was surprisingly high – At least, as high as his libido.

👑Lear💎

🪙 The prince was losing his mind. This challenge was ridiculous. He simply had half a mind to give in and tend to his own needs, but when he remembered your mocking words about his inability to overcome this, he forced himself to stop. He was a crown prince – Of course, he had complete self-control. You would eat those words and bow to him. His frustration really was at an all-time high as he stomped around his various duties. Sawyer and Rachel had noted his foul mood, but there was little to be done. It was the final day of this stupid challenge, and he would be dammed if he were to give up now. Though, unfortunately, he was not above acting huffy. His eyes glared at the clock as the hands slowly ticked forward. Just one more minute. He clenched onto his arm. Time felt impossibly slow. When the clock finally sounded the hour chime, he simply took to his feet and stomped away to where he knew you were.

🪙 Lear spied you sitting on a couch within his quarters, simply reading some book. Frustration burned in his chest. The challenge was over – he had won. Yet, you seemed apathetic to the change. His coat had long come off, leaving him in his vest and shirt. The prince grasped the book and forced your attention on him. “... I hereby decree you join me in bed at once,” he almost growled out. You had to force back laughter at how frustrated he visually was. When you made no clear signs to move, he huffed. “My word is law here! You have to do what I say—” You silenced him with a kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck. His upset apparently melted away in an instant. Hands ground your hips, groping at the flesh as his hips pressed against your own. He let out a soft groan into your mouth.

The night was long and filled with all sorts of lovely sounds from the prince. Despite his clear determination of wanting to be dominant, there were quite a few times you had him pinned against the sheets. Needless to say, he was in a much better mood the following day.

[fandomfucker]

Hey can you please write a story for me about the reader wanting to please her self well Rhea was on the plane coming home from a show. But when Rhea comes home she finds you breaking one of the rules and intense to push you.

Bonus: could the reader give Rhea some Messy oral. 

WARNINGS: 18+ SMUT!! (oral, bondage, handcuffs, usage of strap-on, dildo, slight praise and degradation)

Word Count: 2,427

Reader's POV

It had been a long day, with a lot of pent-up stress and frustration. Not to mention, I had been sexually frustrated for the whole two weeks my girlfriend has been away now.

Rhea had a rule though, I could touch myself, but under no circumstances was I allowed to fill myself with anything. That was for her and her only. As far as rules go it was a pretty mild one.

I generally didn't do much of anything without her anyway and she knew that so the rules were pretty lax, but tonight just seemed like it would be one of those nights.

Getting home from work, I immediately threw my shoes towards the closet, too tired to even bother throwing them inside. My purse was placed on the counter as I happily greeted the dogs.

Having made sure that the pups were happily fed I then walked towards the master bath, deciding that a nice hot bath would do wonders.

Smelling salts, bubbles, music, and candles set the mood for me as I settled in. Closing my eyes I hummed along to the lyrics of whatever Motionless in White song was quietly playing as I thought of my girlfriend.

She was supposed to be back earlier this afternoon but had gotten held up with some work thing and now wasn't supposed to be home until tomorrow or possibly the day after and I was tired of waiting.

Sliding a hand up my stomach and over the mound of my breast I gently toyed with a nipple. My other hand roamed over my thigh, drawing circles on the inside with my thumb just like Rhea would normally do.

My core began to ache and I craved my toys, which were only second best but better than nothing.

Hastily climbing out of the tub and pulling the plug for the water to drain, I dried myself off (taking care to blow out the candles) before making my way to my and Rhea's shared bedroom.

I walked over to the giant dresser, squatting down to open up the bottom drawer filled with toys.

Eventually, I landed on 'fuck the rule' and picked out a medium-sized purple dildo. It wasn't my favorite, but it would have to do until Rhea came back with her strap-on and fingers.

Feeling a little bit adventurous now, I walked over to the big mirror hanging on the wall in front of the throne in our bedroom.

Getting down on my knees, I used the suction cup on the bottom of the dildo and stuck it to the mirror.

I began to gently stroke the purple dildo before taking it into my mouth, coating it in my own saliva. I pulled back, spitting on it before massaging the spit around its girth.

Reaching down between my legs, I traced the lips of my pussy before moving inwards and beginning to rub my clit.

I thought of Rhea and how she would look between my legs, watching me get wetter and wetter for her as I got off to her. How her lips would feel on the inside of my thigh, coating me in black lipstick after winning a match.

Beginning to feel my wetness drip down my leg I turned myself away from the mirror and backed up into it, looking back just long enough to direct the dildo's tip to my entrance. I rocked back on my knees and seated myself on it.

I had now officially broken Rhea's rule but it felt so good that I couldn't just stop now.

I fucked myself on the mirror as I switched between massaging my clit and my nipples. I was beginning to feel the familiar tightening in my gut. I was so close. I kept my eyes on the carpet below me as I began to pant slightly, a light sheen coating my skin.

Suddenly my head was jerked backward, towards the sky, by the roots of my hair. My eyes watered from the slight burning pain. But there, in all her glory, stood my pissed-off girlfriend.

Immediately I stopped in my tracks, my face dropped and lost all its color. I was so fucked, and not in a good way.

"H-hey, babe." I smiled nervously up at her. She wasn't supposed to be there for at least another few hours.

"What are you doing?" She asked me rhetorically, raising a perfectly manicured eyebrow.

"Nothing." I tried nonchalantly. Much to my dismay, as I said that a large droplet of my secretion slid down around the dildo, which was still fake balls deep inside of me, and hit the floor.

Unfortunately, because of just how smart I am having chosen a mirror, Rhea managed to get both a front and back row seat to just how wet I was.

Squatting down to be eye level with me, Rhea dropped the handful of hair she had fisted, now opting to grab my chin instead.

"I thought we'd talked about this." She chided disapprovingly.

I pretended to think about it for a second before innocently responding, "You know, we might've. Probably just slipped my mind."

Not liking this answer, she gripped my shoulders and pulled me away from the mirror, dislodging the dildo from my pussy where it had so graciously set up camp while I talked with Rhea.

I moaned as it slid out, slapping against the mirror wetly as it dripped with my lube. Missing its warmth I looked up at Rhea, pleading with my eyes.

"Nuh-uh." She tutted me. "You know the rules."

Sliding her hand up the back of my neck, she grabbed a fistful of hair at the roots and dragged me towards her, forcing me to stand up.

Now standing on my feet, my legs were shaking terribly. To the point where it was extremely noticeable and drew Rhea's attention.

Looking down at my trembling limbs, a small smirk grew on her face. She gently kicked one of my feet, telling me to spread my legs apart.

I did as she told me and spread my legs. I could feel my secretion, (only made worse by Rhea) as it slid between the folds of my pussy, dripping down onto the floor.

"You're such a slut. Now, is that for Mami? Or is it for that filthy cock?" Rhea growled at me, tugging my head back to look her in the eye.

I whimpered quietly in pain before answering her, "For you, Mami. Only and always you."

Rhea grinned at me and slid her hand from the roots of my hair to my neck, gripping it like a vice. Guiding me by my neck, she turned us around and walked me backward towards the bed.

The backs of my legs hit the bedframe, stopping me in my tracks as I slightly bent backward as Rhea kept coming closer.

Looking me up and down, Rhea reached her other hand up and placed it just below my belly button. Taking her time, she slid her hand further up my stomach, stopping just below my ribs before pushing me down to lay on my back on the bed.

She then tapped my knee, motioning that she wanted me further up on the bed. I followed suit, scooting up towards the top of the bed, and laying my head at the bottom of the pillows.

Rhea began to undress, never breaking her eye contact with me as she did so. She slipped off her shirt and shorts before dropping her panties, leaving her lacy black bra on.

Getting up onto the bed on her knees, she crawled forward so that she was above me. Her hands lay just above my shoulders holding her up as my hips lay between her knees.

"Since you're just so eager to please yourself, you're going to have to wait now. I'm going first." Rhea spoke lowly.

I nodded hungrily as I tried my best to maintain eye contact and keep my hands to myself.

The only thing I liked more than my own orgasms were hers, and I'd do anything to be the one giving them to her.

"Please Mami, let me pleasure you," I begged, just wanting to taste her.

Rhea ran her tongue along the edges of her teeth in thought before patting my cheek in approval.

Grabbing the pillow that was just above my head, she threw it to the floor so that there wouldn't be as many obstacles before crawling up the bed, her wet pussy now just inches from my face as she held herself above me.

"And what do you do if you need to breathe?" Rhea asked me, demanding that I answer before we keep going. She could be cruel sometimes but safety was important to her.

"Tap twice."

"Good girl," she purred, her knees sliding apart as she dropped down onto my face. My hands immediately came up to grip her tatted thighs, holding on like they were my lifeline as hers went into my hair.

I breathed in her scent as I immediately stuck my tongue out, lapping at her wetness. My nose rubbed up against her clit, causing her to moan and grip my hair harder, only encouraging me.

Wanting to please her, I stuck my tongue into her pussy and began thrusting in and out, faster and harder each time. My left hand gripped her thigh for leverage as I brought my right hand to her clit, switching between gentle and rough.

I was starting to run out of air but I'd rather die than be pulled away from her. Luckily, I could tell she was close and thrust my tongue even faster, adding in two fingers as my thumb continued to massage her clit.

Hitting her climax, Rhea exploded all over my face, her legs shaking and tightening around my head as I continued to gently lap at her, helping her ride it out.

She laid back on my stomach, her head on my thighs as I continued cleaning her up. She spread her legs further apart to give me some room to finally breathe as she caught her own breath.

I could both see and feel the strings of her cum as she was pulled away from my lips. Her having left my face a sticky mess of pleasure.

Deciding that she was clean enough, Rhea rolled off of me to sit on her knees next to my stomach.

A look of contemplation came over her face before she got up and walked over to the drawer of toys.

I lifted my head to see what she was grabbing but she was intentionally blocking my view to prevent me from doing just that.

I laid my head back down and waited for her to come back. And when she did, she held a pair of purple fuzzy handcuffs.

Smiling devilishly, she secured each of my hands into a cuff above my head before tying each of my feet to the end pillars of the bed frame using the rope that was permanently situated there.

As much as I was growing nervous as she continued tying me up, I grew excited too.

I was already so close to orgasming that just a single sensual touch from her would send me over at this point.

Hell, just having her come multiple times on or by me would make me come myself, no touches required.

Finally securing the ropes to where she wanted them, Rhea looked up at me, grinning as she saw the growing discomfort on my face.

"Use your words, Princess." She teased as she trailed the tips of her fingernails across the inside of my thigh, tracing circles as she went higher.

"Mami, please. Please, fuck me Mami." I pleaded hungrily.

I made grabby hands from where my wrists were cuffed above my head, motioning to her that I wanted her bra off.

She chuckled lowly before reaching back and unclasping it, sensually slipping it over her breasts and down her stomach before tossing it over her shoulder to the floor.

"Mami, you're teasing." I groaned in impatience and wiggled around for just the slightest bit of friction at this point.

She gripped my hip, hard, to stop me from moving, her other hand taking hold of my throat.

"No, I'm not." She stated gruffly as she harshly inserted her ring and middle finger into me with the hand that was previously holding my hip.

I gasped as her fingers entered me and immediately began pumping at a quickened pace.

Her fingers mercilessly pounded in and out of me, my gasping and whimpering only encouraging Rhea to add another finger, going even harder and faster.

She never failed to make me a writhing, moaning mess. And I was so close. "Mami, please. I'm almost there." I moaned, begging her.

Suddenly, Rhea fully stopped everything she was doing and pulled her fingers out of me. I whined at the loss of contact after being so fucking close to coming and looked at her in confusion and desperation.

