#I'm seriously happy and peaceful now that it's settled

[millartiste2d]

Got diagnosed with autism today

[rosesaints]

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* HIT ME HARD AND SOFT!

DID I BREAK YOUR HEART? DID I WASTE YOUR TIME? ⸻ t. fushiguro, g. suguru, n. kento, g. satoru

summary: your breakup (and sometimes makeup) sex experiences with jjk men when inspired by the new billie eilish album! angst. warnings: 18+ mdni, mentions of infidelity, lots of angst lol, unprotected sex, breeding kink (nanami), fingering, oral (f!receiving)

: ̗̀➛ TOJI FUSHIGURO

I SAW YOU IN THE CAR WITH SOMEONE ELSE AND COULDN'T SLEEP! if something happens to him, you can bet that it was me.

toji doesn't know how he feels about the fact that you've moved on, and he decides to do something about it.

"is this really what you're doing now? living the dream?"

toji has this remarkable talent of sensing when you're finally at peace. you had just been dropped off at your aparment by your date, and the dust hadn't even settled yet before toji materialized by your door.

"that's exactly what the fuck i'm doing," you scoffed. red hot anger coursing through your veins as he acts like your relationship was nothing more than a lunatic pipe dream. like the very prospect of you being happy with someone else was an idea so foreign, it was laughable. "go home, toji. i don't even know why you came. did you really think that coming here, guns blazing and chest puffed up, would convince me to come back?"

toji appraises you for a moment, and it shouldn't send a shock down your spine, but the next thing he says does.

"has he made you cum?"

you freeze.

the truth was, your date hasn't. poor guy couldn't even last four seconds inside you before cumming, sheepishly evading you afterwards to clean himself off to properly satisfy you.

"you heard me, sweetheart. i won't ask again," toji grins. "what's wrong? where's all that fire you had earlier?"

"n-no," you try hard to fight the humiliation that threatens to bubble over in your chest. "not...not yet⸺"

he's stepping forward in mere moments, crowding you into your apartment and locking the door behind him, a wicked smile on the edge of his lips.

"you know, i like this new persona of yours. seriously, i really do," he's so close, invading your personal space and you can feel how hard he's getting against your thigh. "all this bite, all this fire, it's fucking sexy. but i think it's time to stop fucking around and come home, yeah?"

you know there's only ever been one way to go with toji.

"you poor thing," much later, to his delight, toji's got his one of his hands working back and forth over your cunt, pleased at how soaked and needy and docile you were, hips jutting forward to meet his rough, calloused hand. his other hand's wrapped around your much smaller hand, jerking him off in a brutal and agonizing pace. he curses at the way you're grazing your teeth over his neck, whimpering every time he circles your clit. "fuck. so fucking needy."

"pretty little cunt's gone so long without being touched, huh? that's okay," you shiver when his voice drops, dripping with determination. "we've got all week to make up for all that lost time."

: ̗̀➛ GETO SUGURU

I SHOULDN'T HAVE TO SAY IT. you could've been the greatest.

you've tried your best to keep geto satisfied for the longest time, to let him get his rest, but you can't fight how alone you've felt anymore.

"you'll go," the words are exhausting and holds the weight of a future you can never have. a future where he doesn't go, a future where you don't have to settle for staying. "and i'll stay."

you've watched him come and go for years, sometimes with a smile on your face, most times with tears in your eyes. this time, you're struck with the realization that you just feel nothing. none of the flightless uncertainty, none of the promises that you tell yourself that he'll find his way back. it's terrifying.

"i think we have to end it, sugu."

there was no prelude, no warning signs. geto had stopped by the night that he came back, soft and boneless and aching for your touch and your comfort. the realization hit you in the middle of such a routine and familiar night, geto sprawled across your bed in the most peaceful state you've seen him for so long as you got ready for bed. it kills you to have to shatter that, but you think it'll shatter you if you keep holding back. "don't know how much more i can take of this."

geto sighs. he would be stupid to not see this was coming.

every time he said goodbye only got harder and harder and harder, and he could see the way you dimmed every time he pulled away.

but he was selfish, so selfish, and willed himself to ignore it and hold on for a little bit longer. to chase that high of getting to know you, getting to feel your touch on his skin, spend nights draped across each other and whispering sweet nothings.

he nods. "i understand."

when you join him underneath the covers and he leans into your touch, hot and full of want for things he can't have, you let him take the clothes off your back, let him drift lower and lower until he presses sweet kisses to your thighs.

your breath stutters, and he wants to consume you. wants to remember how you taste, how you whine and plead for more, the way you used to look at him with reverence. he seals his lips around your clit and sucks like he wants to make a home out of you, hand reaching up to cup a hand around your breast and graze your nipple.

tightening your thighs around his head deprives him of his oxygen, makes him forget what's going to come next.

you come on his tongue, heart hollow and echoing.

he could've been the greatest.

"i'll come back," there was something solemn in his voice, a grief that overcomes him in waves. he pushes a loose strand of hair away from your face and knows. "and you'll come with me."

: ̗̀➛ NANAMI KENTO

OPEN UP THE DOOR, CAN YOU OPEN UP THE DOOR? i know you said before you can't cope with any more.

it's been a year since you broke up with nanami. you don't know what to say, so you let your actions speak for you.

you're not sure why you called. it came so easily, like muscle memory, typing his number into your phone and calling a number you haven't dialed in a long time. it rings once before he's picking up, voice laced with worry and confusion and the sound of your name on his lips sounds like everything you've missed in the past year. "what's wrong?"

"kento, come home. i miss you," your breaths are coming out in shallow waves, anxious and jittery as you await his response on the other side of the call. "i know i said before that i can't cope anymore, but i want to try, really try this time."

"i'll be there soon. stay... stay right where you are."

it takes him all of seven to come knocking at your door, chest panting and leaning against the doorway in a daze, like he's still in disbelief that you've allowed him back. "is this... is this real?"

he's had dreams about this exact moment, plagued with the thoughts of how it ended the last time, how you'd broken down in his arms in defeat⸺he's had time to think through every possible scenario, every way that he could prove to you that he would change, he would make you a priority, spend the rest of his days making it up to you.

"i love you, i love you, i love you, i love you⸺" nanami, normally so composed and careful with his words, can't help that all his emotions, all the love he's held safe for you in his chest, tumbles out like a flash flood. all you can do is nod helplessly,

when you cum, it's with a gasp, back arching off the bed as he maneuvers your body with an easy familiarity that can only be acquired through years of experience, years of knowing your body inside and out.

he's not too far behind, getting closer and closer the more he looks at your wrecked and fucked-out expression. he laces a hand through yours, intertwined.

"never gonna let you go again," his thrusts are getting more impulsive, thoughts going hazy when he thinks of you, swollen with his baby with the happiest expression on your face. "i think it's time we start a family."

: ̗̀➛ GOJO SATORU

I TRY TO LIVE IN BLACK AND WHITE, BUT I'M SO BLUE! i'd like to mean it when i say i'm over you.

your ex-boyfriend gojo just can't bring himself to get over you.

in a lot of ways, being with gojo was like staring into the sun. on your first date, he had taken you on a picnic overlooking the shakujii river to go see the cherry blossoms. your head was on his lap and he had gently titled your head back, chuckling as you closed your eyes as per his instructions. "just close for a moment," you hummed, but the sensation of warm sunlight was overtaken by the feeling of being cradled in his hands. "open your eyes."

for a moment, all you could see was light, vibrant blue. eyes adjusting to the sun, until bright sapphire eyes came into focus. it was the happiest you had seen him for a while. "did you feel it?"

at the time, you didn't understand what he wanted you to see, didn't know what it was that he wanted you to search for.

did you feel it?

this time, the roles are reversed. you're cradling his head in your hands as he's fallen to his knees in front of you, desperately trying to keep the tears at bay as he presses his head into your abdomen, shoulders shaking with the intensity of his emotions, holding onto you like a lifeline. "satoru, i don't know if i can keep doing this anymore."

"no, you don't mean that."

"we can't keep doing this," you weren't a fool. you know he hasn't been doing well, can see it in the dark circles that have temporarily made a home under his eyes, the cursed energy that radiates off of him in waves. "you can't just keep coming back, sa⸺gojo. you have to move on."

when he rises, he places his head onto your shoulder, and for a moment, the rush of familiarity overpowers you. "satoru. just say my name please, that's all i'll ask for."

"satoru⸺"

he's pressing warm, soft kisses against your neck, nuzzling and inhaling the scent of your hair. his hands are exploring the length of your back, fingertips slowly dragging across your skin. when he pulls back to look at you, sapphire eyes shimmering with unshed tears, you find yourself spiraling again.

it's so much easier to forget that it's over, really over, when he's fucking into you like it's the last time. it's in the slow drag of his dick as he takes his time to soak it all in, the sensuous pace that he knows drives you crazy. you're not sure where you end and where he begins, hands holding onto your waist like a lifeline as he snaps his hips. it sends tremors down your spine and you see stars behind your eyes.

satoru cups your cheek, and it's like burning alive, like a fever you can't shake. "that's it, sweetheart, fall apart for me."

when you pull the blanket over him later, under the soft glow of the moonlight, you think you realize what he meant all those years back.

he's all you could see.

© ROSESAINTS ! — do not repost, translate, plagiarise or claim any of my works as your own.

[professional-yapper]

Proximity pt. 4

Neteyam x Olangi! Reader

Warnings: fluff, misunderstanding and lack of communication, making out up, reader is lowkey the bane of my existence

"We need to talk," you began bluntly as you entered your hut, finding Neteyam sitting rather dejectedly on the floor. "Wha- how long have you been there? Were you waiting for me?"

Neteyam nodded, unfolding long limbs and standing up to meet your eyes. You noticed he was gripping his loincloth again, like he had when he first met you. "Did I do something wrong? Whatever it was, I'm sorry. I never meant to upset you, you must understand that."

You exhaled shakily, taking another step into the hut, bringing you closer to him. "No. Lo'ak explained it to me. The- the cultural differences."

Neteyam tilted his head, looking almost amused by his brother's involvement. "Lo'ak did?"

"Mhm," you confirmed. "I did not- my people are not permitted to do what we did with anyone but our mate. We are not mated yet. I brought shame to my family by letting you kiss me."

"Oh." Neteyam's eyes grew soft with understanding. "I'm sorry. Truly. I should have known better. You just-" He stopped, cutting himself off, a flush spreading across his face, turning his head away from you.

Your heart stirred in your chest at the sight. "I just what?" you prompted, reaching out, gripping his upper arms and forcing him to look at you.

Neteyam huffed out a little laugh, letting his head drop forward so his face was inches from yours, turning his hands to cup your elbows, running his thumbs over your skin delicately. "You just looked so good. Like you were made to be here, standing in the home I made for you, all warm and golden in the midday sunlight, looking so peaceful for once. I didn't think twice."

You smiled. "Yeah?"

"I don't regret it," he added seriously. "The only thing I regret is upsetting you and making you think I did not want to see you. You are all I want to see, paskalin. The first thing I see when I wake up and the last thing I see when i go to sleep." His voice was trembling a little as he spoke, grip growing tight on your elbows like he was trying to steady himself.

"I know this union is arranged, but-"

"I want this," you interrupted, voice firm and steady, sliding your hands up his arms to cup his face. "I want you."

Neteyam sucked in a breath, eyes darting to your lips ever so briefly. But he made no love to kiss you, and you didn't know if you were disappointed or not. "I cannot wait," he said in a low voice.

You knew what he meant. Couldn't wait for the night you two would mate in the eyes of Eywa. It made your heart beat faster just to see how eager he was for you.

"I can," you said, smiling irresistibly, wanting to tease him just s little now it was all out in the open and you had nothing to fear anymore. "I will have you for the rest of my life. There is no rush."

Neteyam didn't seem to share your feelings, instead making a low, defeated rumbling noise in the back of his throat and releasing your elbows.

Your heart rate spiked again, this time out of anxiety as he let you go, wondering if you shouldn't have teased him.

But then he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and the other around your middle, pulling you into his chest, pressing his nose into your hair and breathing you in deeply.

His tail coiled around your calf, and you wished you could return the gesture, but settled for hugging him back, wrapping your arms around him and taking comfort in the steady rise and fall of his chest.

"This will be a happy union," Neteyam muttered into your hair, a note of steel in his voice. "Maybe this love will not last, but I want us to be happy. I swear it to you now, paskalin. I will make you happy."

You didn't have the words to respond to that, instead pressing your forehead to his shoulder.

"Do you trust me to make you happy, paskalin?" Neteyam asked lowly, stroking one hand up and down your back.

"I trust you, ma Neteyam." Your voice was softer than you had ever allowed it to be.

He shivered at the use of 'ma' and held you tighter, like he was trying to envelop you with his body. "I cannot wait," he repeated.

This time, you agreed with him. If he shivered at a mere affectionate term of possession, you couldn't imagine what other reactions he might have. "Neither can I."

Finished this in bed half asleep and it has not been proofread whatsoever I don't believe in proofreading (fun fact!) Also very short for which I apologise 🤧

Enjoy!

Taglist: @luvv4j4ybe11 @ikeyniofthetayrangi @rivatar @lunamochii @mochamochimoch1015 @dutifullyannoyingfox @oakbuggy @abcm18339 @atokirina-tsuki

Part Five >

[krowlovesinazuma]

Could you do marriage headcannons for miko with the creator

Read this prologue for context!

Scenario: Marriage

Characters: Yae Miko

Thanks to Inazuma's traditional values and culture, marriage is seen as quite the symbolic, and important social event, that can change one's life forever. As such, there are some that simply decide to live without it.

Ironically, Miko was one of these people. It made sense, as a youkai, to simply watch and not get too attached to the townsfolk, content with her influence as a shrine maiden and taking care of her publishing company. With her duties, and youkai lifespan, it just wasn't logical.

That's why, even when you appeared, showing such a fascination and preference for her, she never once thought about the possibility of marriage, and as such, you're the one bringing the topic up as a possibility! It's a certain way to catch her off guard.

She thinks it's a joke, or an exaggeration of your feelings at first, but when you refuse to drop the subject, or start imagining things, she decides to question you seriously, just in case. Better to settle this quickly, than let it drag on and confuse you!

She'll ask if you're really alright with the prospect of being attached to her for the rest of her life. As for if she's willing... Years ago, she wouldn't have given it a thought, but being with you made her happier than anything else in her life!

When you accept, Miko will ask for a break from both of her duties for a while, to embark on a sweet honeymoon with you! She'll take the chance to step away from Inazuma like you used to do with her when you controlled her from outside. She has so many places she wants to see again, now with you by her side!

While the ceremony and marriage could be done in public, Miko would rather it stay between the two of you. Not only does it make it more comfortable for her to show her true feelings, but it's way less of a hassle to prepare and maintain!

