#I’d kill for a room like this now tbh

[4unnyr0se]

❥ OHMAMI | hajime iwaizumi

warnings: timeskip! iwaizumi, fem! reader, car sex, semi-public sex, unprotected sex, hickeys, degradation, manhandling, slight fingering, finger-sucking, riding, oikawa is mentioned a lot tbh, protective and possessive iwa

MDNI | 18+ content

word count -> 4.9k

a/n: okay i started this in early june and now im finishing it so im sorry if it doesnt make sense aaaa

❥ song: OHMAMI - chase atlantic

Iwaizumi was never the one people thought of when asked who their favorite member of the Aoba Johsai team was. He grew to accept it over time, albeit with spite and anger. Everyone was always wrapped up in what Oikawa was doing, wondering who would be his next girlfriend of the week. It was gross how Oikawa hogged all the girls; how could he be so selfish? Fucking jackass. 

Naturally, it was a relief when he graduated. Sure, Aoba Johsai never went to nationals (and yes, it very much stung), but the memories were important, right? Hitting perfect spike after spike, smacking Oikawa around, hearing that glorious school cheer, Iwaizumi had to admit he would miss it. Not the part where Oikawa kept all the girls to himself. 

Graduation came and went, and so did university. It was a breeze. Sports medicine was not a challenging major; he was just really good at the subject. Another graduation came, and Iwaizumi could only think about you and that pretty, perfect face. You were his closest friend in high school, and sadly, you drifted apart during university. You were studying Japanese literature or something, he didn’t remember. It’s not his fault; he was just too busy getting girls for the first time in a while. Totally not his fault…right?

Iwaizumi wasn’t doing himself any fucking favors, he thought about you too much for his own good. Whether Aoba Johsai lost or how insufferable Oikawa was, you were always there for him. You let him lean against your shoulder and complain about his day, his disheveled and messy uniform giving him an even more thuggish appearance. The way your soft, almost angelic hands massaged his scalp, assuring him that he would be okay.  Oh, how he longed for your fingers in his spiky hair again. He had forgotten your scent, your sweet floral scent. Was it roses or lavender? Maybe lilac? Although all the girls in high school wore the same body sprays, yours was different. Was it because you were never scared of him to begin with? Fuck, he missed you.

He sat on the bench in the empty locker room of the gym he worked at, a hot towel draped around broad shoulders as he began to lose himself in his fond high school memories. Images danced around in his mind of your sweet face smiling at him for the first time, the words “Don’t worry, I’ll help you study for the English test!” leaving your soft lips. At least, Iwaizumi thought they were soft. No, he knew they were soft. God, you were so kind to him. You even ignored Oikawa’s advances towards you, which made him blush and gain so much respect for you in an instant. “Man, I’d really like to punch that guy in his dumb face.” you snickered, covering your bright smile. Iwaizumi swore he could marry you right then and there.

From that moment on, he was your closest friend. You went to all his practices and games, cheering for him when no one else would. “Nice kill, Iwa!” you would shout from the bleachers, proudly wearing a spare version of his jersey. His jersey. If Iwaizumi had no supporters, you were dead. The two of you were inseparable until university rolled around, and Iwaziumi became stupidly popular with the ladies. And sure, college girls were pretty and incredibly loose, but they weren’t you. No one was you, and he missed you every day.

Iwaizumi grunted as he stood up, tossing the towel into a basket. He stepped out of the locker room with his hands in his pockets, whistling a song from his cardio playlist. It was around ten at night, and his gym was one of the few open so late, so there wasn’t anyone there except the front receptionist girl who flirted with every guy who walked in. Truly, he couldn’t ask for better entertainment. 

“Yo,” Iwaizumi leaned across the desk, stealing an electrolyte drink from the employee minifridge. There’s no one here; you should just go home. It’s getting late.” The cool drink touched his lips, the cherry flavoring subtle. “If the boss gives you any crap, you can blame me. I don’t mind.”

The receptionist eagerly stood up and practically ran out the door, throwing her time card at him. “Clock me out!” she shouted halfway out the automatic door. Iwaizumi sighed and shoved the time card in his sweats. She really was a ditz, but at least she got people to sign up for VIP memberships. 

He clocked her out and went to his favorite spot in the gym where he usually deadlifts. Unfortunately, there was no one to spot him. Iwaizumi was a jock, but he certainly wasn’t dumb. There was no way he was dying because he got crushed by a fucking barbell. There is no chance in hell. 

His rough and calloused hands decided just to lift weights instead. That was simpler, more safe. He flipped on his headphones and selected a tune from his more…sensual playlist. It's a sensual indie R&B song that could make anyone feel like a sex god. Why was that song on his playlist? He couldn’t tell you. Once again, Iwaizumi became lost in his thoughts as he lifted the weights up and down with such ease. He worked out for health benefits, but just something about staring at his physique in the mirror made it all worth it. Damn, did he look fine as hell. He was ashamed of how long it took him to realize that he was stupidly attractive, and it took a lot of skill not to develop a massive ego around his looks. 

The automatic doors slid open, the dinging sound drowned out by his noise-canceling headphones. His green eyes locked on the floor mat below him, concentrating on passing the time by any means necessary. He paused briefly when he saw two tiny white sneakers enter his field of vision, standing considerably close to his muscular form. “Sorry about that,” he mumbled, placing the weights on the ground. “Music’s loud, y’know?” His eyes trailed upwards until they finally met your gaze, his pupils shrinking in shock. His hands gripped his headphones, softly filling the room with sensual music. “Holy shit.” Iwaizumi’s mouth was agape. He looked like a fool. “Uh, hi.”

“Hi, Iwa.” you smiled brightly, taking his headphones from his rough hands and placing them around his thick neck. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it? Three years, I think.” Fuck, he forgot how much smaller your hands were to his own. It’s so cute.

“Three years since university, yeah,” Iwaizumi mumbled, wiping the glistening sweat away from his forehead. “I can’t believe it’s been that long. You don’t look any different. Not that it’s a bad thing!” he stumbled on his words, silently cringing at his immature actions. He never got this flustered. He hasn’t been in a while. Less than a minute talking to you, and he was a stammering mess. This wasn’t like him at all. His tough persona might as well be tossed out the window. 

You offered him another sweet smile and rubbed his shoulder, the sweat not bothering you in the slightest. “Change is a good thing, y’know,” your words were gentle and comforting, oozing with wisdom beyond your years. Another thing Iwaizumi thought was perfect about you was that you always knew the right thing to say. “You’ve changed too. You’re way more buff than the last time we saw each other!”

“Damn right,” he smirked, subtly flexing his biceps. Were you looking? He hoped so. “I’m a personal trainer, so I gotta stay in shape. Plus, I train Oikawa, so whenever I’m pissed off, I just do a couple sets.”

“You still hang out with Oikawa? I thought you hated him.” you raised an eyebrow, placing a hand on your hips quizically. 

“I’m getting paid to tell him what workouts he should do. Can’t complain about that money,” Iwaizumi rubbed the back of his head, fluffing out his spiky hair. “Besides, I’m allowed to kick his ass whenever I want. That asshole deserves it. He somehow got even more cocky after he got back from Argentina.”

You rolled your eyes and found a nearby workout bench, crossing your legs over each other. “I didn’t think Loserkawa could become even more full of himself. You’d think being in a foreign country would humble him slightly.”

“Right?” a deep chuckle escaped his chapped lips as Iwaizumi sat beside you, minding the distance. He bit down on his lower lip slightly, just for a moment. Would you mind if he sat closer to you, like in high school? “He even started speaking Spanish, but he’s not allowed to do that around me.”

“Because you’ll throw a dumbbell at him?”

“Because I’ll throw a dumbbell at him.”

You giggled and scooted closer to Iwaizumi, the scent of sweat mixed with his cologne filling your nostrils. He smelled more mature than in high school, but that’s a given. “I see you’re still the same ol’ spikey-haired guy.” you ruffled his hair, knowing that you were the only one who could do that without getting a beatdown. 

Iwaizumi blushed, averting his eyes from your gaze. Fuck, he really missed your touch. “So, uh, what brings you to the gym? Were you looking for a membership or something?” 

You shook your head, casually wrapping your arm around his shoulder. Were you trying to kill him? “Nah. If I’m being honest, I saw you in one of the windows while I was out for an evening walk. It’s been a while, so I wanted to say hi.” You momentarily looked down at your shoes, a faint blush gracing your cheeks. “Besides, I missed you.”

“You walked here by yourself? At night? Are you crazy?” Iwaizumi shouted, grasping your shirt to pull you closer. “It’s not safe at night. You didn’t have anyone to protect you! Do you know how stupid that sounds?” his nostrils flared, a mixture of anxiety and rage overcoming him. “What if something happened?”

You gasped, your brow furrowing. “Well, excuse me! I didn’t know I needed permission from someone I haven’t spoken to in three years to take a fucking walk!” you ripped his hand away from your shirt. 

Iwaizumi groaned, hanging his head. “You’re right, I’m sorry. It’s just…” he took a deep breath. “It’s not safe for someone like you at night, and I’d never be able to forgive myself if something happened to you because you wanted to see me.” 

You rolled your eyes and pulled his chin up, staring into his oceans of green. “Just because you’re worried about someone doesn’t give you an excuse to be an asshole about it,” you smiled in assurance. “Next time, I’ll bring something to defend myself. Okay?”

Iwaizumi smirked. “You’re the only person allowed to call me an asshole, y’know that? If you were anybody else, I’d beat your skull in.

“Then I’m lucky that I happen to still be Hajime Iwaizumi’s favorite person after all these years,” you bit down on your lower lip. “Unless…you have a girlfriend. Then she’s probably your favorite person.”

“No girlfriend, I don’t have the time,” he shook his head, moving himself closer. “I had a girlfriend before, but then-”

“Oikawa took her from you?” you cut him off.

“Fucking Oikawa took her from me. He dated her for two weeks, then dumped her for someone he met at a bar. Can you believe that?” he clenched his fist.

“Unfortunately, I can,” you gave an exasperated sigh. “I guess Oikawa will always be Oikawa.”

“God help us,” Iwaizumi chuckled. “Hey, I gotta lock up the gym. Can you wait outside, and then I can drive you home?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure? I don’t wanna be a bother.”

“Why would you be a bother? I’m just keepin' you safe, dummy.” Iwaizumi assured you, getting up and brushing off his pants. “Wait here. I’ll come to get you. I don’t want you standing outside. There’s a lot creeps around here who want nothing more than to get close to a pretty girl like you.” he turned around, not realizing that he had just complimented you. You were left with a brighter blush on your face, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. Did Iwaizumi think you were pretty after all this time?

Eventually, he finished what he needed to do to close up the gym: he wiped down all the machines and ensured everything was organized for the morning shift. He grabbed you by the wrist and practically dragged you out of the gym, having an unusually tight grip.

“Dude, what are you doing? I know how to walk,” you tugged your wrist away from his hand, rubbing it. “You’re acting weird. Did something happen when you were cleaning up? “I just don’t want you to stray too far, that’s all. Keep close to me, or else I might end up killing somebody.” he shoved his hands in the pockets of his sweats, making his way to the car. He was weirdly protective over you, but it only bothered you slightly. 

Having your big, strong best friend wanting nothing more than to keep you safe in a parking lot was…well, it was sexy. Iwaizumi was sexy, and he knew it. You wondered if he knew that you thought so, too. How, when you were in high school, you would daydream about him pinning you against the wall and kissing you until you couldn’t breathe. How your mind would wander in college, staring at him from across the dining hall, watching as he unconsciously flexed his biceps in such a way that made you swoon every single time.

With his hand wrapped protectively over your shoulder, he clicked the keyfob and unlocked his car. It was a larger vehicle, boasting proud rims on the tires. “You can get in the passenger seat. I have snacks in the glove compartment if you’re hungry.”

“Since when do you have snacks in the car?” you sat in the passenger seat, buckling up. “That doesn’t seem very healthy, Mr. Personal Trainer.” you giggled, making air quotes. 

He playfully rolled his eyes, getting into the driver's seat. “I have to drive long distances for work sometimes. So, to keep me sane, I keep little snacks in my glove compartment. Granola and crap like that. Protein bars.” 

“Oh, so snacks that aren’t actually snacks?” you winked. 

“Shut up,” he clicked his seatbelt in, revving the car. “Do you wanna choose what we listen to or not? Also, type your address into the GPS while at it.”

“Or I could look through your messages.”

Iwaizumi shot you a glare. “Don’t even joke about that.”

You giggled, typed in your address, and then opened Spotify. “You have a lot of playlists. Why?”

He shrugged his shoulders, flexing the muscles. Fuck, he was so fucking sexy. “I dunno, I guess I just have one for every occasion. When you’re working with Oikawa, music typically helps,” he smirked, raising an eyebrow. “You can pick from any song on any playlist.”

“Then I choose this one,” you selected OHMAMI, handing him back his phone. “It’s from your playlist that has a heart emoji as the title. What’s that for?”

Iwaizumi felt his face become overrun with a blazing blush. His hands gripped the steering wheel as he pulled out of his parking spot, turning the car towards the exit. “Oh, uh, it’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

“But I wanna know!” you whined, crossing your arms over your chest. “C’mon, we just caught up a second ago, but you never kept any secrets from me.”

He sighed and bit down on his bottom lip. “Fuck, okay. Fine,” he took a deep breath. “It’s…this song is from my sex playlist. Specifically from college.”

Your pupils blew up, your hand immediately flying to your mouth to stifle a chuckle. “You have a sex playlist? And this is a song on it?”

“That’s what I just fucking said, didn’t I?” his face was red and anger and embarrassment. “See, this is why I didn’t want to tell you!”

“Iwa,” you tapped his thigh. “Sorry for laughing. It’s just that sex playlists are usually romantic and, no offense, but you never seemed like a romantic kind of guy.” 

He furrowed his brow. “I can be romantic, “ he made a sharp left turn. “I just haven’t had a reason to in a while, that’s all.”

“Aw, I’m sorry, man,” you pouted. “I’m sure someone will come along that can make you want to use this playlist again.” you smiled at him, flashing your teeth.

“Yeah, hopefully,” Iwaizumi sighed, stealing a glance at you. You were perfect, absolutely perfect. He was mentally kicking himself for not making a move. But then again, there was a sexy song playing, so the mood was set. Maybe you wouldn’t mind if his hand squeezed your thigh, dancing lower and lower. Maybe you wouldn’t mind at all. 

He continued to drive, the music from the stereo being the only thing to prevent the car from being silent. His mind wandered places: obscene, filthy places. He wondered what noises you would make if he ate your pussy out in the passenger seat. Would you taste as sweet as he imagined? Iwaizumi just knew your pussy was tight, how it would flutter around his cock as he bounced you up and down on it in the backseat, your hand flat against the roof of his car with the music blaring. He was so deep in thought that he neglected to realize the tent growing in his sweats. But you noticed.

Your eyes darted back and forth to his hard-on, squeezing your legs together at the sight. You suspected he was hiding a monster down there, and now you were sure of it. Surprisingly, Iwaizumi never got hard around you before today, at least not to your knowledge. It was like it was calling you to, desperate for your hands to slide up and down.

“Uh, Iwa?” you groaned, crossing your legs over each other. 

“Hm?” he didn’t take his eyes off the road.

“You have like…a huge boner right now.” you blushed furiously, cringing to yourself. Could you have chosen a more awkward set of words?

Iwaizumi choked on his breath, swerving the car slightly. He glanced down at his sweats, and lo and behold, he was hard. “O-Oh, fuck. Shit, that wasn’t supposed to happen.” he groaned, clenching onto the steering wheel once more.

You squirmed in your seat. “Hey man, don’t worry about it. You can’t control when you get hard, right? S’not a problem.”

He thought for a moment, mumbling under his breath. He canceled the navigation and pulled the car into a parking lot by an abandoned gas station frequented by local teenagers. Luckily, there was no one there right now. “I can’t,” he breathed in, refusing to meet your gaze. “I can’t control it when I’m around you,” he parked the car. “You drive me so fucking crazy.”

You squeezed onto the leather seats, your face still blazing red. “You’re telling me that I made your dick hard?” 

“Yeah, that’s what I just fucking said.” he groaned, unclicking his seatbelt. His eyes finally met yours, full of want. “You made me hard, princess.”

Princess. The nickname rang in your ears. Fuck, it was like hot honey rolling off his chapped lips. “Iwa…” you breathed out, gasping as he tugged on the collar of your shirt, pulling you closer to him. The center console was the only thing that separated you two. 

“Princess,” he whispered. “I’ve wanted you for so fucking long. Ever since you said, you wanted to punch Shittykawa in the face.”

“Really?”

“Really.” his eyes landed on your lips, beautiful and begging to be kissed. “I’ve wanted you for so fucking long. Please,” his hot breath grazed your cheek. “Please tell me that you want me to. But I’m warning you right now,” he kissed your burning skin. “Once you tell me you do, I won’t hold myself back anymore.”

A sensation began to bubble inside your belly, his words causing your core to throb with want. You parted your lips, wetting them with your tongue. “Iwa,” your voice was barely a whisper. “Please, I want you.”

Iwaizumi let go of your shirt, his eyes flaring with passion and lust. “Get in the backseat, now.” he growled, climbing over the center console. You eagerly followed him, finding a spot on his lap. His hands secured themselves on the fat of your hips, making sure you didn’t go anywhere. It's not like you wanted to, anyway. 

“I’ve been waiting for this for so fucking long, princess,” he groaned before slamming his lips against yours in a frenzy. His lips assaulted yours, greedy and shameless. Your mind became TV static, your lips dancing with his as if it was a reflex, as if you had done this a million times before. You moaned into the kiss as he groped you without a care, his hands slipping under the hem of your gym shorts. You gasped as his warm hands wandered, exploring you as if he was attempting to map out your perfect curves.

His hand was scolding hot as it ventured to finger the elastic, ripping the cheap fabric. He swallowed your surprised gasp, smirking into the kiss. “Fuckin’ cheap fabric,” he growled, his hand massaging up and down your panties. “I’ll buy you a new pair, don’t worry, your pretty lil’ head about it.” 

Iwaizumi broke the kiss, resting his head in the crook of your neck while his fingers continued their gentle dance across your clothed, dripping cunt. The digits ran up and down the soaked material, causing him to shudder. “Fuck, you’re this wet from just a kiss?” he groaned against your neck, the sharpness of his canines grazing the sensitive skin. He could have sworn he could hear your heartbeat coming from the veins. Your pulse was thundering, it was fucking addictive. His lips ventured up and down your delicate neck, leaving wanting, open-mouthed kisses in the spots that made you squirm so beautifully on your lap. His teeth nibbled down on your sweet spot, causing your hips to buck into his hard-on.

“Needy fucking girl,” his voice rumbled, fingers dipping into your panties to toy with your sobbing slit. You whimpered, resting your forehead onto his own as the calloused pads of his thick fingers teased your clit. “Fuck, you’re soaked. D’ya even need me to finger this pussy, or are you such a fucking slut that you’re this wet all the time?” his hands cracked against your ass. “Hm? Talk to me, princess.”

“Only you!” you yelped. Iwaizumi chuckled darkly, lifting his head from your neck to greet you with a blown-out stare. His eyes told you everything you needed to know; they told you that he wanted to fucking ruin you on his cock like he’s been wanting to all these years.

“That’s what I like to fucking hear,” he slapped your ass again, making you gasp and jolt. His lips quickly met yours once more as his finger bullied its way inside your cunt, curling inside without mercy or forgiveness. “Shit, you’re squeezing around my finger. Do you really need to get fucked that fucking bad, hm? Is my girl a little slut?”

“M’not a slut!” you sobbed, tossing your head back. Your hands gripped his muscular shoulders with white-hot-knuckle strength, making Iwaizumi hiss in pain. Not that he was complaining. He fucking loved it.