"What? You didn't really think you'd get away that easy did you?" She questioned me. "Close your eyes."

Begrudgingly, I did as she said and closed my eyes. Not two minutes later I felt her hoist up my legs by the back of my thighs, along with her using her fingers to slightly stretch my opening again. 

My eyes flew open as I felt something much bigger than her fingers be inserted into me. I looked to where Rhea was and my mouth watered as I saw her kneeling in front of me, my legs propped around her hips, on the bed, wearing her strap-on. I threw my head back, closing my eyes in ecstasy as she tore into me, fucking me hard and fast with her strap. 

"Mami, I'm close," I whined. I always had to have her permission to come and I was ready and wanting.

Rhea smirked at me as she picked up the pace, bringing one of her hands up to massage my clit. "Go ahead, Sweetheart." With the added stimulation on my clit I came almost immediately after being given permission. My legs shook violently as Rhea slowed down a bit, helping me ride it out. I gasped for air as my orgasm ripped it out of my lungs.

She began to untie my legs before climbing on top of me to undo the handcuffs.

I stared up at her in awe as she did so, still trying to catch my breath.

She noticed my staring and got off me, opting to sit next to me instead. Brushing a piece of hair off my sticky forehead she leaned down, mere centimeters from my lips. "If you're going to pleasure yourself when I'm not home, at least next time facetime me. Yeah?"

I nodded my head at her, agreeing to anything and everything she could ever say, relishing in the sweet kiss she gave me in response. Maybe I should break the rules more often.

[jellogram]

It's been seven months and I still think about I Saw the TV Glow.

We're used to two kinds of queer films: socially conscious tragedies and feel-good fluff. This one defies those categories. It is the horror that only queer people can see.

Most queer tragedies focus on external threats. The straight audience needs violence they can see, they need someone against whom they can compare themselves. There is always a bigot they can point to and say "I won't be like that! And I'm a good person because I'm not like that!"

Meanwhile, all the queers can see is the suffering of someone like us. We are denied the ability to project ourselves onto the screen and into that kind of self-gratification. We're just a psychological obstacle for the straights to overcome so they can blossom.

The fluffy feel-goods aren't much better, but it's an attempt. We deserve happiness, and some kindhearted filmmakers want to portray it. But most queers know this is surface-level fantasy that doesn't accurately reflect our lives.

Enter I Saw the TV Glow. Every bit as horrific and hard-to-watch as a queer tragedy, but now the call is coming from inside the house. It's not about bigotry, but it's still about violence. It's about the violence we inflict on ourselves, the violence we experience at the hands of our own minds.

It's about the way we box up our thoughts. Every reluctant queer knows how to compartmentalize. You don't touch this box in front of your parents. You don't touch this box in public. You don't touch this box at all. We know how it goes.

In previous queer films, the horror comes when someone else finds that box. They look at you and suspect you have a box, so they find it and pry it open and that's when the violence begins.

Because... the straights cannot see the boxes. They only begin to exist for them when they're opened. So when they set out to make their well-meaning, socially conscious films, they begin at the moment the box becomes visible to them, unaware that they've missed most of the horror.

But for us queers, the horror started long ago. It started the first moment we thought "Am I..... no." It started the moment we shoved that thought into the box, threw it in the attic, and tried to forget about it.

I Saw the TV Glow is about that box. It's about the horror of having such a box. You can't open it. You can't even think about it. You just pretend it isn't there until it grows dense black mold that blows into your vents and drives you mad.

Eventually, most queers open the box and deal with whatever we find inside it. Some of us don't, and the rest of us understand why. But all of us know the horror of having such a box, and how it starts with that first frightening thought and continues until the box is torn open.

And yet, in spite of that horror, the movie is hopeful. You can always open the box. Until the day you die, you can open the box. It will never leave you. Its indestructibility might feel scary, but it also means there's no deadline for opening it, so all is never lost. This particular violence is self-inflicted, yes, but that also means that you can be the one to end it.

But you can only do that by gritting your teeth, and opening the box.

So that's what I Saw the TV Glow is about, and it's why we need more queer filmmakers, and it's why I will never, ever forget this film.

[companionjones]

His Little Secret

Pairing: Elijah Mikaelson x Witch!Reader

Fandom: The Originals (The CW)

Summary: When things got bad in the French Quarter, Elijah would make his way out to you.

Warnings: Talk of sex at the end

*******

    When things got bad in the French Quarter... Well, things were bad all the time. When things got too much for Elijah to handle, he would make some BS excuse about how he had a meeting or something and make his way out to his little secret.

    You lived by the water, a little inlet of the Mississippi. You built your little house yourself, about a thousand years ago--before you had even met the eldest male Mikaelson. 

    That day, he spotted you tending to your garden barefoot, as he pulled up in his car.

    “Your visits are becoming fewer and further apart,” you stated as Elijah got out of the expensive black car. You kept your back toward him as you straightened up with your basket and headed indoors.

    Elijah smiled, just at the sight of you. “Only to make our meetings more special,” he responded.

    “Are you just going to stand there and look pretty, or are you going to come inside?”

    Elijah used his vampire speed to open your door for you. He teased, “You think I’m pretty?”

    You rolled your eyes at him and hid a smirk, but Elijah caught it.

    “So, what is it this time?” you wondered aloud as you set your basket of fruits and vegetables on the counter by the 1950s fridge you had. “Werewolves? Vampires? Or is it trouble from my own kind again?”

    Elijah replied as he threw his folded suit jacket over one of your chairs, “I have always insisted that you are the brightest witch of your age...or any age, for that matter. It still escapes me why the others can’t be like you.”

    “That’s because no one is like me, Elijah. You know that.”

    He looked you over. “Believe me, I do. But that doesn’t make these witches any less insufferable.”

    “What did they do?” you inquired simply.

    Elijah sighed, “They believe they have been neglected up to this point, tossed to the side. They have bound all supernatural creatures inside the quarter until Niklaus grants them a leadership position within its limits.”

    “How did you get out?”

    He shrugged, “Davina owed me a favor.”

    You chuckled, “I assume Klaus has been welcoming to this protest?”

    “He’s holding one of the witches captive in the compound as we speak--He’s not hurting her.” Elijah added when your eyes sharpened ever so slightly.

    “Well,” you sighed. “There’s a spell I can give you. You can use the witch you have to completely undo this binding curse.” You made a quick trip to your small library and returned with a page with the information Elijah needed. “But I do want the witches to have a seat at the table when making decisions in the quarter. Tell Klaus that I’ll know if he doesn’t allow that.”

    Elijah smiled at you.

    “What?”

    He straightened his stance.

    “That’s not the only reason you came out here, is it? I swear, these visits are just transactions. You get something from me, and I get sex in return.”

    Elijah looked hurt. “I give you my word that I would never use you. The sex is just as beneficial for me as it is for you.” He finished with a smirk.

    “Oh, shut up.” You pulled Elijah in by his tie to kiss you.

*******

Author’s Note: Thank you for reading! Fill up that heart and reblog if you liked it. I would also really appreciate a comment, if you have the time. If you would like to read more, you should check out my masterlist. Have a nice day, night, or whatever time it is for you! <3 <3 <3

[whencyclopedia]

Rabbit Tales of the Cherokee

In the lore of the Cherokee nation, the rabbit is a trickster figure living by its wits, who sometimes outsmarts adversaries or predators and sometimes is defeated by them, though, even in defeat, the rabbit usually escapes. The rabbit symbolizes abundance and fertility to the Native peoples of North America generally but is also recognized for its speed and cleverness.

Eastern Cottontail Rabbit, North America

Gareth Rasberry (CC BY-SA)

Among the most popular myths of the Cherokee are the rabbit tales in which the rabbit finds himself in some sort of trouble, almost always brought on by himself, and must find a way out of these difficulties. There are many such tales, but four of the most popular are The Rabbit Goes Duck Hunting, How the Rabbit Stole the Otter's Coat, How the Terrapin Beat the Rabbit, and Flint Visits the Rabbit, all four given below.

The rabbit tales are often origin myths explaining how things came to be – such as why the rabbit looks as it does or why there is an abundance of flint in a given area – but can also be cautionary tales on knowing one's place, the importance of humility, and the value of quick thinking and outsmarting an adversary. Like other trickster figures in Native American lore, the rabbit can appear as the hero of the tale, the villain, or simply as a foolish figure who fails to achieve his goals due to a fatal flaw in his character.

Text

The following are taken from Myths of the Cherokee (1900) by James Mooney, republished by Dover Publications in 2014.

The Rabbit Goes Duck Hunting

The Rabbit was so boastful that he would claim to do whatever he saw anyone else do, and so tricky that he could usually make the other animals believe it all. Once he pretended that he could swim in the water and eat fish just as the Otter did, and when the others told him to prove it, he fixed up a plan so that the Otter himself was deceived.

Soon afterward they met again, and the Otter said, "I eat ducks sometimes." Said the Rabbit, "Well, I eat ducks too." The Otter challenged him to try it; so they went up along the river until they saw several ducks in the water and managed to get near without being seen. The Rabbit told the Otter to go first. The Otter never hesitated but dived from the bank and swam under water until he reached the ducks, when he pulled one down without being noticed by the others and came back in the same way.

While the Otter had been under the water the Rabbit had peeled some bark from a sapling and made himself a noose. "Now," he said, "Just watch me;" and he dived in and swam a little way under the water until he was nearly choking and had to come up to the top to breathe. He went under again and came up again a little nearer to the ducks. He took another breath and dived under, and this time he came up among the ducks and threw the noose over the head of one and caught it. The duck struggled hard and finally spread its wings and flew up from the water with the Rabbit hanging on to the noose.

It flew on and on until, at last, the Rabbit could not hold on any longer, but had to let go and drop. As it happened, he fell into a tall, hollow sycamore stump without any hole at the bottom to get out from, and there he stayed until he was so hungry that he had to eat his own fur, as the rabbit does ever since when he is starving. After several days, when he was very weak with hunger, he heard children playing outside around the trees. He began to sing:

Cut a door and look at me;

I'm the prettiest thing you ever did see.

The children ran home and told their father, who came and began to cut a hole in the tree. As he chopped away, the Rabbit inside kept singing, "Cut it larger, so you can see me better; I'm so pretty." They made the hole larger, and then the Rabbit told them to stand back so that they could take a good look as he came out. They stood away back, and the Rabbit watched his chance and jumped out and got away.

How the Rabbit Stole the Otter's Coat

The animals were of different sizes and wore coats of various colors and patterns. Some wore long fur and others wore short. Some had rings on their tails, and some had no tails at all. Some had coats of brown, others of black or yellow. They were always disputing about their good looks, so at last they agreed to hold a council to decide who had the finest coat.

They had heard a great deal about the Otter, who lived so far up the creek that he seldom came down to visit the other animals. It was said that he had the finest coat of all, but no one knew just what it was like, because it was a long time since anyone had seen him. They did not even know exactly where he lived—only the general direction; but they knew he would come to the council when the word got out.

Now the Rabbit wanted the verdict for himself, so when it began to look as if it might go to the Otter, he studied up a plan to cheat him out of it. He asked a few sly questions until he learned what trail the Otter would take to get to the council place. Then, without saying anything, he went on ahead and after four days' travel, he met the Otter and knew him at once by his beautiful coat of soft dark-brown fur. The Otter was glad to see him and asked him where he was going. "O," said the Rabbit, "the animals sent me to bring you to the council; because you live so far away, they were afraid you mightn't know the road." The Otter thanked him, and they went on together.