Life with Miko is quite interesting! As her creator, she makes sure that you're comfortable and satisfied, but she never resists her urge to tease and play with you for long. Since it's never as bad in public though, you can tease her back and see her true emotions!

She'll soften up whenever you ask for it, and sometimes she'll ask you to be fully compliant if she had a stressful day. Trust me, she really needs it from time to time, especially with the process of making Inazuma open again...

What about in public then? Miko uses the chance to make both hers, and your image even more mysterious! Teasing visitors that get curious, and making rumors spread, all while letting you have fun with them as well!

Overall, life with her is quite peaceful and relaxing if you're devoted to it, and listen to her wishes. Do so, and she'll be more than happy to listen to yours, and give you the comfiest life you could've dreamt of!

"Dear... Be a good darling and get on the couch for me. I want to cuddle you for a moment... Ugh, you wouldn't believe the nerve of some customers, demanding to meet me face to face when I'm clearly so busy. Yes yes, the others tried to convince him, but it wasn't enough to get through his thick skull. Shhh... Just be a good pillow for me, I need it."

[moonlight-prose]

FOR THE LOVE OF DANGER

╰┈➤ #01: ONE LAST TIME

a/n: so i finally FINALLY saw the movie and even though it's really late since it came out, i'm happy to write for him at last. this is partial brain rot and a partially thought out plot that has been in the works for months. i'd heard of spidey 2099 before, but never thought i'd fall in love with him to this extent. this fic was also supposed to come out last month, but i'm always behind on everything. so i hope y'all enjoy this wild ride.

note: a massive huge fucking THANK YOU to @soulores for being the best beta reader a girl could have. seriously i couldn't have finished this without you.

dedicated to: @sunflowersteves for listening to me rant about how pretty he is and for being the first person to ever hear about this plot. thank you for being one of the best person here babes.

summary: when things go awry in your life you find yourself back at el nido - a comfort spot in the darker parts of the city - in need of peace. only to run into him.

word count: 8.5k+ (somehow???)

pairing: miguel o'hara x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, cussing, angst, alcohol consumption, one night stands, p in v sex, rough sex, cumeating if you squint, cumplay if you really really squint, my awful attempts at dirty talk, soft miguel, the start of chaos.

NEXT CHAPTER | SERIES MASTERLIST

NUEVA YORK 2099; EARTH-298

Let’s do this one last time.

My name is Miguel O’Hara… and I’m scared.

You couldn’t breathe, the speed of your heart rate nearly caused you to believe you were going into cardiac arrest. Some small part of your brain wanted to actually check. It wasn’t hard to simply waltz right into the nearest hospital. Although dealing with the disbelief on doctors and nurses faces as you asked them to check if you were dying pushed you away from the idea altogether.

Another day at a job that didn’t allow you to have anything, left you seeking out the only thing you knew would help. An old dive bar still resided in the lower part of the city—The Nest, or as the owner called it El Nido—as local folk often referred to it. Although you were more than happy to call it a safe haven.

Everything was so pristine where you worked, so perfect. But The Nest was simply a small hole in the wall that helped people find a spot to feel safe for an hour or two. You tended to avoid going there on weekdays, but seeing as how you were about to be fired from your job…you felt it was necessary.

Sighing, you hitched your bag up higher on your shoulder, the weariness from the day finally settling its weight over you. What you wouldn’t give to be asleep right now, curled up in bed. Except you couldn’t go home. Not when all that remained was the dreaded time spent waiting for tomorrow. The day they would more than likely—officially—ask you to leave.

“Sorry,” you muttered, accidentally slamming into a woman walking hand in hand with her partner. The man glared at you, the gaze enough for you to quicken your step towards your destination.

The smell of the bar was exactly the same. Ricky always loved incense, and while you claimed it would drive customers away, he somehow made it work. Letting out a calming breath, you headed right towards your stool at the bar. The worn in leather a comfort after sitting in a stiff backed office chair all day. It was partially ripped and practically ruined, but you could already feel the stress melt off your body.

“Mi florita!” Ricky shouted, handing off a drink to an older man with white hair.

“Hey Ricky—oof—” He leaned across the bar, dragged you closer, and planted a sloppy kiss on your cheek. His breath was tinged with cinnamon and a hint of mint—letting you know he’d been drinking his favorite tea all day.

Nonetheless you smiled at his kind gesture. Ricky was like the cousin you had never had, but always wanted. Standing at around six feet with tattoos going up and down his tanned arms and his hair chopped into a mess of wild curls, he was your favorite person. The one you always sought out in times of trouble, if anything just to laugh. Unfortunately he couldn’t say the same for you. He loved his boyfriend too much to put you higher up on the scale—or so he claimed.

“How’s the job?” He poured you a martini, extra dry, extra dirty. “Are you playing nice with all the fancy folk?”

You chuckled, taking a sip and letting the alcohol burn its way down. “The fancy folk are slowly driving me insane.”

“Uh oh.”

Another sip caused yet another part of your stress to fade. “I don’t understand why it’s so hard for them to give me the same leniency they offer to other employees.” You sighed, dragging a hand down your face. “I mean it won’t matter anyways tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Ricky slid a drink to the person sitting a stool away from you, taking the small amount of cash he offered.

“The day I’m probably gonna get fired.”

“What?” he exclaimed, nearly causing the glass of whiskey in front of him to spill over.

You shrugged. “It’s not a big deal. I can just…find a new place to work at. I mean there has to be other labs in need of a biochemist. Right?”

He hesitated, his eyes flickering to the bottle in his hands. “Florita…” Your stomach dropped, the severity of the situation finally dawning on you—turning your once rose hued glasses clear.

They were going to ask you to leave and because it was Alchemax, there was no other option but for you to beg for forgiveness. An act you had sworn to yourself that you’d never do. You were a good scientist. Hell you were the best in that fucking lab, yet they couldn’t see past the fact that you wanted to go your own way. To carve your own path in a company that was adamant on placing you in a box. Keeping you perfectly pristine for those on the outside—those that might wish to give you freedom.

Holding up your hand, you stopped him from saying anything else. If shit was meant to go sideways tomorrow, then so be it. You’d go out like a champion, worthy of whatever came next. Downing the remainder of your drink you slid the empty glass towards Ricky, nodding at him to fill it up. At least with that he didn’t hesitate, knowing you needed something to take the edge off—your night already taking a turn for the worst.

“Just gotta keep going,” you muttered, staring at the liquid in the hopes that it would magically fix everything.

“You got this chica.” Words that seemed empty at a time like this somehow brought a small smile to your lips.

Taking another sip you thanked him softly and watched him wander off to the other side of the bar, his eyes set on a group of men that were most likely there to buy out the bar. It happened every once in a while, but you couldn’t exactly fault them. They were here to have fun, to make an otherwise regular night memorable. They certainly weren’t here to wallow in their drinks, swallowing down their misery in the hopes of finding something good to take away.

“Shit,” you muttered when you came to the bottom of the glass again, your finger tracing the rim.

“Firing a biochemist is the stupidest thing a lab could do.”

You jumped when someone’s voice came from beside you—the man a stool away now focusing the entirety of his attention on you. Perhaps it was the vodka or the low neon lights of the bar, but you could have sworn his eyes were red. The color so striking it sent a chill down your spine—as if he was analyzing you with one simple glance. For a second you forgot he even said anything—too busy taking in his soft brown hair and strong jaw—until his lips quirked up into a grin.

One that made your heart flip in your chest, heat rising beneath your cheeks.

“Eavesdropping?” you inquired, gathering enough courage to confront him about his blatant behavior.

His lips pulled up on one side, something glimmering in his eyes that had you hooked the longer he looked at you. “Lo siento,” he said softly—his voice slightly mumbled. “Didn’t mean to. I just heard you talking about something that interests me.”

“Ah.” You glanced away to escape his penetrating stare, if for a chance to catch the breath in your lungs. “So you’re a scientist.”

Pride bloomed in your chest when he was caught off guard. His glass halfway to his mouth when the statement left your mouth. Once again that mysterious light flickered to life again, a soft chuckle leaving his lips and causing your heart to erratically beat in your chest. Taking a sip, he gently set the now empty glass back on the bar. The tension was so thick you swore you could slice it in half, heat spilling into your body.

“You’re observant.”

Shrugging, you took your own sip—the alcohol no longer burning your throat. “It wasn’t hard to figure out. What else from that conversation would interest you?”

“You.”

The words were out of his mouth before you could even finish the question, your breath catching at the sound of them. Your day had been shit. Enough to rival doomsday itself, but there you were sitting at a bar with him. A man who’s name you didn’t know. The smile spread across your lips before you could stop it, your eyes roving down his figure in an attempt to make him feel half of what he stirred in you.

“Let me buy you a drink?” you asked, pointing to his empty glass.

“I thought I was supposed to ask you that?”

Your smile widened. “Then ask me.”

For the second time that night he was caught off guard, his eyes widening slightly. The song behind you shifted, a low tune you could feel reverberating through you as he changed seats, taking the stool directly beside you. He moved silently, his thighs pressed tightly against yours as he got comfortable in the spot—his arm brushing yours.

The first thing you noticed was how warm he was—as if his body was a personal heater. But that was pushed out of your mind, replaced by the second thing. He looked at you clearly, hair falling onto his forehead slightly until you finally saw it. The actual color of his eyes. Crimson irises caught you in their hold, keeping you until he was satisfied—drinking you in, he trailed his gaze over the entirety of your body.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he murmured, his breath fanning across your face, body unconsciously leaning in.

You inhaled sharply, watching as his eyes lit up at your reaction to his proximity, his hand sliding closer until his fingers brushed against your wrist. Suddenly your shitty day was but a mere memory in the back of your mind. Entirely forgotten in favor of him. He was so large you swore he blocked everything else, filling your eyesight with nothing else but his frame. The breadth of his shoulders, the length of his torso and how he had to hunch over slightly to get close to you.

“What’s your name?” you inquired finally, your words breathy and dazed.

He grinned, hand curving around your wrist and pulling your hand towards him. “What’s yours?”

“I asked you first.”

Leaning in so close until you felt his chest brush your shoulder, his lips met your ear, sending chills down your spine. “Miguel,” he breathed, smiling at the way you practically melted into him.

For a brief moment you forgot you were sitting in the middle of a bar, people surrounding the two of you. When in fact it felt like nothing remained except you and him and the song playing behind you. Your exhale was shaky, representing the way you felt on the inside. As if he’d pulled you apart with a single word, his body heat affecting your brain—turning it to mush.

“Miguel…” Your hand curved around the front of his jacket, eyes meeting his as he moved, brushing his lips across your cheek.

“Hm?”

Something heady built in your chest, solidifying the truth you knew the second you started talking to him. You wouldn’t be leaving this bar alone. You simply hoped he was on the same page as you, but the way he hooked his arm around your waist, thighs bracketing your frame told you everything you needed to know. He was not only on the same page; he was flipping forward, reading a future that had yet to occur.

You almost wanted to ask him if he liked what he saw. If—by some odd chance—there was something more than this fiery electricity between the two of you.

“You still want that drink bebita?”

Words evaded you the longer he sat there, filling the space with nothing but him. How he smelled, how he sounded, fuck even the way his lips felt dragging against your skin as he spoke. You wanted to ask where he came from. How you’d never seen him in this bar before—your life now altered because of something so small. Simply a conversation. Yet now you couldn’t see yourself ending the night without him.

“No,” you sighed, shifting until your lips were a hairsbreadth from his. “You?”

He shook his head.

“I…” Your teeth dug into your bottom lip. “I don’t usually do this.”

Grinning, he raised your chin slightly with his knuckle, eyes catching you once more in their web, snaring you in a trap so saccharine you could taste it on your tongue. “Your pace.”

And with two simple words you were his. Captured happily in something you never wanted to be rid of. You smiled, your other hand sliding up into his hair, and finally the weight of your day lifted entirely off your shoulders. The question of whether or not he wanted to kiss you was on the tip of your tongue, but like before…he was miles ahead of you. With a small grin, he tipped your face towards his, catching your lips in a kiss you felt down to your fingertips.

He didn’t kiss you gently, languidly taking his time as if you were both here until the sun went up. No, that was nothing like what you expected. He devoured you. Stole every gasp, sound, and sigh you could have let out; his hand holding you exactly where he wanted you. Miguel kissed you like you were his only source of oxygen. And you let him. You bent to his will with ease, giving into every touch.

Whining softly, you tugged sharply on his hair when his tongue swept across your bottom lip. The taste of his drink now seeping into your mouth. You didn’t even question letting him in, desperate to know what he tasted like—what his tongue felt like licking deeply into you. Shivers ran down your spine when his hand gripped your hip tightly, pulling you closer until you sat on the very edge of the stool.

“Fuck,” he rumbled, pulling away and sliding his lips along your jaw.

“Oh…” Your breath was a sharp gasp when his fingers trailed down your throat, cupping it so quickly you could have sworn you imagined it. But the heat that spilled into your stomach told you otherwise.

His lips were heaven on your skin, nipping and licking until you were sure that certain spots would be tender tomorrow morning. You didn’t care. He could have sunk his teeth directly into your neck and you’d still ask for more. Somewhere in between talking and the tension, you lost any sense of worry. Those feelings went out the window the second he moved closer.

“I um—” Pushing at his chest, you reluctantly parted with the realization that you were still in public, and fucking against the bar would certainly make Ricky ban you for life. So he fell back, his lips swollen and spit slicked—pupils blown wide until the black began to bleed into the red. A swirl of brilliant color.

He smirked, taking in your disheveled appearance, all thanks to him. You had half a mind to drag him back to the bathroom, but the burning glare of Ricky was currently being seared into the side of your head. Without a doubt you knew it said: “You fuck in my bar you’re not coming back.” So you gathered whatever control you had over yourself and downed the remainder of your now tepid drink.

“My apartment is two blocks from here,” you began, exhaling a shaky breath as you finally took the leap for what you wanted. “We can be there in five minutes.”

Miguel nodded, yanking out his wallet and tossing down enough cash to cover not only his drinks, but yours as well. Which was your sign to grab your things. No words had to be said, because the intent was clear to the both of you. He was here to find the same relief you were—something to take his mind off of life for a little while.

Waving a quick goodbye towards Ricky, you followed Miguel out of the bar into the cool night air of the city. You were beneath the depths of the main part, where people didn’t necessarily travel to. But you’d grown up there. It remained a place where you still felt like you belonged. He didn’t say anything, he didn’t have to. Not when the intentions for the night were clear to both of you. But that didn’t stop him from reaching down and slipping your hand into his, clasping your fingers together as you walked down the street.

Such a small act of tenderness—barely noticeable to anyone walking past—but meant so much more.

“What brought you to El Nido?” you asked, leading him down the street where your apartment building resided. It wasn’t a drastic question, but you couldn’t help your curiosity.

You were a scientist after all.

He shrugged, thumb running along your knuckles. “Needed a night out.”