“Fuck, I can’t take this anymore,” he pulled his finger out of your weeping cunt, licking off your slick. “Ya taste so fucking good, shit,” he groaned, sliding off his sweatpants and boxers so that his cock could spring free. You moaned at the sight, taking in his magnificent length. He was small by no means necessary, boasting a lengthy and girthy cock with an angry red tip that was leaking precum. “Turn around and hover above it.”

You did as he instructed, pushing your ruined panties to the side so your pulsating core was just above his angry cock. His hands snaked around the small of your waist, pulling your flush up against his chest. “You’re gonna be a good fucking slut and let me fuck you on this cock, yeah? If I think you’re being too quiet for even a second,” his voice dropped to a deadly whisper. “I’m gonna fuck you stupid.”

“Iwa,” your words died on your tongue as his fingers were abruptly shoved into your mouth, making you gag.

“Don’t fucking call me Iwa,” he demanded, his cock teasing your entrance. “It’s Hajime now. Don’t be a dumbass and forget it when I’m breaking you on this cock. Am I clear, pretty girl?”

You nodded, tears swelling in your eyes. His fingers slid out of your mouth and back onto your hips, squeezing the fat. “Be a good little slut and take this cock,” he growled, biting down harshly onto your neck before slamming you onto his cock without mercy, refusing to give your tight pussy anytime to adjust. 

“Oh god, yes,” Iwaizumi moaned against your neck, bouncing you expertly on his length. His eyes were hooded with lust and desire as he looked over your shoulder. The sight of your pussy swallowing his cock was magnificent. Especially how you struggled to take his length, you poor thing. Maybe he’ll be nicer to you next time. “Do you see yourself, princess? That pretty pussy is swallowing me whole. Good fucking girl.”

You writhed and squirmed on his lap, helpless as Iwaizumi used you like a toy. His hands reached around to pull down your top, exposing your bralette to the hot atmosphere. He pulled your bra down as well, shamelessly pinching and squeezing your pillowy mounds as his cock drove itself inside you with reckless abandon. 

“Y’been hiding these perfect tits from me too? Naughty fucking girl,” his hand dropped your breast and smacked your clit, earning a shriek from your bruised lips. “Can’t believe I waited this fucking long to grope these tits, fuck. I wonder what else you’re hiding, hm?” his hips never relented, continuing their rushed and desperate pace in harsh and fast strokes. 

“You look like such a slut right now. God, I wish I could see that pretty face,” he purred against the shell of your ear, licking the cartilage. His praise was so fucking addictive, making you shamelessly clench on his cock. “Oh, y’like when I call you pretty? Get fucking used to it.”

“I’m gonna make you ruin yourself on me,” his voice rasped, the tip of his cock twitching inside of you. “You’re gonna cum all over this fucking cock, and then I’ll cum inside, yeah? No one’s ever gonna fuck this pretty cunt again unless I say so. Until your Hajime says so, okay, princess?” he smacked your clit again, gathering your slick on his fingers. “Who’s the only one that can fuck this pretty pussy?”

“You! It’s yours, Hajime!” you sobbed, the rest of your meaningless rambling dying on your lips as he shoved his fingers inside your mouth once more. Your tongue wrapped around the digits, tasting your delicious slick. Your pussy fluttered around his cock, trying to pull him impossibly deeper inside of you. You were so fucking greedy.

Iwaizumi snarled against your neck, fucking you even harder. His hips continued to snap as he drove himself deeper and deeper inside, the sensation of your pussy doing its best to milk him being all that he needed. “You’re gonna fucking cum, yeah? That’s it, princes, make a fucking mess on me. Get your Hajime all sticky with your cum like a good fucking girl.”

With Iwaizumi’s encouragement, you finally let go. You came with a wanton sob, the bubbles in your belly boiling over to send you crashing over the edge and into oblivion. You could have sworn you saw white. Iwaizumi fucked you through it, whispering sweet nothings as your release coated his cock. 

“Oh, shit,” he groaned into your neck, biting down once more on the bruised skin as his cock twitched one final time, his release spilling inside to fill your cunt up so nicely. “Good fucking girl, take it all.” his hands fell to his hips, slumping against the leather seat.

“Hajime,” you groaned, reluctantly pulling yourself off his cock. His cum ran down your ruined thighs, mixing with your slick. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for you to do that.” you offered him a weak smile, staring at your ripped and forgotten-about jean shorts. “Dammit, you ripped them! These were my favorite pair. And now I don’t have any pants!” you scolded him, hitting him over the head with the fabric. “We’re in a parking lot, and I have no damn pants!”

“Relax,” he sighed, pulling up his pants and boxers. “Did you forget I was driving you home? Besides,” he pecked your lips. “I’m coming over, and we’re gonna cuddle and shit. Whatever you want.” he blushed, not meeting your gaze. He was still scared of you seeing him blush even after you were so intimate.

“Whatever I want?” you teased. “You’re cute when you get all flustered, Hajime.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

[poppedbubblgum]

I’ve had this au in my brain for months now and only recently drew for it so I’m here to add to the pile of rise aus haha

It’s the standard separated au but my version B) - Donnie grew up with Splinter, Leo stayed with Draxum, Raph ended up at the battle nexus and Mikey was left to roam the streets of the Hidden City.

More info under the cut-

Donnie: The most mentally stable of the brothers somehow. He was raised in the sewers with splinter, and even though he did receive care, splinter still couldn’t really provide much in terms of affection. Despite that they still love each other, even if distantly. He’s chronically online. He knows every vine ever and plays fps games a lot yes I made him a gamer. He and April are extremely close in this au, having met at a young age and April being the closest thing Donnie has to a sibling until finding his brothers. Splinter also refuses to tell Donnie anything to do with mutants/yokai, or even where they came from, much to Donnie’s dismay. Without his brothers and their antics, he doesn’t get out much, and hasn’t made a battle/protective shell for himself yet.

April: She and Donnie met in early childhood and were practically inseparable, them both being only children, and they basically became each other’s annoying sibling. She’s the only reason Donnie came out of his shell (heh) and she likes to take him onto the surface streets for shenanigans.

Leo: Huguinn pulled Leo from the wreckage of Draxum’s lab and was raised in the rebuilt lab. Draxum genuinely didn’t expect the turtles to come out as literal infants after mutation so it’s a miracle Leo even survived this long lol. (Huguinn and Muninn did most of the work tbh) Draxum considers Leo to be a biproduct/fragment of a failed experiment and uses Leo more as an errand boy than anything else. Because of that Leo’s and Draxum’s relationship is also distant. Leo acts nonchalant and sarcastic for the most part, but he can’t help but want to please Draxum. Leo knows about his brothers and even tried looking for them early on, but eventually gave up. He and Donnie meet first. Also he sneaks out to get pizza at Hueso’s when he’s bored.

Raph: His and Mikey’s stories start out intertwined. They both ended up in the hidden city and lived out the early years of their lives there. When he was around 7 years old, Mikey being 5, Raph was taken as a contestant for a battle royale at the nexus, composed entirely of young yokai. (The battle nexus is quite literally a gladiator ring where contestants kill one another) Raph was taken due to his large size, and after managing to survive the battle royale, Big Mama allowed him to stay and become a fully fledged fighter at the nexus. He moved his way up in rank and became one of the top Nexus champions under the stage name, The Beast. He’s soft spoken and quick to anger at first, having received so little friendly interactions.

Mikey: He and Raph lived in the hidden city together until Raph was taken when he was around 5 years old. After that he was basically left to fend for himself. He survived via stealing and living on rooftops and alleys Aladdin style. He’s incredibly agile and a master pickpocket. He even made a name for himself in the district where he lives as the local thief. This, however, hasn’t dampened his spirits at all and he’s just as bright and bubbly as ever. He loves anything and everything to do with art and often does graffiti wherever he can. He’s an avid battle nexus fan and watches the battles whenever he can ( Leo is also a huge fan).

I’ve legitimately had this au in my head for months and this isn’t even close to everything I’ve conjured up but I had to make something for it or else I’d explode. Despite there being a lot of room for angst in this au, I imagine it as more lighthearted and similar to the show in terms of comedy. If you read this far congrats and give me your strength please

[vampykween]

real love

simon ghost riley x f!reader this is just porn tiny bit of plot tbh apologies for the abrupt end, but i could not for the life of me finish this all the way through ugh

You're not sure if your husband is trying to kill you; he looks devilishly handsome in the black button-up he's wearing - which he's conveniently left three buttons open on - and the woodsy notes of his cologne have you feeling inappropriately hot for the lively restaurant you two are in.

Simon’s lips are on yours as soon as you two cross the threshold. He his large palms roaming the expanse of your back until he cups your ass and squeezes the round flesh. You moan into his mouth which is hastily swallowed up when Simon sweeps his tongue into your mouth, sending a rush of heat straight to your core. Simon always kisses you like he's trying to simultaneously devour you and convey all the love he has for you.

He unexpectedly pulls away from you and shakes his head, “don’t wanna get too carried away love, I have a surprise for you. But trust, any other day and I’d rip this fuckin’ dress off and have my way with you right here. You look fuckin’ sinful.”

You blush at your husband’s words, somehow you think you’ll never get used to the way he talks about you, like you truly are the greatest gift he’s ever received. You remember that he said he had a surprise for you, but before you have time to question any further, he’s taking your hand and leading you towards your shared bedroom. He stops in front of the closed door and has on, what you perceive to be, a sheepish look on his face. What could possibly have your normally cocky and confident husband feeling insecure?  

“Baby, whatever it is, I’m sure I’ll love it. I love anything you do for me, you know that,” you try and ease Simon’s nerves if only momentarily. He nods curtly and opens the bedroom door, and you gasp, raising your hand to cover your mouth. Tears began to pool in your eyes, “Simon- I- What’s all this for?” you can believe the sight in front of you. There are a multitude of light candles spread out on the surfaces in the room, creating a romantic aura that’s coupled with the vase of your favorite flowers on your nightstand.

You turn towards him in disbelief, not that Simon being romantic was completely out of the ordinary, but you simply weren’t expecting him to do all this. He pulls you into a hug and kisses the top of your head lovingly, “Been a year since the best day of my life, I say that’s something worth going all out for.” Now it was your turn to shake your head at him, you both had agreed that you didn’t need to do anything crazy for your anniversary, just being with each other every day when that wasn’t guaranteed was a gift in and of itself. He had already taken you out to dinner at the fancy place downtown you had been wanting to eat for forever, even bought you a luxurious dress for the occasion.

“You’re too good to me Simon Riley,” you convey your sentiment with another kiss and lead him towards the bed. Simon takes him time peeling your clothes off and kisses ever bare inch of skin revealed to him.

“You’re so beautiful love, I can’t believe I get to spend my life loving you.” He trails down until he’s kneeling eye level with your pussy. You run your finger through his blonde strands, which were starting to get rather shaggy something you loved. You’ve never met a guy like Simon before, a man who was content with simply pleasing and worshipping you. You’re brought out of your reverie by hid tongue circling your clit delicately and your grip in his hair tightens. Your husband alternates between lapping at your clit and sweeping his tongue through your wet folds and prodding at your tight hole. His fingers join soon after and he’s thrusting his thick digits into you slowly but deep enough that is has you seeing stars.

“Okay, Si, I’m good. Baby I need you to fuck me,” you whine desperately. You normally can’t resist Simon, but when he’s looking angelic between your legs with warm candlelight flickering across his face; you’ve never felt so riled up in your life.

Simon groans into your slick cunt, clearly in disagreement with what you said. He pulls away swiftly, “You can be patient, my love. Let me take my time with you. I want you to cum on my face, before I fuck you with my cock, yeah.”

You concede simply because he's making you feel so good you can’t really even complain. Your husband was clearly on a mission now though, the pace of his fingers picking up and he sucks your clit into his mouth so fervently that when you come it hits you like a freight train. You cry out as your legs shake and Simon doesn’t let up, continuing his ministrations until you pat the side of his face, your signal for when you can’t take anymore when takes you apart like this.

"Can't tap out now, love. I'm not finished with you yet." God, even after all these Simon Riley was proving to be the death of you.

[papaya-twinks]

the girl who told me i never could - l.n

Warnings: Angst, Smut, 18+, kinda hate sex tbh, lando calls y/n a whore :(

Pairing: Lando Norris x childhood!crush!reader

Summary: Lando likes Y/N when they were kids, but she never felt the same, now that she knows who he is, she’s changed, and it’s not coz of the money…

You’d rejected Lando when you were 14. You hadn’t meant for it to come out as mean as it had to him, you just didn’t feel the same about him. He was sour about it but oh well. After a few years, you didn’t speak again, you moved on, and lost track of him. What you didn’t expect was to see him on TV a decade later. Driving formula one cars. As a multi-millionaire. Fuck the money, though, god. He was fucking hot. Nothing like the Bristol lad who’d asked you out. It couldn’t be the same person.

So you made the very well thought decision to go to a Grand Prix. You weren’t NOT successful, you had your links, one of them, thankfully, being Oscar’s girlfriend. “You guys would be so cute,” Lily gushed, sitting beside her boyfriend as he drove the pair of you to the track. “I’m not going to date him, Lily,” you repeated, rolling your eyes at her as she giggled,

“Well, he does need some distracting, a bit of fun,” Oscar said as Lily shrieked with laughter. “I rejected him when we were kids,” you raised an eyebrow, “and he has girls fawning over him anyways,”. Lily sighed, “he doesn’t want any of them,”. You ended the conversation by ignoring her last sentence, following them into the garage and to Oscar’s room. “Hey mate, who’s this?” a voice said behind you, making you gulp. Lando.

“This is Lily’s friend, Y/N,” Oscar said cautiously, watching your face. The whole room seemed to drop a few degrees by the coldness of Lando’s gaze at the side of your face. You were still turned away from him, thankfully, his gaze would kill if it could. “Oh, sweet,” he said, jaw set as his eyes never looked away from you. “Hi,” you said awkwardly, eyes firmly on Oscar as he cringed.

Not good. “Guess you were wrong, then, Y/L/N,” Lando said as Oscar stepped away, mumbling something about media. “About?” you asked, crossing your arms. “Let me quote you,” he smirked, “‘you’re never gonna get anywhere in life, Lando, id never wanna get with a loser like you,’” he imitated your voice spitefully. You remembered the words. “We were kids, Lando,” you started hopelessly. “Doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt,”.

“Lets not forget; ‘The day you get into formula one is the day I’d let you get anywhere near me,’”. Fuck. “Look how close we are now, then,” he said, his chest brushing against your back. “You’ve always been a pretty little thing, haven’t you?” he cooed, pushing your shoulder back so he could see your face. You didn’t respond. “Not gonna make a mess of you on Oscar’s sheets,” he smirked, his hand clasping around your forearm, cold rings against your skin.

You didn’t push him back. You didn’t even know why’d you come to the race. “You’re pretty, you know?” he said, sliding his joggers down as he placed you onto his massage bed. “So pretty. Never good enough f’me, though,” he continued, throwing your legs carelessly over his shoulder. “You was too good for me, weren’t you? Is that what you said?” he asked, your ass pressed against his thigh. “Is it?” he asked again, tapping your cheek.

“Yeah,” you panted, his dick against your entrance. “You missed out, Y/L/N,” he pushed into your roughly, his hands gripping your thigh as your eyes widened. “Lando, fuck,” you groaned, his hips slamming into yours. “Yeah? You like that?” he asked, finger grazing your cheek. “Yes, yes, please Lando, please,” you gasped, the knot building up in your stomach. “Fuck you, Y/L/N,” he spat, your eyes rolling as he held you firmly, “you fucking whore,”.

So you came. On his cock. And then he left without a care. You fucking did miss out.

[slutforsilverfoxes]

He's a God, He's a Man

[A/N: This… is filth. Absolutely shameless PWP (there’s a hint of plot for context of their relationship if you squint). Thomas Shelby could literally step on me and I would apologize for being in the path of his foot tbh.]

—————

Thomas Shelby is many things- ever intelligent, inexplicably cunning, unfathomably brave, sinfully wicked, and the luckiest son of a bitch in the Peaky Blinders to walk around with a spitfire of a woman on his arm every day and take her to bed every night.

“That’s enough outta you now!” Your sharp reprimand carries over the din of the tavern, piquing Tommy’s interest. Casually enjoying his first love, aged Irish whiskey, as the hopeful business associate before him prattles on about his prize-winning horse, Tommy subtly knocks twice on the wooden doors to the window hiding the private room from the remainder of the Garrison.

One of the barmaids eases the doors open so Tommy can get a view of what’s going on, ducking her head in deference when he waves her away, his use for her satisfied. A sleazy looking man with an even sleazier-looking shock of hair above his upper lip trails his fingers along your arm as you place a pint in front of him, and your raven-haired lover’s mouth sets into a hard line as he watches the scene unfold. You deflect yet another advance with a swipe of your hand and exaggerated eye roll, and Tommy returns his attention to the man before him, secure in the knowledge that you can handle yourself against the likes of that scum. 

Until he hears lousy fuck and useless whore.

Excusing himself from his meeting, Tommy drains the remainder of his tumbler with an eerie calm and rises from the table, opening the door to the main room of the Garrison with the full intention of sending this man to meet his maker.

Your lover watches with rapt fascination as you emit a playful, two-toned whistle before a glint of metal flies from your hand, landing between two of the man’s splayed fingers on the bar top, a trickle of red oozing down the side of his middle finger where the knife Tommy gifted you for your anniversary has just grazed skin. “There’s only one man in this world who talks to me like that and you sure ain’t him, eh?”

He lewdly sucks on the bleeding finger before firing back, “Oh yeah? And who’s that, lovey?”

Leaning against the doorframe, Tommy loudly clears his throat to announce his presence as he lazily strikes a match, lighting the cigarette dangling between his lips and cocking his head in a silent challenge. His icy eyes are trained on the nuisance who won’t take no for an answer and you smirk to yourself, relishing in the power that radiates off of his lithe body. “Why, that would be one Mister Shelby,” you simper, “and he once killed a man for looking at his horse the wrong way. Imagine what he’d do to the likes of you.”

“Shelby? As in Thomas?”

“Ay, lovey,” you spit the term back in his face. “Don’t tell me you don’t know whose pub you’re in.” He swallows audibly and you carry on with a wicked grin. “If you want to walk out of here on your own two legs, I’d suggest leaving right about now.” As the alcohol-induced rose of his cheeks fades into a pallor of fear, you lean in and drop your voice. Tommy can’t hear your final comment, but his lips quirk into a smile at the sound of your warm laugh ringing out across the Garrison as the man topples off his stool in his haste to escape from your presence.

Flicking the match he was playing with to the floor, Tommy makes his way over to right the fallen seat before taking up the vacated spot, easing the knife out of the wood and tucking it back into your skirt pocket. “You enjoyed that a bit too much.”

“It would seem I’ve got a little Shelby in me now, eh?” You place two fingers of amber liquor before him, leaning against the bar top on your elbows and coyly glancing down at his lap. “I suppose little isn’t quite the right word, though.”

Tommy swipes a thumb over your bottom lip turned up in a wolfish smile, icy blue eyes crackling to life. “Careful, pet, or you’ll bring Arthur’s temper out.”

Leaning closer and letting your eyes drift closed as the heady scent of Tommy mixed with his signature smoke and whiskey envelops you, you ask, “How so?”

“Because,” your eyes snap open when you feel the rough pads of his fingertips against your skin, the pressure of his grip on your chin gentle yet possessive, “he’ll lose money if I kick everyone out of the pub to fuck you on this bar.”

Snagging the cigarette from between his lips, you take a long drag before sighing contentedly and replacing it in his mouth, his sharp gaze tracking your every move. “I’ll meet you in your office, Mister Shelby.”