They traveled all day toward the council ground, and at night the Rabbit selected the camping place, because the Otter was a stranger in that part of the country and cut down bushes for beds and fixed everything in good shape. The next morning, they started on again. In the afternoon the Rabbit began to pick up wood and bark as they went along and to load it on his back. When the Otter asked what this was for the Rabbit said it was that they might be warm and comfortable at night. After a while, when it was near sunset, they stopped and made their camp.

When supper was over the Rabbit got a stick and shaved it down to a paddle. The Otter wondered and asked again what that was for.

"I have good dreams when I sleep with a paddle under my head," said the Rabbit.

When the paddle was finished the Rabbit began to cut away the bushes so as to make a clean trail down to the river. The Otter wondered more and more and wanted to know what this meant.

Said the Rabbit, "This place is called Di′tatlâski′yĭ . Sometimes it rains fire here, and the sky looks a little that way to-night. You go to sleep, and I'll sit up and watch, and if the fire does come, as soon as you hear me shout, you run and jump into the river. Better hang your coat on a limb over there, so it won't get burnt."

The Otter did as he was told, and they both doubled up to go to sleep, but the Rabbit kept awake. After a while the fire burned down to red coals. The Rabbit called, but the Otter was fast asleep and made no answer. In a little while he called again, but the Otter never stirred. Then the Rabbit filled the paddle with hot coals and threw them up into the air and shouted, "It's raining fire! It's raining fire!"

The hot coals fell all around the Otter, and he jumped up. "To the water!" cried the Rabbit, and the Otter ran and jumped into the river, and he has lived in the water ever since.

The Rabbit took the Otter's coat and put it on, leaving his own instead, and went on to the council. All the animals were there, everyone looking out for the Otter. At last, they saw him in the distance, and they said one to the other, "The Otter is coming!" and sent one of the small animals to show him the best seat. They were all glad to see him and went up in turn to welcome him, but the Otter kept his head down, with one paw over his face. They wondered that he was so bashful, until the Bear came up and pulled the paw away, and there was the Rabbit with his split nose. He sprang up and started to run, when the Bear struck at him and pulled his tail off, but the Rabbit was too quick for them and got away.

How the Terrapin Beat the Rabbit

The Rabbit was a great runner, and everybody knew it. No one thought the Terrapin anything but a slow traveler, but he was a great warrior and very boastful, and the two were always disputing about their speed. At last, they agreed to decide the matter by a race. They fixed the day and the starting place and arranged to run across four mountain ridges, and the one who came in first at the end was to be the winner.

The Rabbit felt so sure of it that he said to the Terrapin, "You know you can't run. You can never win the race, so I'll give you the first ridge and then you'll have only three to cross while I go over four."

The Terrapin said that would be all right, but that night when he went home to his family, he sent for his Terrapin friends and told them he wanted their help. He said he knew he could not outrun the Rabbit, but he wanted to stop the Rabbit's boasting. He explained his plan to his friends, and they agreed to help him.

When the day came all the animals were there to see the race. The Rabbit was with them, but the Terrapin was gone ahead toward the first ridge, as they had arranged, and they could hardly see him on account of the long grass. The word was given, and the Rabbit started off with long jumps up the mountain, expecting to win the race before the Terrapin could get down the other side. But before he got up the mountain, he saw the Terrapin go over the ridge ahead of him.

He ran on, and when he reached the top, he looked all around but could not see the Terrapin on account of the long grass. He kept on down the mountain and began to climb the second ridge, but when he looked up again there was the Terrapin just going over the top. Now he was surprised and made his longest jumps to catch up, but when he got to the top there was the Terrapin away in front going over the third ridge. The Rabbit was getting tired now and nearly out of breath, but he kept on down the mountain and up the other ridge until he got to the top just in time to see the Terrapin cross the fourth ridge and thus win the race.

The Rabbit could not make another jump, but fell over on the ground, crying mĭ, mĭ, mĭ, mĭ, as the Rabbit does ever since when he is too tired to run any more. The race was given to the Terrapin and all the animals wondered how he could win against the Rabbit, but he kept still and never told. It was easy enough, however, because all the Terrapin's friends looked just alike, and he had simply posted one near the top of each ridge to wait until the Rabbit came in sight and then climb over and hide in the long grass.

When the Rabbit came on he could not find the Terrapin and so thought the Terrapin was ahead, and if he had met one of the other terrapins he would have thought it the same one because they looked so much alike. The real Terrapin had posted himself on the fourth ridge, so as to come in at the end of the race and be ready to answer questions if the animals suspected anything.

Because the Rabbit had to lie down and lose the race the conjurer now, when preparing his young men for the ball play, boils a lot of rabbit hamstrings into a soup, and sends someone at night to pour it across the path along which the other players are to come in the morning, so that they may become tired in the same way and lose the game. It is not always easy to do this, because the other party is expecting it and has watchers ahead to prevent it.

Flint Visits the Rabbit

In the old days Tăwi′skălă (Flint) lived up in the mountains, and all the animals hated him because he had helped to kill so many of them. They used to get together to talk over means to put him out of the way, but everybody was afraid to venture near his house until the Rabbit, who was the boldest leader among them, offered to go after Flint and try to kill him. They told him where to find him, and the Rabbit set out and at last came to Flint's house.

Flint was standing at his door when the Rabbit came up and said, sneeringly, "Siyu′! Hello! Are you the fellow they call Flint?" "Yes; that's what they call me," answered Flint. "Is this where you live?" "Yes; this is where I live." All this time the Rabbit was looking about the place trying to study out some plan to take Flint off his guard. He had expected Flint to invite him into the house, so he waited a little while, but when Flint made no move, he said, "Well, my name is Rabbit; I've heard a good deal about you, so I came to invite you to come and see me."

Flint wanted to know where the Rabbit's house was, and he told him it was down in the broom-grass field near the river. So, Flint promised to make him a visit in a few days. "Why not come now and have supper with me?" said the Rabbit, and after a little coaxing Flint agreed and the two started down the mountain together.

When they came near the Rabbit's hole the Rabbit said, "There is my house, but in summer I generally stay outside here where it is cooler." So, he made a fire, and they had their supper on the grass. When it was over, Flint stretched out to rest and the Rabbit got some heavy sticks and his knife and cut out a mallet and wedge. Flint looked up and asked what that was for. "Oh," said the Rabbit, "I like to be doing something, and they may come handy." So, Flint lay down again, and pretty soon he was sound asleep. The Rabbit spoke to him once or twice to make sure, but there was no answer.

Then he came over to Flint and with one good blow of the mallet he drove the sharp stake into his body and ran with all his might for his own hole; but before he reached it there was a loud explosion, and pieces of flint flew all about. That is why we find flint in so many places now. One piece struck the Rabbit from behind and cut him just as he dived into his hole. He sat listening until everything seemed quiet again. Then he put his head out to look around, but just at that moment another piece fell and struck him on the lip and split it, as we still see it.

Continue reading...

[animeyanderelover]

💘Could I request itachi with prompt 122. “Don’t be scared. I’m not angry at you. I’m angry at them.”?💘

I'll probably announce a date of when I will open my requests again within the next two weeks. I only have 72 left after all which is actually not that much in comparison to what I had before.

Words: 2.4k

Tags: @shumidehiro @naeho @swagenemyartisan

Tw: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, toxic relationship, possessive behavior, obsession, isolation, abduction, death

Prompt 122

The flames of the campfire licking away at the wood was a captivating sight, your eyes drawn to its brightness. All the chatter and cackling around you slowly turned into white noise as the bright colours of the fire brought your mind to another time. A time where everything in your life had been boring, normal and fine.

When an object was thrown against your head, you were forced to leave your head and return back to the present, surrounded by bounty hunters who had been forcing you to tag along with them for nearly 2 weeks now. Well, Itachi was after all on one of his long missions so you didn't expect any help from him. You didn't even know when he would return.

"Eat up. That's all you're going to get for tonight." One of them told you rudely. You threw him a dirty sideglance as soon as he had turned his back to you, chatting with a few of his pals as you picked up the small package made out of green leaves. A few onigiri were inside, the impact due to the guy having thrown them against your head had caused some of the rice to fall apart. It was a sad meal as you stared at the meager rice balls who had already partially lost their shape. You knew better than to reject the food though because not only would that mean that they might starve you purposely for a bit but you also weren't keen on receiving another hit against your face from one of those idiots. Your cheek still stung slightly even days after you had been knocked down simply by irritating one of the members of this group a bit.

Ultimately they wouldn't kill you though. For now at least. After all people wanted you alive as bait to lure out the famous Itachi Uchiha. Since when had your value only been dragged down to Itachi Uchiha? When had you stopped being your own individual and instead were only famous as his 'lover'?

You munched away on the onigiri, ignoring the glances you received from the women and men around you and the way they snickered tauntingly. They only cared for the money after all. Whatever would happen to you was none of their concerns as long as they received their price for collecting you.

If you remembered right, you'd arrive in a day or two your destination. Then you'd be handed over like a useful tool and would be kept until you'd lose your value, which was obviously only Itachi Uchiha. You could technically be liberated after that because you had only been an innocent citizen before you'd been kidnapped by a famous criminal but you were smarter than to hope for such a thing. You'd probably be either killed in the near future or you'd be kept for another purpose. In either case, you would never be able to go back to your own life.

Well, that was what you had expected and prepared for anyways when you had decided to be abducted once again by those people of your own free will. You had just been tired of being stuck in the small cottage, tired of being forced to wait for weeks until Itachi would return from his missions the Akatsuki had assigned to him and tired of your helplessness to do nothing else. The walls of the cottage had turned suffocating and a heaviness had settled somewhere inside your chest that no warm but ultimately shallow words of apologies and comfort could have erased. You had felt like you were slowly forgetting what you were like until only a shell of you would remain. That's why you had decided to follow those bounty hunters without any resistance when they had found you as you had wandered aimlessly around the woods despite Itachi's urgent warnings to never leave the area.

Had you tried to escape? You didn't know anymore. You just remembered that you had desperately wished to be anywhere else but in this cozy cage which was slowly sucking your soul out of you.

"Time to go to bed for you."

A woman told you as she walked over to you when noticing that you had finished your food, dropping the sleeping back, a pillow and blanket in your hands before walking away again. You let out a sigh as you stood up from your place and started throwing away small rocks or any other objects that might end up poking you annoyingly as soon as you'd lay down. You spread out the sleeping back, felt everyone's eyes watching you as you crawled inside the sleeping back, throwing the blanket you had been given so kindly over your body before flopping your head down the pillow. It smelled terribly after dirt and sweat but you didn't have anything better to use.

One of them walked towards you and to your dismay he stopped when he stood right above you. You just stared at the dark edges of the forest that the light of the fire couldn't reach.

"Your prince didn't show up so far, did he?" He asked you and even if you didn't look him into his face, you could almost picture his disgusting grin on his face. You remained qiet but unfortunately he didn't move, gauging you for any reaction. Was he expecting you to be sad about the fact that Itachi hadn't come so far or what?

"That's lucky for you then, isn't it? If Itachi would have found me by now all of you wouldn't be alive right now." You replied bluntly as you stared straight ahead. Only one or two days more...

"Huh? Would you like to repeat that again?"

You had offended him, angered him with what you saw as the only truth. You could see from the corner of your eyes how he bent down a bit, although you still didn't bother to look at him.

"You're only acting so tough and cool because we're so close to the destination. However, all of you were so tense and rigid in the beginning because you were terrified that Itachi might appear at any second from somewhere. We all know that you wouldn't stand a chance against Itachi even if all of you would fight him at once."