“Let me guess…” You turned—walking backwards the best you could—regarding him with a suspicious expression. The small smile on his lips caused your heart to thump a little faster. “You’re getting fired tomorrow too?”

For the first time that night you heard him laugh. The sound, soft and low and by all means something you wanted to hear over and over again.

“No.” He took in a breath, his crimson eyes searching the dark streets for nothing in particular—the hair on the back of his neck suddenly standing up. “I’m…trying to figure out something.”

“A problem?”

He sighed. “You could say that.”

“Well I think—”

You didn’t get to finish your sentence, his arm jerking you forward until you fell into his chest, wrapped tightly to him as a horn echoed loudly behind you. A car sped past, turning rapidly onto the street and disappearing around the corner—leaving the both of you in silence. Your breath came in quickly, eyes wide as fear ran streaked your body, turning you cold. And Miguel watched after the car, his eyes narrowed and body tensed—as if he was ready to take off after them.

That is until he felt your hands press against his chest softly, drawing his attention back to you.

“T-Thank you,” you gasped, trying to calm the adrenaline that rushed through you.

There was no mistaking what would have happened if he hadn’t pulled you close; if his reflexes hadn’t kicked in so quickly. You wanted to ask him how he did it. How he knew the car was coming, but the words were trapped in the back of your throat. The shock had started to flood your system. His hand cupped your cheek, thumb running along your jaw in a soothing motion that seemed to slow the panic filtering through your body. You wondered if he even knew he was doing it—the touch yet another reflex to slow the racing of your heart.

To bring you back down to Earth.

“Okay?” he murmured, his eyes tracing the curve of your face, watching your eyelids flutter for a moment as you met his gaze once more.

You nodded, lightly gripping his wrist simply for the sake of comfort. “I’m okay.”

The night was no doubt effectively altered. Not necessarily ruined, but you couldn’t go on the way you were before. No teasing words, no light conversation. Instead you walked in silence. His hand clasped in yours and guard up in case of something else happening until you reached your place.

You were surprised to find that you enjoyed the silence while you walked. As if Miguel offered you a sense of safety and comfort you never had before; your body responding differently than you expected. Sure, you were attracted to him, but you couldn’t deny the pull you felt towards him when it came to this. To needing safety in the midst of possible danger.

“This is me,” you said, pulling out your key from your pocket—the hallway light dim and nearly extinguished. You had to remember to speak to the building manager about it tomorrow.

He grinned slightly, waiting patiently for the door to swing open with a soft creak as you entered. While you wouldn't call your small and rather overpriced apartment perfect, it felt more like a home than even he expected it to be. A small kitchen gave way into a bigger living room. Your record player was placed on top of an aged wooden table—piles of books stacked haphazardly through the place.

Miguel eyed the various plants you’d managed to keep alive—each of them pointed towards the one large window on the opposite wall. A place where sunlight no doubt streamed in on early mornings.

He originally believed it would look modern; more like the outside city and world as a whole. Yet your home resembled something old. A place that stood still against the ravages of time—as if it were merely a museum and he was there to admire its antiques.

“I know it’s not much.” You shifted a small pile of clean clothes off the chair, moving it towards an empty laundry basket in the hallway.

“It’s nice,” he said, and he actually meant it. “Es acogedor.”

You could see the truth in his eyes, the flicker of something familiar coming through the crimson. As if he’d known a life like this once. You wanted to ask him. See if he’d tell you more than just his name—perhaps why his eyes were that color—but you knew tonight wasn’t about making this more than it was. In reality you both needed this. No strings, no commitment. Merely two people looking to release themselves from the heaviness of the day.

He turned, catching you staring blatantly at him. “You want me to make you a drink?”

The question threw you off and your expression must have given you away—his lips curling into a grin. “I thought I was supposed to ask you that?”

Heat curled low in your stomach, spreading with every step he took until the tips of his shoes met yours. He bent down, hand curling around the nape of your neck, fingers digging in slightly. Chills spread down your spine, goosebumps rising along your arms, and for a brief moment you wanted to live in this. To remain oblivious to everything happening around you.

Everything except him.

He brought his lips closer, his breath washing across your cheek. “So ask me,” he breathed.

“Do you want me to—”

Cutting you off he dragged you closer, practically hauling you up to his chest as his lips covered yours. It sent your mind reeling, your hands digging into his hair as if on instinct. As if you knew exactly what he wanted. As if…you’d done this before. Something intoxicating built up in your body, turning your brain foggy when his hands slid down, cupping your ass and dragging a moan from your throat.

He met your sound with one of his own—a ragged grunt that came from low in his chest. The echo of it reverberating through your body. You knew what this was. What it wouldn’t become. Yet you couldn’t stop the longing in your heart—the yearning that refused to be locked away in your mind. You wondered what it would be like if this was more. Would it always feel this…electric?

Something pulled you together and you couldn’t determine what it was. Except at that moment you couldn’t even determine your own name.

His tongue swept in your mouth, shoving all your thoughts aside and bringing forth something new. A feeling so strong you found yourself grasping for him tighter, pulling him closer as he licked deeply into you—tasting the alcohol on your tongue.

“Bedroom,” you gasped, yanking on the strands of his hair and earning another delicious grunt.

“Donde—”

“Down the hall.”

Stumbling back you felt his hand hitch your leg over his hip, nearly dragging you with him. Yet you could hardly complain. You were pretty sure that if he let you go you’d go falling to the ground from his touch alone. He moved your head where he wanted, lips slotting over yours and spit nearly trailing down your chin. A rush of slick poured into your panties, your nails scratching along his scalp as he nearly hit the wall, pressing you against it and hitching your other leg up.

“Fuck.”

You tried to tell him that you needed more, that you wanted him inside of you, but all that came out was a breathy moan. His hips grinded into yours, a soft moan being pressed to the shell of your ear, and that alone nudged you towards something earth-shattering.

His lips slid back along yours, hands grasping for any skin he could reach as you practically shoved your hips against his. The desperation practically seeped into the air—permeating your tongue with its cloying flavor. Words were exchanged for moans, tender moments now shifting into something quicker and faster. You wanted to feel him against you as fast as humanly possible, but Miguel was eager to remain here. Holding you up against the wall and kissing you until you ran out of oxygen.

“So I take it that’s a no on the drink?” you breathed, smiling at the small frustrated sound echoed in the back of his throat.

“Cállate,” he grunted, hiking you up and grinning at the yelp that was muffled into his mouth.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you felt him begin to move—heading towards your bedroom. The door remained open from earlier and you thanked yourself for making sure to keep the place tidy before leaving for work today. Before you could detach yourself from him and lead him to your bed, he turned and sat down. Taking you with him until you were sprawled on his lap.

“Tú eres hermoso,” you mumbled against his lips, watching in delight as his expression shifted. Surprise spreading across his chiseled features.

“I’m supposed to say that to you,” he replied, a small grin playing on his lips.

You shrugged, pressing your lips to his jaw. “Guess we’re doing tonight backwards.”

He chuckled, sliding his hands beneath your shirt until it was clear that he wanted it off. You complied with ease. Allowing him to drop the fabric to the floor as his eyes fell to your chest, taking in the pretty lace of your bra. The crimson you’d come to admire darkened to something you’d call a burgundy—lust clouding his gaze. He wanted to take you apart. To see the inner workings of your body—your mind. Anything he could get his hands on. And you’d let him.

There was no doubt that Miguel had gotten beneath your skin in such a short amount of time. He filled your home with a feeling you hadn’t had before. Something tangible and real. Something you wanted to keep.

“Guapísima,” he murmured, hands cupping your breasts, thumbs brushing over the spot where your nipples poked through the fabric. A soft jolt rolled down your spine at the feeling.

Warmth clung to your chest, filling you to the brim with a sensation you’d only had once before in your life. Only this was different. This didn’t feel new or like you were just discovering it. No, this felt familiar. As if it had been hiding away in your heart, biding its time until you crossed his path—until you found one another. You wanted to wrap yourself in it, sink into its comfort, and you wondered if he felt it too.

The strange way all of this felt right.

Like coming home after being away for so long.

“Miguel,” you gasped when his mouth trailed down to your chest. The heat of his lips sticking to your already burning skin—his tongue trailing along the tops of your breasts.

He pulled down the fabric, taking your nipple into his mouth—practically lighting up on the inside when you cried out softly. Your hand dug into his hair, tugging on the strands as he scraped his teeth against you. Drawing out every sound he could find hidden in the depths of your chest. Your hips ground against him, clit pulsing with a need that would only be satiated by his touch.

For a moment you worried that he wouldn’t continue his path. That he’d ignore the way you were practically panting for him—the pleas falling from your lips with ease. But then his hand dipped beneath your waistband, fingers trailing along the edge of your panties. Your eyes nearly rolled back, hips canting up as you tried to get him to go further—to release you of this agony. But he held still. Entirely focused on driving you to the very brink of insanity; continuing the path with his teeth and tongue along your chest until the skin was tender.

“Impatient are we?” he mused, nose brushing against your jaw—the grin prominent in his voice.

You huffed, gripping tightly onto his hair and dragging his head up. “A tease are we?”

A moan ripped from his throat, his hips jolting up into yours at the slight sting of pain that bloomed in his head. His eyes were heavy, mouth parted as he took in a deep breath, and you could have sworn that you’d never see a prettier sight again. He looked at you as one would a statue in a museum. Tracing the curves and dips of your body with eyes that resembled the color of blood. Eyes that would never leave your mind again.

His tongue swept across his bottom lip, teeth protruding outwards slightly and you had half a mind to ask him about it. To question how exactly he had fangs, but your desire won out on the logical part of your mind. Leaning forward you licked your tongue along them, feeling how he shivered beneath your touch—how his body sang a tune you could match.

“Careful,” he rumbled, his hand pressing against your back and bringing you even closer. “I might bite.”

You smiled, sliding your palms beneath the collar of his shirt, the hot skin beneath warming your cold fingers instantly. “Sounds like a promise to me.”

“I’m not good with promises.” He let you pull his shirt up, raising his arms and helping where you couldn’t reach.

Even you couldn’t deny there was something so domestic about this. How he carefully shifted you so that you were now pressed into the mattress. His large frame looming over you—hair falling into his eyes as he looked down. It felt natural; the fluid movements were almost instinctive. Like your bodies knew what to do before you could even comprehend anything happening. You wanted to blame the alcohol—or hell perhaps it was the lust that was making you slightly lose it—but you saw it beneath the surface of his slightly guarded expression.

He felt it too.

Perhaps even more.

“Come here,” you breathed, cupping the back of his neck and bringing his lips back where they belonged—where they felt the most right.

You felt his hands fall to the waistband of your pants, popping open the button and you were quick to raise your hips, helping him push them down. There was a swiftness to his movements. Like he knew what you wanted before you did—something telling him that you were ready to keep going. But that would be scientifically impossible. No one could predict things that way. Yet you couldn’t help but go back to the color of his eyes—the fangs that now scraped along your throat and down your shoulder.

He seemed to be a scientific marvel. Something unknown.

“Your tur—oh—” Your head fell back, lips falling open when his hand dipped even lower, fingers sliding into your soaked panties.

A groan echoed in the room, his lips finding yours again as he gathered the slick that pooled at your entrance and dragged it back to your clit. Setting a slow and maddening pace that had you grasping for his shoulders. Your nails pricked the skin so hard you knew there would be marks later. He pressed down, sparks scorching your body, and grinned at your reaction. How your eyes squeezed shut, leg kicking out and hips pushing into his hand.

“So wet for me.” He sunk one finger into you, tearing a whine from your throat.

“Mig—” The breath caught in your lungs. “I want—fuck—please…”

He shushed you gently, lips sliding against yours messily as he worked you open, slipping another finger into you with ease. “I know amorcito. I’ve gotta open you up for me.”

Something pulled at your stomach, tightening slowly as he continued to pump his fingers into you—the wet squelch of your slick echoing in the room. You knew you were dripping down his hand, that he was able to slip in a third finger as he went. But that didn’t mean he would stop. No Miguel had become hooked on the sounds coming from your lips—the moans that you didn’t try to stifle. He curled his fingers and struck against the spongy part of your walls that made you practically curl up into him.

A surprised cry fell from your lips, eyes flying open to see his lips curl into a small grin, before he doubled down. Shifting the angle, he made sure to press the pads of his fingers in the same spot each time, his thumb swiping along your clit. And you felt that building pressure shift. It clawed its way up your throat, settling in your chest as he murmured soft words of praise.

“Dámelo,” he breathed against your lips. “Give it to me bebita.”

As if your body was following his request, you shattered. A choked cry of his name was swallowed by his kiss, his tongue licking deeply into your mouth—fingers rapidly moving to prolong your pleasure. It was too much, yet not enough. The hunger—the desire—screamed in your chest, begging for him to keep going, for this to be more than just one night. Yet you couldn’t speak.

You gulped in air, legs shaking when the pleasure slowly began to fade into a slight pain. But Miguel wasn’t done. He was far from it. Your heart pounded in your chest when he slipped his fingers into his mouth, moaning at the taste of your release—the shiny stickiness on his palm letting you know how wet you really were.

“Sabes deliciosa,” he murmured, pressing his tongue back into your mouth and sharing the taste of you.

Your hand fell to his pants, pulling at the buckle of his belt as he shifted—making room between your legs to lay over you. His hand pressing into the mattress above your head. The all encompassing feeling of him surrounded you; pressed you into the small haven he created with his body. Keeping you from the rest of the world as you lost yourselves in each other.

“Your belt is being difficult,” you huffed, head falling back against the pillow.

He laughed, opening it with ease and effectively earning a glare from you.

Miguel had to admit there was an ease to being around you. The weight he usually felt hanging atop his shoulders had been lifted—his mind suddenly clearer and mood better. He wanted to figure out why that was, but you were looking at him with a gaze that caused his heart to stutter. The urge to remain close to you seemed to overtake every other thought that ran through his mind. He rid himself of his pants, helping you pull down the lacy fabric—his lips sliding along your inner calf as he did so.

The light touch of your palm grasping on his hand brought his gaze back up—your small smirk rendering him speechless. Miguel had only been this way a few times in his life. All instances he could count on one hand, but this—you—were bringing out an emotion he would have rather kept locked away. Nervousness.

Leaning up on your elbows, you met him halfway, your arm going around his shoulders as he leaned down to kiss you. It was by all means…sweet. The passion remained, lingering beneath the surface and searing through your veins, but something else took over. A feeling he wanted to keep.

“Since we’re doing this backwards,” you whispered, brushing your lips against his and cupping his cheek.

Locking your leg around his hip, you used the leverage of his surprise to send him into the mattress, your hands falling to his chest as you perched yourself in his lap. Your lips formed around a smile when he grunted. The feeling of your bare pussy now spread along his cock—your slick dripping down and coating his length—was divine.

“Mierda.” His hands grasped your hips, grinding you forward a bit until the head of cock brushed your clit, ripping a gasp from your chest.