______

You hear the telltale sounds of the office door creaking open then closing, followed by the familiar padding of Tommy’s footsteps leading him to his desk, fourteen unhurried paces. You don’t dare raise your head or disturb your position, on your knees, palms resting on your thighs, eyes cast downward. Tommy lets out a quiet hum as he cards his fingers through your hair when he walks by- a simple motion, but one that has your blood singing in your veins nonetheless. He shuffles some files around on the desk before settling into the leather chair with a soft groan, casually flipping through the morning paper as he lights another cigarette and the smell of smoke permeates the room.

You try to calm your breathing, to quell the excitement growing in your body at the thought of what’s to come. Out there in the real world, you’re all sharp edges and fiery comments; in here, in the sanctity of Tommy’s presence and his presence alone, you love to give yourself up completely. To let him think for you, to command you, to own your very mind, body, and soul. You live and love to serve him- he’s not just your man, he’s your god, and oh do you love to worship at his feet, to prostrate yourself before him, to pray to his visage.

He merely pats his thigh twice and your body comes alive, fueled by a primal urge to bask in the aura that is Thomas Shelby. You’re by his side in an instant, cheek pressed against the deliciously rigid muscle of his thigh as his fingers knead your scalp.

“Such a good little pet,” he murmurs softly, and your eyes close in contentment as you let out a happy sigh. His fingers suddenly tighten in your hair, yanking on the dark strands until you’re forced to meet his eyes, a hungry wolf gazing down upon his lamb, a reverent parishioner looking up to her deity. “Mine. And only mine.”

“Yes, sir,” you gasp out, but not from fear. You could never be afraid of him. “I belong to you, Tommy.”

He’s caressing your face now, the rough pads of his fingertips causing goosebumps to erupt all over your skin that’s already humming from his touch. “Mm. And yet other men have the fucking audacity to touch what’s mine.”

“Maybe they don’t know I’m yours.”

His eyes flash with rage moments before you register his hand around the column of your throat, pulling you up to stand before him. “And just what the fuck does that mean, pet?”

“I only- mean-” You feel your legs growing weak from the lack of oxygen, and Tommy shifts his grip higher, thumb pressing into your cheek to pull you even closer. His breath fans across your face as he growls, “Spit it out, love.”

“I mean that you should mark me,” you whimper pathetically, what was once a dull ache between your thighs now an insistent throbbing. “Leave your fingerprints on my neck. Bite me hard enough to draw blood. Brand your fucking initials into my skin, Tommy.” You hurriedly unbutton your blouse and bare your unadulterated skin to him in offering. “I want everyone to know I’m yours.”

“Now you’ve gone and done it,” he smirks with a slight shake of his head, in awe of your complete and utter devotion to him.

And then he’s on you, pouncing like a hungry predator upon his prey, forcing his tongue past your lips as he undoes the fastenings on your skirt. You help him shimmy the fabric down your legs and rid yourself of your undergarments as well, desperate to feel his masterful hands roving your naked body. His fingers dance along your throat creating a roadmap that his lips follow. You let your head fall back with a whine, granting him access to nip at the soft flesh as you fumble with the buttons of his vest and then his shirt. Tommy pulls away from you to shrug his upper layers off, and you take advantage of the momentary reprieve from his sensual assault to trace the sun rays on his pectoral muscle with your tongue as the ink is revealed to you.

He releases a breathless chuckle when you moan at the taste of his skin and asks, “Ready to put that quick-witted mouth of yours to good use, my girl?”

Pressing a final kiss to his chest, you pull back and nod with a smile, legs parting instinctively when he eases you backwards to sit in his worn leather chair. You let your hand fall between your thighs to spread the wetness growing there with every passing moment in Tommy’s dominating presence, coupling a pout with an indignant whine when he takes his cock out and strokes it languidly just out of your reach. “Come closer,” you beg, saliva pooling in your mouth at the mere sight of him.

“Stop touching what’s mine, brat,” he orders, eyebrow cocked and gaze trained on your fingers as they slide between your glistening folds. You emit a huff before dropping your hands obediently to your sides, lips parted and tongue out in anticipation of your reward. Tommy praises you softly, then guides his cock inside your eagerly waiting mouth, placing his hand around your throat and pushing deeper until he can feel the substantial bulge against his palm. You moan and inadvertently swallow several times around him, the twin sensations causing Tommy to release a low groan that sets your nerves alight with unabashed lust.

Placing your hand over his, you tighten your grip suggestively and look up at Tommy from under your lashes. You earn yourself a sinister smile in response, and you shift your hands to the arms of his chair, an open invitation for him to do with you as he desires.

Tommy doesn’t miss a beat, his fingers on your throat expertly placing pressure on the points that have you seeing stars as his left hand tangles in your hair to guide your mouth along his cock. You moan with abandon as he mercilessly fucks your mouth, tears spilling over your waterline to match the drool slipping down your chin. The chair shifts back sharply, protesting Tommy’s frenzied pace, and you hook your fingers into his belt loops to try and steady your body. Looking up, you find the absolute picture of ecstasy, sweat-slicked strands of the brunette’s hair dancing across his forehead in time with the rocking of his hips, his supple bottom lip captured between his teeth just barely muffling his feral grunts. The distinct taste of his precum pervades your senses and a whimper escapes your lips that are stretched comically around his thick cock.

Tommy pulls back abruptly, and you whine his name in protest at the loss despite the stinging sensation in your lips. He admonishes you with a click of his teeth for the bratty sound, tightening his fingers around the column of your throat in a grip that’s sure to leave bruises, just as you requested. Using his free hand to uncurl your fingers from his belt loop, Tommy guides your hand to his throbbing cock. You immediately know what he wants, and a strangled curse falls past your lips. Applying pressure, you twist your hand along the length of him, feeling his cock twitch against your skin and closing your eyes seconds before his cum is coating your face. He releases your throat from his grasp and you fall back in the chair, darting your tongue out to wet your chapped lips and moaning at the taste of his release.

“Thank you, sir,” you offer in an utterly cock drunk haze with a demure smile. Tommy feels himself already growing hard again at the sight of your delicate fingers drawing his cum into your greedy mouth, your chest heaving, face flushed, and legs parted in invitation. He kneels to get on your level and you surge forward for a heated kiss, raking your nails along the shaved sides of his head before tangling your fingers in his hair and tugging sharply. He laughs at your eagerness, a low and dark sound that sends yet another wave of arousal shooting to your core.

“I’m sure you’ve left your mark now,” you speak between desperate kisses, moaning as he breaks away from your mouth to drag his nose along your burning skin. You cry out sharply when his teeth follow the same path, nipping and sucking down the hollow of your throat to the curve where your neck and shoulder meet.

“I’m not through with you yet,” he murmurs against your flushed skin before sinking his teeth into the sensitive spot. You throw your head back with a low groan at the prickling sensation followed by the soothing of his velvet tongue, wrapping your legs around his lower back and trapping him against your body. Tommy can feel the heat emanating from your center, and he mercifully slides his middle finger between your folds as he shifts to mark the blank canvas on the other side of your neck.

“Tommy!” You rock your hips against him, the heel of his hand pressing against your clit, absolutely desperate for release. He adds a second finger, expertly curling them in time with your movements and grinning wickedly at the sinful sounds he’s able to draw from you.

“Who do you belong to, love?”

“You,” you’re panting now, climbing higher by the second. “Only you. You own me.”

The pressure against your sensitive bundle of nerves and the languid pace of his fingers is driving you wild in the most sensational of ways. He licks a stripe up your neck, collecting the sweat beading there before pressing his lips to the shell of your ear. His voice is deathly low when he growls, “Say my name. Who do you belong to, love?”

“Thomas,” you gasp as your orgasm washes over you in waves, your nails digging into his broad shoulders and legs shaking against his muscular back, using his body as an anchor to try and tether yourself to this world. “I belong to you, Thomas.”

“Good little whore,” he praises softly, making sure to hold eye contact with you while he licks his fingers clean. “Now,” he smirks as he tugs on your bottom lip and you dart your tongue out to brush against the pad of his thumb, “we’ll revisit this idea of branding another day, hm?”

You nod bashfully, and Tommy presses a tender kiss to the corner of your mouth before untangling your limbs from around his body. “Bend over the desk facing the door with your legs spread.”

Blinking hazily at him in your post-orgasm stupor, you shake your head, not comprehending his words. “What?”

He leans against the mantel, crossing one ankle over the other as he slides a cigarette out of the box from his pocket. Lifting one eyebrow at you as he casually strikes a match, he speaks around the stick between his lips. “You’re not going to like what happens if I have to repeat myself.”

You scramble to stand on your jellied legs, grateful for Tommy’s foresight to have the desk hold your body up. You tuck your fingertips over the smooth edge of the front of his desk, inhaling sharply as your bare breasts meet the cool wood when you fold in half. You hear Tommy groan softly as he sinks into his now vacated leather seat, and he easily kicks your feet apart to bare your body completely to him. You can feel his hungry gaze on you and the wisps of smoke wafting over your body with each controlled exhale from between his beautiful lips. Closing your eyes, you envision the way he balances the cigarette between lithe fingers, how the tip of his tongue meets the end of the stick before each drag, how his lips curl to clear the smoke from his lungs. Craning your neck to look at Tommy because the image in your brain pales in comparison to the man himself, you all but purr at the sight of him casually leaning back in his chair, one hand cradling a cigarette, the other lazily stroking his rock hard length. Saliva pools in your mouth, and you swear you can taste him on your tongue, feel the stretch of him filling you where you need him most.

His cigarette gradually dwindles until he’s forced to put it out. Still, he remains seated and silent, the very picture of dominance and self-control.

“Tommy,” you finally break the silence, the ache between your thighs having grown into an insistent throbbing, “I’m ready for that little bit of Shelby in me now.”

Instead of the heavy weight of his cock filling you as you’d hoped, you feel the sharp sting of the flat of Tommy’s hand against your pussy, the thick ring on his finger sending a jolt through your sensitive clit. You let out an indignant cry and try to rub your thighs together to alleviate the twinge of pain, growling in annoyance when you’re blocked by Tommy’s leg between yours.

“Little bit?” he mocks from his spot behind you, smoothing his hand threateningly over the globe of your ass. “Shall I get one of my brothers to fuck you, love?”

“My sincerest apologies, Mister Shelby,” you hiss over your shoulder. “I need your long, thick, perfect cock inside me. Please,” you’re quick to tack on.

“Better.” He presses a kiss to your delicate lips before cracking his hand against your flesh. You whimper at the duality of the sensations, desperate to feel his mouth on you again and excited to see the bright red imprint of his hand on your cheek tomorrow morning. The wooden legs of the chair squeak against the floor as Tommy stands abruptly, and you feel the head of his cock press against your entrance. “But next time without the attitude.”

You nod dumbly, overwhelmed by your need for him and ready to vocalize this very thought when a knock sounds at the office door.

“Enter,” Tommy calls, sheathing himself inside you with one sharp thrust as Arthur’s broad frame fills the doorway. Your jaw falls slack and your eyes roll back at the exquisite stretch, a strangled moan catching in your throat.

“You bastard,” the eldest Shelby laughs, “you’ve stolen everyone’s favorite barmaid during the rush of the afternoon.”

“She’s serving me quite well, Arthur,” Tommy cracks easily in response. With the way your man brags about you, you’re sure the three oldest Shelby brothers possess more knowledge about your most intimate bits than even you do, but still you feel your skin grow hot at Arthur having found you in such a compromising position. You try to tuck your face into your shoulder for even a modicum of modesty, but Tommy yanks on your hair and forces your head up as he maintains a steady rocking of his hips, pathetic mewls falling past your lips every time he bottoms out and your knuckles turning white from your tight grip on the desk.

“You realize,” Arthur starts with a wicked grin, “the door says Shelby Company Limited, don’t you, Tommy? And Johnny and I are very much part of this company.”

Tommy barks out a laugh that holds no humor. “You boys so much as lay a finger on my girl and you’ll be in the Cut before your next breath.” The low growl of his voice and his overt possessiveness has your walls fluttering around him, and Tommy folds over you to speak directly in your ear. “Tell him who you belong to.”

You lift your gaze to meet Arthur’s with a gleam in your eye as Tommy picks up his pace, forcing you to raise your voice over the lewd sound of his skin slapping against yours. “I belong to Tommy.”

He gathers your hair into a ponytail, using it as leverage to pound into you even harder and commands, “Louder.”

You barely register the door slamming shut as you clench around Tommy’s cock, his warm release painting your walls as your own juices flow down your thighs and you come undone with the declaration, “I belong to Thomas Shelby!”

He presses a line of gentle kisses along your spine while your body writhes beneath him in the aftershocks of your afternoon tryst. “That’s my girl,” he praises, tenderly stroking your hair. “That’s my good little girl.”

[februarybluues]

enemies with benefits || 2. - wounded.

warnings: tw shirtless hobie, slight flirting tbh, cursing, arguing, slight angst to fluff, hobie gets injured, horrible british (i'm very sorry🙏 ) read part one here - series masterlist here part three - can't be love

After a few months of being partnered up with Hobie, you found yourself growing to like him. Well, slightly. There was no denying that he was a dick. Miguel paired you up together multiple times, and soon enough your hangouts with pav, miles and gwen, now included hobie. Normally this wouldn’t be a bad thing, right? Except for the fact that he was insufferable. He was smooth and pitiful. He knew he could get away with anything, and that’s exactly what he did. “Did you just take that from miguel?” You asked him, looking right at his shit-eating grin. He had pocketed a few ‘spare’ parts from around the spider-society. What he was planning to do with them was beyond your concerns. He shrugged at you, his hands planted in his vest’s pocket. “Yeah I did. It’s easy to nick from that lad. He either doesn’t care or he’s too daft t’notice.” he said, pulling the mechanical piece from his pocket and showing it off. He was so difficult. “So, what? You’re an asshole and a thief? Pick a struggle.” you insulted him, annoyed. “Aye i’m no thief! I’m tellin’ ya, them big corporations are plannin’ somethin’. Prob’ly gonna use it for new brainwashin’ tech anyways. Pigs.” “So, your theft is justified by the fact that the government are brainwashers?” he shook his head at you. “Big businesses don’t need th’money. They get more people to buy their stuff, and make it more expensive. It’s a scam, innit?” he concluded. You stopped walking and he turned back to look at you. “I don’t think Miguel is a big business. You just robbed an old man.” you said, and the both of you shared a quick laugh. He was kind of cute when he laughed. I guess. That happened a few weeks ago. It was the last peaceful moment between you two. Soon after you had a huge argument, that almost got physical.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You shouted at him, interrupting his speech. “Wha’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you?! Y’show up one day n’suddenly you’re better than everyone else! It’s a load of bollocks!” your eyebrow furrowed as the both of you got angrier. “Oh you think i’m bad? Says the dickhead that practically feeds off of the attention of others.. I’ll tell you what you are, you're a greedy, narcissistic, self-absorbed cunt that is so far up his own ass he doesn’t even realise there are other people around him! You never listen to what anyone has to say as long as it doesn’t inconvenience you in the slightest, because god forbid you actually help out for once in your life. Typical fucking punk. Maybe one day you’ll rebel against your own jacket for being too small.” you enunciated each word with venom laced in your words. Your fists were clenched so tightly that your knuckles turned white. Hobie looked at you with the intention to kill. His piercing gaze burned right through your eyes. You never saw him that mad. Ever. “That’s fuckin’ it.” he cursed, before standing up. You stood up right after him and rolled up your sleeves, about to fight. Luckily, Pav jumped in between you two before a fight broke out. “Guys, guys, guys! There are better ways to settle things than with violence! Come on, sit down. Let’s just talk it out. Share your feelings with each other.” he said, his hands still barely keeping you apart from each other. You scoffed. “If he keeps talking shit I’ll be sharing a punch in the face with him.” “Oh yeah? I’d like to see you try, love.” The pet name was spoken, but not in a romantic or cute way. It was teasing, and insulting. You rolled your eyes at him, before turning around. “I’ve had enough of this bullshit.” you muttered before storming out of the room. Now, almost three weeks after that had happened, you hadn’t seen him since. You hadn’t seen much of anyone since. Miles and Pav tried to talk to you about what happened but you just shrugged them away. You couldn’t be bothered to deal with what had happened anyways. You were still so furious at him. You never wanted to see him again after that fight, and you were sure he didn’t either.  But, of course you’d be wrong. As he approached the window of your apartment, he was grateful that you had left it open. He clung to the wall next to it, peeking inside to see if you were there. The light was on in your bedroom, but you were nowhere to be seen. Or at least he thought it was your bedroom. This was his first time at your apartment. You both never hung out besides when you were paired up by miguel or when you were with miles, pav and Gwen. He'd never so much as been in your dimension at all. You were in the living room, eyes glued to the tv screen as you had been watching whatever had been on for the past few hours to pass time. It was then that you heard him climb inside through the window. Or rather, you heard the sound of him landing face-first on the ground. You sprung up, sneaking to your bedroom in order to investigate the sound. To your dismay, there he was. Standing right in the door frame; his hands inside of his vest pockets, posed strangely, as if he were hiding something. Your eyes widened at the sight of him. “Hobie? What the fuck are you doing here? How did you even get here?” you asked, looking at him with shock. His face remained blank and he looked at the ground. “Miles told me.” was all he said. He refused to look at you. As much as it pained you to say it, you really missed the sound of his voice. - Despite claiming to hate him. But whatever! “Why are you here?” you asked, this time your voice wobbled – not that you were sad. Well, you were sad. - and angry. And frustrated. God, you were just confused. Your voice wobbled with concern. You could only think of a few reasons as to why he’d decided to pay you a visit, and none of them were good. “Well, I uh.. Missed you?” “Bullshit,” you crossed your arms. You saw right through his lies. “Why are you actually here?” you asked, and he hesitated before speaking up again. 

“I… I need y’help.” He then  stood up straight, and pulled his vest off; now revealing a concerning wound that spread across his chest. He got hurt, badly. You looked at him and barely kept your jaw intact. You had so many questions, but you were sure none of them would be answered. “You… What…? Hobie what the fuck happened? Why- Why did you come to me for help?” your words were uttered with pure panic. He shrugged. He just looked at you and fucking shrugged. “Hobie, talk to me you dickhead!” you demanded, and for the first time in weeks, he looked into your eyes. But this wasn’t his usual hatred and spiteful look, He looked genuinely hurt. “Jus’ got hurt fightin’. No need to worry ‘bout me, princess.” you gave him a look that said both “are you serious right now?” and “are you okay?” He’d be lying if he said It didn’t make him laugh. You took a sharp breath, “Okay. Here’s what’s gonna happen.” you began. He tilted his head, curiously. “I’m gonna grab the first-aid kit in the bathroom, and I'm gonna patch you up.” without uttering a word, he nodded, and with that you led him to the bathroom. “Knew you loved me.” he muttered, and your head snapped back to look at him. “What?” he smirked. “You talk all this big talk ‘bout ‘ow much y’hate me, but ‘ere you are.” you laughed at his words, turning back around and grabbing the first aid kit from the cabinet under the sink.