You repeated yourself once again, your voice dismissive and unimpressed by his pathetic attempts to intimidate you. He didn't say anything after that, although you could still feel his eyes glaring down at your body. He didn't utter a single word when he suddenly stepped on you, the heel of his foot pushing heavily down on your shoulders as he put his entire weight down on you. He reeked of sweat and dirt but you kept that for yourself as you clenched your jaw, swallowing down any whimper or other sound that would reveal your pain to his arrogant ass.

Eventually he stepped down from you and for a short moment you thought that he'd let it be only to receive a kick against your ribs in the next moment. You forced the groan of pain down as you bit down on your bottom lip, forcing your eyes to just contiue to stare straight ahead to show him how little you respected him and took him seriously.

He let out a scoff when you didn't budge in any meaningful way before deciding that you were not worth it as he walked away and joined his buddies again. God, you couldn't stand those people or their cocky facade as if all of them thought that they were something special for capturing you when you had really just given them an easy time by allowing them to help you to get away from that dull life you had been forced to live for almost 2 years now. Your current situation was frustrating, angering and downright annoying due to all those dumb people but you preferred it over the nothingness Itachi had forced you into.

~~~

When you woke up, the blinding darkness around you roused you from your sleepy mind. Why was the campfire out? They had never put it out since two of them were always playing guards for the night to ensure that no one would attack them. They had absolutely no confidence to fight in the dark as all they were capable of were a few meek ninjutsu and some mediocre taijutsu and weapon skills.

It's not like they were bad with what they were doing but in comparison to Itachi they just seemed so clumsy and ungraceful. You sat slowly up, your ears trying to pick up any sound as your hearing was the only thing you could rely on right now as you could barely see anything. The lack of noises was the next thing you noticed with growing worries. You couldn't hear any snoring nor any breathing from around you. There was only the same sad silence you had grown to hate, telling you that there was nothing and no one around you. The same silence that had always reminded you that you couldn't choose anything besides withering slowly away.

You couldn't sense nor see him but you knew that he was there. You gave out a pitiful chuckle, hugging your knees as you rested your chin on them.

"How long do you plan to conceal yourself from me, Itachi?"

You would never know how long he had been there already or how long everyone around you had been dead already, you only knew that you suddenly felt his hands resting on your shoulders. Had he been standing behind you the entire time?

A shudder went through your body as you could almost feel coldness creeping up your spine. The air around you became heavier all of a sudden, his presence behind you omnious and powerful. He was nothing like all those murdered people could have stood a chance against and they had clearly paid that with their own lives. There would have been no way for them to get out of this alive, they had been doomed to die from the start. Meeting you had been their demise.

Itachi removed his hands instantly when he noticed the spike of fear inside of you. Your back tingled as you sensed how he tried to suppress all the murderous pressure he had failed to properly contain. It ebbed away slowly as he carefully regained his composure until his presence felt familiar to you again and only a heavy knot inside your chest reminded you that you couldn't trust him.

“Don’t be scared. I’m not angry with you. I’m angry with them.”

Hearing his deep voice made your heart feel heavy once again. You had grown far too familiar with it as it had been the only human sound that had surrounded you for too long until you had almost forgotten how anyone else could have sounded, his voice the only thing echoing around inside your mind.

What did he mean by saying that he wasn't angry with you? Did he know? You wouldn't have been surprised if he would have. It was creepy how well he knew you yet you couldn't still grasp entirely how he functioned and worked.

"You're going to take me back to that soulless place again?"

It sounded less like an actual question and more like an observation you knew would be true anyways.

"We can't go back there. Since the cottage was found by them, there's no guarantee that others won't be able to do the same. It isn't safe there anymore. I'll find another place for us. If you want to take anything from there with you though, I will-"

"Spare me that pretentious guilty tone of yours, will you?" You asked him with an agitated hiss before you forced yourself to calm down, although the guilt dwelling in his voice scratched terribly at your pride and heart.

You stood slowly up, kicking your legs out of the sleeping back before you rose from your position on the ground. Your eyes aimlessly searched around yet the moonlight shining through the trees barely allowed you to see anything. Only Itachi's figure was faintly visible for you and it was the one thing you really didn't want to see.

"I can't see anything. Is it possible for you to light the campfire again?"

"I can't do that. I...I don't want you to see your surroundings."

You clenched your hands into fists when you heard that meek and quieter tone of his again, apologetic and gentle as if you were a baby deer in the woods he didn't want to scare away. You knew that he wanted to spare you the sight of dead bodies he had killed all by himself but this apparent consideration for your own feelings was exactly what you hated so much about him. His guilt angered you, insulted you more than if he would have just been like those bounty hunters. Dealing with an arrogant jerk was far easier than with a man who felt guilty for his own actions and showed you kindess despite being a criminal, mass murderer and your abductor all in one. Because those feelings didn't allow you to read him properly and frightened you silently of the darker side that slumbered underneath that kind facade.

"Nevermind then." You sighed as you carefully tried to feel your way through the darkness with your feet. You didn't appreciate when Itachi instead grabbed your hand carefully and led the way so you wouldn't bump against any bodies on your path.

You could feel his hand clenching ever so slightly around yours. Not enough to hurt you but just enough to make you notice. You wondered if he was silently pondering over something in his head and a bad feeling made itself noticable somewhere in the pit of your stomach. You didn't want to hear him saying those empty words again that would change nothing besides maybe relieving his consciousness a bit by reminding himself that he wasn't as low as he thought he was.

"(y/n)..."

You didn't reply in hopes of him noticing your silent prayers and sparing you from his words. Because by doing so he would have done something far more selfless than acting all nice and considerate whilst still keeping you within a cage he had set up all pretty and nice-looking for you.

"I'm sorry."

You felt your heart drop when he spoke his apology in such a hushed tone. Those were merely words that held no meaning behind them anymore. They were devoid and empty as you had heard them far too many times already and every apology made you feel like getting slowly closer to a breakdown.

[v3lnys]

last night i saw @bezzplaining 's franky/mig posts and possibly got possessed D:

ebony tower — 1.2k words — smut/fluff

Andrea Migno/Franco Morbidelli

Mig threw his head back, groans tumbling out past his parted lips as Franky pushed into him all the way. The stretch was obscene and so, so addicting. It left Mig gasping and clinging to Franky's bicep to anchor himself.

He looked up and saw Franky's face, contorted into a frown from concentration and pleasure.

“You're so tight..” Franky gasped as he tried to move, Mig clenching around him, not yet adjusted enough. “Tell me when it's okay..”

Mig closed his mouth and tried to breathe through his nose, but that left him whimpering as he took deep breaths, shaky despite the effort.

His fingers dug into Franky's arm, the firm muscles and flesh dipping slightly under Mig's fingertips. It helped him ground himself, breathe better when he could feel Franky's solid frame under his palms.

Mig wasn't even that much shorter when you compared the actual numbers, but with the way Franky loomed over him, hands on each side of Mig's head, Mig felt infinitely smaller. Maybe he should've felt insecure, being small had its hardships, but he felt safe. Franky like a metaphorical shield, protecting Mig from the outside world, leaving them in their own bubble.

“Move…” Mig pleaded, wet eyes gazing up at Franky from where the smaller man laid amongst the mountain of pillows, legs bent and spread, accommodating Franky's bigger frame between them.

Franky placed his hand on the back of one of Mig's thighs, skin already damp with sweat and strong muscles tense under Franky's wide palm. “Fuck.. Mig..” he murmured hoarsely, hips drawing back the tiniest bit so he could push into Mig again.

It felt like fire inside of Mig's body, muscles tensing before he could tell himself to breathe, to make it easier for himself. Franky stopped again, gentle eyes raking over Mig's scrunched up face, the thick column of his neck as he threw his head back once more.

Mig tried to breathe again, whatever stupid technique that would make his body relax, not clench around Franky like he didn't want to let him go.

Franky's hand left a hot lingering trail over Mig's skin as it slid upwards, gently stroking Mig's side, feeling his muscles loosen slowly.

“Okay?” Franky asked, palm caressing Mig's skin all the way up to his ribs and down to his prominent hip bones.

Mig nodded, eyes still closed, and Franky thought he looked really beautiful like this. “Okay.”

Mig's body didn't protest anymore, the man breathing deep like he just finished an exercise. He took Franky willingly, relishing in the way it felt like he was being split into two and sewn back together each time Franky pushed in and out. In and out.

Franky's skin felt moist under Mig's fingertips, his whole body radiating warmth and blanketing Mig with a comforting presence. Secure.

The pace quickened, the slide slick and easy the more Franky stretched him out. Franky's movements were purposeful and calm, not quick and short like Franky was trying to nail Mig in place.

Mig opened his eyes and took in the sight of Franky above him, beautiful and strong, all tan skin and visible muscles. Mig really wanted to lick his chest, run his tongue flat across the salty skin, sink his teeth into the soft muscle. Later, he told himself.

Franky was looking back at him, eyes droopy and mouth agape. A breathy sound slipped past his parted lips and Mig knew it well, always deemed it as his favorite. A little high pitched and desperate, something so unique that Mig always tried to memorize it, wanted the sound to seep into his bones.

Mig released the death grip he had on Franky's bicep, his hand sliding upwards across the other's broad shoulders, up his neck until he could cradle the side of Franky's face. Mig pulled him down and he went willingly, lips connecting with Mig's in a messy, open-mouthed kiss.

Franky's hips kept moving, skin slapping together and he couldn't hold back whatever sounds were coming out, falling into the hot abyss of Mig's mouth.

It never felt like Mig was fragile under his touch, his muscled body taking him so well, accepting him like they were meant to be one, nevertheless Franky felt the need to protect Mig, handle him with so much love and care.

Just like the Ivory tower, Franky's body towered over Mig's shorter frame, guarding him from worldly affairs and any struggles, the only thought and sensation in Mig's mind – Franky, Franky, Franky…

In turn, all Franky could feel was his Mig. So beautiful and caring, devoted to him in these moments. Making the prettiest sounds, fingers grasping onto Franky's sweaty curls.

Franky broke the kiss, Mig trying to chase his lips as the other trailed them across Mig's cheekbones and down to his neck. He sucked lightly over his pulse point, tongue laving against the damp skin, eliciting a soft, pleased sound from Mig.

Franky buried his face in Mig's muscular neck, just breathing him in as he kept up his pace, one hand trailing down to take Mig into his hand, relieving some of the pressure from his achingly hard dick.

Mig made the prettiest, needy sound, arching up a little towards Franky. The latter kissed along the column of his neck, occasionally licking a greedy stripe up to the shell of his ear.

Franky tugged on Mig's dainty hoop earring with his teeth, his moans right up against the smaller man's ear, making him shudder. The grip around Mig tightened and he tensed up slightly, all of the sensations driving him insane.

A firm hand placed itself on Franky's nape, keeping him in place when he tried to trail his lips up to Mig's again. “Stay.. stay..” Mig whispered feverishly, grip on Franky's nape tightening as he felt teeth scrape his jugular.

“M’close..” Franky panted against Mig's skin, his big hand moving along Mig's shaft in the same rhythm as his thrusts.

“Yeah.. fuck.. me too,” Mig pressed out, sweat gathering on his forehead with the effort to stay collected, but it was infinitely harder when Franky was cleaving him open, thrusts powerful yet measured; although starting to get sloppy as Franky lost himself in the final moments before his orgasm.

Franky came with a groan, the sound vibrating against Mig's throat and seeping into every fiber of his being. Mig kept his head there, pressed somewhere along his trapezius, Franky still weakly kissing the sensitive skin, potential bruises from his lips latching on too hard.