“F-fuck—” Your head fell forward, teeth digging into your lip.

“You’re gonna fuck me amorcito?” he asked, a flash of something dangerous echoing in his eyes. “Gonna ride me?”

You nodded, mouth falling open when he pressed against your entrance. Whatever comment you had died in the back of your throat when he began to sink into you—a slight sting of pain streaking up your spine as you took him slowly. He wasn’t kidding about needing to open you up, but still it was a stretch. A soft whisper of praise echoed in your ear, his thumb circling your clit to counteract the pain. Even still you dug your nails into his chest, no doubt leaving marks that would bruise later on.

“You can take it,” he murmured, thumb curling around your chin. “You can take it like a good girl.”

A whine caught in your throat, your hips canting down with each small thrust until you were seated in his lap again. His cock filling you completely—the stuffed sensation nearly too much for you. Miguel leaned up, catching your lips in a soft kiss; giving you time to adjust. Yet you felt the sharp need of desire work its way through your body, begging for you to keep going, to take everything he would give you.

“How do you feel?” He pulled at your bottom lip with his thumb, his other hand cupping your ass.

“F-Full,” you whimpered.

“Go ahead,” he said softly, allowing you to lift yourself off his cock slowly—slick coating him down to the coarse hair at his base.

The pace was lazy, barely even there, and he watched. His eyes tracked each movement you made, each time your hips shifted forward to change the angle. He burned the image of you fucking yourself on his cock into his brain—watching as you did exactly what you said you were going do. Ride him.

Scraping your nails down his stomach, you heard him groan, his hips thrusting up slightly and forcing a cry from your throat. You wanted more. Wanted to feel him fuck you into the mattress, but the familiar pressure was already forming again. Building in your stomach with each stunted thrust—the head of his cock brushing against the spot he’d found earlier.

“I’m—” Your head fell back, hips shifting forward to catch it perfectly—eyes squeezing shut. “‘M gonna—o-oh…”

“That’s it,” he rasped, guiding your hips and slamming you down onto him with a strength that made you sob, your hands grasping for any part of him you could reach. “Cum on my cock amorcito. Wanna see you—ah fuck—”

Your hips stuttered, eyes rolling back as the wave crashed over you, nearly pulling you under. A cry echoed in the room, your walls clamping down, and for a moment you felt nothing but bliss. You went blind with it, your body tipping forward into him as he continued to move you in short thrusts, dragging it on even more. Miguel grunted against your throat, sitting up fully and holding you close as you rode out your release, your body practically falling limp against him.

Eventually you felt yourself come back, your hands dragging through his hair as he placed kisses up and down your neck, arms tightening around you. Your legs barely worked, head still fuzzy with the intensity of your orgasm. But the desire still remained, stroking the fire slowly until it once again began to seep through your system. Warming your body.

He was still hard, throbbing against your fluttering walls. That alone caused you to moan softly, your hips shifting down and lips pressing against his jaw. 

“You didn’t finish,” you murmured, nails scraping against the back of his neck. The small goosebumps that appeared had a lazy smile curling on your lips.

He ached for that sweet release, wanted to flip you over and chase it, but he didn’t want to leave. At least not yet. There was something about taking his time with you that called to the part of him that had always wanted more. A part he’d crushed over and over again. Claiming it wasn’t necessary. There was no room in his life for that irritating emotion people referred to as love—no space in his heart.

Until a space began to slowly open up. He could barely find it, barely even see the small gash you’d made in the armor around his heart. But he’d discover it eventually.

“I want to see you cum,” you said softly, eyes glimmering with need.

“Bebita—”

Licking along his bottom lip you felt his cock twitch, his fingers digging into the flesh of your ass a little harder. “Want to feel it, Miguel. Need it.”

“Shit.” He felt the breath get punched from his lungs, your words sending a streak of heat down his spine. “Yeah? You want it that bad?”

You nodded, lifting yourself on shaky legs only to drop back down, impaling yourself on his cock. He spit out another broken curse, his head falling back briefly before you were tossed back—your body slamming against the mattress. You yelped, eyes going wide when he shifted over you, body covering yours in a way that had a haze settling in your mind. He grinned, fangs digging into his bottom lip as he spread your thighs—hooking them over his forearms and nearly bending you in half.

“All you had to do was ask,” he purred, guiding himself back into your dripping pussy and sinking in with ease.

Gasping, you clawed at his shoulders when he hit so much deeper, the angle changing everything. You wanted to shout his name, to tell him how good it felt, but he’d already started to pull back, shoving himself into you with a strength that sent you up the bed. A ragged sound was pulled from your chest, eyes rolling back when he brushed against that spot so much easier—grinding against it in a way that had your body going numb with pleasure.

“Look at you taking me so well,” he muttered, curling over your body and sending your knees up near your head.

“O-Oh…god!”

“Cosita linda.” His body was tense, teeth baring as he continued to pound into you at a pace that built your release so quick it burned through you. “Pretty fucking thing. Letting me fuck you like this. Perfecta—”

You cried out, nails breaking the skin of his back—leaving deep marks. Tears streamed down your temples, spit falling down your chin when he leaned in to kiss you. He was everywhere. His scent permeated your senses, taste now permanently etched on your tongue, and yet that still wasn’t enough. There was something about him that made you want to crack open your heart and give it to him. Offer yourself up entirely in the hopes he’d accept. He surrounded you, filled your entire being with nothing but him, and you loved it.

Your body went taut, eyes flying open to see him staring down where you were connected, how his cock disappeared into your leaking pussy.

He smiled, hands digging into your hips so tight it sparked a delicious pain when you sobbed incoherently. “I can feel you.” His breath stuttered when your walls clamped down—brows pulling tight and mouth falling open in a silent shout. “That’s it. C’mon—” He gasped, fingers falling to your aching clit and circling it quickly. “Cum on my fucking cock. Soak me.”

This time the release wasn’t built steadily to give you time to prepare. You could barely breathe, your lungs screaming for some small amount of air. Yet your body seemed to be solely focused on one thing. A broken shout of his name left your lips, echoing in the room, combining sinfully with the sound of skin against skin and your slick. His thumb found your clit, pinching it between his fingers and something in you broke.

It slammed into you unexpectedly, dragging out a loud keening wail—white flashing behind your tightly closed eyes as it rushed through you. Flooded every sense you had until all you could comprehend was him chasing his own release. He fucked into you with short stunted thrusts until he fell forward, his lips colliding with yours—a ragged cry being pressed into your mouth.

He spurted into your already dripping pussy, filling you deliciously and sending another flicker of warmth down to the tips of your fingers. His chest heaved, lips swollen and eyes dazed, and you wanted to solidify the sight in your mind. Except the reality of what this was would eventually come crashing back down. Reminding you that he was not yours to have. That you were simply two passing stars in a tangled web of this universe, meant to part ways.

He let your legs fall back to the bed, slipping out of you with a hiss before he flopped onto his back, dragging you with him. His cum dripped down your inner thigh, smearing against the skin. But for now you let it happen. Content to remain right there, feeling his chest rise and fall as he attempted to catch his breath. His fingers traced lightly along your spine, line after line until you realized what it was that he was drawing.

A web.

Or at least…that’s what it felt like.

“I don’t think I can move,” you mumbled, smiling into his skin when he laughed—the sound low and rough.

“That’s a good thing I hope,” he replied, glancing down at you—eyes tracing the curve of your hip and breast that pressed into his side.

You placed a kiss on his shoulder, hand splaying across his stomach. “Definitely.”

Silence enveloped the both of you like a comfortable blanket, filling the space with a soft feeling. It lulled you into a state of peace. Sleep nearly overtaking you. Yet you fought against it. Too busy taking in what he looked like—attempting to commit him to memory lest you never see him again. You wanted him burned into your brain, each memory tattooed into place permanently. But that’s not how life went.

This wasn’t a fairytale, and he wasn’t yours.

So you settled against his body, soaking in the warmth he emanated and allowed your eyes to flutter shut. His breath came in slower, arm curling around you as he fell asleep gradually—his heart a steady thrum in his chest. An echo that allowed sleep to drag you beneath the surface, giving way to something peaceful.

The loud angry beep of your alarm clock jolted you awake, your eyes flying open and body aching as you sat up quickly. There was a mess of blankets on your floor, obviously kicked off in the middle of the night. It seemed that with the heat of the outside world and his body, you were content to sleep with a thin sheet wrapped around you. Yet where you expected to find clothes left haphazardly around the room, you found nothing.

Your clothes that had been stripped off now lay in a pile on your chair, shoes placed by the end of your bed. Last night was clear to you now. The all consuming bliss, the way he had felt buried inside of you—how he had touched you. And while you understood it was merely a one night stand. You couldn’t stop the disappointment from seeping into your chest.

The sight of him completely erased from your apartment put a damper on an otherwise good morning.

Sighing, you swung yourself into a sitting position at the end of your bed. A throbbing headache began to spread along your skull. No doubt the cause of waking up too fast. Either that or the alcohol had actually decided to give you a bitch of a hangover. You’d have to figure that out later. The reminder of what the day held for you flickered bright and blaring in your mind—killing whatever joy you had left in your chest.

“Fuck,” you spit, dropping your head in your hands as you finally settled on one conclusion. You were about to be fired.

You had about an hour before you had to rush out the door. Giving you enough time to find out how to stop the delicious ache in between your thighs from going away. The echo of the outside world drifted up through your somehow open window and you raised your eyes, gazing at the spot where he had been only a few hours ago.

Only to catch sight of a glass of water placed on your nightstand—a ripped piece of paper beneath it. You practically lunged for it, hands carefully sliding the paper out and eyes tracing the messy scribble of what you assumed to be his writing. The message was short. Direct. It could barely even be considered sweet, but you saw the tenderness through the short sentence—the care in his action of leaving you with something to remember him by.

I had a lot of fun.

So we can do things the right way next time.

— Miguel

Beneath the message a phone number was scrawled, as if he’d been hesitant to even put it there in the first place. But it seemed that you weren’t the only one to feel that strange connection. That lingering sensation of familiarity whenever you thought about him. There was something to uncover between you. Perhaps the something more that you were aching for last night.

You had no clue.

Yet that didn’t stop you from grabbing your phone and inputting the numbers carefully. Glancing back at each one to make sure that the message wouldn’t disappear before your very eyes. You typed his name at the top, smiling at the contact before sticking a web right beside it. The memory of what he’d traced along your skin coming back to you.

A thrill of joy went through your body, lips pulling up into a wide smile as you pressed the button to send a text. While it may have been too soon—perhaps a bit fast if you were looking at it properly—the warmth in your chest won the battle in the end. 

How could something that felt this right be messed up with speed?

How could it go wrong?

[chaninfused]

The Altar of Angels | Lee Minho

◤“If the jester wanted to play, then the Prince of the Underworld would happily oblige.” In which a mafia heir seeks the aid of a wildcard to upturn his court. ◤Disclaimers: Female reader insert. Chapter five from the ‘dead men don’t speak’ series. Enemies to worse enemies (seriously, there’s not a shred of affection between them, only toxicity). Action and angst. Descriptions of violence, death, blood, and injury. Usage of vulgar language. ◤Word count: 3.3K ◤Note: This idea is a 100% mine and any case of similarity with someone else’s is purely coincidental. Events are pure fiction and do not reflect the idols' true characters. Please do not take my content without my consent. Masterlist. ◤From the author: I'm sorry for the long pause! It took me longer than expected to get back into the groove of writing, but we're back, and I wish you happy reading!

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The Prince of the Underworld had learned many lessons at thirteen. Most notable was the revelation that his life was merely a game of cards. Every person had their pre-assigned place in the deck, and he played them all with a serpent’s ease and a devil’s grin.

A restless mastermind, Minho survived by being in control, and it seemed that his guest was keenly aware of that fact.

He glanced at his silver watch. Seven minutes past the meeting time. He’d known that this alliance was never going to be peaceful when he sent that invitation.

Still, he was patient. Two could play this game if his valued guest so desired.

Ten minutes.

He was sure it was on cue when the doors swung open right then and his guest strode in, that infamous burgundy coat billowing around her, her entourage of one man tailing behind her. She was all too relaxed when she met his gaze, faux apology leaving her lips, “My, what a maze this place is!”

The legs of the chair opposite to him screeched against the floor, but she didn’t seem to care as she flopped onto the leathery cushions, tossing a familiar envelope his way.

“So,” her eyes didn’t crinkle when she smiled, “Do spill. Where did you find the spine to summon me like one of your lackeys?”

Straight to the point, huh?

Minho wanted to laugh. She was just as he’d expected.

A Joker card.

Unruly, unpredictable, and incredibly special. If the jester wanted to play, then the Prince of the Underworld would happily oblige.

“I believe our meeting was supposed to happen at eleven. Seeing as to how it’s ten past that now, I think I’ll be taking my leave,” Minho remarked coolly, barely rising from his seat when the air next to his ear whistled as a bullet tore through.  

“Stay put, will you?”

He mentally cursed at his body for freezing involuntarily. Of course she’d be the type of madwoman to shoot at him in a room full of his men. Any closer, and it would have been his brain matter splattered on the pristine walls alongside the imbedded bullet.

“I did have to make a long journey here, so make it worthwhile, your highness.”

Her mockery didn’t go unnoticed, though the real mockery was the desperation that made him ignore that address and hold her cold gaze. He didn’t know if it was stupidity or confidence that made her and her second so nonchalant despite the guns aimed at them for the transgression.

Minho remained standing. “I’m not fond of tardy people, miss Y/n.”

“And I don’t like to be ordered around, but I guess we can’t all have it our way,” she twirled her handgun lazily, eyes and words sharp.  

Touché.

Minho supposed this made the two of them even, so he decided to let it go, motioning for his guards to lower their arms as he reclaimed his seat.

“I called you here because I would like to propose an alliance between us,” he began once he had settled.

“And what purpose would that serve exactly?”

“My uncle has been running Taunt to the ground lately,” he leaned back into the leather chair, voice dropping, “I think it’s time he fell.”

“Not interested in your intra-organization power struggles,” she shrugged in immediate dismissal. “Besides, it seems to me you’re forgetting the agents Taunt had planted to assassinate me and the Right Claw two weeks ago.”

“That is precisely why this alliance benefits both you and me,” Minho stressed. “My uncle was reckless enough to attack you and spur the Shadow Front’s wrath—against my express advice, I’ll have you know. I want him and his moronic execs gone before my organization is destroyed, and I’m sure you want payback for the hospital.”

She glanced at her second in command, an unspoken exchange flitting between them, before pointing out, “And you think associating yourself with the Shadow Front is gonna fly with the rest of your people?”

Of course it wouldn’t fly. The animosity between Taunt and the Shadow Front was as ancient as the sun and the moon, but the Seraph’s Ring was becoming impatient.

“I don’t plan to associate myself with the Shadow Front,” he corrected, “I’m associating myself with Shiver."