“I don’t love you. It’s just that if you bleed out on me, I won't have anyone to make fun of.” you said as you walked back up to him. But, he didn’t seem convinced, mumbling a quiet “sure..” “Shut up or I won’t help you.” much to your surprise, he actually did end up shutting up. You carefully examined his wound. And definitely not his abs. Nope. The side of his chest, and a little bit of the front was all-but ripped up. His skin was littered in almost cat-like scratches. But these marks weren’t from a cat. You grazed your thumb over a particularly nasty scratch, and he winced in pain. It hurt you to see him like this. He was suffering badly. Mumbling a quick apology, you opened up the first aid kit and began cleaning him up. He didn’t say anything the entire time. Which must’ve been a record for him. You wiped the dampened cloth around his chest, carefully and gently cleaning the blood. Once the wound was clean, you stitched and bandaged him up. You didn’t notice your face gradually getting closer to him, as you focused on the bandaging. It wasn’t until you felt his eyes boring into you that you looked up; your faces now a smile distance apart from one another. Embarrassed, you backed up slightly. “I’m almost done.” you mumbled, finishing up the bandages. “There, all done.” you looked up at him and smiled. A warm and genuine smile, he smiled back. There was such sweet bliss in that moment, for a split second you forgot that you were still mad at him. “Thanks, love.” The pet name was a common insult that he spoke like a prayer, never once failing to piss you off. But this time it wasn’t teasing. There was something about it that just felt real. genuine. He tried to stand up, but you grabbed his shoulder and pushed him back down onto the closed toilet seat. “Nuh uh. You’re not going anywhere yet. You need to answer my question.” his eyebrow furrowed with confusion. “Question? Wha' question?”

“Why are you here? Why did you choose to come to me for help, instead of like – anyone else?” “Dunno.” he shrugged, smiling at you. You couldn’t believe him. “What do you mean you don’t know? You could’ve gone to anyone. Why did you choose me? We literally almost killed each other last time we saw each other.” “I don’t believe in consistency.” He stood up, and put his shirt back on. “What-” he cut you off before you could furthermore question him. “Goin’ to someone else woulda been the smart thing to do. It’s what they woulda expected.” “They? Who’s they?” you asked, and his smile got bigger. “Doesn’t matter. I also just wanted to see you I guess.” he mumbled that last part, silently hoping you didn’t hear what he said, but at the same time wishing you did. In truth, he missed you. He missed the pointless conversations you had shared when the room fell silent. – Almost always ending in a dumb battle over who had the best insults. He missed the joy and relief he felt when Miguel assigned you to a mission together. He just missed you. Although it had only been a few weeks since you’d last seen each other, let alone only knowing each other for a few months, he quickly found himself enjoying your presence much more than he did others. He’d choose to be around you in a heartbeat. But, It’s not like he liked you. Of course he didn’t! He just felt happier when he was around you. While, yes, his heart would beat a bit faster when he was around you, and his cheeks and ears grew hotter when your arm accidentally grazed against his– that didn’t mean he liked you! Of course not! If anything, he hated you! He hated your stupid face, your dumb smile, your annoying mannerisms that he definitely didn’t have memorised, and he especially hated the way your nose scrunched up when you got embarrassed or flustered.  

“You missed me?” Suddenly, your confusion was forgotten. Now replaced by a grin. He quickly sprung up and grabbed his sleeveless jacket “Well, would’ya look at the time! I gotta get back to um, – yeah! Thank you for the help, my love.” He pulled his spider-mask over his head and opened the window. “Bye hobie.” he nodded at you, before climbing out and going god-knows-where. “My love.” the sentence repeated in your head an embarrassing amount of times that night. That was the first time he had ever called you that. And one thing’s for sure, it wouldn’t be the last time. Your relationship definitely changed after that. – but who’s to say that wasn’t a good thing?

taglist: literally no one help dm me or comment or send an ask if you wanna be added idk

hope u enjoyed this part guys because it's getting juicy now mwa

[concreteangel92]

Thou Shalt Not Kill - Chapter 3

AU Noah Sebastian x female reader

18+

Chapter Index Here

Summary: Reader is a detective and is assigned to a murder case which she soon connects with previous killings and figures out the religious affiliation, proving there is a new serial killer within the city. Reader soon becomes obsessed with the killers mind and methods and won’t rest until she figures out who the killer is. All while she gets used to working with her new partner on the case, detective Noah Davis.

WARNINGS: descriptive writings of murder/killings, blood, gore, talks of death of loved ones, drinking.

Now I don’t know much about the death of Noah’s father in real life but I have used it and embellished it for this story, this is not to cause offence at all, it works with the story I’m writing and I only know the bare minimum about the real life event as tbh I didn’t look in much detail as that’s personal to Noah but please bare that in mind. What I’ve wrote about is FICTION based loosely off real events!!

So I know I only put chapter 2 up yesterday but I just couldn’t help myself today haha I just couldn’t stop writing! I hope you all enjoy!!

Tags: @Ima1986 @hayleylatour @reyadawn @thatchickwiththecamera @thefallennightmare @calleyx13 @english-fucker @darling-millicent-aubrey @malerieee @ithoughtbynowidfeelbetter @softvgold @lilhobgobbler @glccmreid @badomensls @madomens @loeytuan98 @iluvmewwwww75 @rosebushjhj @livingdeceasedgirl @lilrubles @samanthasgone @blackveilomens @hellayeahsworld @lookwhatitcost @doomhands-jr @nojoyontheburn @poisongirl616 @bakanerd @sacredthefran

MASTERLIST

You took a deep breath before walking into what can only be described as a bloodbath.

Two men had been suspended high with their arms outstretched like they were both on crosses. What was left of their intestines were hanging from a huge slash that had been made into their stomachs and had dropped onto the concrete below. Around the bodies were tea light candles surrounding the room which you imagine had given the room a haunting glow when they were lit and there were loads of photo frames of what appeared to be the same married couple around the deceased.

The smell made you take a step back into Noah’s hard chest. They had obviously been here a couple days before being found.

“You ok detective?”

You nodded and stepped further into the room.

“Yes, sorry the smell took me back a bit”

You walked around the bodies, although decay had started to set in, you could clearly see the resemblance between them.

“They were brothers. So I can only assume the people in the photos are their parents?”

“Honour thy father and thy mother”

You nodded at Noah who was studying the photos. You came and stood next to him.

“If this wasn’t so sick, I’d actually be impressed”

Noah looked up at you “detective?”

“The attention to detail is remarkable. Like nothing I’ve ever seen before”

You gestured for one of the officers to come over.

“Have forensics in straight away, we need to find out who they were and why they were chosen. I want updates immediately”

••••••••

Sipping on god knows what number coffee you were drinking today, you started looking at the new reports that been given to you and Noah.

James and Michael Riggs. Both 33 years old, had lived a very comfortable life with their wealthy parents Sally and Richard Riggs who had a shared net worth of 460 million.

Sally and Richard were both deceased. Believed to have been a boating accident 2 years ago, the police were involved at first to help find their bodies but once they and the remains of the boat had been found, no further investigation was needed. The autopsy reports showed the husband had a high level of alcohol in his system before he took the wheel, no foul play involved. However now you thought otherwise.

“Clearly our killer knew something we didn’t”

Noah was reading over the files.

“Inheritance job?”

“Looks like it, couldn’t wait to inherit their fortune so they took matters into their own hands. How would our killer even know that?”

Noah took a sip of his coffee.

“Oh come on, it doesn’t take a detective to figure that one out. Do some digging and I imagine these boys weren’t exactly crystal clean with their image, probably got cut off to teach them a lesson and they obviously got tired of waiting”

“True. Well they had got away with it until now that’s for sure”

Noah chuckled over his file.

“Easy detective, if I didn’t know better I’d say that you’re saying these guys had what was coming to them”

You slammed your mug down and met his amused gaze.

“Absolutely not! No one deserves this! I’m simply saying that the killer is seeing things we haven’t, look at the ‘thou shalt not bare false witness’ case, we missed the fact that she was lying in her original statement and it cost a man his life!”

You sat back and took a deep breath before getting up to stand in front of your pinboard, Noah’s eyes never leaving you.

“I’m just saying that whoever this killer is, he’s a genius in some ways. He’s an artist, a perfectionist, someone who sees what most don’t”

“He?”

You turned to look at Noah.

“Yes. There is no way a woman would be able to pull this off alone, she would need help and I just have a feeling this is done by one person, a man. An incredibly strong man I might add”

You started pinning up some new photos of the crime scene to the board, your mind going into overdrive as you saw it all laid out before you.

Noah stood up to come look over it as well, a small smile on his face as he looked at you.

“Anything else detective?”

“He was obviously raised in a religious background but has no belief in it.”

“And what makes you say that?”

You gave Noah a small chuckle at the irony.

“I would have thought that was obvious detective Davis, thou shalt not kill and yet here we are”

“I told you that you’re amazing”

Noah smiled down at you and you immediately blushed at the compliment.

“As I said, someone else would have figured it out even if I hadn’t”

You felt the need to take a step back, his broad figure was making you feel incredibly small, not to mention his intense stare. The fact he was drop dead gorgeous also added to your heart rate increasing within your chest. Moving backwards, you downed the rest of your coffee and started packing away your files.

“On that note Davis…”

“Noah”

You smiled as you continued to pack your things away.

“Noah. It’s getting late so let’s call it a day”

••••••

Although you’d told Noah to call it a day, you couldn’t help yourself once you were home. You’d created your own pinboard in your home office and couldn’t help but go over everything again. There must be something you’ve missed.

Forensics said that no other DNA had been found at the scenes, nothing to give away the identity of the killer, but you knew there must be something, not many people on this planet could get away with this many crimes without leaving behind something.

This guy was a criminal mastermind, his attention to detail was almost impressive, he was an artist that’s for certain, the way he displayed his victims. What a mind he has. One you are determined to get into, you need to find out who he is and why he’s doing this.

A knock at your front door had you startled from your thoughts, glancing at the clock made you realise it was 9.23pm at night. Not often you had visitors at this time, you got up and grabbed your gun that had been discarded on the desk and took the safety off as you walked to the door and opened it.

You let out a breath as you saw Noah standing on the other side with some bags in his hand which he raised up at the sight of your gun in yours.

“Whoa, I come in peace detective”

“What are you doing here? How do you even know where I live?”

Noah smiled sheepishly while you clicked the safety back on your gun and slipped it into the back of your jeans.

“Sorry I got your address from your file, I figured you’d still be over doing it with work so thought I’d come over. Have you eaten dinner yet?”

You saw he’d opened the bags and you saw a take away Chinese and a bottle of wine.

“Erm…no I haven’t”

“Can I come in then?”

You stepped back from the door and let Noah walk into your apartment, smelling the Chinese as he did and realising how empty your stomach was, a loud growl giving you away.

“Looks like I got here just in time”

You chuckled and lead Noah through to the living room, while you got some glasses and cutlery for your food.

••••••

An hour later, food long eaten and the remains left on the table, you both sat on the sofa with a glass of wine in hand while half a bottle was still waiting to be drank.

“Thank you for this, normally I’d find it very unprofessional but I’ll make an exception this time”

“Can’t mix business with pleasure detective?”

You laughed and sipped your wine, something that you could feel going to your head quickly if you weren’t careful.

“No, I don’t believe in distractions when there is a case to be solved, especially one as big as this”

“Oh no, no, no! No more talks of the case tonight. It’s about time you relaxed”

You rested your head in your hand on the back on the sofa and got more comfortable into the leather, not missing how close you two were sitting.

“Ok, ok! What do you want to talk about then?”

“What made you become a police officer?”

You giggled.

“Isn’t that kinda about work?”

“It’s not about the case”

You hummed in amusement.

“My dad. He was an officer, went all the way up to a Lieutenant, probably would have made captain I imagine….he was killed on duty when I was fourteen”

“I’m sorry”

Noah’s brown eyes bore into yours and you cleared your throat slightly.

“It’s ok. My dad was an amazing man, he inspired me to be who I am today and to work as hard as he did. I just want to make him proud”

“I’m sure he’s extremely proud of you”

You smiled and poured yourself another glass of wine.

“You? What made you come into the force?”

“Similar in a way, I was in a car accident with my dad when I was eleven, I only had minor injuries but my dad….he passed away on the scene. The driver that hit us was never caught. I wanted to come into the force to make sure justice was done correctly, for my dad”

You grabbed Noah’s hand that rested on his lap and moved closer to him.

“I’m so sorry Noah, that sounds awful, I can’t even imagine what you’ve been through”

His hand squeezed yours back, you couldn’t help but take note of the size difference between you both.

“It’s ok, it was nearly 20 years ago, you find ways to cope”

“Well I’m sure your dad would be very proud of you as well”

You suddenly noticed how close your faces had become, your cheeks giving your realisation away. Noah didn’t take his eyes from yours and you felt him brush a strand of your hair behind your ear before he started to move closer. Your heart felt like it was about to come out of your chest.

You could smell the wine on his breath and you closed your eyes.

To suddenly pull away and let out a nervous chuckle.

“I’m sorry Noah. That wine is definitely strong but maybe we should think about calling it a night”

Noah smiled and pulled away fully, his presence almost leaving the space cold in his wake.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have…”

“No! No it was me! I should know better”

You struggled to meet his eyes as you felt your cheeks go even warmer than they were already.

Noah smiled, downed the rest of his wine and put his coat back on while heading for the door.

“I’ll see you in the office tomorrow detective”

“Yes, thank you for dinner and….erm I’ll be sure to get the next one”

Noah gave you a big smile and a wink and with that he started walking down the corridor but not before you heard…

“It’s a date detective”

Chapter 4

[sinsandsweetness]

i have stepdad!rick brainrot rn, i’d love one where he punishes the reader for being out past curfew, rick sitting by the door watching another boy drop her off

i’m so excited to see where you go with this omg <33

cw- stepdad!rick, dub con? kinda toxic tbh but… it’s fictional so… all for funsies <3 oh and um… not proofread (is it ever anymore?)

The porch light is on and you know you’re screwed. Walking up the creaky steps to the front door and gently turning the handle. Your stepdads figure, standing at the counter sorting some papers. He glances over at the sound of the door latching behind you.

“Nice of you to finally show up,” His gaze goes back to the stack of papers he’s sorting.

You place your bag on the stool next to him and go for the fridge. Grabbing a glass of water and taking a sip before answering.

“We lost track of time, I didn’t mean to-“

“It’s 1 in the morning. Curfew is 11.”

“I’m an adult. I don’t have a curfew that’s ridiculous.” You almost laugh.

“You live under my roof don’t you?”

He’s fully focused on you now. Standing there. No papers in hand.

You want to scowl back. But you’re already in trouble. And being a brat won’t help your situation. Not when Rick is already coming in at you. Backing you into the corner cabinet. Your ass hitting the cool marble as he approaches. Cornered.

“Answer.” He demands. Annoyed. No. Angry.

“Yes. I do.” You day through a clenched teeth. He’s still in his work clothes. The police uniform that Deanna gave him way back when they first arrived here. When he first met your mom. When he first took notice of you.

“Who were you with?”

“A friend.”

He breaths out what you assume is a laugh. An unimpressed huff of air and the smallest hint of a smirk pulling at his lips.

“A friend, hm. Don’t know many friends that touch eachother like that.”

He must have seen you. Watched the boy drop you off from his spot on his chair under the living room window. Watched you kiss the boy goodbye after he opened the car door for you. No doubt catching the way his hand grabbed your ass when he pulled you in for another.

Though Rick seems exceptionally calm if he had seen.

“I’m sorry.” It’s not sincere. And Rick can hear it too.

“About the boy? Or about being out past curfew. Curfew that’s been set in place for all of Alexandria by the way. Not just you.”

“Since when?” This is news to you.

“Since one of your friends fucked up and got three of our people killed.”

There was an incident. A recent one. Only a few days ago actually. Some pretty heavy drinking was involved. Shitty decisions were made and it cost the community three precious lives. An open gate in this world will do that.

“I didn’t realize. No one told me.” You’re telling the truth. He must sense it because his jaw relaxes slightly.

But he moves in even closer. If that was possible. You feel trapped. A heavy weight pulling you further into the counter space between his hands. Ricks strong arms framing your entrapment.

“You missed the meeting,” he leans in, though it doesn’t feel particularly intimate. More intimidating than anything. “I wondered why that was. Wouldn’t have to do with some… friend would it?”

You shake your head. Your heartbeat is off the walls and you want him to close the gap between you so desperately. You want him to bend his own house rules and make a fucking mess out of you right here on the counter. Right here in the kitchen where your mother could walk in at any moment.

Right where he refuses to touch you out of his own moral agenda. Outside it didn’t matter. But in this house, touching you was rare.

He’s so close it hurts. His nose almost brushing your cheek. The stubble on his jaw scratches your cheek as he moves to whisper in your ear. Lips so warm against your ear. Brushing the gold metal hanging from your lobe.

“I don’t believe you.”

His voice is quiet. Soft and deep. But It makes you shiver as if he’s just yelled at you.

“I-I…“

“Shhh,” he cuts you off. He’s smirking against your cheek. Though nothing about his demeanour is funny. You’re in trouble. That’s all you know.

“You broke the rules. And you lied to me-“

“I’m sorry-“

“Sweetheart, if you interrupt me one more time, your ass is gonna be sore for a week.”

You gulp. Fuck. Ok.

“You’re not getting away with just a slap on the wrist this time. Not tonight, baby.”

He kisses your lips. Gentle and warm. And you’re more than eager to kiss him back. To make it up to him. Anything. Everything. All for him.

It’s not like the boy from outside means anything. He’s nothing compared to the man you live with. The one that sleeps down the hall from you every night. Tempting you with just the smell of his skin and the blue in his eyes.

Your arms wrap around his neck to pull him in close.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper against his mouth between kisses. Muffled and faded into the moans that can’t seem to stay put.

“Sorry doesn’t cut it this time, sweetheart.”

You tug on his hair. Hoping he’ll just let you give him your body as a form of repentance. But it won’t be enough. He needs to punish you himself. To show you some real discipline.

“What are you gonna do?” You ask finally, pulling away for a moment. Just for show really. Giving your most innocent doe eyed act in hopes of even a smidge of pity from the officer.

He doesn’t buy it for a second.

He smiles and your heart skips a beat. You know by the look on his face that you’re in for a night. A week. Maybe longer.

You realize quickly that it isn’t a matter of what he was going to do to you. It was a matter of what he would refuse to do to you. No matter how hard you begged.

And judging by the arousal already seeping through your panties, he’d have you begging on your knees in no time.

—

taglist- @rickswh0r3 @elnyrae @catt-leya @miinbun @ankhmutes @eternalrose81 @cl0wnb0yyy @grimesthinker @whatthefuuuck @olive3oil @taylormarieee @virtualreader @lust4lovee @fanngirl19 @movidita @cavillsgirl105 @dylanisstilladumbass @dixonslvr @aangelbabysworld @raininhell @gvf23 @iamacowboi @dqllgarden

(lmk if I missed you or if you no longer want to be tagged)

[papil0nglegs]

One small step at a time! 🛸

Tf2 x Juno!reader

A/n: This one’s for all my overwatch babes <33 ik this idea is rlly niche but this was so fun to write I’m so proud of this. Most of these can be interpreted as platonic but read however you’d like, enjoy ✨

Warnings: Scottish people, Drinking, Passing out drunk

Vocab: (p/f) - Parental Figure

Engineer

He has such a father daughter relationship with you

When you first landed on earth he was extremely fascinated by the technology your (p/f) discovered to get to mars, especially your anti-gravity boots

“So these things are just makin’ you float around?”

“Yeah! I’m not really used to earths gravity so my (p/f) sent me off with overboots!.. how do you guys get anything done while stuck on the ground?”

“We just make do with what we can, sugar”

His fav activity with you? Lounging. Doesn’t look like much but his rancho relaxer + you using your jetpack to ‘sit’? Soo cute

You guys would just be chilling in his workshop after doing whatever task it was you were doing <3

“You want a beer, Buttercup?”

“No thank you! I’m not really fond of drinks with alcohol since all we could drink at mars was juice and water”

“shoot, glad I’m not you”

He’s definitely one of the mercs who warmed up to you the fastest, he’s just chill like that.