A few more strokes and Mig felt everything tense up, spilling across his own stomach moments later. The hazy sensation of his orgasm and Franky's come inside him left him a little brainless, chest heaving and hand slowly unclasping from Franky's nape.

He distantly felt Franky pull out and gently kiss his temple, soothing Mig and cleaning him up with napkins for now.

Mig rolled over and curled up against Franky's strong chest, one arm draping over his waist to press up closer. Franky kissed him gently, muttering quiet praises against his lips, wide palm soothingly stroking Mig's back, drawing shapes on his hip.

A light sensation overtook both of them, the sense of security in each other's arms intoxicatingly soothing.

[intheshadowsbehindyou]

Spy X gn!Reader: Like A Wolf Among The Lambs

Warning: Mild NSFW

You could barely breathe as you treaded through the clearing, your lungs were starting to burn from the cold.

The snowy veil concealed the hiking trail back to the base. You pulled out a stopwatch given to you not that long ago to briefly check the time. As expected; it was only two hours until the sun would dip below the horizon. It was things like this that reminded you Miss Pauling was more of an adult than anyone you ever knew. Had she not thought of every single thing then the stopwatch she gave you — would have never alerted you that you only had mere hours.

The blanket of snow draped across the mountains was like something out of a storybook. Only the gentlest, softest strokes of paint would make up this landscape if ever realized upon a canvas. You did not hear one single animal on your way. Minus the occasional rustling of foolish bird species who decided against migration. Those birds were a problem for you, and for a good reason.

This was enemy territory. This was Redmond Mann’s side of the battlefield. The badlands weren’t the only things the two bothers found worth fighting for. Indeed, the gravel of the mountains somehow tickled their fancy as well. If you weren’t hyper alert of every single detail, or every sound, you could potentially come face to face with a fellow mercenary wearing opposite colored clothing.

Although you were wearing layers of blue clothes, you were still cold. The base was too far for comfort and your other hand held the Red intelligence by its handle. The red coloring stuck out like a sore thumb in the white snow. If they couldn’t hear you first then they will certainly see you. Finding no other option, you retreated to the nearest run down broken shelter. There were many mining facilities in the 1800s upon this mountain. Thus an incredible amount of run down structures. Most of which didn’t have anything of value. Maybe a few graffiti here and there from rambunctious kids.

You set down the briefcase, and pushed some loose wood panels aside with all your might to catch a glimpse of the inside and your lips immediately curled into a frown at the sight. It was with no doubt an abandoned summer home. What hid its identity so well on the outside was the thick branches of low trees surrounding it. Although ransacked, it was spacious and still had a ripped up painting on the wall of the nearby lake with lush green foliage. It was dusty and barely had any more of its once bright color that welcomed countless families. You hauled the heavy briefcase inside and your eyes went from left to right. Still feeling obnoxiously anxious over the fact you were intruding on enemy land. Atop of the lingering feeling that this depressing place was once alive with happy memories. It almost felt like you were desecrating a grave.

Whatever type of insulation this house used was no more. It would be proven useless after you saw the back door — or the lack of back door for that matter. All there was, was an empty frame of where the door should have been. A hole.

Much like the hole this house had where a family should have been. It was reduced to nothing because time was marching onward. For all you knew, the people of this household were nonexistent anymore and obscured by the forever thickening fog of history. You sat in the corner away from the breeze that blew through and took off your light backpack. Given that you were sent out to retrieve the intel while the other mercs played as distractions, the contents didn’t have anything heavy. All there was, was a few protein bars, a blanket, some candles, and god knows how much ammo.

You threw the blanket over your own head, and struggled to light the wick of your candle. This basic survival setup would suffice for a while. You’d rather die by oncoming gunfire than slowly from hypothermia.

You shoved the lit candle into the cracks of the floorboard just under you. Holding it until it finally decided to stand upright. You sighed, knowing full well that you wouldn’t be getting any sleep tonight. The risks were too high. If you built an actual fire you’d risk being seen, and if you went to sleep, you’d risk failing to detect someone coming across you in time.

You crossed your arms and stared at the candle. The heat from the fire was slowly warming up your little temporary blanket hut. A few minutes felt like hours. You could see through the outside of the blanket getting darker and darker as night approached. The light ceased and all that was left was your candle. You found yourself slowly nodding off a few times. Barely able to keep your eyes open.

Until….

Vvvvoooosshh…

No. That couldn’t be. Could it?

You jolted awake, covering your heavy breathing with your gloved hand. Every single nerve in your body was sounding off the alarm. Under normal circumstances you wouldn’t be so sensitive but this was different. You had the intelligence, and either you were going insane or you just heard the very distant noise of a spy decloaking.

Surely this was your tired mind drifting off into REM that played a trick on you, right? Nothing more than the cruel chemicals in your brain that had been trying to process the information of the day. For your own safety you decided it just shouldn’t be shrugged off. Had you been a little kid afraid of the dark then maybe things would have been different. But monsters under the bed were easy. They could be scoped out and properly taken care of. Fear of the unknown can be dealt with if you discover it. But this was Spy. Spy wasn’t somebody you could shine a light on and identify. He was every little child’s worst nightmare. A monster that could not be discovered. A faceless wolf in sheep’s clothing. Danger that hid itself by mimicking something else, camouflaging into the wall for example.

You felt heart palpitations kick in. Trying desperately to open your ears to every single noise in the room plus the outside. Your breathing was short, swaying branches created white noise you couldn’t hear over, and the candle fire danced unsteadily. Threatening to blow out. Part of you wanted to reach out of the blanket and grab the intel next to you but the rational half wondered if once your fingers met that handle — it would meet someone else’s fingers as well.

You heard the floor creak. It was a miracle you could hear it in the first place. Perhaps the sheer terror you felt had heightened your senses. Then another creak…

Then another..

Somebody was walking slowly in the spacious house. The realization hit you like a thousand bricks to the face. You were in a very noticeable corner of the living room and you began praying to whatever gods above that the intruder had bad eyesight or simply chalked you up to a useless piece of trash covered with some sort of tarp.

Thoughts of impending doom were peaking their ways through the cracks of your faltering hope as you heard two more creaks not too far spaced out from each other. As if the intruder was becoming more bold and ceasing his light footwork.

There was only one man you knew capable of carrying himself that lightly.

You suddenly came to your senses, realizing the candle was still lit. If he sees the light underneath the blanket then you were beyond muerto. You make a hasty and uncaulcated decision to blow the candle out. In mere milliseconds you realized your oversight too late. A swift hand lifted up the blanket the moment you did so, and you met eyes with who was undoubtedly the Red Spy. Even in the cold darkness you could make out his red attire. Which would soon be stained with yet another victim’s blood.

“Ever so bold with priceless information as always I see.” His accent was thick. But not in a pleasant way.

You swore you could’ve had a heart attack then and there. But you went into shock. Like your body somehow accepted and came to terms with it being the end. You could feel his butterfly knife’s blade barely grazing your adams apple. Threatening to cut you if you made any sudden movements. He carefully reached over and slid the intelligence to his side by its handle. Kicking it to the side where it wouldn’t be touched.

“I knew where you were the moment I walked in here. You’re worse than my counterpart. Luckily, I have respect for naive youth. Believe it or not.” Spy said, looking up and down you.

You were speechless. Your body couldn’t move. It was rather unsurprising that anybody younger than his weird definition of adulthood — which was undoubtedly old — would be considered apprentices in his eyes. You could almost make out his lip twitching into a smile. He was clearly enjoying the adrenaline he was shooting through you. Yes indeed; it would seem that Spy smelled fear.

He basked in the glory of your terror for a few more seconds before removing the melee from your neck. Spy hauled himself up from his crouching position and picked up the intel. Showing a surprising amount of strength to carry a briefcase of that weight.

“Take it from me, mercenary work is no profession for children.” He said, even know you were clearly an adult.

“Adieu.” He dusted his suit off and you watched him swiftly cloak away. Leaving faster than he came in. But not before rudely throwing the blanket back on your head.

To be honest, not only did you have to sit in silence after that, but you also had to rethink how horrible your tastes were in men. He had managed to make your heart flutter. In a good way. You decided to chalk it up to your stupid brain mistaking adrenaline for arousal.

[britcision]

So this was one of my first ideas for the After Dinner Mints, although I wasn’t exactly sure how it was actually going to work… until about 2am yesterday, of course, when the whole thing came out at once

This is how things usually work for me. I regret nothing

Mithrun’s POV this time, and what might chronologically be the last of the mints… depends how many others I have that go past the resurrection 👀

Warnings! Mithrun’s a little maudlin, self deprecating, mildly contemplates death, and cranky for Very Good Reasons Definitely, but nothing serious

Definitely crack, a little self inflicted angst for flavour

AO3 link, which includes the full series you can subscribe to for updates:

—————

After Dinner Mints - Goodbyes

There was a bag that wasn’t his among the things ready for their ship. Well, that was obvious; Mithrun didn’t actually own enough of anything to fill even one bag, so almost everything ready to be loaded wasn’t his.

But there was also a new, large bag next to his tent, his bedroll, and Cithis’ things that she always put with his stuff so no one would inspect it.

He’d have thought the new bag might have been hers, except there was an entire tallman in it. Cithis wasn’t the type to kidnap anyone in a bag; she’d have them follow her on their own two feet (or sometimes crutches, wheels, or whatever else they used).

This was a mystery, and while Mithrun wasn’t particularly inclined to investigate, Cithis had asked him to stay out of the way while the ships loaded up. So he was out of the way, with the bags, and three suspiciously innocent looking convicts who were all grinning at him.

He didn’t have anything better to do.

How did he know there was a tallman in the bag? It was actually obvious enough that he was mildly surprised no one had mentioned it yet; if even Mithrun had noticed, someone else must have. The Canaries moved enough bodies.

It wasn’t long like a bodybag, of course. It was a standard adventurer’s pack, but larger than normal. There were straps on the back that Lycion had shouldered in his beastman shape, although Flamela had made him change back on her way past.

Lycion wasn’t even sulking about it, so he was probably planning to change again the second he was supposed to be moving anything.

The bag had protested when he’d first put it down, which was the biggest clue to its contents. The second biggest had been Fleki shoving it sharply and telling it to shut up, then stuffing an apple in the top.

Whoever was inside seemed to have eaten the apple, since a core came out not long after and Fleki threw it off the pier.

Mithrun knew it was a tallman for a few reasons; size precluded a halffoot or gnome, weight precluded an elf since Lycion wouldn’t have to change to lift a single elf on the island. Dimensions precluded most dwarves; the bag wasn’t tall enough for one to stand, or wide enough to allow the broader bones while sitting.

Elven hearing may not be as good as a halffoot’s, but he’d heard enough shifting to know whoever it was, was sitting down, probably uncomfortably given the way the bag moved with each shift. It wasn’t a loose fit. And there was something else in the bag, too, so not a large tallman.

Someone else was going to notice at some point that his squad had acquired… a prisoner? A stowaway? You probably had to be on the ship to be a stowaway.

If they actually got the bag on the ship, someone would have to deal with it. Probably Pattadol. It wasn’t going to be him, since he didn’t actually care who got on the ship and would just let anyone who wanted to actually walk on. Pattadol probably wouldn’t.

His gaze shifting from the lumpy bag back to the rest of the docks, a frown pulled at Mithrun’s face.