The Six Claws were the highest-ranking individuals in the Shadow Front, and their power allowed them to create their own divisions or even found their own sub-organizations, so long as they answered to their Boss at the end of the day.

Shiver was one such sub-organization, belonging to none other than the Left Claw who sat across from him, murmuring to herself, “I see.”

“Well… I do agree that the executives should perish,” she finally said, and Minho nodded, “And I won’t stand in your way when the time comes. Do we have a deal, then?”

The room held its breath, and then she laughed, “Sure. I’ll kill your boss for you.”

Minho exhaled.

He had done it. The King of Diamonds would finally topple.

“But what do I get out of this?” her question shattered his moment of triumph.

Eyes sparkling with amusement, she rested her elbow against the armrest of her chair and propped her head against her palm. “It isn’t like I actually need your permission to take revenge if I wanted to.”

But of course, Minho wasn’t so naive.

“I’ll give you free access to Port Three for a year.”

“Two years.”

She hadn’t missed a beat, still boring into him with those unnervingly bright eyes as though nothing in this world could ever be worth taking seriously. Her drawl dripped with poison, “Two years or I make a beeline out of here to your uncle’s office and tell him about his little traitor of a nephew.”

Right.

Port Three was under Minho’s control, and the charges he collected from it were only a small portion of his fortune. He could afford to relinquish control temporarily.

“Fine,” he yielded, perfectly composed, and that same grin stretched her lips again, not quite reaching her eyes.

“Nice doing business with you.”

Hatred was a mistress of many faces, and Minho was familiar with all of them. The Left Claw smiled and her second was expressionless, but Minho saw it.

Those two despised him to their very cores.

It mattered to him none.

He had his flimsy alliance and he finally had her.

A Joker card to add to his collection.

•⭓•

Minho wasn’t born a prince.

He’d been nothing one day, and then he was the chosen son of one of the most powerful men in the underworld, the closest thing to royalty among criminals.

And it was only right that the King’s son be raised a Prince. Blessed, untouchable, divine, he could have the very sky that you were now captivated by in his palms if he so wished.

“Haunting, isn’t it?” he remarked as he approached the balustrade where you stood with your second, so still as if meditating. The stars were invisible tonight, but the moon was a bleeding orb of light and terrifyingly close. It had a presence that sent a shiver down his spine, as though it were an omen. A promise of bloodshed.

“That’s not the word I’d use,” you scoffed, turning away from the balustrade to face him. You wore an altered version of your notorious coat, sharply cut to suit the party, and a displeased frown. “Let’s get this over with already.”

You didn’t care to wait for his response before stalking toward the grand doors, and Minho caught up to you with ease. The two of you walking in together would be a statement, and it would create just the kind of fuss needed to ruffle his uncle’s feathers.

More than that, actually. It would set the King of Diamonds’ metaphorical plumage on fire, and the thought of that almost made Minho dizzy with excitement.

The sea of dark suits seemed to still, conversation dying and voices falling into a hush upon your entrance into the hall. He stifled a victorious smirk at the scene.

It worked like a charm.

Every gaze was a spear that directed at you, and Minho felt it then, a gaze hotter and sharper than the rest. The Cardinal Ring, fuming with betrayal and unbridled rage.

They all recognized that deep, reddish color—the Joker card at his side.

You paid them no mind, marching through a crowd that parted for you almost naturally, and Minho matched your pace until your path collided with his uncle and his three executives, huddling close to one another as though to intimidate the two of you.

“You have some nerve, Minho,” his uncle all but spat at him, his name sounding like a curse from his lips.

He only smiled cordially, coldly, in response. “I’m afraid I disagree, sir.”

His uncle seethed silently, snapping his eyes to glare at you. Minho knew he wouldn’t make a scene with him so publicly, but you were a known enemy, so you weren’t spared when he jeered at you, “What, that one-eyed brute finally bored you? Cozying up to your enemies for some excitement?”

You didn’t so much as blink at his provocations. Lips pressed into a flat line, you leveled him with a look so unamused that it stilled the air. Only your second in command expressed any semblance of agitation, a lone vein twitching in his jaw.

Han Jisung was his name. A Jack card, so loyal to his boss.

Silence yawned between the two of you, a depthless canyon, so thoroughly uncomfortable it caused Minho’s skin to prickle. It felt like hours, though realistically, he knew it was a mere few seconds before his uncle scoffed a swear under his breath and turned away with his posse.

You watched them disappear into the crowd for good measure and then faced the direction you had come from. “Let’s go, Han.”

“You’re leaving?” Minho was a little surprised, and you gave him a withering glare.

“I only came here to piss off your uncle, and we’ve done that. Your company doesn’t interest me otherwise. Goodbye."

Minho could only watch as your burgundy coat melted into the mass of black suits. He might’ve been offended at your curt dismissal, and maybe he should’ve, but Minho found the grace in his heart to forgive you.

After all, the Joker, the harbinger of chaos, had but a single instinct driving their every action.

Bloodlust.

He would entertain your antics because as long as he wielded your insatiable craving for bloodshed, you were practically dancing in his palms.

•⭓•

Kings were made to fall.

Minho also learned that at thirteen, when he cradled his father’s cold body in his arms. The King of Spades, he’d later dubbed him. Mighty, boundless. Fallible.

The current boss, his uncle, was also a King and so were his executives. It was a fitting assessment because he had to fall too, for the sake of Taunt’s survival.

That was why Minho considered himself a perfect ‘one’. An Ace. He would only rise, like an angel outstretching a hand for the salvation of humanity.

Blessed, untouchable, divine.

His faction was thus aptly named the Seraph’s Ring, and they had become ravenous beasts praying on his uncle’s downfall.

The doors of the meeting room burst open when Minho charged in, quipping without a drop of lightheartedness, “What’s this? A secret club meeting?”

The stunned faces of his uncle and his three executives greeted him. The Cardinal Ring looked as though they had been caught red-handed.

“I wonder, did our invite get lost in the mail?” Minho sneered as he ambled in, followed by the two other executives who constituted his faction.

Sitting at the head of the long table, Taunt’s boss hissed, “You have no right to sit at this table after sleeping with the shadow bastards.”

What a vulgar mouth.

“I slept with nobody," Minho deadpanned as he dropped into his usual seat. "Your problem has always been that you’re severely short-sighted.”

One of the Cardinal executives slammed a fist against the table, features contorting in anger. “You arrogant little—”

“I learned something interesting.”

Minho savored the small victory of their silence at his announcement. They were all the same at the end of the day.

Vultures.

“Those shadow bastards have quite the deal to close with Six-Six,” he wielded the foreign organization’s name like weapon and saw the executives' eyes darken in response. “Three hundred million dollars or something along those lines.”

“I hear the Claws will be in attendance too,” Minho leaned back, triumphant when he met his uncle’s hungry gaze, “Doesn’t that excite you, uncle?”

“So this was your play all along?” his boss huffed his surprise.

“I’m not as airheaded as you think I am.”

Once again, Minho had played a flawless hand. He could practically see the schemes brewing in his uncle’s head.

“Two weeks from now. Two in the afternoon,” he smiled, drinking in his sweet, sweet greed. “I’m sure Six-Six doesn’t care who meets them at the West Port.”

Foolishness was the downfall of all Kings.

•⭓•

The rusty aluminum ceiling of warehouse 5B would be the last thing Taunt's boss would see. What fine taste you had.

Mino’s gaze roved over the space and the abandoned containers lining its walls. “And you’re sure no one will interrupt us here?”

“Yeah,” you said behind him. “Just make sure your boss shows his face.”

“He will.”

That man was a slave to his greed. Minho was more than glad to pull his leash into this trap.

“And the execs?” you asked.

“They’ll likely stay behind. Wouldn’t want to dim his spotlight.”

 “Right.”

You were as riveted by the plan as one would be by an ant crossing the pavement. It ticked him off, just barely.

“You’re awfully relaxed,” Minho commented as you strolled past him.

“What, haven’t killed a man before?” you paused to side-eye him. “No wonder you sought outside help.”

“Hey.”

“Or wait, there was that cruise incident last year, right?”

His blood chilled. Too late did he notice the sly grin on your lips. He’d basically confirmed your claim with his silence.   

Damn it.

“How did you know about that?” Minho demanded. He had ensured that the coverup was flawless, that it could never be traced back to him.

So how—

“A little fox whispers to me.” you shrugged, resuming your aimless walk. “Anyway, let’s go over your sob story again.”

That fox must have been your informant, and quite the skilled one. Minho bit back his frustration. It didn’t seem like you planned to use the information against him anyway.

“You purposefully fed me wrong information and made me lead the boss here. You then ambushed us and killed him as revenge,” he recited.

“Exactly! I betrayed you,” you lamented mockingly. “Poor Prince of the Underworld.”

Poor Joker card, he thought in response.

The hatred in your gaze never shied from the light, but it was pointless. No matter how much you fought him, you would never be able to truly betray him.

For only he held the cards in this game.

•⭓•

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

There was blood on the ground, seeping from bodies long still, pooling until it appeared like an extension of your burgundy coat. Four bodies, crumpled unceremoniously, and you stood in the midst of the carnage like a Reaper. 

This wasn’t the place the two of you had agreed on. These weren’t the victims the two of you had agreed on.

“What the fuck did you do?” the shout tore from Minho’s lungs, blistering and painful, colliding with your back which you still gave to him.

He saw your shoulders raise and drop.

“I told you they had to perish.”

“You killed them all!” a roar sounded from somewhere seemingly outside his body. Minho couldn’t tell, couldn’t think.

They were dead. They were all dead.

He stumbled and his legs gave out, splattering him in the blood of the executives of the Cardinal Ring when his knees met the ground.

This wasn’t my plan. This wasn’t my play.

You half turned toward him, that smile of utter distaste on your lips. Pity burned in your eyes. “It’s personal, don’t feel too bad.”

Personal? His stomach twisted and threatened to empty itself out on the ground. Minho’s assessments were never wrong. The Joker card was bloodthirsty, and that thirst was easy to control. It should’ve made the finest tool out of you.

So why—

His hands moved before he could process the thought, his instincts taking over.

A wildcard ruins the entire deck.

His gun was warm in his hands, and he aimed it at your head.

You can’t continue to exist, Joker.  

He might have been too late in realizing it, but he saw it now. You were a threat Minho couldn’t afford to ignore.

There was a step before he felt the barrel of a gun press against his temple.

“Wanna test my reaction time?” Jisung’s voice was void of humor and he ordered, “Drop the gun.”

It was futile. The moment Minho’s finger twitched on the trigger, his life would be snuffed out. He likely wouldn’t even see you fall before that. His resolve splintered and cracked, and his aim fell lower and lower until his weapon clattered on the bloody ground.

Jisung kicked the gun away instantly, and Minho felt a scream clawing its way through his throat.

But it was barely a whisper that left his lips, “Why…”

He wanted his uncle dead, yes, but not his executives. As much as he despised the Cardinal Ring, he needed its members alive to keep Taunt stable. There was no way he could avoid a revolt now.

His father’s kingdom. His family.

Taunt would destroy itself, and you would dance over its grave.

“You ruined everything,” he spat, hoping the words stung as he glared at your relaxed form. There was no hint of violence on your person. Your hair was undisturbed and your coat was pristine. No bruise nor blood marred your skin. There was only light in your gaze.

Blessed, untouchable, divine.

Corrupt.

“And who’s to blame for that?” you wondered aloud. “You were the one who led me right into your den, or did you forget that already?”

Minho had done just that. He even promised not to stand in your way.

A mistake so terrible, it would haunt him for the remainder of his days.

His distress must’ve shown because you frowned, disappointed, disgusted, even, “You’re still incredibly boring—”

An explosion shook the earth below you, deafening, and you immediately looked to your second. Alert with your gun ready for attack, you uttered a single word of command, “Han.”

He moved wordlessly, a specter drifting over the corpses as he made his way toward the shabby window of this warehouse. A few seconds later, he declared in the suffocating silence of the explosion’s aftermath, “It came from 5B.”

Minho’s heart sputtered. He didn’t remember setting up any bombs there, and judging from the grim shift in your expression, you didn’t either.   

“Didn’t he say he would be scouting the area?” you asked, and your second answered as he returned to your side, “He did, yes.”

“Well, then. I guess I’m glad I took his advice and changed locations,” you shrugged after a moment’s thought, stuffing your hands in your coat pockets and beginning to make your way to the exit. “Let’s hope we don’t meet again, Prince of the Underworld.”

Minho didn’t have the spirit to bite back. He had become a plummeting angel, his wings torn and his halo dimmed. He grappled with the realization that perhaps he’d been wrong all along.

Alone, surrounded by the corpses of his arrogance, Minho screamed until his mind’s pandemonium ceased.

Maybe Kings weren’t the only ones made to fall.

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Thank you for reading this far! We're nearing the plot's apex, so a lot of answers will be revealed in the upcoming few chapters. I would love to hear your thoughts! A reblog and any feedback would be greatly appreciated. I hope you have a spectacular day, and I'll see you next week for chapter six! ♡

[amazingmsme]

okay i have started writing the ghost Polites fic idea i had! here is what i have so far

Polites desperately reaches out for his captain, his friend. "Captain..." The darkness is dragging him down leaving his final words unsaid. He wanted to tell Odysseus that he was sorry, to not blame himself for his death.The last thing Polites sees is Odysseus’s horrified face as he reaches out for his dying friend.

Polites woke up to find the cyclops had fallen and Odysseus was hunched over…oh that is his body. “I'm sorry Odysseus….Please don't blame yourself.” The words fell on deaf ears. Odysseus gently closes Polite's eyes letting a few tears escape as he takes his friend's headband to tie around his wrist. Polites sees Odysseus mask his emotions before handing out orders to get them out of the cave safely. The other soldiers don't know Odysseus as well as Polites did, unable to see past the front he put up. To his best friend though the overwhelming pain and grief were clear to see in his eyes.

Polites decided then and there that he would not leave Odysseus alone even as a spirit so when the pull to join the underworld came he fought back, desperate to stay with his friend. He reaches out and touches his headband wrapped around Odysseus’s wrist and with a final prayer and a burst of determination later the pulling stops as the headband faintly glows. Polite's soul is now attached to the headband.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Odysseus is laying on his bed sobbing with the headband gripped tightly to his chest. “I'm sorry, Polites. I'm so sorry I failed you..” Polites tries to hug his friend, to give him the comfort he needs only to have his arms pass through Odysseus.Polites sighs and settles down next to his friend. Even if he is unable to see Polites, maybe Odysseus would be able to sense that he was still there for him. Odysseus eventually falls asleep, his face still wet with tears. Polites lets himself get mad at Athena. He is not at all happy with how she had abandoned him in his grieving state, even taunting him with the men who had died. Well it doesn't matter because Polites will not leave for the Underworld until Odysseus is back home safe and sound with his family. Penelope and Telemachus will take over for him then and he can rest in peace knowing he will be in good hands.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The storm came from nowhere, swooping in and refusing to leave. Polites watches as the crew frantically tries to keep from sinking as he not for the first time curses his inability to help. At last there is a break in the storm. Clouds pull away to reveal a majestic island floating in the sky. Polites follows Odysseus up to see how the meeting with the wind god would turn out. Hopefully they will provide help in getting home.