Medic

Pls don’t tell him your from mars, weird shit is gonna happen

He’s going to treat you like one of his test subjects, at first it starts tame with general check ups but it escalated pretty fast.

When doing his uber surgery on you he decided to explore more things

“..how long was I out, Dr. Ludwig?”

“Oh not long!! Just two.. days”

“What? You said it would only take about 20 minutes!!”

“Vell yes I did say that my Martian friend, however I must say curiosity got the best of me! I simply had to know more about your anatomy”

“Uhm,, ok”

Yeah you’re so scared of him now lol

But of course you two do need to work together to try healing your teammates

He loves it when you heal him, it’s always a pleasant surprise since he never expects to get healed, like ever

“Here! I can help you!!”

“Oo, so vats how it feels..”

Spy

Yeah he doesn’t think your good for the team

Sure it was interesting to meet someone who was born and raised in a completely different planet, however your inexperience with earth was enough for him to neglect you

Once you visited his smoke room to find abundance of books, you being new to earth were excited to see all the knowledge they carried

“Wow! Can I borrow this one? I’d like to learn more about earth and its continents!!”

“Go ahead, I never made use of that thing anyways”

It always catches him off guard how little knowledge you have about earth, especially since your were chosen to go on the mission to earth

Once you randomly found a globe somewhere in the break room and got so fascinated by it

“Earths colors are beautiful, I’d really like to go the that purple one!”

“Y/n, Russia is not purple. And you don’t want to visit there, it is full of trash people.”

“Oh..I see”

He doesn’t guide you to earth like the rest of the mercs, he wants to really straighten your back and push you to your limit

“Would a croissant go well with your meal good sir?”

“Excuse me?”

“You seem like you are from the Western Europeans my (p/f) brought back to mars!! Au revoir madam, please enjoy your tea”

Tbh that moment made his heart melt by just a little bit. Hey, he’s not a monster he can have heartfelt moments.. sometimes

Sniper

You are so fascinated by him, literally just him

For the most part it’s because of his job title ‘assassin’, you’ve never heard of such a job back home.

“Is it true you earn currency to kill specific people?”

“Why of course Sheila, who else would do it?”

“Well, on mars we kinda just let them live even if we don’t like them.. that’s a thing here right??”

You love going on roadtrips with him so he can show you around, just to see get a feel of that New Mexican dirt

You two have a relation where he misses his parents despite always arguing with them, and you miss your (p/f) because you two now live on completely different planets.

On those trips you tend to enjoy chilling in the back of his trailer. You can’t stand spending another second on an uncomfortable leather seat!! So you roam around a lot in what he basically considered his home.

“How was it back there? ‘eard sum ruckus out in the front.”

“Oh right! I am trying to get use to earths gravity so I tried cleaning up here a bit, I hope you don’t mind!!”

He almost cried, you reminded him of his ‘mum’

Whenever you’re curious about any animal you always go to him, we all know Australia a place with weird animals so

“Mr. Mundee, is this spider deadly?”

“I’m not sure, you should probably check in with doc tho. Your face lookin pretty swelled there mate..”

“Oh thank the stars! I was sure this was a lion..”

You passed out from the poison.

It’s good tho, sniper carried you to Medics room like the big brother he is 🧡

Demo-man

YOURE SO SCARED OF HIM

MORE THAN MEDIC

Not only is he obsessed with the drink that you’ve literally never heard of until you arrived in earth, but the way he acts makes it seem like crack

You have so many questions, they almost never get answered because he’s either too drunk or he’ll pass out with medic dragging him out the room

“Is it true that your stomach now declines any normal drinks?”

“Ayouhhh it’s just beerdelicois burp”

“..is he going to be alright?”

“Oh no worries my Martian friend, this happens all the time.. although I can never tell if he’ll live or not”

When on the battlefield he’s always screaming and creaming, sometimes it scares you so much to the point where you ask your fellow teammates to help you

“MR. CONAGHER, I THINK DEMO IS TRYING TO ATTACK ME!!”

“Darlin’, I thinks he’s just tryna get some healing..”

“But why is it yelling.. ☹️”

Now you’re scared of Scottish people, and convinced they probably eat their youth

Soldier

He def plays a father role like engineer, but way less charm and warmth to him

He’s like a dad at a soccer game, he’ll cheer you on but aggressively, to the point where it seems like he’s booing you

In the lobby he’d always do his soldier talk, and it never fails to make you do you best

“NOW, WILL YOU HAND THAT TEAMS ASS AND FEED IT TO HIM, OR AM I GOING TO HAVE TO DRAG YOURS BACK TO MARS TO YOUR MOMMA?”

“No sir!! I’ll feed it to them!”

“THATS RIGHT MAGGOT”

Soldier is always hard on you, sometimes he calls you a ‘space commie’ just for jokes, although his tone definitely sets you off

When you unleashed your orbital ray he started screaming about ‘the commies getting to us’, you had to reassure him several times that it was something you had full control of

Scout

This guy was ecstatic when he found out his new teammate was going to be from space, scout is really into comics (even tho he can’t read) so his imagination went wild when Ms Pauling announced that he’d be fighting alongside what he considered an alien

Once you arrived he was in awe, he thinks you’re the coolest person on the team solely because you’re from another planet.

But he did quickly recognize that you weren’t use to like, anything on earth.

He handed you a cold can of Bonk just for you to look at him confused

“What do I do with this?”

“You drink it?”

“..um I don’t think you’re supposed to drink ‘atomic punch’, that sounds like it hurts 0-0”

He had to teach you how to drink stuff that wasn’t in an aluminum bag, you didn’t take a liking to it but you got used to it

Scout offered you to sleep on the top bunk because he wanted to be nice and all, huge mistake.

The next morning you completely forgot you were on a different planet, so you rolled and fell 9 feet from the bed to the floor.

“Jesus y/n!! what the hell happened?”

“I think I.. fell? Falling feels weird..”

Gets so hype when you two are on the same team, he’s so ready to clock the enemy team with orbital ray

“Scout! My orbital ray is ready!! ^^”

“Whooo! Let’s go then E.T what are we waitin’ for??”

For the most part he’s the one who shows you everything you need to know about earth, baseball is his favorite thing to teach cuz obviously

When you joined him to watch a baseball match you were so excited yet so lost

“What happens if they win? Is this a war?”

“No? Toots it’s just a game”

“Hm, intresting.. then I must try this ‘game’ too!”

[enid-rhees]

Rosita Espinosa Dating HCS (Fem!Reader)

A/N: these are just cute little things i’d think happen in a relationship w/ Rosita 🫶🏻 reminder that requests are open! if you’d like to request, read pinned!

warnings: bit of nsfw

Rosita is extremely protective over you

not really in a jealous way or anything, but she has the instinct to keep you safe from anything that might come your way

if you need to go on a run, she goes with every time to make sure you’re safe

BUT

she can get jealous

you both know that you’re hers and she’s yours

but that doesn’t prevent her from getting jealous when someone gets a little too close to you

she’ll give subtle hints to that person though

putting a hand on your thigh and keeping a firm grip on it

she’ll leave small kisses on your face and neck

speaking of that

Rosita LOVES to leave hidden marks around your body

on your thighs, down your chest, she enjoys the thrill of no one knowing

but if someone has truly pissed her off by getting too close to you, she lets them know you’re hers

dragging you back to your bedroom and letting your moans fill the room

ANYWAYS BEFORE I GET CARRIED AWAY

stealing each other’s clothes >>>>

“isn’t that my flannel?” “…no.”

you steal her clothes a lot

a lot

she started doing it to get back at you and now it’s a thing you guys just do

you both like to go out and find a nice hidden place in the woods

you’ll sit there for hours with each other

sometimes you guys don’t really talk, instead you just take in each other’s presence and appreciate it.

her biggest fear is losing you, so she’ll do anything to have all the time in the world with you

her love language is definitely quality time ^^^^

y’all are such a badass couple though

badass gfs who kill things together >>>

everyone knows not to fuck with you guys

she married you a year after you started your relationship

one day on a run she found an abandoned jewelry store

she saw the most gorgeous diamond ring that reminded her of you

so she took it home with her and did it right then and there

nicknames aren’t a huge thing

occasionally she calls you “love” or “sweetheart”

but istg anytime she says it it makes u weak in the knees

 she is your biggest defender obvs

if someone yells at you she will give them hell until they apologize for it

she lets you do her hair in different styles.

you love how long and wavy it got and you like to spend your mornings brushing it for her and trying out cute new styles of ponytails or buns

tbh she’ll let you do anything to her

she’s so whipped for u it’s crazy

“god he’s annoying. i’m gonna kill him.” “please don’t kill him, Ro.” “okay 🥰🥰”

LIKE ???

she just loves u so much and is not afraid to let anyone know that

🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

[reysdriver]

okay wait so about the request thing…I love angst, so like…maybe an angst Keys thing? Whether it’s hurt/comfort or hurt/no comfort you can pick! Also feel free to ignore this if you don’t want to do it :)

Keys spends his whole work day trying to make you feel better after you two get in a fight — keys x fem!reader angst & fluff

warnings: a bit of angst/fighting, but a lot of fluff tbh

words: 1k

a/n: to the requester, I'm sorry if this wasn't exactly what you wanted but I still like the result and I hope you do too

You slammed your headset against your desk, causing your keyboard to clatter and your mouse to fall down onto the floor, but you didn’t care about any of that. 

“I’m going on my break now.” You announced angrily, then took off down the hall. 

You stormed past Mouser on the way, who had no idea about the precursor to your current meltdown. 

“What the hell’s up with her?” He asked as he sat down and rolled the chair closer to his desk. 

Keys was already standing up to follow you and answer that very question. “I’m not sure. I’ll be back in a minute.”

He followed you across the floor to the snack room, where you were attempting to calm yourself down by making a cup of tea. The door was still swinging behind you, but he closed it more gently once he came in. 

“What was that? What’s going on?” Keys asked you. 

“I should be asking you that.” You retorted. 

He just looked at you with a puzzled face, his stupid confused face. “What are you talking about? What did I do?” 

“You made me look like an idiot back there! I was trying to get that guy and you were just completely overtaking the operation!” 

“We got him, so what does it matter if we used my strategy or yours?”

“Because you think I’m stupid. Is it so unreasonable to be upset that my best friend thinks I’m incompetent?”

He just looked even more confused than before now. “I could never think that about you.”

Your water had finished boiling, so you poured the water into your mug. “Well, you ignored everything I said so you could go and kill him by yourself. We should have been working together.”

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Look, I’ve had to deal with this asshole before, I’m so tired of having to go after the same guy over and over. I’ve learned how to handle him, so I know how to go about things in the most efficient way. I’m sorry I took over the operation, I promise I won’t do it again.”

You emptied out a sugar packet into your drink, still mad at him but less so than a few minutes ago. You sighed as you threw out the paper package. 

“You can start making it up to me by volunteering to file the paperwork for banning him from Free City.” 

He seemed relieved with your proposition. “Yeah, absolutely! Will do.”

“Good.” You moved past him and opened the door to leave, steadily carrying your hot beverage. “And I’m on break right now but you’re not, so you better get on that.” 

✦✧✦✧✦

You hadn’t spoken to Keys since your argument in the snack room. It’s hard enough to completely ignore him on a day when you’re not at work, but it was so much worse when he was sitting right across from you. 

You got a confirmation notification on your computer screen about the ban paperwork that Keys had apparently just filed. Not even three seconds after you both received the message, your coworker had already stood up so he could speak over the glass partition between you two. 

“Did you see I wrote up the slip to get him banned?” He asked you urgently. 

You answered without even looking at him. “Yep, thanks for that.”

He didn’t sit back down. Keys just kept looking at you like he was waiting for something. 

“Do you want a pat on the back or something, Keys?”

“Do you forgive me now?”

You sighed and finally looked at him beyond just seeing him out of your peripheral vision. “I said I’d think about forgiving you. I’m still a bit pissed at you.”

He slumped back into his chair, then went back to his computer. A few seconds later, you got another push notification. 

Curious, as it had Keys’ name attached, you clicked on the little pop-up. It opened 2 messages from the man. The first was him apologising once more, and the second was a colon and closed bracket forming a little smiley face. 

Even though you weren’t all that mad at him, you still didn’t react to the small yet altogether cute gesture. You thought it would be fun to see what else he does to get you to forgive him. 

One more message floats up onto your screen. “Is it working?”

You typed a message in reply. “Sort of. Keep going.” 

✦✧✦✧✦

Throughout the day, Keys had dropped off several snacks on your desk, stuck up multiple post-it notes adorned with fun doodles on the glass partition between you, and sent you many more sweet messages. 

If you were being honest, you had forgiven him after the second gesture. If Keys was being honest, he had figured that out about an hour ago. But now it was the end of your work day, and Keys just had to make sure you two were okay. 

You were finishing up your last few emails of the day, and Keys had walked over to your side of the desk clump. 

“Okay, I know you’re busy, but I really don’t want us to end the day on bad terms. Have you forgiven me yet?” He asked desperately.

“That depends.” You told him, a soft smirk gracing your face. “Do you have one more offer or did you just come here to beg on your knees?”

He wasn’t on his knees beside your chair with his hands clasped together, so that kind of gave you the answer, but he answered anyway. 

“Will you forgive me if I buy you dinner? There’s that new Italian place down the street; we can go tonight and I’ll pay, even if it’s crazy expensive.” 

You tried holding back the giddy smile you felt coming on because of his offer, but you were sure that the expression was peeking through your facade. 

“That kind of sounds like a date.” You played innocent. “Keys, are you asking me out?”

“That depends. Have you forgiven me yet?”

“Not quite sure, I think you’ll have to take me out, and I’ll let you know soon.”

[biting-miguel-ohara]

Mindfuck - Cassandra Nova x male!Reader

A/N: this was a fun request to fulfill. Gonna be honest, I did not have the same experience as the anon requester, but it was enjoyable to write all the same

Written for this request

Dividers by @/enchanthings

CW: Deadpool & Wolverine spoilers (sorta), fourth wall breaks (kinda), killing mentions, Cassandra’s hand/mind powers, explicit sexual content, smut, handjob, mindjob (I got no clue what you’d call this tbh), Cassandra calls Reader pet, kissing

900 words

“Well, well, well.” The woman stops in front of you. “Look who we have here.”

You know who she is. By her appearance, if not her voice. Cassandra Nova. Charles Xavier’s twin sister. Most of the Void’s citizens have a death grudge against her.

You find her rather attractive, actually. Most of their insults had been about her personality, or her actions, but the really foul ones had been about her appearance. You’d been expecting some wizened old hag, not the beautiful woman before you.

“It’s been quite some time since a Reader was in the Void.” Cassandra crouches to be eye-level with you. It feels vaguely condescending. Probably because you’re on your knees. You’re kinda into it.

“And quite a handsome one at that,” she muses. “Pity you’ll be dying soon. I’d have rather liked to keep you.”

“D-Dying?” Your voice comes out higher than you’d intended. You cough and try again. “Dying? What do you mean, dying?”

She raises an eyebrow, a small smile playing across her lips. “I’m going to kill you, of course. Right after I look into that interesting little brain of yours.”

“What—“ You don’t get a chance to finish. She reaches out and pushes her fucking fingers into your brain.

You choke on your own spit, eyes going wide. The blood leaves your head, leaving you dizzy and feeling weird.

Memories flash behind your eyes. Your childhood. Your life. Your trip to the Void.

You finally find your voice, intending to spit something out. Probably a scream.

Instead, you moan.

It catches you both by surprise. She pulls back, staring at you. Your face heats up and you stutter a bit. “Uh… S-Sorry?”

She grips your chin and forces your head back. Examining you with interest. “You’re not afraid. How peculiar.”

You do a mental check. Weirded out? Yes. Confused? Very. Turned on?

You can feel your dick straining against your pants. Can feel the throbbing of it. You haven’t been this hard since you saw your first pair of tits.

“Nope.” You croak out. “Definitely not afraid.”

“Interesting.” She lets go of your chin. “I think I’m going to keep you after all.”

You swallow. Give her a weak smile. “Does that mean you’ll do your hand thing again?”

Cassandra just smirks.

The guy carrying you throws you into the bed with a little too much force to not be deliberate.

You wince and Cassandra clicks her tongue. “Gentle, Pyro. We don’t want to break my new pet now, do we?”

His glare towards you does not make you feel any better. Pyro just scoffs and stalks out of the room. You’re left with Cassandra, who takes her time approaching the bed.

She lets her coat fall to the ground, revealing her outfit underneath. Your mouth goes dry and your dick twitches.

Being manhandled by Pyro hadn’t exactly been your idea of sexy, but being here with Cassandra? There’s definitely interest going on.

You lick your lips and hope your voice comes out normal. “So, what’s the plan?”

“I’m going to learn your secrets.” She settles onto the bed next to you, reaching out and tracing her fingers across your forehead. “And then I’m going to play with you.”

You don’t get a chance to even nod before her fingers are back inside your head. It feels just as weird as the first time. You can feel them inside your brain, probing around as images and memories flash through your mind.

She’s more thorough than last time, sifting through your memories more slowly. As if she’s looking for something.

Vaguely, you’re aware of her pressing you down to the bed. Of a free hand tracing its way down your chest.

You’re more focused on the hand fingering your brain. On the way your dick throbs in your pants. You let out a weak moan.

And then the first scene pops up. Your first teenage fantasy, filled with giddy emotion. Then another. A moment filled with passion and temptation. Then another and another.

You feel fingers toying with the zipper of your pants. A hand dipping below your boxers as memories play through your head. You cry out, arching up into her touch.

It’s too much, all at once. Your body pulses with heat, with need. Cassandra strokes your dick, digging her fingers deeper into your brain.

“Please, please, fuck!” You babble, thrusting your hips up erratically chasing your rapidly approaching high. A couple more memories, a few more heavenly strokes, and you’re cumming so hard your vision blurs out.

It takes you several gasping moments to come back to your body. You can feel a cool hand caressing your cheek, soft words being spoken.

Your head feels woozy. Your thoughts, thick and sluggish. You feel fantastic. The aftershocks of pleasure jolt through you, making you shiver.

“How was it, my little pet?” Cassandra coos. “I’m going to pull all that Reader knowledge from your brain. Make myself the strongest being here. And all you have to do is lie there and submit.”

You moan softly. Weakly. That offer sounds far too tempting to give up, especially if she’s going to do that again.

So you just nod, your tongue heavy in your mouth. “Alright…”

She smiles and leans down to place a kiss on your lips. “You’re going to be a perfect pet.”

You feel too pleasure-drunk to do anything but agree.

[rougepancake]

você pode fazer mulheres de demon Slayer com o prompt “you’re pretty.” - “you’re drunk"? 🙏🙏

Of course I can 😩

Prompt 128 - “You’re pretty.” “You’re drunk.”

Ft. Shinobu Kocho, Mitsuri Kanroji, Lady Tamayo

Warnings: slight angst, alcohol consumption, cute but sad tbh. Canon verse because it be like that. Also not proofread.

SHINOBU KOCHO

“You know, I really hate demons.” Her words slurred, and you sat there, a frown forming on your lips as you listened. You had taken her out after your shared mission, and you were starting to regret it.

“I know, Kocho.” You hated to see her in such a state, her elegance slipping away with every drink she consumed. Before you knew it, she’d be making a fool of herself in the bar.

Thankfully it was just you two and the bartender. And the poor guy seemed pretty understanding.

“Yeah- and that stupid upper moon two.” She grumbled, a pout forming on her lips. “The next time I see him, I’ll bring him down for suuureee.” She hiccuped and then blushed slightly, almost as if she was embarrassed by the way she was behaving.

“I know, Kocho.” You swallowed thickly, biting the inside of your cheek as you sat there. There wasn’t really anything you could do, and you hated it so much. You knew that she had a lot of buried emotions, especially since her sister was killed and she took on Kanae’s personality.