He hadn’t wanted anything, he still didn’t want much of anything, but… he had expected Kabru to come and see them off.

There was plenty of time yet, of course. The ships were still stocking provisions, the crew’s and the squad’s belongings all still waiting on the dock, so it wasn’t like it was urgent.

Everyone knew the Canaries were sailing today. They always seemed to know, gathered and whispering from the day the ships arrived to the day the ships left.

Mithrun used to care about things like that. He used to enjoy the attention, the mystique and maybe a little the fear that surrounded the squad. He’d liked being known, being acknowledged.

Now it was entirely irrelevant, except that everyone always knew. So Kabru knew. And Kabru hadn’t come to say goodbye.

Tallmen cared about things like that; so did elves, usually. Mithrun definitely didn’t. He never cared who he’d see on a given day (unless it was Senshi. Seeing Senshi was nice. Senshi had come to give him a basket of limes and warn him to eat well at sea. The limes were on top of his folded tent).

But Kabru had come to see him every single other day this week. With the dragon carved, it wasn’t like he actually needed to stay through the night and make sure Mithrun didn’t make himself mana sick finishing the job, but he had.

Until last night.

And now they were leaving.

And Kabru hadn’t come to say goodbye.

It was annoying, Mithrun decided. That was it. Annoying. Kabru had been so intent on Mithrun’s well-fare, insisting that he knew how to take care of him better than Mithrun could himself (accurately, but fuck him anyway). But he hadn’t even bothered to say goodbye.

People got sick of taking care of Mithrun sooner or later, and always left to do something more useful or even just to find a more cooperative or grateful patient. Three weeks was a new record, though.

Except for some of the Canary wardens, but they had died before the end of the three weeks. Kabru… probably wasn’t dead.

He’d have heard. Someone would have mentioned it. It wasn’t like there was anything dangerous going on, or a fight was likely. The monsters wouldn’t even come near what had once been the island.

(That was part of why they had to leave today; the country rising from the sea had already cut off a lot of the shipping routes, and if they waited much longer the ships would have to leave for deeper waters and they’d have to travel over land to meet them. They would already be sailing down a valley.)

It wouldn’t be anything so dramatic as a death, Mithrun was sure. Kabru simply… hadn’t come yet. He would, probably. And fuss about having been late, as if Mithrun cared that he hadn’t been there, or would even have noticed.

He wouldn’t have noticed. Except. He’d been put here, out of the way, with nothing to do. And Kabru hadn’t come to say goodbye.

His gaze wandered back over to Fleki. She’d probably enjoy a chance to use her familiar again, to take a look around the island. He didn’t know if she’d already acquired her mushrooms, but she much preferred flying to standing around anyway.

He could ask her to look for Kabru. As an excuse, to let her take a last flight. She’d like not having to carrying anything heavy on board. She’d complain less, which would be good for everyone.

And if anything had happened to Kabru, like he was lost, or dead, or hurt… he could be hurt. Tallmen were resilient and tougher than elves, but much less so than dwarves.

Just days ago Kabru had woken complaining of a stiff back and arm that he hadn’t been able to move properly all day. That could happen to legs too, probably. He wouldn’t be able to walk across the hill to the docks. Mithrun didn’t actually know when tallmen bodies began failing them on a regular basis, but it took hardly any time at all. A matter of decades.

Kabru was… probably still young, but what did Mithrun know?

The tallman in the bag would probably know. If Mithrun had the faintest idea of how old Kabru even was.

Less than fifty, definitely. Old enough to have been at Utaya, so over fifteen. Maybe not much over? Although Milsiril wouldn’t have let him out of her nest until he was at least twenty, probably.

She did have some other short-lived children at the moment though. And Kabru was very persuasive.

Anywhere from fifteen to fifty, then. That was about long enough for an elf to reach puberty, but tallmen were fast that way. Kabru was definitely an adult for his own people, but that didn’t help at all. When were tallmen adults?

How long did it take for a body worn by adventuring and repeated deaths in the dungeon to begin to wear out? Canaries certainly didn’t make the full 500 years of an elven lifespan, not even those who retired in good health.

Mithrun personally doubted he’d see his second century, although now that the demon was gone and only natural dungeons remained technically his odds had gone up. His reason for living was gone though, and he’d yet to make a new one stick.

He didn’t particularly relish the idea of spending centuries being moved in and out of a bed at other peoples’ whims. Especially if those people were going to give up on him in just three weeks.

Maybe Kabru was upset that Mithrun didn’t have any desires yet. Maybe he was disappointed that despite all his hard work, Mithrun had nothing to offer him. Maybe he didn’t want to admit he’d been wrong.

Three weeks was too short to give up, surely. Mithrun hadn’t given up yet, although he hadn’t really found a change. But tallmen lived so little time, three weeks was a lot longer to them.

He probably should have tried harder. He had tried, had tried to mention it any time he felt anything stirring in the hollow well of his chest. Whenever there was anything even like a desire, Kabru had been so keen to encourage him.

And it wasn’t like nothing they’d done was enjoyable. He liked trying new foods with Senshi, and watching Fleki and Otta chase Lycion around with a collar and leash to be his temporary “dog”. Kabru had laughed so hard there had been tears, and Mithrun had been worried until he understood they were happy ones.

They’d had… fun. More fun than he’d had in forty years. More fun than the rush of a good fight, of watching idiots cower and baffle themselves trying to work out what he’d done to their friends.

The bag sneezed. Honestly, it was like whoever was in there wasn’t even trying to hide. But then why would they be in the bag at all?

Fleki swatted at it a couple of times, and Otta swatted at Fleki. They were bickering about nothing, but Mithrun didn’t bother to listen in.

The Canaries were disbanding now. He would lose his squad too. Fleki didn’t even want him to speak to the Queen anymore about keeping her out of prison, since he was coming back to Melini.

Maybe that was why Kabru hadn’t come. Maybe he thought that since Mithrun was coming right back, it wouldn’t be goodbye at all.

If Kabru stayed in Melini. He’d been busy talking to Laios a lot in the days since the dragon was carved, and Mithrun hadn’t listened to any of it. It hadn’t been relevant at the time. Technically it wasn’t relevant now, not to him.

If Kabru did stay in Melini, it would be at the capital. With Laios. Talking to people, which was what he did best.

Mithrun wouldn’t be able to return by this dock, that much was certain. Too much of the land would have risen before they even reached their homeland. He’d have to return by ship, and then overland, all the way back here to see him again.

He’d probably have to come to the capital just to tell Laios what he was going to be doing. Technically it would probably be phrased as a request; it’d be easier to operate with the king’s blessing if Mithrun was going to patrol his lands.

He was going to do it whether Laios gave him permission or not, obviously. The house of Kerensil could afford to buy most of the country, so even on his trust he could afford supplies for what he wanted to do. He didn’t need permission, or a salary. He could make himself useful.

But he would probably see Kabru if he came to the capital, and Kabru would have information on where the monsters had been sighted. Kabru was diligent like that.

Diligent about everything except goodbyes, apparently. That weren’t even goodbyes, really.

Mithrun would be back in a few years at most. That wasn’t long, even for tallmen. Probably. He’d ask the one in the bag, either when they were caught or once they were on the ship.

That would have to be soon. All of the crates and barrels and supplies seemed to have been loaded; the crew were now carrying smaller nets and bushels of things Mithrun did not care about aboard.

A few of the dock workers had clearly noticed something was up with the bag. They kept pausing on their way past, frowning at it and at his squad. None of them stopped to do anything though, so it didn’t matter.

He did another quick scan of the docks.

Still no Kabru. They were running out of time. The Canaries loaded last, once everyone else was settled down, but even so.

If he wanted…

Did he actually want to see Kabru?

The thought tightened his chest, an ache almost like longing at even the concept of having a true desire of his own. It was just the ache of the void, though.

He’d expected to see Kabru. Had prepared himself for it, although he still didn’t really know what was going to happen. What Kabru would say, or want to hear.

How to tell him that Mithrun still didn’t feel anything, but that he wasn’t giving up. That he’d be back soon. That Senshi had written him a guide for noodle making, and had promised to show him more if Mithrun found him when he got back.

That Marcille had offered to lend him some books when he did return, still shy and uncertain in his presence until he’d mentioned needing a purpose to occupy his time. She’d written him a list too, of books he should buy. And promised him the first when he got back, if he wanted to read it to be sure.

It was some elven romantic drama that the old Mithrun would probably have breezed through and chatted about with her as a wedge; using her obvious passion to endear himself to her for his own ends.

He didn’t read much these days. He didn’t worry about endearing himself to anyone.

And while he’d expected Kabru to come, and probably be complicated and have feelings about everything, and while it was definitely annoying that he hadn’t bothered, Mithrun couldn’t move himself to ask Fleki to look for him. Couldn’t stir the desire to go looking for himself.

Which wasn’t a surprise. It was just business as usual. It’d take more than three weeks to kindle a whole new desire.

He definitely wasn’t sulking in any way, shape, or form. He was as apathetic as ever, and his squad were smuggling some stupid tallman in a bag in the most obvious way possible, and he didn’t care about that either.

He didn’t care about anything, and somehow it felt much more hollow than it had just a month ago. Probably the lack of desire to find the demon.

Cithis finally rejoined them on the dock, elegant and regal and it really was nearly time for them to leave if she was back.

Still no Kabru.

Mithrun’s shoulders hunched. It didn’t matter. He didn’t care.

But it should have mattered, and he should care, and even if he still couldn’t Kabru could. Kabru had said he cared. And maybe Mithrun had convinced himself that if Kabru could keep caring about him, then he could find a way to care about Kabru in return.

Even just repaying a debt.

Which didn’t matter if Kabru didn’t care after all.

Cithis swept them all with an impatient look, then sighed and turned to her fellow convicts.

“If you’re all quite satisfied with yourselves?”

She was probably referring to their extremely poorly hidden tallman. Mithrun glanced at the bag, his eye narrowing.

Maybe he did mind if they brought them on board. Maybe he didn’t want any tallmen on the ship. Pattadol would mind anyway, and she’d be annoying about it if they were already at sea.

The other three were all still grinning, entirely unrepentant and probably very satisfied. After all, somehow they were getting away with it so far.

“Oh come on, he’s not worked it out yet,” Otta snickered. Mithrun didn’t bother looking at her to confirm she was talking about him.

He had worked it out. He’d worked it out right away. He just didn’t care.

Fleki was just as loud, all unearned and unnecessary enthusiasm.

“He’s been like this for about three hours now, it’s great.”

Mithrun’s scowl deepened. He didn’t usually care when she was laughing at him; he didn’t usually notice. This was just ridiculous though. He wasn’t “like” anything.

Cithis sighed even more heavily, then gave the bag a sharp kick.

“I assure you it’s far less entertaining than these fools seem to think, now put the captain out of his misery.” She sounded bored, which was far more appropriate for the absolute nothing that was going on.

Mithrun definitely wasn’t miserable though. He was fine. He was about to resolutely turn his eye away from their nonsense and ignore the lot of them when a head popped out of the top of the bag.

Kabru’s head.

Kabru was in the bag.

Mithrun. Had no idea what to think. He just stared, completely taken aback, and Fleki dissolved into cackles so hard she had to sit on the dock.

“It’s been how long? The ship’s going to be leaving soon, I thought there was a plan?” Kabru asked, frowning up at the other Canaries.

Lycion grinned back at him, entirely unapologetic.

“The plan was not to let you out until we were all on the ship,” he explained cheerfully.

“And cast off,” Otta put in helpfully.

Mithrun hadn’t worked out how to stop staring yet.

Kabru scowled up at the rest of the squad, awkwardly trying to disengage himself from the bag.

“Oh come on, I told you I couldn’t actually go! I have duties to fulfil here, and-“ he cut himself off abruptly when he caught sight of Mithrun, blue eyes blowing wide as a flush rose in his brown cheeks, dark and hot.

Mithrun did managed to close his mouth. The staring was not stopping. He didn’t think he could manage a single coherent thought.