CAN’T BELIEVE I SPARKED THE GHOST!POLITES MOVEMENT! Seriously tho, this is fucking amazing & so sad! It captures the vibe perfectly! I’m so excited to see what else you do with this! If you decide to do more, no pressure

[undiscovered-horizon]

Imagine being Maverick's daughter and quickly catching the eye of both Rooster and Hangman, unknowingly starting a cutthroat competition.

▷TOPGUN PLAYLIST

[Rooster's Ending] [Hangman's Ending] [Secret Ending?]

The sound of upbeat music resounded throughout the base, filling the summer scorch of North Island. It brought some carefree youthfulness that wasn't exactly common around these parts, even if one considered the young pilots so often followed by laughter. Curious, and with a bit of time on their hands, Rooster and Hangman followed the melody of radio's top summer hits played on a Bluetooth speaker: Lizzo, Harry Styles, Doja Cat and many others.

And there you were, washing your father's motorcycle. North Island, as it usually is, was hot that day and although the cold water from the hose was wonderfully refreshing, it wasn't enough to keep the temperature down, so you were out in the sun wearing only shorts and a bikini top. Besides, it was a great opportunity to get a bit of a tan.

Rooster and Hangman were standing away from you, barely peeking out from behind the hangar's wall. Like art connoisseurs in a museum, the pilots admired the view of you, half-naked, washing the motorcycle and moving to the rhythm of the songs playing from the speaker, occasionally mouthing the lyrics. Although no comments were exchanged between the men, both of them knew that for a woman like you "hot girl summer" was all-year round.

But, unfortunately, gorgeous women don't just wander around Navy bases looking for a vehicle to wash. Jake was the first one to notice just how familiar the motorcycle was.

"Ain't that Maverick's wheels?" Hangman asked. It was a rhetorical question really: he was beyond positive the vehicle belonged to the Captain and that made your appearance ever more mysterious.

"None other," Rooster answered while nodding. His eyes never left the carefree movements of your body.

Their quiet conversation was interrupted by someone placing their hands on their shoulders. Quickly turning around, they were met with Maverick's smiling face. Could it be that he caught them red-handed ogling his daughter?

"We're back in the air after lunch, you should get some rest. And don't even think about it." The last sentence Maverick pretty much gritted through his teeth, making sure the two younger pilots understood the seriousness, the sheer weight, of the statement. Although no words of malice were spoken, they knew it was a threat. Somehow, the clear prohibition made Hangman smile even wider as if, in some twisted turn of events, he read Maverick's words as an invitation - a temptation, perhaps.

"Sir yes sir" they answered half-heartedly, both preoccupied with different emotions. Contrary to Hangman's excitement and thrill, Rooster felt only heavy dread and embarrassment pounding in his chest. In Bradley's mind, the only worse scenario would be Captain himself catching him in bed with you.

Maverick walked past them, shining with that happiness and pride all fathers beam when seeing their children. He called out your name and you swiftly turned around, a bright smile entering your face. It was a rare occasion that you got to spend time with him. You lived completely different lives in completely different parts of the country.

Although in their minds you already were akin to Aphrodite, Hangman and Rooster craned their necks to see your face now that you were turned in their direction: the bright eyes that could get them to do anything, the smile that could settle world peace, the lips that looked more enticing than summer's fresh fruit.

"Hot damn," escaped Bradley's lips.

You put your arms around Maverick's back and hugged him close, reminding him of the time you were a mere middle schooler that hated any and all affection from their parents. He couldn't put into words how much he was glad you were over that unbearable phase.

"I'm nearly done and we can go!" you exclaimed excitedly. It was hard to recall when was the last time you had lunch with your dad. Months, maybe even a year, must have passed. Looking over Maverick's shoulder, you noticed two men standing in the distance, undoubtedly watching the show of familial affection. They looked bulky and handsome, making you momentarily regret not joining the force, even if just for the views. Just like theirs, your thoughts were, obviously, 'very respectful'. "Hello, boys!" you called out to them. They looked all calm and collected from the distance as they vaguely waved at you.

Maverick let you go and looked at you from head to toe in the same way parents examine their toddler after allowing them to dress on their own for the very first time in their life. It was the very same look your father gave you on the first day of school when you left your bedroom wearing a dinosaur t-shirt and a pink tutu dress. In a way, he still saw that chubby little girl whenever he looked at you. Fathers, it seems, never quite understand that their daughters grow up.

"You're not going out like this," he stated. His words made you scoff and laugh - he really wasn't going to change any time soon.

"My God, dad, I'm a grown woman. I can wear whatever I want."

"But you're still my daughter. Just put your shirt on."

To Hangman's and Rooster's displeasure, you put your top back on, albeit still short. Noon sunlight danced off your glistening stomach and the young pilots knew that nothing will ever quench their thirst like the water running down your skin. The problem, however, was that there might not be enough for both of them.

Jake waited till you and Maverick were busy finishing up the cleaning when he spoke again to Bradley:

"Hey Bradshaw, how off-limits would you say Captain's daughter is?" Neither of them let you out of their sight. For a lack of better comparison, there were vultures, as if - forever watching their prey, waiting for the moment it finally gives in.

Hangman's question was quite humorous, considering that both of them weren't exactly known for following the rules. He wasn't asking about how hard the fall will be, no, he wanted to know just how exciting the climb can get. Jake loved challenges but what he loved, even more, was winning them.

"Far out of your reach, Hangman," Bradley answered while a cocky smile crept unto his face. He knew the game was on.

"I don't lose, Bradshaw."

"Time to hand in your v-card, then."

For the first time in long minutes of watching you, they looked at each other, sizing their opponent. As honourable men do, they shook their hands, silently agreeing to open, lawless warfare over a girl that might not even want either of them and whose father will have them murdered if they do try to chat up his daughter.

So, my dearest, which one is the winning horse?

[nyxlaufeyson]

Your Stupid Face

Loki Oneshot Masterlist - Main Masterlist

POV: Second

Ship: Loki x Reader

Type: Angst and Fluff

Wordcount: 2,771 (Including lyrics)

Song: "Your Stupid Face" by Kaden MacKay Listen Here

TW: Miscommunication/Misdirected feelings/Loki being kind of an ass but it gets sorted out.

Synopsis:  Loki really hates your stupid face. Well, maybe not as much as he thinks.

A/N: Woah that's crazy, I'm finally posting something I actually finished?! Also the lyrics are incorporated as just text, dialogue, or maybe internal thoughts.

Your laughter filled the room, and the other Avengers couldn’t help but join in. You had been living with the Avengers for several months now, and nobody could resist your charisma. 

Well, except for Loki. At least, that’s what he told himself. 

For some reason, he couldn’t stand your face. At first, he didn’t mind being around you. He laughed at your jokes, and even got to know you as a person. 

However, after a couple of months, he started to develop feelings that made him feel exposed and vulnerable. And, uncomfortable with these feelings, he started to convince himself that he despised everything about you. He especially hated your stupid face. 

He didn’t hide these feelings from you, and so the two of you quickly grew apart. You had become accustomed to his daily quips. 

Despite him making his feelings known, his internal feelings about you were much worse. At least he didn’t spit the lies in your face.

I just really hate your face

Though I know that won't surprise you

But, to me, your skin is one giant wart

And your laugh's one big snort

And you stink, so in short

I despise you

The worst part was, all of it was a lie. He was lying to himself to attempt to stop his feelings from spiraling out of control. Unfortunately, unbeknownst to him, he was making the situation worse as his thoughts continued.

One day, Loki was having a peaceful cup of tea in the kitchen when you and your stupid face walked in. He scowled, and you noticed, frowning. 

“Dude, what is your problem with me?” You said, clearly pissed. This had been going on for some time, yet you still had no explanation as to why Loki was so cold towards you. 

Loki rolled his eyes, ignoring you. You scoffed, slamming the fridge. “Are you seriously that much of a prick to just hate me, not giving me any reason, and when I ask you about it you ignore me?” 

“Yes.” Loki replied, and you clenched your jaw as you resisted the urge to chuck the glass jar of jam at his head. 

You grabbed some bread to make your toast, glaring at him the entire time. “Fine. Be that way.” You said, sitting at the opposite side of the counter from where he was seated. 

Natasha walked in, noting the tension as she smiled and ruffled your hair. “Do you want to go swimming with me and Wanda?” She asked you, and you happily nodded. 

“Great.” She said, heading for the hallway. “Meet you there in like… thirty minutes or so?” She asked, and you gave her a thumbs up as you finished up your snack and left the room to go get ready to swim. 

Loki’s scowl lifted once you were gone, and his heart began to settle. He hated you so much that his heart couldn’t even function normally when you were in the room.

And if the world was perfect, you would be gone without a trace

But since the world could never be that great

I'll just hate your stupid face.

Later that day, Loki was scrolling through a social media app that you had shown him how to use back when you two were on speaking terms. 

He came across one of your posts, where you had posted photos of you, Wanda, and Natasha having a great time at the pool. Your smile stared at him through the screen, and Loki came to a horrifying realization.

Oh, no

No

I just really like your face

You don't have to look so happy.

After realizing that he had been burying his feelings with feigned hatred, he spent several minutes contemplating what the hell was wrong with him. 

An hour or so later, he devised a plan to attempt to apologize to you. Of course, he had absolutely no idea how it was going to go, but he had to at least try.

He enlisted the help of Natasha for his plan, because he doubted it would work if he went up to you and asked for you to meet him on the roof. You would probably think that he would try to throw you off of it. 

“Absolutely not.” Natasha said, arms crossed. 

Loki pouted. “Please, Natasha, I need to do this.” He pleaded, and Natasha seemed to be taken aback. 

“Why would I do this, when you have been making it known you hate them?” She reasoned, and Loki sighed. 

“I don’t actually hate them, I just thought I did.” He clarified, but this just led Natasha to become even more confused. “Just, please, I’m trying to make things right.” 

Natasha stared at him for a minute before finally nodding. “Alright.” She said, and Loki sighed in relief. “But you do anything to hurt her-physically or mentally-I will stick my baton so far up your ass that it will come out your throat.”

Loki gulped, nodding. “Fair enough.”

~~~~~

That evening, you were listening to music on your bed with your headphones plugged in. Natasha walked in, and you jumped when you noticed her, grabbing your pocket knife from your bedside table and holding it up in defense. 

You dropped it when you saw it was just Natasha, taking your headphones off. “Jesus, Nat, you scared the shit out of me.”

Natasha chuckled, shrugging. “Well, in my defense, I did knock. You didn’t answer because of your headphones.” 

You rolled your eyes, letting your heart rate settle from the scare. “What’s up?” You asked, and she smiled. 

“I need your help with something on the roof.” She said, and you scrunched your eyebrows.

“With what?” You asked, but she didn’t clarify. 

“Just meet me there in fifteen, okay?” She said, and you nodded. “Great.” She said with a nod, leaving the room.

You made your way to the elevator, pressing the button for the roof. You had no idea what Natasha would need your help with on the roof, but you didn’t question it. 

You stepped out of the elevator, noting the beautiful view of the sunset and the evening city skyline. “Natasha?” You called, looking around. 

You found a blanket set up with a bunch of your favorite snacks, and you smiled. “Natasha?” You called out once more, before hearing a response. 

“Hello.” A voice said, and you immediately spun around to find Loki.

Your smile quickly warped into a frown upon seeing him. Especially when he was acting so… casual. “What are you doing here?” You asked, and Loki shoved his hands into his pockets. 

“I-I needed to talk to you.” He said, and you realized that Natasha must have helped him to get you up here. Oh, you were so going to kill her when you saw her next.

You crossed your arms, not saying anything, so Loki decided to continue. “I realize I’ve acted poorly towards you the past few months.”

You scoffed. “You think?” You asked, sarcastically, still confused as to why you were having this conversation.

Loki looked down, nodding. “I wanted to apologize. That was unfair to you, and I hurt you by projecting my messy emotions into anger towards you.”

You widened your eyes, surprised at what you were hearing. Loki, the god who had been telling you how much he hated your stupid face, was apologizing. Loki, the person who hated anything relating to emotional feelings, was apologizing. To you.

I'm not really into love that you flaunt

In some glittery font

But if that's what you want

Make it snappy.

“I just feel so out of place.” Loki admitted, avoiding your eyes. “Well, except for when you’re near me. When you’re gone, I’m like a plant with no root, or a song that’s on mute…”

“Oh my god.” You said, slowly comprehending his words. “That’s so… cute.” You said, grinning slightly. 

Loki gave you a scowl. “Don’t you dare call it cute!” He spat, similarly to how he used to talk to you. But, you could pick up that it was more of a teasing jab than one of genuine prejudice. “You should fear me.”

You kept smiling, patting him on the shoulder. “Right, right, very scary.” 

Loki rolled his eyes, but continued his apology speech. “And if the world was perfect, you would’ve never invaded my space.” You frowned, tilting your head. 

“I thought this was supposed to be an apology?” You said, and he glared at you. 

“It is, now if you would let me continue…” You nodded for him to go ahead, and he did. “But since the world’s obsessed with saying, ‘psych!’ Now I like your stupid face.”

You could hear that Loki was being genuine, and your eyes softened and you gave him a light smile. You were relieved to hear this from him, and know that it wasn’t your fault for his ‘hate.’

“Loki…” You said, looking up at him. You could tell it had taken him a lot of courage to confess this to you, and he was in a very vulnerable state.

“I would like to be your friend, again, if you will take me as so. Of course, I understand if you do not want-” He began to rant, but you interrupted him. 

“Oh shut up, yes I’ll be your friend again. As long as you tone your jabs down.” You said, and he smiled.

Loki nodded frantically. “Of course, I absolutely will.”

“But, you have to understand something.” You said, and his smile dropped slightly. “Just because you have apologized doesn’t make everything you’ve said to me disappear. You’re going to have to prove to me that you aren’t going to continue to be an asshole before we can just go back to ‘normal.’”

Loki sucked in a breath before replying. “Of course, I will do anything I need to prove that I don’t see you in any sort of negative light.”

You playfully raised your eyebrow. “Anything?” you asked, and Loki’s eyes widened a little bit.

“Well now, let’s not get ahead of ourselves-” He started, but you had already started walking back to the elevator. 

“Your first task is rather easy: Please make me a sandwich. I’m hungry”

~~~~~

It had been six months since you and Loki had become friends again, and Loki had quickly proved that he meant every word that he had said. The two of you had quickly become close friends, although he still harbored his crush on you and your stupid face. 