“Y/n.” She set her glass down and looked into your eyes, and for a brief little moment you swore she was sober. “You’re so pretty.”

You frowned and looked away from her, letting out a sigh. “I know, Kocho.” You whispered softly. “But you’re drunk. Everything’s different when you’re drunk.”

MITSURI KANROJI

“OOOOH Y/NNNN” She gushed, swooning over you as you brought in the finest wine in the area, her eyes shining as you set it on the table. It wasn’t the first glass she had tonight, and it definitely wouldn’t be the last.

She was already tipsy, but you figured she could spend the night in one of your guest rooms if she really needed to.

You poured her another glass of wine and smiled as she excitedly took a swig of it, relishing in the taste. “Do you like that?” You chuckled and poured yourself a glass, sipping on it lightly as she nodded in response.

“Oh yes yes yes!” She practically fangirled, fawning over the taste as if she were a connoisseur. “This one is the best so far!”

Mitsuri placed a hand on her cheek and grinned, her cheeks flushed a light hue of pink as she continued to down the wine.

“I’ll have to keep that in mind then.” You winked and smiled.

“Y’know y/n…” She slurred out, a drunken smile gracing her plump lips. “You’re really pretty!” She squealed and blushed as she said it aloud, and you couldn’t help but laugh as you stood from your seat and helped her out of the room.

“Thank you Mitsuri, but you’re drunk.” You replied, chuckling as she whined and stumbled into your arms.

Yeah she was definitely spending the night.

LADY TAMAYO

“You know, I never thought I’d get to see you like this.” Tamayo said softly as the rubbed your forehead, her eyes observing your drunken state.

You had gone out with the corps for drinks, but ended up getting carried away. The whole sight was new to Tamayo, since demons couldn’t get drunk and since you never really drank unless it was a special occasion.

However she liked how you clung to her, needy as ever as she helped you sober up.

Maybe she’d have to get you wasted more often. It would lead to some interesting events, that’s for sure.

“Tamayo…” You placed your hand on her cheek and caressed it softly, giving her a gentle smile as you stared deeply into her eyes. “You’re so pretty. I wish you were my girlfriend.”

She stifled a laugh and smiled down at you, leaning down so she could place a gentle kiss atop your forehead. “You’re drunk, Y/n.” She giggled. “We’ve been dating for seven years now.”

“Fuck yeah.” You cheered and nuzzled into her side, quickly falling asleep in her arms.

Your head was so gonna hurt in the morning.

[possibilistfanfiction]

For a prompt: honestly, I’d love to see more of outsider’s perspectives of Ava and Bea, like you did with the shopkeeper and her wife.

[tbh this has basically everyone u would want to see!! lol - 10k ao3 here]

//

yasmine

camila and beatrice have been video chatting often lately, and have figured out something encouraging,  you think. you try to understand everything, but it seems like, especially when jillian is on, they're speaking a whole different language. sometimes you're a little blown away by the both of them still: camila is brilliant at anything to do with technology, and kind, and funny; beatrice is brilliant at, well, just about everything, and, even though she's been working steadfastly to research how to get ava back, she still has sunkissed skin now, light hair and freckles. sometimes you see a flash of a tattoo on her wrist.

it hadn't really surprised you, to see ava lean forward while the whole entire world was ending and kiss beatrice — a little awkward, for you, but mostly achy. you haven't ever cared about sexuality, but you definitely don't when it comes to the two of them: because there's harm and then there's duty and then there's love.

one day you're sitting with camila, pretending to read more than actually reading, when beatrice facetimes. you know this because, honestly, sometimes you're a little nosy. it's fine; you helped save the world and sometimes the ocs, with incessant and constant training, gets kind of dull.

when camila answers, beatrice is crying. from what you can see, she's in a sports bra, you're pretty sure; you're scared, for a moment, that she's hurt, or that something really bad has happened, but then she's laughing and say, 'ava's here; ava's here,' and camila starts to cry.

'she's — she's okay?'

and then, a literal fucking miracle, ava's face — the same as you remember; so pretty and with a friendly smile — pops up on screen.

'holy shit,' camila says, and then she's laughing too, her eyes filling with tears. 'hi, ava.'

'hey,' ava says, then crams in next to where beatrice is sitting on the couch, practically on her lap, but you can't really begrudge them. beatrice is in a pair of sweatpants and, indeed, a sports bra; ava has, ostensibly, changed from whatever outfit she came back in, because she's wearing a big soft t-shirt and a comfortable pair of shorts. maybe that's what she wore in — wherever she was, but you're pretty certain those are beatrice's clothes. 'yasmine too, hello.'

beatrice is still crying and smiling and ava leans into her side, runs her fingers gently under her eyes to dry her tears.

'— how?' is the only thing camila gets out: are you okay?; do you remember us?; do you want to kill us now?; how long have you been gone?; are you still the ava we know?; what is going to happen to this world now? sits in your chest, but ava just shrugs.

'i heard bea, all the time.' beatrice blushes slightly, but she just tucks her face into ava's arm from a moment. 'and all of you too. but, bea, the strongest. i think it had something to do with her being in the ocean, maybe? and the city of angels.' she turns to beatrice. 'a little on the nose, don't you think?'

'oh yeah,' camila says, 'that's it, definitely the only reason.'

beatrice rolls her eyes but ava just smiles. 'and because she loves me, i suppose.' she scoots even closer to beatrice, who sighs happily. 'something just — spit me out, i guess. right in bea's living room. which, if i do say so myself, is way better than cat's cradle, no offense.'

another miracle in a series of miracles beyond belief. 'wow,' you say, and there's a beat of silence before everyone is laughing again, camila wiping tears.

'anyway, maybe you can come to us, tomorrow?' ava asks. 'i don't — i would like to stay here, if i can. if that works. at least for a few days.'

'you're — you're healed?' you can't help but ask.

ava nods. 'lots of scars,' she says, but then shrugs, and beatrice runs a gentle hand up and down her spine. 'but yeah, i'm good, as far as i can tell. not old as fuck, either, which rocks.'

'we can come tomorrow,' camila says, then starts crying all over again. 'i can't wait to see you. both of you.'

ava grins. 'yeah, don't come too early, though. i have plans.'

beatrice really blushes then, coughs into ava's shoulder.

'i will be sure to let beatrice know before coming,' camila says.

ava's smile is way too bright, all of a sudden, and beatrice groans and you kind of want to cover your ears before ava says, 'that's what i'll be doing tonight.'

'goodbye, ava,' camila says, even though she laughs. 'i love you, so much.'

ava leans into the camera, like she wants to reach through it. 'i love you too. i am — there are no words for what i feel, seeing you all again. and how much i missed you.'

'well, have fun tonight,' camila says. 'please don't tell me any details when we visit tomorrow.'

'this one time, i'll spare you.'

'thank god.'

//

keiko

you meet her on an otherwise unremarkable monday afternoon. you're running through your forms before the advanced adult class you teach, and when she walks in, you notice her immediately: muscular in a cutoff tank, in a way that's unassuming and speaks to years of training specifically in martial art, a calm expression on her face. her hair is back in a meticulously neat bun, and, when she sees the wall of bo you've spent a few years collecting, her shoulders relax and she lets out a big breath. vanessa is at the front desk and, while she's the best to go out in weho with, she's not the most knowledgable.

'hi,' you say, stepping up beside the desk. 'i'm keiko.'

she offers her hand and shakes firmly, calluses similar to yours. 'beatrice,' she says. 'pleasure.'

'can i help you with anything?'

'i'm hoping to join a dojo.'

'well,' you gesture to, in fact, the dojo behind you, 'you've come to the right place.'

she grants you a small smile.

'we have classes, all levels. would you like me to show you around?'

'that would be wonderful, thank you.'

and you had shown her around; you had sold her a monthly trial membership — a few advanced adult classes and some time for open practice — and a gi and obi — she'd calmly informed you that she's a black belt, and when she came in the next afternoon for the advanced class you teach, you had felt immediately embarrassed when she runs through forms with the kind of power and ease you had only seen a few times in your life, even at the olympics and world championships.

'that was a great class,' she says, far too kind a compliment for someone who is probably the one person you've met since you retired a few years ago who could beat you in a competition.

'you are — incredible.'

she shoulders the compliment with reluctance. 'i haven't trained in quite a while.'

'that is honestly insane.'

she laughs, after a moment. 'a much needed mental health break,' she says. 'but it felt good, to return to this, in this way.'

'do you — i saw you looking at the bo the other day,' you say, and you don't miss the way her hands twitch. 'would you like to use one? i have to clean and close up, anyway.'

she hesitates, but then, 'are you sure?'

'absolutely,' you say. 'pick any one you want; you can train over there, it's got the best view of the ocean.'

'that's very kind.' she's solemn, and a little quiet. 'thank you, keiko.'

she walks, barefoot and at home in her gi, and runs her hands gently over each bo. she picks a medium length one, black and sleek and heavier than your favorite, and then takes a deep breath and starts moving so beautifully you can't even quite follow it. it's mesmerizing, and you watch until she slows and then sets the bow on the ground and, to your surprise, sniffles. she wipes tears off her cheeks and you quickly start cleaning, granting her as much privacy as possible. she takes a deep breath and then takes the bo and walks back over to the wall.

'if i find one of my own,' she says, 'can i store it here? it's all right if not, of course.'

'you're more than welcome to do that.' you don't quite know what to say to her, the most talented martial artist you've ever seen in your life, who never competed at any events you know of, randomly in your dojo, who had just cried running through forms with a bo, small and coiled tightly. 'and, honestly, you don't have to feel like you need to come to classes. you're more than welcome, but i think you're beyond anything i would have to teach you.'

she laughs after a few seconds. 'i really did enjoy it.'

'maybe thursday we could spar? i'm here in the morning.'

she seems to weigh it, but then she nods. 'that sounds fun. thank you, keiko.'

you get to know her quickly: the way she moves and her favorite forms and the first time she throws you, you lie on your back in a little bit of shock: you haven't lost in years. she just stands calmly and offers you a hand. 'who are you?'

she just laughs.

you get to know her, as the days go along. you get lunch, one day, and you flirt with the host and the waiter — 'i love cute boys,' you say, 'what can i say?' — which amuses her.

'my partner is a flirt,' she says, but the smile slips from her face before she can stop it. she clears her throat. 'she's very sick, right now,' she says, quickly, as if to avoid your questions. 'but, still,' she says, sitting up a little straighter, gathering herself, 'a flirt.'

you learn not to ask about her partner; you learn that she surprisingly loves pepperoni pizza and beer; you learn that she's rich and lives in a beautiful house on the beach, but she's generous and lowkey, especially compared to everyone else in los angeles. she works in tech for a firm in spain — the details vague, but that's tech anyway — and, when you offer to let her teach a kids class, she smiles gently and accepts. she's patient and seems to enjoy correcting their form and teaching them kata one step at a time; she encourages them and makes sure to teach, quietly, that the goal is never, ever to harm, only to protect. she's one of your best friends, quickly, and is also impossible to beat whenever you spar. she goes out with you and your friends in weho one night, gets very drunk and turns down what feels like an entire club of women, and then tells you, on your couch at home while you give her a glass of water, that her partner’s name is ava, and that she’s kind and smart and beautiful and loves to dance. she doesn’t cry, but she curls up, small and sad; you haven’t mentioned it since.

one day, beatrice texts you, early in the morning, Hello! Ava's treatment worked, so she's back with me now, for the foreseeable future.

it's very businesslike, but she's always a stiff texter, and you know how excited she must be, how relieved.

Hopefully forever, she sends, and you know you're right.

you meet ava a few days later, hanging onto beatrice's side when she comes to the dojo after a few days off. you realize, in one flash of a moment, clear and sacred, that you really have never seen beatrice smile before — not until ava looks at her when she takes her bo off the wall with the softest expression. devotion; adoration. love. beatrice blushes and returns it, a smile in full force so powerful it knocks the air out of you slightly.

you also realize that you've never seen beatrice show off before, and you decide, right then and there, you're never sparring while ava is watching. you can lose, sure, but being humiliated is not on your to-do list. when you tell ava that, as she watches beatrice in a little bit of a daze, she just laughs. 'she's incredible.'

'yeah,' you agree as beatrice swipes the bo along the ground so hard you think she could break an ankle, then stands without a breath in between. 'she is.'

//

ray

the second time you meet ava, she's in a tiny bikini, bright orange, with a wispy gossamer coverup that you're sure beatrice bought just for her. it kind of makes you laugh, and it's barely warm enough to be out without a sweater, let alone in a bikini, but ava waves when you come in from the whitewater. bea is still waiting at the outer break, exhausted this morning for reasons that made her blush and you had laughed, delightedly.

'your girl is taking forever to catch anything today,' you say.

ava almost glows, you think, at your girl. 'we didn't get much sleep last night,' ava tells you with a wink. you grin and high five and then offer her a spot on your towel after you unzip your wetsuit and pull it down to rest along your waist.

ava is beautiful. you had wanted to know her, for months, and finally, she's here — young and so, so pretty; small and surprisingly muscular. you would never say anything, but you know she had been sick, and there are scars all over her body, puckered and angry still, shiny and pink. you know bea doesn't care, and you don't either, but ava moves a little gingerly and you fight the urge to ask if she needs help. she settles, eventually, legs stretched out in front of her and her palms behind, leaning back into the sun, face turned up toward it. she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath in, then slowly lets it out.

you notice beatrice about to catch a wave, and you're happy when ava seems, like a sixth sense, to open her eyes just in time. bea is talented: balanced and strong and had learned to surf on a short board and relatively big swells quicker than anyone else you'd taught; when she’d shown you her bo one day — mostly because it was just out on her coffee table — you had been both very turned on and a little terrified. she’s the most gifted athlete you know, and so it’s no surprise when. she rides the biggest wave of the day all the way in, kissing the lip a few times, and ava sighs.

'she's so hot, jesus christ.'

'no comment.'

she laughs. 'we didn't get a ton of time together, really, before i... got sick.' she pauses, looking at beatrice collecting her board in the whitewater. 'she was scared. but now, it's like —' she shakes her head — 'i just love her so much.'

'yeah,' you say, a little teary for your friend. 'i can tell you, without a doubt, that she loves you too.'

ava grins, then stands and walks toward beatrice, who lets ava pull down the zipper of her wetsuit with gratuitous hands, a kiss to the nape of her neck, and then grabs beatrice's hand and laces their fingers together. 'wanna come over for breakfast?'

'i would — yeah,' you say, 'i would really love that.'

you step in, quickly, once ava cracks an egg so hard it goes all over the counter and beatrice only looks on in adoration.

'you're a disaster,' you tell her, but she just shrugs. ava is still in her bikini and cover up, and beatrice's hands sit on her hips while you fry some eggs and chop up vegetables to make a passable pico. she smiles into the crook of ava's neck and they make you a little breathless: a happiness that quiet; a love that big.

//

ayanna

you've been working at this coffee shop for a week now, and every morning, the hottest woman you've ever seen walks in, clearly just from the beach, and orders the same thing in a british accent that makes you want to groan. you're new to this part of los angeles, which is bougie as hell. it's mostly white influencers who order overly complicated drinks for no reason, but the pay is above minimum wage and your manager has worked with your class schedule easily enough.

plus — beatrice.

she's quiet, exceedingly polite and always tips at least twice of what her drink costs. she smiles and has freckles and you burn your hand more than once sneaking a glance at her strong arms and tattoo on her wrist and, eventually, a new one on her shoulder and collarbone that you had seen because she's decided to make your 6:42 am better by wearing a cutoff tank and shorts today.

'good morning, ayanna,' she says, and it's fucking electrifying that she knows your name, even if you have a nametag on your apron — it still counts.

'hey, beatrice. how were the waves this morning?'

she leans against the counter, just slightly, and you will yourself to keep your cool. 'how much do you know about surfing?'

'nothing, really.'

she laughs, not unkind. 'well, in that case, the outer break was far, which means i had to paddle a lot, but the waves were beautiful. can't regret it.'

'uh,' you say, super smooth, 'regular order?'

'yes,' she says, 'and can you add a chocolate croissant? oh, and an olive oil coffee cake. thank you.'

beatrice doesn't seem like the kind of person to eat a croissant and a coffee cake for breakfast, but who are you to judge: that sounds awesome, frankly. you tell her your total and she tips, like always, excessively, and then collects everything with a kind smile.

'have a great day,' she says, and you're too flustered to say anything other than an extremely eloquent, 'same.' mohammed laughs at you from where he's unpacking more to-go cups and you flip him off before you greet the next customer.

/

it's a few days later when your routine gets broken by another beautiful woman, who seems a little in awe of this stupid, trendy coffee shop, but beatrice wasn't in yesterday and it's already 7:19 and she hasn't been in today. it's not that you expect her, really, but she is the best part of your shift, so, whatever. you can have a harmless crush if you want.

'hi,' this new person says, and then reads your nametag. 'ayanna, what's up?'

your mind blanks, because you're pretty much face to face with an angel: she's small and lively and has pretty, delicate features and her hair is pushed back beneath a bright pink beanie, just at her chin. her hands, playing with a small, elegant black wallet, are delicate too. 'nothing,' you get out, 'just, you know, work.'

she smiles. 'yeah, i'm a bartender. opposite end of the day, but i get you.'

you glance down at your screen, just to have something to do other than stare. 'so, what's your order?'

she gets out her phone and reads off iced coffee with cold foam, and then locks it and inspects your pastries. 'can i get one of each? i want to try them all.'

you laugh, something fond and a little ridiculous about that, but you say, 'sure thing. what's the name?'

'ava,' she says. 'thanks.'

mohammed rolls his eyes at you while he gets the iced coffee ready and you put each pastry neatly in a to-go box, because ava is right there and you certainly hadn't needed to get her name. but whatever, she's gorgeous and it's early. ava tucks the box of pastries under her arm. 'ava, tell me which is your favorite the next time you come in.'

ava seems delighted by this. a good sign. 'sure thing,' she says, and then waves.

/

the next morning, it all comes crashing down. there's horrendous traffic, even at 5 am, and you barely make it on time. there's a rush of rude ass customers way too early, and you spill a shot of espresso down your apron.

but, then you see beatrice, and it's wonderful, and perfect, and so great: you're ready today, to ask for her number; you can do it. but then you see ava walk in right behind her after holding the door open, and it's like slow motion when ava bumps into beatrice's side and laces their fingers together and places a sweet kiss to her shoulder. you know there are flowers that sit there, under her hoodie, gorgeous in their greyscale, and ava seems to know as well.

'ayanna,' beatrice says, the biggest, most contented smile on her face, 'good morning.'

you nod and smile, although you're a little crushed. 'hey, beatrice. and hi, ava.'

'hello!' it's way too early for this kind of cheer but it's a little infectious.

'this is my partner, ava,' beatrice says, as if it wasn't horrifically obvious.

'back from quite the business trip,' ava says, looking at the pastries again. 'very remote, no sweets. gotta make up for lost time, you know?'

beatrice blanches a little but ava looks at her sweetly and she recovers. 'can i get my usual, and whatever chaotic order ava wants?'

ava laughs. 'my favorite was a tie,' she says, 'between the chocolate croissant and the olive oil coffee cake. which, i know, beatrice, you had said, but whatever, okay?'

beatrice smiles. 'okay, ava.'

they both, despite their bickering, are so tangibly happy your spirits lift. you'll take the L, if you have to, for people to have what they clearly do. they overtip, as always, and then take their leave.

'ouch,' mohammed says. '0 for 2 this morning.'

you sigh. 'more fish in the sea, i guess. gotta keep the faith.'

he laughs. 'that's the spirit.'