Unbalanced and still half in the bag, Kabru grabbed at Otta for balance and hissed, “how long has the captain been there?!”

It was Lycion who answered though, Otta torn between disengaging herself from Kabru or just laughing at the pair of them.

“Oh, he’s been here the whole time.”

To be fair, Mithrun could definitely see the funny side. Kabru looked mortally offended, opening and closing his mouth a few times while he glowered at the other Canaries.

It wasn’t hard to guess what had happened, although that meant nothing.

Somehow, they had persuaded Kabru that he wouldn’t be welcome at the docks to say goodbye, so they hid him in the bag. Kabru, for whatever reason, had believed they would let him out when they found Mithrun.

And they had found Mithrun, put the bag down, and waited for one or both of them to work out what was going on.

And if Mithrun had spared about three seconds of thought to wonder who they might have put in the bag, it would probably have been just as obvious. Because who else would they stuff in a bag if not Kabru? What other tallman would they even talk to?

But Mithrun had spent the entire time ignoring them all, because he was thinking about why Kabru wasn’t here. While Kabru was at most ten feet away, in a bag.

Lips ticking up into a smile of their own accord, a soft chuckle escaped Mithrun.

He’d spent so long wondering where Kabru might be, and hadn’t even stopped to consider that the answer might be “right in front of me”.

Kabru had gotten well into scolding the squad, and most of the way free of the bag, although one foot was resolutely still tangled. None of them looked remotely contrite, not even Cithis.

They all looked over as Mithrun started to laugh. He didn’t care, hand reaching to his eye automatically to check for tears as he laughed and laughed.

If he’d only asked, it would all have come to a head in an instant. Either asking where Kabru was, or who was in their bag. But instead he’d sat brooding in silence, and Kabru hadn’t even known he was here.

If Cithis hadn’t called them on their bullshit, he’d likely not have said a word until they’d boarded. There was no doubt in his mind that Lycion would have happily carried Kabru aboard, and then they’d have kidnapped him.

And for what? Why? The passing entertainment as they travelled? Not having to deal with Mithrun themselves?

No, he knew that much. He might not value his life yet, but he could respect that they did, and they had never objected.

It was just… all so silly.

He couldn’t have remembered the last time he’d laughed, just a week and a half ago. There’d been nothing to laugh about, not that he’d noticed.

Given that he’d just proved he wouldn’t notice one directly in front of him, that wasn’t surprising either.

**

Kabru’s expression softened as he watched Mithrun laugh, light and carefree.

It had not been comfortable in the bag, stuffy and cramped and, frankly, boring. He’d had his misgivings when Otta had suggested it, but the convicts had all been so sure that someone would kick up a fuss if he just went down to the docks.

It all turning out to be a kidnapping attempt wasn’t actually hugely surprising, although he was sure Pattadol would have made them bring him back.

He just… couldn’t have let Captain Mithrun leave without saying goodbye. And now they had almost no time for that, thanks mostly to the rest of his squad.

But Mithrun was laughing. He sounded happy, and Kabru couldn’t help but smile in response.

It wasn’t like Kabru really knew what he could say. The Canaries would be leaving with the tide, and the captain might be back or might not.

Either way, it would be his decision, and nothing Kabru said was likely to factor into it. He’d already made plans to do something with the monsters stalking the kingdom, which sounded like he would come back. Kabru had to hope he would.

It would be nicer to just let it all go and let their last conversation be an enjoyable one. They’d already wasted three whole hours; he didn’t want to waste anything more being annoyed.

Otta had already mentioned that the squad already had a plan in place for as many of them to return with Captain Mithrun as possible. He’d just have however long that took to come up with a prank of his own, as a fitting revenge.

—————

So the key to this was just realising that actually, neither Kabru nor Mithrun had an actual reason or need for Kabru to be smuggled around in a bag. The convicts just needed to think it would be as funny as I did

Also, Mithrun is Thee unreliable narrator and a filthy liar and I love him he was definitely sulking for absolutely no reason

(No one has told him of the cunning plot for Otta, Lycion, Fleki, and Cithis to all get to come back with him to Melini, but you will all learn about it down the line when I get to decide who will present it

It’s a super cunning plot I’m very proud of it)

(Fleki was definitely on the shrooms when she came up with it but it’s dumb enough to be brilliant and they have til they get back to court to come up with a better one)

[cleolinda]

"Strength (Bell Donner Gives Her Word)"

I posted this short story on LJ back in 2007, and I said I'd repost it here for Halloween. I did an audio reading 15 (!) years ago that I'd like to redo in better quality in the near future; I'm also curious to see what it would sound like now that I'm the age I imagined the main character to be. This version is lightly revised, but the story is mostly the same.

That fall a number of people in Chesterville were mauled to death by some kind of wild dog or coyote—the kind that apparently wasn’t too afraid to go right up to people as they took out their trash at night, or let their own tame, domestic dog out not too long after dawn. But it was a small town out in the sticks, verging on farm territory: quiet. Not like a wild animal was marauding up and down Times Square or anything. Not like it was in plain view. So people just started being more careful—not venturing out alone until midday, or not venturing out at all without a loaded shotgun—and things were all right for a while. Then, in late October, the animal came back, and this time, someone survived.

An old lady by the name of Edna Mayhew—well, yes, she lost her arm from the elbow down, but she came out of it a damn sight better than any of those who’d come before her. And she said that it was a wolf, definitely a wolf, but it had come at her on two legs, and when she had smacked it in the face with a veiny little fist, it had held her down with two arms and bitten her forearm clean off. The only thing that saved her, she declared, was her neighbor Bill “Thursday” Thurston, who had heard her screaming and come out with both barrels blazing. He claimed that the thing he saw ran away on four legs, but that it was, in fact, Goddamn Huge. This was about the time that that new photo of Bigfoot lumbering around on all fours came out, which several professors and scientists swore up and down was just a bear with mange. Eddie at the Red Brick printed out the picture and taped it up by the bar, and the next time Thursday came in for a beer, he said, yeah, the thing he chased off Miz Mayhew kinda looked like that. Maybe it was a wolf with mange. Mange was a terrible thing, after all. He’d managed to hit it with at least one shot, though, so he didn’t think it’d trouble people too much after that.

So, going into November, that was where things stood. Whatever it was, it had mange, and it had probably gone off and died quiet somewhere. Bell Donner wasn’t terribly worried about it when she went outside one morning to get more wood for her kiln. She threw artisan pottery out on a little farm a few miles to the west of Chesterville anyway; every week or so, she’d go into town for groceries, mail out her online orders, maybe stop at the Brick for a burger and a drink, and hear what was to be heard. She had little to tell about herself, but folks like to tell their stories, and she knew Miz Mayhew from the post office. She learned that people were keeping their guns out, their doors locked, and their pets inside; she heard the recitation of tales. But whatever the thing that Bill Thurston shot had been, it and its mange were not likely to bother Bell. Or so she thought, until that morning when she was piling kindling into the crook of her arm, looked up, and saw it standing at the edge of the yard.

It didn’t have a human face, but it was standing—on two long, lanky legs that curved back into hocks like a dog’s. One—arm?—was held close to its belly. Probably protecting wherever Thursday shot it, thought Bell, her brains feeling thick and logy. That was the best reaction she could dredge up: Yeah, six-foot man-shaped wolf thing hunched over in my yard, probably not feeling too good right now. It didn’t have a human face, but it did have a very human expression—desperate, she thought, and cranky. Maybe resentful, even. And hungry.

Bell put down her armful of kindling and picked the axe back up.

The thing staggered forward a step or two. It was still a good twenty feet away.

“Go on, now,” she said. “Get. Ain’t nothin’ here you want.”

The thing gazed at her, its eyes watching the axe; it almost seemed to—calculate? She’d seen it, after all, and it was hungry. A human murderer wouldn’t have let her live, and this wasn’t even human.

Bell hardened her voice and rode over a quaver like it was a speedbump: “Go on now. I won’t tell nobody if you just go.” It was on the tip of her tongue to offer it some food—she had a pot roast from the other night, and she was still knee-deep in leftovers—and then she thought, You dumbass, you feed it once and you’ll never get rid of it. “G’on now,” she said, her hands tight on the axe handle. “Just get. You got my word. I won’t tell nobody.”

It was still standing there, reckoning. And then it stepped back, making a tactical withdrawal into the brush at the back of the yard. She saw it drop back down on four legs and lope away awkwardly towards the thicket out behind the farm, a scrubby bit of forest that led into some of the foothills. Probably some good caves in there, she thought. The wolf-thing wasn’t the only one out there who could calculate. And when the attacks started in Chesterville again, and then moved a bit north—northeast of Bell’s farm, and then back down to Chesterville, and then southeast of her farm, and then back to town again—she knew it was being careful. It knows better than to shit where it eats, she thought to herself. Or eat where it slept, more precisely, but the saying held the same. There were some people at the sheriff’s office who probably would have given a lot to know about a thicket in the foothills west of Chesterville, particularly since Edna Mayhew was still the only survivor. But Bell Donner had given her word; she valued her word almost as much as she valued her life, and they were pretty much the same thing in this case, she decided. After all, it’s one thing to know where something lives. It’s another when something knows where you live, and a deal was a deal where Bell Donner came from.

[chericos]

Aki Hayakawa

2.5k , hurt/comfort

unedited

Thick blankets of snow covered the ground. Trees, bushes, and whatever leaves they have left are engulfed in the soft, cold crystals. The chilly air blew against your face, making your nose a little runny and forcing your eyes to scrunch up just a bit.

Fluffy scarves adorned your neck. You shoved your hands into the warmest pair of gloves you could find. A hat and muffs were tight over your ears to block out the harsh winds.

Winter at its finest.

The season brought so much joy. Kids spent their days outside in the snow. Pressing their backs and small limbs into the ground to carve out snow angels and using their hands to form spheres for snowball fights, not daring to go back inside until they could barely feel their fingertips and their faces flushed due to the frigid air.

The cheerful laughter of Taiyo is what brought you back to your senses.

“Who let him outside?” You muttered quietly to Aki, who was walking to stand behind you. Your parents decided to pay a visit to an old college friend —or in other words, Hayakawa’s parents. Both of your parents have been friends longer than they could remember, naturally making you and the two brothers quite close as well.

“He came out on his own.” His childlike, yet monotonous, voice sighed out. “It's not my fault if you get sick!” Aki sneered, a look of distaste on his face while he stared at his younger brother.

Taiyo only responded with a laugh before he dashed in front of Aki to the vacant area ahead. Crouching down, he stuck his hands in the snow to grab as much as his small hands could. All you could hear were giggles and laughs as his back faced you before he stood up.

You and Aki gave quizzical stares as the over-ecstatic boy turned to face both of you. Before you could question his intentions, Taiyo threw a ball straight to your face. Squeaking in surprise, you quickly crouched down to not be hit, completely forgetting about who stood directly behind you.

Aki’s eyes were wide; the frosted crystals of snow covered his hair and eyelashes. The look on his face was priceless; you couldn’t help but let out a chuckle. Upon releasing the sound, Aki shifted his head to look at you with a scowl. “Are you laughing?”. You choked on your words as you noticed his glare and hurriedly raised your hand to cover the smile that graced your lips.

“So what if I am?” horribly hiding the small giggles that fell past your lips.

After the words slipped off your tongue, you were immediately met with a snowball to the face. It was thrown with such force that it made you lose your footing, resulting in you falling over. The snow crunched under the weight of your body. Your arms were spread to the side of you, big eyes blinking up at your attacker. Aki stared down at you with a smirk and a glint in his eyes that said, ‘You asked for it.’