You, also, had begun to develop feelings for the god. You had always thought he was cute, and before he started being a complete jerk to you, you had a tiny crush on him. As it seemed, these feelings were re-ignited now that you were back on good terms with Loki. 

One day, as the two of you were sitting in his room watching TV, he blurted something out that he definitely did not mean to say out loud. 

“I love you.” He said, and you looked at him in shock. Loki looked just about as shocked as you, but he mistook your shock for horror. “I’m sorry-”

You bolted for the door, quickly running down the hall to your room. Loki didn’t bother to chase after you, as he was certain he had just ruined things. For the second time. 

‘Damn you and your stupid face.’ He thought, hiding himself under the covers of his bed. 

~~~~~

The next day, neither you nor Loki had left your rooms. Loki rolled out of his bed, and grabbed his journal that one of his court-mandated therapists had gotten him. 

He hadn’t touched the thing in months, but he figured it might help to write down some of his emotions. He didn’t necessarily enjoy it, especially since it made him feel vulnerable and weak, but he couldn’t deny that it made him feel better as he scrawled words with a green ink pen.

‘I just really miss your face

Though, by now, I must disgust you

I had tried to be the stubbornest mule

'Cause I knew life was cruel

So I guess I was foolish to trust you

But I wait here just in case

Though I know I'm being senseless

How could I have ever been so naive

And wear my heart on my sleeve

When I knew it would leave me defenseless?

And if the world was perfect, you would be here in my embrace

But since the world denied me one last kiss

I'll just miss your stupid face’

Loki heard a knock at his door, and he quickly shoved his journal under the blankets and got up to answer the door. When he opened it, he was surprised at who he found standing there.

“What are you doing here?” He drawled, expecting you to punch him or tell him how much of an asshole he was.

You almost seemed out of breath, but you tried to compel your thoughts into sentences. “I didn’t run away!” You exclaimed, and Loki tilted his head.

He would regularly laugh at the situation, but considering the circumstances, he decided against it. “That’s exactly what you did.” He said, bluntly.

You winced at his words, trying to form a response. “It was… it was a strategic retreat!” You said, and he raised his eyebrows, letting a small chuckle slip. “Anyways, we need to talk.”

“What is there to talk about? It’s over–I ruined it.” Loki said, not wanting to have a confrontational conversation. 

“Look, I was just surprised, that's all! It kind of came out of nowhere.” You explained, and Loki looked at the floor. 

“Well, yeah of course I’m sorry, but-” He started, but you put your finger over his lips. 

He stopped talking, looking at you confused. “Stop it. Loki, don’t ever apologize for your feelings. It’s not your fault.”

“No, no, don’t forgive me!” He said, removing your hand from his face. “Why do you do that? Why–why give me another chance to mess things up?”

“BECAUSE I LOVE YOU!” You yelled, a little too loudly, and you prayed that nobody else heard you. However, considering you weren’t too far off from where other Avengers would be, it was very unlikely.

The two of you stayed silent for a moment, before Loki finally spoke. “Because you–what?”

You took a deep breath to steady your nerves. “Because I love you, you big idiot.” 

“Those three little words, out of the blue, completely uncalled for, especially from you.” You tried to say something, but he didn’t allow it as he continued to ramble on.

 “Why don't you hate me?

Why do you care?

Can't you berate me? Isn't that fair?

Where is your glare?

Don't you dare leave our problems and pain on the shelf!

Because if you don't hate me, I can't hate myself.”

Your eyes started to water. “Loki… Is that truely how you feel?”

Loki hesitantly nodded.

 “Sometimes. 

But that's why I need you.

You shatter my fear.

'Cause despite my misdeed, you are still right here.

Though it's stupid to date me,

You're willing to try.

And if you don't hate me, then why should I?”

You smiled. “Are you sure you don’t want to give up on me?” Loki asked, and you rolled your eyes.

“Yes, Loki. I’m not giving up on you that easily.” You said, and he smiled, and you could tell he was relieved. 

“You’re a moron.” He said, laughing, and you joined in.

“So you think that we could work?

Here I thought I'd been the dumb one”

You scowled, and he laughed. 

“--What? 

You're forgiving me for all I did wrong

You're unmuting the song

And, again, I belong to someone.”

You smirked. “So you belong to me, eh?” 

“No! You can drop the stupid smirk

Though by now I guess you've earned that

'Cause no matter how intensely I pout

Your stupid face will win out

And I guess it's about time I learned that”

“Yeah, you better believe that my stupid face will win out. Have you seen this thing?” You gestured to your face, and he laughed. 

“And though we go together like a Chanel Number 5 and mace

At least it's not as dull as fitting like a glove

'Cause you're a nightmare that I've not been dreaming of

But I suppose that when push comes to shove

Fine!

I love your stupid face”

You grabbed Loki’s shirt collar, pulling him down to your height to give him a kiss. When you pulled away, he pulled you back in for another kiss before leaning your foreheads together.

Your stupid face.

Tag List (Comment or inbox me to be added/removed; along with what to be tagged for): @michief-dream @iceeericeee

[gomzwrites]

100 Followers Special: Fic Marathon

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── Peace With You ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

more info on the fic marathon check out this post :)

Day 2: Captain John Price

Tags: fluff, married relationship, xgn!reader

Notes: ・❥・reader's texts are in purple ・❥・indented texts are memories ・❥・dividers drawn by @gomzdraws ・❥・ this fic took a different spin in the end because of this video

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Hon? Did you bring the blanket? 

You yelled from the car boot as you shuffled around the boxes and looked for the blue checkered cloth.

Left side, in the box with the pillows, love!

John screamed back from the garage as he carried a big basket and placed it in the car's backseat. He gave you a peck as he pointed to the blanket. You give a nod and smile when you double-check that everything is settled, happily going to the driver’s side as you wear your seatbelt.

Are you sure you don’t want me to-

Hush, we argued all evening on this; we already agreed that I would drive us to the place, then you would drive me back, okay? Now sit back and let me do the work.

You hushed him back as he mumbled and laid back on the passenger seat.

John has just returned from his mission. You have not seen him for at least 6 months, and when he returned, you wanted to do something nice for him and spend time with your husband.

Come on, it’ll be fun and relaxing, I promise. You ran your nails along his hairy scalp as he laid his back onto your body, his breathing slow and steady as he kissed your other hand. I can have fun and relax at home. He scrunched up his face as he mumbled with a grunt. You don’t blame him, as you understand that after everything he went through, a good rest is needed. But you wanted to bring the "rest" outside as well. You can do that for as long as you want on the rest of the leave, old man. He wondered for a moment and pondered your statement before giving a sigh and shrugging his shoulders in defeat as he caved in. Alright, alright, fine, but you better not make me climb a mountain again, and I'm not that old! He peered up at you and gently nibbled on your finger as a small warning as you giggled and messily fumbled his hair. I promise!

The journey went smoothly, and you decided to bring John to a small town outside the city to enjoy the view. You know how much he likes the west and farms, but those places are rather far from where you guys lived. You’ll have to thank your friend for finding this new spot you’re heading to, as it was relatively closer than the previously mentioned places.

As you get closer to the place, the tall buildings and skyscrapers all fade as they are replaced by green fields and trees. You noted how John’s eyes were crinkled up as a smile creeped up his face. You were happy that he seemed to be more at ease now.

You stop at an intersection and stare back at John as you give him a grin.

Okay, just close your eyes from now on.

He gives you a confusing look as he raises his eyebrows.

Why?

Because I said so.

Are you going to put something weird on my hand again?

First off, Inky is not weird; she's just a furball, and secondly, just do it.

Hmmmmmmm alright.

He finally follows your request and closes his eyes as he smirks. You take a turn after turning on the signal and slowly drive up a hill. You pull up the handbrake after a while and take off your seatbelt.

Are we there yet?

Yes, but don’t open your eyes yet.

I feel like I'm being kidnapped.

Maybe you are.

The banter earned a hearty chuckle from him as you quickly walked around the car and opened his door, kissing his cheek slightly as you took his hand and whispered.

Okay, follow me; don't trip.

Seriously, you’re going to sell me to the forest faes now, aren’t you?

You laughed and swat at his arm playfully as he gave a fake "ow" sound and followed you. After walking just a few more steps, you finally nudged his shoulder as you spoke.

Open.

He does so slowly as he opens one eye at a time and gasps slightly, taking in the scene before him as he lets out a huff of air.

Standing before him was a large grassy field and a clear blue sky, but not just any field; it was a meadow filled with patches of yellow and white flora. On the furthest side, the end of the place was lined with pine trees and Arborvitae trees. In the middle of this large place stood a big, tall tree with wide, bushy leaves that provided the best canopy and protection from the sun that hangs high in the sky.

You run your hand alongside the long leaf blades as John sighs and admires you. The way the sun gently bounces on your skin, coupled with your radiant smile, the way you fit into this beautiful place were enough for him to forget about everything and just focus on you. You tilt your head as he remains speechless for a moment as you walk back to the car, watching as he follows along with you like a lost puppy.

Come on, help me out, hon.

He chuckled as he helped out and carried the ice box and picnic basket while you held the smaller case and followed along.

You slowly thread along the grassy field peacefully with him, lay down the stuff, and set up a spot under the tree.

Both of you chat idly as you drink and eat the meals you prepared last night—some sandwiches with a few pastries and some fresh fruit—strawberries, his favorite. You sip on your juice box as you nuzzle close to him and rest your chin on his shoulder.

Do you like this surprise?

He slowly turns towards you as he pushes away some hair from your forehead and leans down to press a kiss on your forehead.

Like would be an understatement.

He breathed, eyes full of love and appreciation, as you kissed his shoulder back as a reply.

Both of you laid on the picnic blanket and enjoyed the view in silence for a few hours, occasionally sharing and exchanging stories as he rested his head on your thigh. You hummed a tune as you picked some daisies and dandelions and twirled them around your hand. John watched as you put a few on your own hair and behind your ear as his lips curled up.

Beautiful.

He muttered out as you looked back down and gave him a cheeky grin.

I’ll make you beautiful, too.

You replied back with a mischievous tone as his eyebrow raised and he gave an "oh yeah?" look.

One by one, you carefully snapped the fragile stem so that the flowers were in a much shorter length, then you cautiously pushed it through his beard and gave a satisfied look once you placed around 8 daisies and dandelions.

Look at you! Now you’re pretty like me.

He shakes his head gently as he gives you a heartwarming look.

Pretty huh? I suppose I am. Maybe even prettier than you now.

He sits up as he wiggles his eyebrows and pulls your cheeks.

Oh, now you’re just being cocky.

But you love it when I’m cocky, don’t you, sweetheart?

You laughed and pinched him softly as he rested his forehead on yours.

He really needed this—to be able to relax with you, to enjoy every second, and to bask with the love of his life without any worries. He wished he could stay like this with you forever.

He didn’t remove those flowers from his beard until he was home and asleep with you, and he kept one of the daisies in his wallet too.

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Previous fic: Kyle Gaz Garrick Next fic: Konig

a/n: I remember doing this to my cousin last time when I was still very young, except I was a menace and poke grass in his beard instead of flowers HAHAHA taglist: @cathnoneofyourbusiness | @land-lord-lol

like and reblog if you enjoyed this fic :D have a good day/night!

[vodika-vibes]

Jesse: Too bad Rex’s twins are leaving behind the Naberrie twins.

Jesse’s fiancée: Well why doesn’t someone just mention we’re moving to a greener planet to their mom? She’s from one of the greenest planets out there.

Lol Jesse’s fiancée had the answers 😂

Jesse's Fiancée doesn't know anything about Jedi, but she does know moms. And she knows that of she had been given the chance to raise her siblings on a planet that was greener than Coruscant from the moment she got custody of them, she would have jumped at the chance.

Padme Naberrie Amidala watches her twins sleep with the soft, peaceful smile of a woman who has everything she ever wanted in her life. Her children, Leia and Luke, are healthy and happy and beautiful. Her career is flourishing, though it's getting close for her to retire. Her husband is around more often than he's away- There's the sound of the front door opening, and then a shout of, "I'M HOME!" The twins immediately jolt awake and start screaming. Padme stares at the wailing, red-faced babies and seriously contemplates throwing her husband out the window. "Ah...did I wake the babies?" Anakin asks, "Sorry Angel," Padma glowers at him, "How many times do I have to tell you to stop shouting when you come home?" She hisses, as she scoops Luke into her arms and slides him back into the sling, before picking up Leia. "I said I was sorry, Angel." "Sorry, doesn't make them fall back to sleep, Anakin." Padme closes her eyes and exhales slowly, Obi-Wan said that she needs to regulate her emotions to not upset the twins, so that's what she does. "Why didn't you tell me that the Jedi were moving?" She asks. "Oh, well...because I didn't think you'd want to move with them." "You didn't think I'd want my children growing up surrounded by nature and wildlife?" Padme asks, "Coruscant is no place for children. We're moving with them." "...uh...what about your job?" "I already spoken to the Queen, she's sending my replacement early. We're moving with them." Padme repeats, "Now. I have to settle the twins and you're not helping, so go away." He huffs, "Alright. I'll let the council know that we're moving with them." And then he's gone, and he, once again, slams the front door, pulling a fresh round of wails from the twins. She's definitely going to kill him. It'll be justifiable homicide, right?

[sailforvalinor]

Okay, 2 and 3 for Ed, Al, Mustang, and Hawkeye!

2. Favorite canon thing about this character?

Ed: There are a lot of things I could say here...but I love that he settles down and marries Winry and has kids??? And is the father to them that his own father couldn't be to him???? *sobs*

Al: The fact that after all that suffering, he not only comes out the other side of it, but then presumably goes on to be a peace-loving alchemist-alkahestrist warrior-traveler who's dating a princess??? He's objectively a force of nature by the end of this series AND he's living his best life. I'm so proud of him.

Mustang: It's the semi-effective ladies man card that he keeps in his back pocket--it's SO funny, and it's always unclear how much is an act and how much is just Roy being a little silly.

Hawkeye: BLACK HAYATE. Just kidding. Maybe. In all seriousness, I love how she is a stoic soldier who is also allowed to be vulnerable and it doesn't at all feel forced in either direction. She just feels like a real person. FANTASTIC.

3. Least favorite thing about this character?

Huh, this one is gonna be difficult...

Ed: I do kind of hate that he didn't really properly reconcile with his father, even though it was kind of implied. I hate it for him, anyway, it fit the story pretty dang well.

Al: Yes, he's got his body back now, but WHERE IS HE GOING TO CONVENIENTLY HIDE STRAY CATS HE ADOPTS???

Mustang: The mustache, obviously.

Hawkeye: This is kind of for her and Roy, but I kind of hate that I don't know if I could ever see a point in their relationship or career where they would actually let themselves officially start a relationship. Would they ever be in a place where they would feel alright with letting go of the reins on the government or feel like they had properly atoned for their crimes in Ishval? I genuinely don't know. I just want them to be happy, dangit.

[quietplace26]

Here's the new Time Travel au! Where at the very end of Ghostwire: Tokyo, Akito somehow finds himself back in time!

Solving the Future au