//

jillian

'okay,' ava says, sitting up as best she can with a grimace, 'if bea can't get into bed with me, what about you?'

you spare a glance for beatrice, who only rolls her eyes in amusement and underlying sadness: ava is in pain, to the point where she can't walk, can barely sit or lie down. she's on muscle relaxers and pain medicine so she's comfortable, but it's complicated and tedious, to try to fix her spine — or, more realistically, stabilize it — without killing her.

'how about we see how you're feeling after surgery?'

ava groans. 'that's so boring, jillian.'

you walk to her bedside and take her hand, squeeze it gently. 'ready?'

ava takes a deep breath, braver than anyone you've ever known in your life, time and time again. she looks at beatrice, who bends down and kisses ava gently. ava tucks a strand of beatrice's hair behind her ear and then cups her face. 'in this life.'

beatrice nods. 'in this life.'

'i love you, bea.'

beatrice kisses ava's forehead, eyes closed in reverence. 'i love you, ava.'

ava looks at you and then nods, teary and afraid. 'ready.'

other than your son, you have never been as determined as you are now. you control all of the tech to make sure ava is fully sedated but still alive, that the halo is dormant enough to allow the surgeons to work on her spine without it healing their interventions immediately. it's kind of a miracle, you think, that it all works — but, then again, it seems that ava is prone to miracles. it goes smoothly, without a hitch. ava will have chronic pain and limited mobility, at least some days, during flares — but it will be manageable. it will be livable.

beatrice is asleep when you bring ava back into the room, wheeling the bed as quietly as possible. she stirs, exhausted, from her chair, and you get to tell her — and then, after, a crowded room of ava's people, ava's family, waiting nervously — that it had gone as best as it could. you were sure she was alive, and that she'd wake up, and that, as far as you can understand, her pain would be significantly reduced. ava deserves more than that, much more, but it's what you can give.

you wake beatrice gently, a squeeze to her shoulder. you tell her first, because ava loves her: 'she did great. everything went as perfectly as it could.'

beatrice sniffles and then stands and hugs you. 'thank you,' she says, strong and calm and trembling with the force of it: the love of her life, safe and cared for.

'hot,' ava rasps from bed, and beatrice laughs and lets go of you and hurries to ava's side, takes her hand.

'hello, darling.'

ava lifts her hand and cups bea's cheek, and then wiggles her toes under the blanket. she grins up at beatrice, then grins at you. 'it worked?'

'yes,' you say, and it can't bring back your son and you can't fix the world, heaven or hell, but this — this — you can do: 'it did.'

//

mary

'hey,' you say, softly, when you notice beatrice start to stir on the couch. she presses her nose into the pillow behind her head, then the couch cushion, and then reaches up and rubs her eyes, scratches above her ear, and scrubs a hand over her face and blinks dazedly.

'a new shift?' beatrice looks around at the walls and windows darkening, trying to gain her bearings. she's in a hoodie and shorts, comfortable and soft, a pair of pale pink socks on her feet, her broken leg in its brace propped on a few pillows. ava had carefully draped a soft blanket over her, but beatrice had thrown it mostly to the side in her sleep.

'we're not working, beatrice.' you say it kindly, though, and offer her a glass of water with a metal straw ava had shown you proudly in one of the drawers in their kitchen. she sips greedily, without any embarrassment — maybe she's on pain meds enough to not care; maybe she's known you for so, so long it doesn't matter; maybe she's been shown a degree of love you have known only once.

she pats your hand. 'i know.' she wrinkles her nose. 'where's ava?'

'i threatened her to take a walk.'

beatrice laughs. 'glad to know she still understands who the best of us is.'

you want to argue with her — you're the best of us, beatrice; you always have been — but her head lolls to the side on the cushion and her eyes are fluttering open and closed. 'i like your haircut,' you offer instead. you wonder, with pride, what she's learned about herself, what she's let come forward that she's always known.

she smiles softly. 'yeah?'

'yeah. you’ve got a great soft dyke vibe going on. looks good on you.'

you’re not sure about the word, but you love her and you understand. and — she grins. ‘that’s the goal. androgynous and comfortable. i — i’ve grown into what i want, i think.’

'speaking for myself, i love to see it. it’s a whole vibe.’

‘yeah.’ she looks down and fiddles with her phone case for a second, not coordinated like usual. 'hey, so, feel free to tell me to fuck off forever, if you want, but one of my best friends is... basically the best.' she squints, focusing so intently and still producing a mildly incoherent sentence. it’s charming. 'i know there's no one that could — i know, mary. i know. but i think you'd like her.'

your heart aches, because beatrice lost ava but she came back; because beatrice has hurt all the same. and shannon wouldn't have wanted you to shut yourself off from the world. 'she's hot?'

beatrice laughs delightedly, pushing herself to sit up further. 'very, very hot. if you need backup, just ask ava.'

'ava thinks everyone is hot.'

'true. but, most of all, me.'

she says it with such stoned confidence it's hard to even tease her. 'okay,' you say, 'when should i meet your friend, then?'

beatrice gets out her phone and slowly clicks through a few screens, then squints. 'she'll be here in twenty minutes for dinner.' she holds her phone close to your face, not at all steady, but you do make out your name and then ray making the best birria ever (for ava) one right after another.

'should i stay for dinner, then?'

she grins. 'i think i'm falling back asleep. so you should definitely stay. she could use some company.' she stares into space for a minute. 'let me send ava a voice note so they know not to pester you when they get back.'

'maybe a text?'

beatrice just shrugs and sends a meandering three minute long voice note, sort of explaining the situation but mostly proclaiming her undying love, and so you follow up with a coherent text saying, beatrice wants me to meet your friend. if things are going well, can you not third wheel? you owe me, and ava responds with a, FUCK YEAH!!!!! you're the best and ray is the best!! bea is a genius, and then, i'll make up so many totally valid excuses to leave you two alone, and, finally, the patio is very romantic. dig into bea's stash of very expensive wine and whiskey too, in my honor.

you laugh, and tell beatrice that ava was excited about the idea.

'speak of the devil.'

ava puts her tote down when she gets in the front door, a bouquet of flowers poking out from it. 'mm, not quite.' she kisses bea on the top of her head and then proceeds to do the same to you, although you swat her away. 'try god's favorite angel instead.'

'i will never.'

beatrice looks at ava, adoringly, too much for you to stomach sometimes. 'want to go to the balcony? i can nap out there just as easily as in here.'

'totally,' ava says. 'mary, have fun with ray. you can text me when the birria is finished and i'll just pop by to grab some for us. but she really is awesome, even just as a friend.'

'a spontaneous blind date,' you say, although you do have a few butterflies in your stomach. it doesn't feel wrong, to go on a date, although you do feel sad, and longing, because you had something beautiful and it didn't last. but, still: 'this better be as fun as you promise.'

'it definitely will be,' beatrice slurs, and ava looks at you amusedly.

'okay, you're way too high to be trusted in this situation. let's go.'

'i don't need help,' beatrice says, although it's a full task to watch her sit up and get her crutches from their resting place against the side of the couch. but she does it, slowly and unsteadily, and ava puts a careful hand to her low back when she wobbles. but then all is well, and beatrice tries to wink at you and fails, and it makes you laugh. 'have so much fun, mary.'

you promise to try, and you pick up the book ava had been reading earlier, pretending to do something with your hands as you hear them bicker as they very, very slowly make their way up down the hall, but eventually a door closes and it's quiet. hey shannon, you pray, as you often do, i might kiss someone else soon. sorry. but i think you would be happy in this life, especially if she's hot. ava is annoying, but so good; you would be proud of her. beatrice you're always proud of, i know it. i love you, in the next.

it settles something inside you, and when ray lets herself in their front door, your breath catches a little: she has a mess of black curls cut to her ears, and tattoos down both arms, a linen button up only fastened halfway up her chest, a few chains sitting there. she's smaller than you, and she tucks her sunglasses into her shirt and then smiles.

'hey,' she says, 'i'm ray. she/her pronouns. beatrice sent me a very incoherent voice note that her "hot friend mary" was here, finishing out a business trip, and that i should woo you by making dinner tonight.' she holds up her grocery tote. 'hopefully you're mary, because you are in fact very hot.'

you laugh. 'well, i don't know about the last part, but i am mary. beatrice and i go way back.'

'amazing.' she settles, familiar, at the kitchen island. 'do you like to cook? beatrice and ava are disasters.'

'i love to cook.'

she grins. 'good,' she says. 'birria is their favorite, so it's good to know, if you'll be around for a bit.'

she's beautiful, and her forearms are strong and her hands quick when she starts to lay out the ingredients. you tell yourself to be brave: beatrice and ava and their big house full of love, overlooking the ocean. so you stand next to ray, elbows bumping for a moment, and she smiles at you in a way that makes you feel electric. 'i think i just might,' you say.

she nods down at the onions she's setting aside, but her smile doesn't fade at all. 'well, if you want help looking for a place, let me know. unless you want an insane house like this, in which i can't help at all.'

you laugh. 'it is beautiful, though.'

'yeah,' she says. 'i love it here.'

you think, as you let ray explain tasks and her great-grandmother's recipe, as you open a few windows and hear ava's laughter waft in from outside, like the sweet spices you add to the meat, as ray squeezes your hand, just once, after you finish chopping cilantro.

you might kill ava when she comes in to get their plates a few hours later and quips, 'oh good, you're already betrothed. congrats!' before walking away. you throw a chip at her that falls disappointingly short, but she laughs, and you think you just might love it here too.

//

angela

you're finding a table on the patio of your favorite wine bar when you see beatrice sitting at one near the railing, alone, writing in a journal. there's a part of you that doesn't want to interrupt but she's quiet, whenever she stops by for lunch with ava, and she reminds you a little of noel.

she looks up when you stand near, and then genuinely smiles. 'angela,' she says, and stands very properly; it's a breath of fresh air to see young people with manners still. 'what a nice surprise.'

'i can see you're busy.' gesture to her journal. 'so please feel free to say no, but would you mind if i joined you?'

'not at all,' she says, and then pulls out a chair for you before sitting back in her own and closing her journal. 'to tell you the truth, i haven't even ordered any wine yet.'

you laugh, charmed immensely already. 'well, shall we split a bottle? they have my favorite chardonnay here, if you like that.'

'i — yes,' she says. 'ava is working this afternoon, so that would be wonderful. i appreciate your company.'

she's a kid, you realize, all over again with a pang in your chest: when ruth had told you that she had invited someone in her early twenties to come to water aerobics, but then you had met ava and all of your frustration had gone by the wayside. 'likewise.' the server comes, one of your favorites, and asks happily if you'd like your typical glass. 'a bottle, instead, tommy,' you tell him, and he salutes with a grin, which makes beatrice laugh.

'you like this spot?'

'i do,' you say. 'it gets good light.'

she seems to understand what you mean, because she leans back and lets the sun rest on the planes of her face peacefully. ava hadn't stopped talking for days about beatrice cutting her hair, months ago, even more excited than when she herself had shown up with pale purple hair — ridiculous, in a way, but she had been happy and young and so you grant her it all. beatrice's has grown out a bit by now, which ava still talks about, and her muscles, and the freckles across her nose, all exuberant young love — but you can tell, you've always been able to tell, when someone feels comfortable in their skin. the utter joy of being a space where someone can become.

'i love the light here,' she says. 'i grew up in london, and then switzerland, so i've come to appreciate the sun.'

'my wife wanted to move here for that reason alone.' you laugh. 'we met in oakland, but she was so set on los angeles.'

beatrice seems deeply unfazed by wife, and thanks tommy for pouring her wine after you taste yours. 'how long were you together?'

'fifty-four years,' you say. 'married for fifty-two of them.' you roll your eyes. 'legally, for eleven, but i never cared much for that distinction.'

'of course,' she says. 'and, not to sound trite, but i'm sorry, for your loss.'

and it had been a profound one: you had no idea how to get up each morning, until ruth had dragged you to this ridiculous water aerobics class. so you smile, gently. 'noel was a light in this world. the breadth of that love — i wouldn't trade a single minute.'

she swallows, glances down and swirls her wine. 'i can only hope to have the same, with ava.'

you reach out and squeeze her hand. 'if it's all dependent on love, i'm certain you will. ava adores you.'

she sighs, looks into the sun again. 'i used to be a nun.'

you can't help but laugh. 'did you really?'

beatrice nods, and waits a moment before she laughs too. 'it seemed like the only thing that would keep me safe, from — from myself, i suppose. but then, of course, i met ava. a divinity, i suppose, more than i could've ever imagined, really.'

'noel was a reverend,' you say, and remember the benedictions she prayed at your feet: her neat suits and short hair and round-rimmed glasses as she got older, the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes when she smiled.

beatrice smiles. 'would you like to tell me about her?'

you would, very much so, and so you do: you met at a protest when you were nineteen and she was twenty-one, and you kissed her two nights later underneath an apple tree just starting to blossom. she put you through law school, working three jobs, and when you finally got a job at a firm and ferociously worked your way up — for her — she went to divinity school. you had many children — beautiful boys in love with each other; beautiful girls in love with themselves — pass through your home, often showing up at noel's church with no family anymore. you fed them, and you had to watch so many of them die. and then — and then the world healed itself, in one particular way, and it was never easy; it has never been easy. you married noel once, in your garden, with your friends, and you married her again in her own church, years and years later, the rainbow flag outside and the stained glass the same kind of holy. it has been hard, and sorrowful, but it was worth it. the joy was worth it.

you see the gentle set of beatrice's shoulders, the way her chest is flat beneath her shirt, and you know she understands.

she sniffles and wipes under her eyes and then squeezes your hand tightly. 'i don't quite know what to say, but — thank you, for sharing. what a beautiful love.'

you clear your throat. 'yes. but, noel made me promise not to live a boring life, or to withhold any of my love. so if you have any aunts who might be interested —' you wiggle your eyebrows — 'please let me know.'

she laughs. 'unfortunately, i don't. but i'll be on the lookout.'

you make a big show of acting disappointed. 'well, i know you're taken — not that that has always stopped me before — but i'll take pity on ava. i like her.'

beatrice blushes, all the way to the tips of her ears, and you grin.

you finish your bottle of wine together, and she tells you about judo and aikido and about ava's new interest in geology; she asks about your greyhound rescue, malcolm, and his newest sweaters. she pays the bill, despite your protests — it's a particular joy of mine to use my homophobic parents' trust fund for queer gifts and adventures.

'bring ava, for dinner sometime,' you say. they have a house on the beach and a love that's so safe, so bright — but the world harms and harms and harms, and they are your children too.

'i would love that,' beatrice says, quiet and grateful. 'i would really love that.'

//

dakota

training service dogs is, in your opinion, the absolute best job in the world. your organization focuses on multi-purpose dogs, for medical and psychologic assistance, often both. it's a challenge, especially if handlers aren't fully equipped. but sometimes, it's your favorite thing ever.

when you first meet ava — and beatrice — you're charmed immediately. ava has a cane but sits down on the floor without hesitation to take korra into her lap, who immediately pinch bites but nuzzles into ava's arms anyway. 'bea,' she says, 'oh my god.'

'her name is korra,' you say, and beatrice laughs, just once, when ava perks up. 'she's small enough that you could change it, if you wanted to, but —'

'i love legend of korra,' ava cuts in. 'bisexual heroine! sick back tattoo. hot brilliant rich girlfriend.' she soots beatrice a wink, which makes her blush. 'i am not changing a perfect name for a perfect girl.'

'well then,' you say, 'do you mind if i sit with you and walk you through the plan?'

'oh,' ava says, 'i can get up. i just got excited.'

you wave her off. 'i like to play with her too. she's so sweet.'

'bea,' ava says with a grin, relieved that your decision was exclusively about the dog and nothing to do with her disability, 'you wore your old jeans just for this occassion.'

beatrice sighs, but she sits without any hesitation and melts, a little, when ava puts a squirming korra in her arms. 'hi, sweet girl,' she says, and runs her hand along korra's soft head and her feather-light spine. then she looks at you, 'do you mind if i record you? just audio. i know you'll give us all the instructions, but i find it helpful to have all forms of processing available so i can understand best.'

ava shoots you a glance sideways, trying not to laugh, but you keep it together. 'sure.'

beatrice and ava come in every session, five minutes early, with korra making incredible progress. eventually, ava comes by herself and happily explains that she's learned how to drive with hand controls on the days she needs to, which is fucking awesome. when you tell her that, she laughs and nods.

korra is a rockstar with her positive reinforcement training, and ava reports every time some new milestone she's reached. you'll work with the both of them for at least another year, but — 'you've done such an incredible job already, ava.'

ava shrugs, scratches behind korra's ears where she's happily sitting by ava's chair, calm and panting a little because she'd just worked on some difficult commands. 'i love to learn.' she shrugs. 'and i really love korra. i guess it's just — it is what it is, right? life and pain and whatnot. and, anyway, she helps.'

korra licks your hand when you offer her a small bite of a hot dog, and you swear she smiles at you. 'yeah, i know she does.'

//

marcus

Just do me a favor and look over the project before you roll your eyes at me, ekugbe texts you. admittedly, she is one of your favorite architects to work with, but she's also your ex. It's a good friend of mine, she follows up with, as if that's a plus. whatever. It's something you'll find meaning in, I promise.

it's annoying, because she's probably right, you think, and then she's definitely right when you open her email a few hours later and see detailed, gorgeous plans to redo a house on the water so that's it's ADA accessible. it's sleek and all clean lines, perfect materials planned; the owners, beatrice gu-knight and ava silva, you read, had clearly spared no expense in their plans, and, inevitably, ekugbe's mock ups are beautiful. you sigh. I'll meet with them, you text. you type out, But not because of you and then erase it, mostly because you sister keeps telling you that you don't need to send out more negative energy into the world.

you call beatrice's number the next day, and she's very proper and very british, and when you meet her at the house later, you're kind of in awe at how stunning it is already.

'we bought it as is,' she explains, 'but my partner, ava, needs it to be accessible for wheelchair usage now.' she doesn't sound sad, not a single regret at having to change one of the simplest, most well-designed and amazing houses you've ever seen. she's inches shorter than you but commanding still, straight backed and quietly confident, dressed in simple linen pants and a t-shirt, a cardigan thrown over her shoulders, a dark green beanie and lighter green glasses, barefoot — rich in the understated way that some people in los angeles are, palpably and casually, and you know that anything you need will be there for you, right away.

'i'd like to keep the doors to the patio, for sure,' she tells you, leading you on a tour. they space is designed to be indoor/outdoor, with doors that open all the way to a small hot tub and a giant patio. 'i'm sure you saw the blueprints ekugbe drew up — and, by the way, sorry, i know you have a complicated past, but she really did say you were the best, especially with projects like this.'

'it's totally fine,' you tell her, and when you see the release of tension in her shoulders, you genuinely mean it. she explains that they'll want to move the primary bedroom and bathroom onto the first floor, down a hallway that currently has two offices. you've contracted on many houses this big before, so the space is something of a blessing. 'that won't be a problem, especially since it doesn't look like the wall between them is load bearing.'

'great,' beatrice says. 'that's what ekugbe told me, so it's good to make sure.'

you go through the rest of the house: they'll need a wheelchair lift along the stairs, which won't be hard to install because it's just one staircase, straight up to a big enough landing that there won't be any issues. she wants to redo their kitchen and bathrooms entirely, so that everything will be reachable and safe. it'll be a huge project, but one you feel — even though your head is spinning at changing a house like this — is important. is a labor of love.

'ava and i will be here for the next two weeks, and then in europe for a few months. what do you think a reasonable timeline is for you? i would like to set up a rental for us, if you need longer than that.' it's not snooty, although the words are. it's matter of fact, just a series of tasks and logistics.

'as long as materials come on time, especially if we order them now, i should be able to do it in that timeframe.'