If your memory serves you, what happened next was a blur; multitudes of snowballs were thrown in a fit of survival, and soft groans of feigned pain and laughter filtered throughout the air. Coming down from your high of adrenaline, you took a deep breath, seemingly trying to regain the air you lost while fighting and fits of hysterics between the three of you.

“awwhh, my hands are cold~” Taiyo whined, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. Aki, who was obviously irritated, yet concerned, ordered Taiyo to head inside to grab a pair of mittens.

If only you both knew that would be your last time seeing the ill-prone child.

It felt as if time had stopped. Barely seconds had passed as he closed the door when the sound of roaring winds could be heard. Truly, nothing could have prepared you for the sight you had witnessed. You stood there, frozen as the very house where you spent most of your time playing with your friend and your families eating dinner together had just been destroyed. Ripped out of the ground and torn apart. No words spilled from your lips as you blankly stared at where Aki’s family home once stood.

Tragic, that was the only way you could describe it, even after all these years.

You swallowed harshly, trying to regain your composure, if not for yourself, then for him. The guy you've known for practically your(and his) whole life. The guy that albeit a little young, you've garnered a slight crush on, but as you turned to him to speak he was gone. You don't recall hearing the snow crunch beneath his steps, yet as you looked out to the side into the blank white abyss you could see his figure walking away through the trees.

All you could do was stare. You didn't dare move, even with your hoarse voice from previous crying you wanted to scream out for him. To tell, beg… plead for him to not leave you too. But you didn’t. You just watched as the last thing you had left disappeared from you.

The office was frigid. Even through the thick coat you wore, you could feel the frostbitten air of the weather outside. It was snowing; frost stuck to the windows while the rest filtered their way onto the ground. This season brought a melancholy mood to you; closing your eyes with a sigh as you heard the door to your room open.

You turn your chair away from the window to look towards your office door. A polite smile adorned your visage as you faced the intruder. “Ma’am? Is something the matter? How may I assist you?”. A chuckle resonated throughout the room. “How often have I told you to stop being so formal with me, hmm? Just Makima is fine.” You didn’t respond, opting that your silence was enough of an answer as any.

“If you're not too busy, I have someone I’d like to introduce to you,”

And that’s how you found yourself making your way with Makima’s guidance to her workroom.

The walk to her office was quiet, you didn’t utter a word to her, and she did nothing to ease the uncomfortable —but not unwelcomed— silence either. You found silence to be the best form of comfort, especially after years of working directly under Makima as the second head of the fourth special division. “I’m sure you’ve met him before,” The words came out more sinister than anything, but knowing Makima, it was most likely unintentional. She had a knack for sounding malicious.

“There are not many people here that I willingly talk to.” it came out colder and sadder than you would have liked, although it was truthful nonetheless. You didnt talk to many of the inhabitants of the public safety building; of course, you were respectful; you gave curt nods when passing, gratitudes when someone would kindly kept the door open for you, and simple good mornings when you arrived first thing at 5:30 am. But casual talk wasn't something you’d partake in, even if you were brought into the conversation. Maybe that was why most people didn't bother you.

The door before you stood more eerily than you remembered; you felt the hairs on the back of your neck stand as you awaited the following actions.

Three knocks.

Three seconds.

Three times, thinking back on your decision to come here. The old wood of the deep mahogany doors creaked as the knob turned it open.

The same sapphire blue eyes you've grown accustomed to as a bright child. You've only felt this feeling once in your entire life, when you last saw him, his house, his family –the feeling as if time had stopped completely. You never expected to want to feel this way again, but it was so magnetic, so hypnotizing. Those blue eyes of his were a marvel to look at. You could lose yourself in them.

Staring as if things had never changed.

As if you hadn’t changed. As if he never left you, all alone in the cold on that day. You hoped he would come back. Waited for weeks in the same spot, helplessly wanting to just see him, to run up and hold him so he couldn't walk away again. So he couldn’t leave you again.

But he never came.

You couldn't blame him, of course. He just lost the family he had; but weren’t you the same? Was it truly that selfish to want him to confide in you?

shaking your head brought you back to reality, the sight of Makima’s eerie smile as she glanced at you sent a shiver down your spine. Coughing away what shameless embarrassment you had shown you engaged back into the conversation.

“—I’ll be moving you over to her division, Hayakawa.”

Maybe you misheard her. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you replayed her words in your head. Makima might have been evil—in your eyes— but she would never go this far, would she?

She had to have known. You opened up to her about your past on one of your frequent night outs to the bar. You described him to the best of your ability, name and all. There was no way she didn’t know it was him. She was doing this on purpose wasn’t she?

You didn’t want anything to do with this exchange anymore but sadly the lines on your forehead didn’t go unnoticed.

“Are you doing all right over there?” God. Her smile. How you hated it. You hated how you could see the pure look of amusement swirling in her eyes at your discomfort. You hated it. You hated her.

You hated him.

Aki Hayakawa.

All he did was stare at you. Yet you hated how his gaze would linger on your face. He didn’t utter a word. Did he forget you? Surely not. He had to have remembered you right?

You didn’t want to see him anymore. Not yet. Maybe not ever. Without answering you turned on your heels and stormed out of the room, slamming the door on your way.

It’s not like you had anywhere to go. You just wanted out of that room. The cold air nipped at your skin as you walked beyond the building doors. You found an empty bench, using your bare hands to push the snow that piled atop of it before sitting.

Taking a deep breath while tilting your head up to the sky you tried to clear your head. It was still snowing. Just like that day. You closed your eyes to stop the tears from forming.

It seemed as if the world had other plans for you. The sound of the snow crunching caught your attention. Assuming it was just another bypasser you kept your eyes closed. It wasn’t until you heard a cough that you peered through your lashes.

There he stood. And again, time froze. His onyx hair, his cerulean eyes. His- “I’m sorry.” The words, soft as they fell from his lips. His eyes held guilt in them as he looked over you. You didn’t need an apology though. You wanted to know why he left you.

“I don’t want your apologies.” From the corner of your eye you could see him visibly wince at your tone. However you didn’t ponder on it. Immediately asking him the question you’d been longing to know the answer to.

“Why did you leave?” Now that you said the words aloud they did seem selfish, but you deserved to know that at least. Some sort of closure. Any closure. And then it would all be fine, wouldn’t it?

It wouldn’t.

You waited for his response, minutes passed by without any words spilling from his mouth. Maybe he didn’t know what to say? But that was unlike him, he always knew the right things to say. Then you heard a sound, it was quiet, you had to strain your ears to even pick it up. A whimper? No, more like a choked sob. You glanced up, taking a quick stop to look at him.

Even though he tried to move his face out of your line of sight you still caught ahold of the tears that he was desperately trying to wipe away. He was crying.

You were still mad at him. Sure. But you couldn’t just stand there and watch him like that. Without thinking you stood up from the bench to move closer to him. Your arms circled around his torso and you pulled him into a hug. It took him a while before he moved to do the same.

“I didn’t mean to leave. I just,” he paused for a second. Breathing in before he continued. “I just thought I needed space. Which was stupid. I shouldn’t have left you there. But when I tried to go back I couldn’t find you. I thought you left me too.”

You felt your own tears in your eyes. You tried hard to blink them back but to no avail. “You idiot, I would never leave you. I assumed you were leaving me all alone. I should’ve called out to you, sorry.”

“I'm sorry.”

“It’s fine now.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Aki, I said it’s ok, I forgive you.”

“I'm sorry.”

You didn’t have the energy to argue back and forth with him. You pressed yourself closer to him, the chill of the air starting to catch up with you. The two of you stood there, embraced, together. The occasional person passing may have given you both odd stares but that didn’t matter. At least not right now. Cause you had just gotten the one person you trusted the most back.

Minutes passed, although it felt more like hours before Aki hesitantly pulled back from the hug.“Are you feeling better now?” Aki’s eyes glazed over with concern as he stared down at your face. “Yeah, sorry for storming out like that. I just didn’t know what to say.” It was embarrassing to actually admit to his face.

“You don’t have to apologize, I honestly expected you to slap me.”

“I should’ve.” A smile graced your face at the mental image. You took a few steps ahead before turning around to motion him to follow you back inside. Surely Makima was still waiting on the both of you.

“Would you like to catch up later?” He asked as he matched your pace. He sounded timid, probably afraid of you rejecting him since he couldn’t bring himself to make eye contact. You couldn’t help but giggle.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

“That ponytail of yours is kind of stupid looking you know-”

“Shut up.”

—————————

Can you tell i rushed everything past the 3rd paragraph of the office part??! 😭 this has been sitting on google docs since November and I was getting tired of it so I just.. finished it yk.

Anyways this was supposed to be for @justauthoring 30k event but honestly idk if it’s too late for that. Originally going to be pure angst but I have some haters (bella) so I tried to write something cute 😒

Too tired to read over/edit tonight so if there’s any mistakes or advice you can write a comment, I’ll have my beta readers go over it tmr

[here-there-be-drag0ns]

Riptide theory’s mayhaps???

HI HELLO YES

okay so im still on my "Queen is Reborn and also The Dread Queen" bullshit because im not letting that die until grizzly kills it

but anyway episode 110 gave me shit to work with here okay okay okay im genuinely so feral about this

Niklaus said the Dread Queen willingly went into the Astral Plane to try to discover the secrets of life and death so that she could conquer it. The Astral Plane is where souls go after death and are held until they find the next plane they settle into for their afterlife. The Astral Plane has its own natural cycle for souls entering and leaving and when and how this is meant to happen. By willingly entering the astral plane through a means other than how she was naturally meant to enter it, she effectively threw off the cycle and balance of it for her own soul.

The concept of Reborn as a player race is just someone who has "escaped death" through uncommon means. They 'died and came back wrong' or were 'touched by death' or however you want it to be phrased.

By entering the astral plane the Dread Queen effectively died an unnatural death, and by leaving the astral plane she would be resurrected, or reborn.

According the the entry for reborn: "Reborn suffer from some manner of discontinuity, an interruption of their lives or physical state that their minds are ill equipped to deal with." And, well, I would say entering and leaving the astral plane outside of its natural cycle is one hell of an interruption. Dying and coming back to life in the least conventional means possible will absolutely throw someone off, and the knowledge gained from the astral plane for sure wasnt meant to be understood by mortals, which could absolutely fuck with memory and consciousness by D&D and fantasy standards.

Plus, leaving the astral plane, or plane-hopping, might not necessarily drop her right where she entered, and very easily could drop her in All-Port, the center of the world. It would explain how Queen just kind of Showed Up in All-Port with no memory of how she got there or who she was before.

On top of that, in the Reborn entry it says "Whatever their origins, reborn know a new life and seek experiences and answers all their own." and as of episodes 109 and 110 Queen has now outright stated a drive to find out who they were before this and what happened to them.

ALSO BEFORE ANYBODY COMES AT ME ABOUT THE DREAD QUEEN IN THE SAC AND THE HEART THING!! The body in the sac was emphasized to be puppet-like, and constructed. In other worse, that is not the Dread Queen. That's a vessel meant to hold her consciousness if Captain Widow had gotten to finish her spell. The Dread Queen is not inside the sac yet, and thanks to Niklaus stealing the magical heart (heavily implied to not be human or natural) the Dread Queen will not have the chance to be pulled into that vessel.

GGRAAAHH IM INSANE ABOUT THIS THEORY ACTUALLY IM NOT LETTING IT GO GRIZZLYS GONNA HAVE TO PRY IT FREE FROM MY COLD, DEAD HANDS!!