"Don't get yourself possessed again, Akito. Most wraiths aren't half as charming as I am."

Akito smiles "Yeah, you're a real charmer. Can't get you out my head." His smile slips away when KK doesn't respond back with a snarky remark.

Looking down at his right hand, he sees that the black smoke that usually flowed from it was gone... KK was gone.

With a shaky sigh, Akito closes his eyes and grips his right hand, clutching it close to his chest. "Thank you... Rest in peace, KK..."

A choked sob suddenly leaves Akito's lips as it finally hits him that he was now completely alone now.

Mari was dead, and KK, who had become such a fixture in Akito's life in such a short amount of time was also dead. He was all alone now...

With another sob escaping his throat, Akito brings his hand up to his face and presses a kiss to the plam of his hand. Right directly over where KK's smoke used to emulate from. "Goodbye KK..."

And with that final goodbye, Akito opens his tear filled eyes to continued walking up the stairs and out the underworld, but the thing was, when he opened his eyes... he was somewhere different.

"W-What?!" Akito looks around franically and sees he was in a room. A very familar looking room... "T-This is... my old room?" But that's impossible! His old room was gone along with the rest of his childhood home! It was all burned to ashes...

But everything looked the same as he remembered! His bed, his desk covered in books and school work, and just all his things were where he remembered they were as before!

Now he was freaking out. What the hell was even happening?!

"Shit!" In his growing panic Akito bumps into a desk, his old desk, and knocks a few things off it. And when he reaches down to pick the items up, he sees one of them was a calender.

Akito slowly picks up the calender with shaky hands and stares at the date. "No way... This-This can't be real!" Last he checked, it was 3/25/22! (For context, I'm using the GW:T release date), not */*/21!

"Aki!" Akito jumps at sound of Mari's voice calling his name outside his room. "Aki! Hurry up and eat before your breakfest gets cold!"

Almost robotically, Akito opens his bedroom door and walks down hall. "This isn't real." Akito mutters as he made his way to the kitchen. "None of this is real. Mari is gone. She isn't here, I'm not home, this isn't the past, and-"

"Aki!" Akito freezes at the sight of his alive little sister rushing over to him. "W-What happened to you?! And why are you dressed like that?!" Looking down, Akito sees he was still wearing the clothes KK leant him.

Still feeling rather confused and lost, Akito lets Mari pull him over to a chair where she helps him sit down. "Seriously what the heck happen to you?! Did you sneak out last night or something?!"

Akito doesn't even answer her. He just starts whimpering and hugs her. "Mari..." She was warm, she was alive! "Mari!"

To his absolute joy, Mari returns the hug. "Akito? W-Why are you crying?! Are you okay?!"

"I-I'm f-fine, Mari." Akito chokes out, a happy smile on his tear stained face as he continues to hug his living, breathing sister tighter. "These are h-happy tears!"

Akito knew Mari didn't believe him. She always knew when he was lying and it was only a matter of time before she starts demanding answers... Hopefully she'll believe him when he tells her the truth.

"M-Mari?"

"Yeah?"

"I... I need to tell you something." Akito mumbles as he reluctantly stops hugging Mari and gives her a serious look "It's a long story. One that you probably won't even believe, but trust me when I say that everything I'm about to say is true."

With breakfest more or less forgotten, the siblings move into their living room, settles down on the couch together, and with a deep breath, Akito begins his tale...

A mystical tale about a city full of monsters, of a mask wearing villain, of a angry but righteous wraith, and of a young man who became partners with the wraith, hoping that if he did, he could save his precious little sister...

[shadowqueen402]

We Meet Again (A Prim And Proper Problems Fic)

Another fic for @kayssweetdreams . This is the sequel to Worst Wedding Ever!. Hope you enjoy!

It had been two years since the terrible incident that happened on what was supposed to be the best day of their lives. Neither Roy nor Esme had seen or heard from Primrose Gaillot since. It took them a while to settle down and be at peace.

Now, Roy and Esme had arrived home with the newest addition to their family; a healthy newborn girl named Aria who was peacefully sleeping in the baby car seat. Esme had a happy and exhausted look on her face as she entered the house and sat Aria down gently. Roy went to check on the mail that had arrived.

As Roy shifted through the mail, a strange letter appeared. It was addressed to him only. But oddly, his name was typed out on the envelope. And there was no return address. With a shrug, he went inside. "Hey, darling," He said to Esme. "We've got mail. Someone left me a letter. There's no return address, apparently."

Esme frowned as she scooped Aria into her arms. "That is rather weird," She said. "What does it say?" She watched as her husband opened the envelop to pull out what was inside. His eyes widened when he saw the note:

Don't think I haven't forgotten about you. —Primrose Gaillot

Thirteen years later, Aria had grown to a beautiful thirteen-year-old teenager. She was currently in the eighth grade and was wondering what high school she would get into. She had taken up on hobbies, participated in extra-curricular activities, and was a smart student.

But recently, Aria took notice of the panicked looks on her parents' faces. Especially when they would receive mail everyday. She decided to ask her father what was happening. "Father, what's going on?" Aria asked.

Roy looked at his daughter with pure concern. "Brèagha, I want so badly to tell you," He said. "But I don't want to scare you as well…"

"It's okay, Father," Aria said. "You can tell me. I'll listen."

Before Roy could speak, a loud banging was heard at the door.

Esme got to the door and opened it. She frowned when she saw who it was: Primrose Gaillot. Her physical appearance almost hadn't changed a bit. She now had her hair tied in a very tight bun with absolutely no strands falling out of place, but that was about it.

"Step aside, peasant," Primrose snarled at Esme, brushing past her with her nose in the air. "I need to speak with Roy."

Aria felt shivers down her spine at the sight of Primrose. Who was this woman? And why was she so mean to her mother? What did she want from her father? She hid behind Roy in fear.

"You again, Primrose?" Roy asked. "You just don't know when to stop, do you? What could you possibly want this time?"

"I'm sure you've heard of my school," Primrose said in a haughty tone. "Especially since I'm the headmaster there. My school is designed for young girls. They go there to be the most perfect and well-behaved girls you'll ever see." She then noticed Aria peeking out shyly from behind Roy's back. "And who is that little lady right there?"

"My daughter, Aria," Roy said, shielding Aria from Primrose. "Why do you want to know?" He narrowed his eyes at her.

"I think your daughter will do well in Prim, Proper, and Perfection," Primrose insisted. She showed Roy another one of her flyers. "I can see her being a perfect student there. She'll look perfect in the PPP uniform." A sickeningly sweet smile was on her face.

"Absolutely not," Esme said, glaring at Primrose. "We don't know much about your school. But there is absolutely no way that we can trust you to watch over our Aria! Besides, Roy and I plan on sending her to a much more safer high school where she can enjoy her teen years without being harrassed."

"Perhaps, a certain offer can change your mind, hmm?" Primrose asked with a smirk. She pulled out a really thick envelope and handed it to both Roy and Esme. "Inside this envelope is cash. $900,000 in total. Enroll your daughter to my school and it's all yours."

"Are you seriously trying to bribe us to send Aria there!?" Roy was not pleased in the slightest. "Our minds have been made, Primrose! The answer is no! Now, leave! And I better not catch you anywhere within a mile of Aria!"

"Hmph!" Primrose huffed. "Well, I have never been so insulted and disrespected! I am capable of making my school an excellent place for your daughter! The least you can do is consider my offer! Don't you want your daughter to be perfect!?"

"She's happy with her life as it is!" Esme said. "Now please go! You're scaring her!"

With an angered look, Primrose turned around and left, slamming the door behind her.

Esme looked to see that the suspicious look on Roy's face didn't leave. "What's wrong?" She asked her husband.

"There's something off with how much money Primrose had," Roy said. "I can't put my finger on what…"

A year later, Aria graduated from the academy she attended. Roy and Esme had enrolled a now fourteen-year-old Aria into a high school that was located in Timeville which required them to move.

Roy was okay with this. Because this meant that he wouldn't have to see Primrose again. He still wanted to know why that school she ran was…unheard of. And he also wanted to find out where Primrose got the money from…

Little did Roy know that the truth would be revealed when Aria became an young adult.

Aria, Esme, and Roy belong to me!

I don't own Madame Prim!

Scottish Words and Translations:

Mo leannan— My sweetheart (Roy's nickname for Esme)

Brèagha—Pretty (Roy's nickname for Aria)

[jinxxedmisery]

H!

I'm back from the dead!

And I have things to talk about 🤭

Last month into this month has been fucking wild for me!

I was connected to a girl my age through my therapist, her name is Sam. We've really hit it off and I now consider her a friend.

Then... for some reason I felt confident enough to make a dating profile.... and

AGAINST ALL ODDS I MET SOMEONE.

Like I live in a town over an hour away from any cities.. but he only lives a half hour out of town... so not a super long drive.

Anyway, we've seen eachother in person twice but I fell so deeply in love with the guy.. and I can tell he feels the same about me... the way he looks at me.... How he talks... He is also a total romantic.. much like myself, so it's been going really good! I'm hoping we'll get to see eachother again next week.

But I never thought I'd ever get into a romantic relationship... if I'm being honest

Don't read on if you're easily triggered by mental health issues and/or sexual themes.

I never intended to be around this long... I was literally planning on ending it all shortly after my 18th birthday... But for some reason... I kept going.. and I'm super happy that I did, otherwise, I wouldn't have ever met my friend and boyfriend.

Seriously...

Things are finally going right for me after so many goddamned years of being alone, isolated unable to find any real connection and incredibly miserable because of it...

I have finally realized I am not unlikeable, I'm not worthless and I can find friends. And for the rest of 2022 and into 2023, I will work as hard as I can to not let my anxiety control me anymore

My next big leap comes in November. I will be looking for my first job!

And here comes the part where I gush about my boyfriend

I now have this dream now where I'm settling down with my boyfriend.... we move into a little apartment in one of the cities nearby (in fact that dream could very well come true... because we both want to go to the same city for college) and we settle into a peaceful domestic life together.... hopefully with cats!

Ok... but like honestly this guy is literally the one I've been dreaming of. He's very attractive and emotionally available, and he doesn't judge me for who I am! I neglected to mention here, but I have discovered that I am agender and my pronouns are they/them... I live in probably one of the most conservative provinces in Canada and to make it worse, I'm in a small town with like 4 churches of the same exact brand of extremely homophobic and transphobic Christianity... I fully expected him to lose interest in me. But no, It hasn't affected how he thinks of me. and he is very careful to respect my pronouns...

He's also very funny (which I really love in people... I can't be around someone who is super serious all the time) I mean... when I last saw him on Monday, we were at my place, playing around (in an adult sort of way) and he discovered my toys

One of them had a suction cup at the base, so he goes and sticks it on the wall a few times... then he sticks it on his forehead looks at me and says "I'm dildo man" we laugh about it together.... and he goes to pull it off his face only to discover it has suctioned pretty hard to his face, so I help him by wedging my finger under the suction cup and lifting it off...

and HE HAS A BIG ASS BRUISE RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE OF HIS FOREHEAD... We're still laughing our asses off... me almost pissing myself with laughter as we frantically search for way to get rid of bruises and hickeys online... we try the fork method, icing it... everything we can do, nothing works.. so we decide to just take a bath to clean up before my parents get home from a trip they were on (at this point my parents don't know we've had sex... and I wasn't exactly ready to tell them) While we're in the bath, my parents get home and my dad calls out to me... I fucking panic and we get out and dress at breakneck speed.

My parents brought home some takeout and my boyfriend stayed for dinner... he met my mom for the first time... but damn... coming downstairs after that was... super awkward... but thankfully my parents aren't the type to be bothered by that kind of thing, all they needed to know was that we used protection (which we did ofc)

It's funny though, he really gets along well with my dad.. Maybe it's their sense of humour. Or maybe the fact they are both quite talkative..

But damn.....

This guy is special.. and I hope we last for years, decades... life even...

And done.. Sorry about all that.. just had to write this all down somewhere.. It's really hard to contain my happiness right now.

[blueheartedmayor]

She laughs a little.

"I'm sure I'll find plenty to do, but seriously, ten books? Really? I mean, I like coloring, but I'll gladly settle with a movie or video game too if I need to unwind. I'm not sure if gaming is something you're into, though."

Once Random's finished ranting, she gives Barnum some pets. She's somewhat surprised but also elated that the corgi is warming up to her so quickly. Her attention turns back to Damien and she sighs a little.

"Honestly, I think it would be best if I'm not his roommate. I do want to be civil with him, at least for Yancy's sake, but I was also being impulsive when I suggested it. I don't think either of us would be all that happy, especially with what's happened."

And anyway, being stuck in a labyrinth really isn't ideal, especially now that I might be getting work.

Her jaw drops the second he offers to help her, and she blinks a few times.

Did I hear that right?!

"D-Damien, are you sure? That would be...insanely generous of you. I... Wow, um... Are you sure?"

@the-crypt-of-randomness

-

"Yes. Ten of them." He rolled his eyes, but there was amusement in his voice. Everyone had meant well at the time, but it was near comical in hindsight. "Actually, I do play video games. I'm a rather casual gamer, but I own a S.witch. When I'm showing you how the TV setup works, I'll point it out, and you can use the guest account if you like." Just don't challenge him to M.ario K.art. He was very good.

But regarding the matter at hand, Damien nodded. "There's a difference between being civil, and being self-sacrificing for little good reason. You can still be friends with this man, but you shouldn't need to interact with someone else if you don't want to. Boundaries need to be set in moments like this." Set, and enforced. He could only hope this 'Yancy' was someone with a scrap of common sense, especially after the events that have transpired.

"I am sure. I've spent a lot of time with people from all walks of life, even before I became Mayor. One thing I learned is the importance of being able to help others. What you are going through is something that would terribly difficult to face alone. But in a new location, and with new friends, mayhaps you can start working on finding the life you want for yourself. As you said already, you worked hard to achieve parole and prove you are a better person. That's something that needs to be encouraged, in my opinion. But this can be something we can iron out the details of toward the end of your stay."

There was a brief pause, before something stirred him to speak. "Regardless of everything that's happened, I need you to remember something for me: Life is Ours to Choose. It's something I try to live by. It is idealistic, considering how many things are unpredictable, but it serves a reminder that you need to live for yourself if you can. For example, trying to find a middle ground 'for Yancy's sake', to use your own words, can only work if the other party want to do so as well. If they don't, and you are expected to make all the changes needed to make peace possible... It not only puts you under immense pressure, but it does not allow the other party to see the errs in their actions. It is up to him to convince the others to see you are just a friend, not you. In fact," he lifted his mug again, "Your focus for the next few days are to relax. I don't know them, and they don't know me. It's highly unlikely there will be any sort of encounter here."