'wonderful,' she says, and clasps her hands in front of her chest, an endearing gesture. 'well, please send over anything to sign and payment methods, and let me know a start date.'

'will do.'

'also, marcus?'

'hmm?'

'can i help you blow the wall out?' she grins. 'i've always wanted to. i have four black belts, if that helps.'

you just laugh. 'yeah, sure. why not?'

/

ava sits in her chair, pretty, in the same linen pants that beatrice had worn the other day, which is kind of funny and kind of sweet. she looks significantly more sad than beatrice about the state of their house, though, as you lay down tarps in the office to protect the floors.

'i swear i only agreed to this because bea promised you'd let her use a sledge hammer.'

'it'll be beautiful, when it's done.'

she sighs. 'i really do believe you. just, a bummer, you know?'

'my brother uses a chair,' you tell her. 'i like projects like this. and, plus, this house is amazing no matter what. your patio almost brought me to tears.'

she laughs. 'yeah, we fell in love with it right away.'

beatrice walks in in a cutoff tank and work pants, practical boots, and ava groans.

'best roleplay of my life,' she mumbles, and beatrice rolls her eyes.

'thank you for letting me have a little fun, marcus.'

'of course.'

'do i need a hard hat?'

'definitely not,' you manage without laughing, and hand her a sledge hammer.

ava watches, riveted, as you and beatrice go at the wall a few times, and then beatrice pauses and looks toward ava. 'want to get a few hits in? it's very cathartic.'

ava hesitates.

beatrice just pauses, patient, and then says, 'unless your back is hurting, i know you'll be strong enough. it's not that heavy.'

ava grins and wheels forward eagerly, lifts the sledgehammer and then nods. beatrice offers her her safety glasses and then backs away to the threshold of the door. ava swings, just fine, and gets a good chunk of the wall to break off from where beatrice had already been working, and she laughs and looks back at beatrice with a happy, relieved expression.

eventually, your crew takes over, and beatrice and ava take their leave to a rental for a few nights before they go do whatever they're doing in europe. the house comes together beautifully, it really does.

at the end, you call ekugbe, maybe for drinks.

it surprises you, the light you're able to let in.

//

mari

'do you think i'll be faster than bea?'

you laugh, show ava where to put her hands on the wheels of the racing chair for maximum and most efficient torque. 'with practice, for sure.'

'gross,' she says. 'why not right away?'

'it just takes a little getting used to. but i'm certain you will, if you enjoy it.'

'well, you're ripped, so i'm enjoying it so far, that's for sure.'

you roll your eyes; you know both beatrice and ava well enough to know that ava's flirting is fun and entirely harmless. but, still, she's beautiful, so you allow yourself to preen nonetheless.

ava lets out a big breath. 'okay, let's fucking go, right?'

'i'll ride next to you for now, and then you can race beatrice.'

'sick.' she pushes a few times and picks up some speed, and you watch exactly what you'd felt yourself the first time you'd gotten into a chair like this: a big smile spreads across her face as she rounds the corner of the track without any problems. when she slows down you do too, and you're worried for a second before she just sniffles and wipes her cheeks. 'this is... this is so fun?'

'yeah,' you say. 'it's kind of the best.'

'as a kid, after i got hurt, and then, you know, after things started to get worse for me lately, i — i didn't think i could do this, ever. it's just — i feel so full. and so fast!'

'i didn't think i'd get to do this either, after i got hurt.' you'd had a complete spinal cord injury, when you were twenty, a car accident that wasn't your fault. your whole life had changed, in a split second — a track scholarship and rock climbing and snowboarding and judo evaporating, just like that, when you woke up from surgery, or at least that's what you thought. but your big sister had sat by your bedside and researched inpatient rehab, and financing, and outpatient rehab, and then, a fucking miracle in your life: paralympic racing. it's led you to do everything you loved before, just creatively, and, 'now i have four gold medals, so, here we are.'

'yeah,' ava says. 'here we fucking are!'

you reach over and high five her, and you look over to where beatrice is sitting on the bleachers; even from far away you can see her gay ass little smile at ava's joy.

'also, the gold medals?' ava says. 'extremely hot.'

you laugh. 'do you ever stop?'

ava shakes her head. 'hardwired, i'm afraid.' she frowns. 'unless, of course, you're uncomfortable, in which case i will stop immediately.'

'oh, no,' you say, 'keep going. it's fun.'

'i'm an excellent wingwoman, at any time. you just let me know.'

'i'll take you up on that soon, i'm sure.'

she laughs and takes off again, getting the hang of her form and how to lean into turns. eventually, she calls beatrice down from the bleachers; beatrice is probably one of the most terrifying athletes you've ever met, but ava's pretty fast already. they race a few times, laughing by the end, trash talking incessantly, beatrice eventually leaning down to kiss ava, both of them sweaty.

'last one back to the bleachers has to do the dishes tonight,' ava says, and takes off full tilt. she barely stops in time before ramming into the stands, but beatrice is laughing too hard to come anywhere close. it's joy, you think, in the hot sun. real joy.

//

mother superion

'so,' ava says, fidgeting in front of you, shifting from one foot to the other, rocking up on her toes. she's gotten older, a few years enough for you to be able to tell the subtle differences.

'yes, ava?'

'okay, i know this is stupid and antiquated, but, well...'

'is this a crisis of any kind?'

she shakes her head.

'then just breathe.'

she takes in a deep breath and lets it out, then sits on the bench next to you when you pat the space. 'i love beatrice.'

'i know.'

'i, well, i guess i'm asking you if i can marry her? i want to propose, and i'll do it, whatever you think, but — it would mean a lot, to me, to have your blessing.'

you hold out your hands and wait for her to take both. there is something holy in her back, something that you had thought was the most sacred thing in the world until you met her. but there is something holier, consecrate, in the way she loves — beyond the highest order you have ever known. in the way she loves you all, and life, but especially in the way she loves beatrice, one of your favorite people in the world. she died for it. you know, in a way that makes you ache, she would do it again.

but the war is over. the war is over, and you have watched them both become.

'there is nothing in this life that would make me happier than to bless your marriage, ava.'

'oh,' she breathes out, runs a hand through her hair, long now, with the tips dyed pink — just for fun! — and then smiles. 'okay. well, great. just gotta get bea to say yes then.'

you don't want to be unkind — you can feel the halo humming with ava's very genuine nerves — and so you don't laugh. instead, you ask, 'do you have a plan? a ring?'

ava lights up, and the halo's hum shifts to comfortable, warm. they'll go to switzerland, she tells you, and pulls up a picture of the ring on her phone — simple and elegant and handsome, all at once. she wraps you in a hug as you tell her so.

'i love you, ava,' you say.

she sniffles. 'i really love you.'

you feel the halo against your hand, through her sweater. 'please send me a save the date.'

//

'ava,' you say, as ava paces around their bedroom. 'bea is going to be right out there, waiting for you. after everything, you cannot possibly be nervous about this.'

she shakes her head. 'about marrying bea? definitely not.' she's in her dress, flowy lace and cotton, off-white because i'm certainly not a virgin, she had said while she was looking, and than had laughed and winked as you had rolled your eyes. 'i'm worried about the halo going off.'

you want to laugh, so hard, but it actually is an issue: most of ava and bea's friends and family don't know anything about the halo, mostly for their protection. 'i'm sure you can get all the glowing out on your honeymoon.'

ava does laugh, then, relieved. 'that's for sure.'

and it's beautiful: you get to stand in front of the altar your friend built for her partner, and you get to pray for their whole lives to be full of this stunning, soft love. they say their vows, and beatrice cries the entire time, which eventually makes ava cry, and then you cry, and then you all laugh.

'by the power vested in me by god, and the state of california,' you say, 'i now pronounce you wives.' ava laughs, delighted, and turns to bea, then looks at you impatiently. you roll your eyes. 'go ahead,' you say.

ava wastes no time, leaning forward to capture bea's lips in a sweet kiss, which beatrice lets linger long enough for a few good-natured wolf whistles from the crowd. ava kisses bea's forehead and they smile, alone in their own universe, before turning to everyone. there are cheers and you're pretty sure everyone was crying.

you get drunk on champagne at the reception and cry even more when you see beatrice in her tang jacket, when she tells you that you were right: there's no shame in loving ava; there never has been. and, a miracle, ava is hers. there are things more certain to you than faith.

'your marriage is going to last annoyingly long,' you tell her. 'i'm sure of it.'

she holds you tight. 'i'm sure of it too.'

//

salma

your aunts are the fuc—freaking coolest. not only do they visit often, but you get to visit them in california, where they live in a big house on the beach and sometimes take you to disneyland. your aunt bea teaches you to surf, and your aunt ava teaches you how to make a bunch of virgin cocktails — which you find very fun — and they both sit and do puzzles with you whenever you want, even if your brother gets bored.

your grandmother — you guess, you never met her and you've never even talked to her, but she was your dad's and beatrice's mother — dies one day. you don't really care; she apparently was a huge asshole to your aunt when she was little. your dad picks you up from school like normal, and you wait impatiently for asaad to make his way out.

your dad takes you to get ice cream and then tells you that she died. you don't care, which is maybe bad, but you don't owe her anything. people can be mean for no reason, to someone like you, to someone like your aunt bea, so you don't care.

your dad is quiet for a few days, and then your aunts visit. you do a little double take when your aunt bea takes her beanie off and her hair is shorter than you've ever seen it, but you hug her quickly, as tight as you can, your head reaching the middle of her chest — when your cat died in third grade your mom had taught you about grief, how it lasts a long time and it's okay to feel, how different cultures have different ways of expressing it. you hug your aunt ava too, and she ruffles your hair and cups your cheek. 'what's up, beautiful?' she says, and it makes you feel it, from someone so pretty: beautiful.

when you get older, your aunt bea will help you change your pronouns, and pick a new name — peace, you decide on — and she calls you her niece, which you love. when you get older, she'll be even more amazing to you, the way she's so kind in a world that hasn't been, the way she loves your dad and your brother and your mom, the way she loves your aunt ava.

for now, it's late and your aunt ava is asleep in the guest room, and your dad had kissed your forehead and gone off to the bathroom he shares with your mom. you go downstairs to get a glass of water, and you see your aunt sitting on the couch, peacoat rumpled and very still and, if your dad's breath was anything to go by, probably pretty drunk.

she looks up when she hears you, and then smiles gently, a little unfocused. you sit next to her, rub your hand along her buzzed hair with a laugh, and it gets her to laugh too. 'you look cool.'

she kisses your forehead. 'that's very kind.'

you play with her fingers, with the ring there, warm even though it's cold outside. 'you know,' you say, 'you've made the world safer for me.'

the sound that leaves her is between a laugh and a sob. you want to be smaller, just for a moment, so you could climb into her lap like you used to when she was little.

'i'm really sorry your mother sucked balls.'

then there's definitely a laugh: 'did aunt ava teach you that?'

you grin into her shoulder. 'i can neither confirm nor deny.'

she tugs you to her, buries her face in your hair for a moment and then wipes her cheeks.

'i'm glad i'm like you,' you say, the best you can for now.

'oh, darling,' she says, then swallows so she doesn't start crying again, you're pretty sure, 'i'm so glad. you are such a light in this world. don't let anyone let you believe you aren't wonderful.'

'i won't,' you say, a prayer, like you kneel and understand with your mom; a promise.

'and, you can always call me.'

'ew, on the phone?'

she laughs. 'or text, if you must.'

you burrow into her side even further. 'i'll call, aunt bea. i always will.'

//

g-d

of course, if there's anything you know, it's blessings.

you know beloved; you know holy. people call you by different names, all falling short, all trying to grasp at you. you know beloved, and worship, and belief.

you look down on them sometimes, because you can. ava — her name the familiar of eve; the meaning in a sacred language, life; something divine against her will in her back; one of your children who had faced more cruelty than she should have — laughs, every day. even on days that hurt for her, she smiles and she laughs and there is a love there: for your world, for its waves and the sun and stars and moon; she, too, sees that it is good. beatrice, gentle and unsure and certain, prays to you still, and to ava, which you don't begrudge her. she worships every day, the most faithful on earth.

of course, there are things you let run their course, the small joys and small miseries: swimming in the ocean, chocolate cake, the first fall of snow; traffic jams and broken wrists and lilith. there are some things even you can't entire shift: ava's broken back and the heaviness in beatrice's mind sometimes. but you watch them, from time to time, in their house on a beach that brings them wonder, when they visit the mountains and fall asleep in front of a warm fireplace, listening to a record that skips before you step in and turn the machine off.

you'll let them grow old together, of course — greying hair and ava's impatience with politics and beatrice's stiff knees in the cold. there's time, for the halo and for all of it, but ava died to save the world, once. ava died for love, and she lives for it too.

in this life, they say to each other, quietly and often. you let things run its course but you step in, from time to time: you will give them peace. they'll want more of them, greedy, and perhaps you'll let them — and the next and the next and the next.

but, of course, this life, this life — you make sure it's a good one.

[the-writer-mao]

There is beauty in death too 🌼🕸️

This moment where Hymeno and Jeramie are both mourning is so important.

Hymeno mourns the loss of hope of her parents again, in general all the lives that were lost.

Jeramie’s mourning is a bit different- a celebration and appreciation for life, because how could one desire to live forever when the ones you love can’t follow? He can finally meet them in the afterlife.

I also find it endearing that Jeramie ushers Hymeno that it’s okay to cry- that it’s a symbol of youth and innocence. I’d imagine that Hymeno has built up so many emotional walls as she is both the queen and the country’s doctor, leaving no room for her to be vulnerable.

I’ve seen some people say that Jeramie and Hymeno are the cause of the 2nd Wrath of the Gods, but tbh, Grodi was probably going to do it eventually, he had the ability as a corpse as well- before he was given eternal life, it was like he was just revelling in the death he felt obligated to cause to add any meaning to his life-

But now that he was given eternal life and can be killed by Hymeno’s Royal Proof, calling the Wrath of the Gods was him living his life to the fullest.

I really love this series’ storytelling- yes this season is still an experimental season, with its flaws ofc but there are so many new sentai aspects that makes Kingohger groundbreaking in nearly 50 years of super sentai- 4 more eps left and I’m going to miss this season so much 😭 it’s criminal if we’re truly only going to get like 30 minutes of Kingohger vs DonBrothers

[goldrushenthusiast]

Analysis on Snow and Lucy Gray’s relationship, as requested by @mym00nagedaydr3am :).

They definitely loved each other, though their reasons for it may have been out of their control, and it wasn’t true love. That’s the best way I can put it.

Coriolanus Snow- he talked about how he had thought about his future wife before, and how nobody but Persephone the cannibal was really that appealing to him. In drops Lucy Gray. She immediately captured his -and everyone else’s- attention, and in the first thirty minutes of knowing him she saved his life and his reputation. That definitely leaves a mark.

Coriolanus is drawn to things that are unlike the ordinary. We know this because of how he reacts to Katniss and Peeta’s fire costume, and how he reacts to a bunch of their stunts in general. I’m not as huge a hunger game fan as bosas though, so I can’t speak much on that. But, I do know Coriolanus thought (rightfully) about how people from district 12 were “stunted, joint swollen, and always died within the first 5 minutes.” (the beginning of chapter 2). He was surprised by Lucy Gray because she was clean, she had makeup on, and she made an excellent first impression (saving his life & reputation).

This was only amplified further by the fact that Lucy Gray sat down with him, and stood up for herself by demanding he believe she could win it. Coriolanus didn’t see that coming. He fully believed that his tribute would be terrible, and the shock of her not being so gave Coriolanus a bit of a boost in falling in love. He expected the worst, got the best, and the room in the middle had to be filled with love.  

I’d mention how Coriolanus also sees Lucy Gray as his property, and how he’s been raised with that mindset, but tbh that whole “she’s mine, she belonged to me, blah blah blah” part of their relationship is just so weird and off-putting, though it does make sense for his character. Lucy Gray would not be having that though, lmao. 

Now, Lucy Gray- she had just gotten out of a bad relationship, and her ex having sentenced her nearly to death is a great way to move on quickly! 

Lucy Gray likes courage, and bravery. I can’t find any exact quotes at the moment, but Lucy Gray did thank Coriolanus for protecting her & the covey from Mayfair when he killed her at the hob even though it was hard for him. The act of even showing up to the station, how it was a test to see how willing he was, also proves this. 

Lucy Gray also values family, above all else. She tries to make goats milk for Maude Ivory to “bring a bit of happy into her life.” She says the only thing she would miss would be them when she left district 12. Coriolanus accepts her family, and her “crazy” stories about them not being really district fairly quickly. She definitely appreciated that.

Not going to lie, at the beginning, Lucy Gray probably was only flirting to intrigue Coriolanus. In chapter 25, she says “Sure, I flirt with anybody. It’s part of my job.” I believe she still has this mindset when she arrives at the capitol. She is used to living by her charms (and voice), and so that’s exactly what she does. Coriolanus actually treats her with respect, and as a person, opposed to the other inmates & their mentors, so he also leaves quite the good impression on her. 

Their relationship in district 12 takes a different turn, though. At the beginning, it’s fine. She is overjoyed to see him, and finds it very romantic. “You found me.” “You knew I would.” things like that get said to each other often in the beginning. But soon things change. They have the fight about their dads being killed by the other, which I believe is fundamental to their relationship. Lucy Gray thinks that capitol people are all terrible, and by the way Coriolanus jumps straight to defense tells her a lot about him. 

Of course, they make up (and out), and Lucy Gray is very appreciative of how Coriolanus treats Maude Ivory and his “clear” devotion to his friend. I’m quite sure Coriolanus’ relationship with Sejanus was actually quite a bonus point in their own, so when she realized that Coriolanus betrayed him, she realized he could betray her too. 

That’s another thing about Lucy Gray. Trust. She never had it with Billy Taupe, and she thought she had it with Coriolanus, but she actually didn’t. It’s very important to her, so when she realized he had lied to her, she couldn’t just move on from that. 

That’s another one of the most interesting aspects of both of them. How quickly they fell out of love, and towards hate and murder. When Lucy Gray realized that Coriolanus killed Sejanus, and that he’d have no qualms about staying in district 12 now that he got rid of the guns, she knew she had been betrayed. When Coriolanus realized Lucy Gray knew, he easily started shooting at her, albeit not before trying to at least talk. This goes to show how they were both raised. Coriolanus to fend for himself, Lucy Gray to think about what her relationships with everyone around her mean and represent. 

Coriolanus also says that he was “beginning to sympathize with Billy Taupe.” This clearly shows that the second that his relationship with her was over, that he could no longer benefit from it, he turned on her. He said “hell no!” and got out of there with a mind that only amplified what he now thought of her. Vicious, cutthroat, and manipulative, all things he also was. Coriolanus’ victim mindset is also very interesting tbh. 

In the end, I’m very sure Lucy Gray lived. She’s smarter than a lot of people give her credit for, especially Coriolanus (until the last few pages). They wouldn’t have worked out long term, due to their differences in what family meant, what the capitol meant, and just in general how different they were, but just them being together probably changed both their lives. Coriolanus’ for the better, Lucy Gray’s for the worst, which actually represents a lot of what happens in their other relationships (Snow lands on top, Lucy Gray is forgotten.) 

That just made me remember! Lucy Gray’s ballad! A stroke of GENIUS writing. How Lucy gray mysteriously vanishes in the blizzard, how her parents don’t realize how far she is gone until it is too late, how she leaves no trace except in the middle of a BRIDGE, because that’s what they were to each other. A bridge to the other’s life. I might have to make a separate post about this stupid ballad, but yeah. 

If you read this all THANK YOU!! It means a lot :). If not, I don’t blame you, this is probably my longest tumblr post so far lol. I just find this whole book so fascinating.