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[tarjapearce]

Heathens (Pt. 2)

Priest! Miguel O'Hara x Nun! Reader

Art by @mar_mar0u in X

WARNINGS: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. Religious topics, Corruption Kink, Oral in holy places (Male receiving) Fingering, implicit Breeding kink, Angst, violence (Whipping, and other physical injuries) Character background, sexual and mutual pining, power dynamics, not proofread.

Summary: Father Miguel is growing tired of his beatific life.

A|N : reblogs and feedback fuel me :'). Thanks in advance.

Previous Spanish Version

Miguel tried, tried with all his might to fool himself. It was one of those things he excelled at like no other.

The war won't reach us.

He'd always mumble to his coworkers back at the machinery factory. A place he was designated after failing thr recruitment's medical tests. On purpose.

He faked his eye sight terrible and a slurred speech enough for the doctors to deem him a failing specimen that wouldn't last for more than days, in a war that had brought nothing but calamit to everyone involved.

People barely spoke to him at the factory, which played off perfect. He did his job, none bothered him except for reaching things too far of reach, and he got home safe.

A lanky man that slowly but surely developed his brawns within the heavy duty line. His job was to fix and assemble motors that would end up in cars, planes, ships and whatever medium used to destroy the enemy.

Part of Nueva York was already destroyed. The echelons in society blurred to the point of subduing everyone under the same category in the neighbor states. Refugees.

The church played an important part as they took as many as they could under their beatific walls.

Miguel wasn't a devote believer, but respected the business enough to help whenever they required it in his little town. Anyone who helped others in need had his respect.

If the church needed a new roof to harbor in more refugees, he and other men would make it. The innate feeling of helping and guiding others was something the Church's Father always complimented.

He explained Miguel what would he do in case he turned himself to God and follow a path of holy life. But no matter how much the Father spoke, his ties to the world and it's pleasures were too much to give up.

Miguel had all the qualities of being the perfect Father, but how could he consider such thing when the woman underneath him, writhed while clawing at his back, and begged the heavens above for him to not stop? Begged him to plow harder within her drenched and spasming walls over and over?

A Father would never do that. He didn't care if he was called basic for wanting sex. He didn't care if he was called greedy for wanting a nice car and a little property in a secluded area in the outskirts of Roeville.

And he definitely didn't care if he was called thoughtless for wanting a little family in the admist of chaos. Someone to get home to. Cause again, a Church's father would never. They could never do such things. If anything, he'd fulfill the lord's command of multiplying one day.

He was more than happy as he was, living a relatively innocuous life.

The war won't reach us.

A lie he fed himself to the point of turning it into his personal mantra. And when none else that those three words came into the town, in the shape of armored rebels, destroying everything he had worked for so hard, Miguel knew a decision needed to be done.

He took the remaining survivors out and guided them away from cruel eyes that wouldn't doubt into recruiting them into their madness.

He might have escaped the elite pass to a major scale war, but he often forgot about the opposition. The opportunists that would gain power in the right hands of ignorant and bloodthirsty people.

The rebels had gone town to town, forcefully recruiting men to join their barracks, to fight against a new order that promised nothing but their rights removed.

Miguel didn't want to know shit about it.  He didn't want to partake in a war he didn't start. He didn't want to leave the commodities life had served him so far. In fact, as he guided the people through the frozen river, he begged his neglected friend above to allow him to keep a rather easy life.

But rebels caught up to him, killing those that dared to run away, gaining the immediate end for treason to a cause they've never pledged for. A bullet ricocheted on the six year old boy propped on his shoulders, falling immediately to the glacial waters.

Miguel didn't doubt and pulled the kid out, despite feeling his bones freezing and numbing, and hauled him to the ground. If blood loss didn't kill him, hypothermia would. There was little he could do but offer the child a few words of consolation as he held his feeble and trembling form, drowning in tears; feeling the short life escaping warmly through his fingers.

Shouting, screaming and a couple of shots was all he could discern before an armored man pulled him by the collar, making him drop the boy's body to the ground and kneel. The tip of the man's weapon rested a bit too intimate on his head.

"P-Por favor!" (Please)

Miguel mumbled in between nervous pants snd clattering teeth as his hands rose in defense.

The man interrogated him, in spanish. Where was he from, where were the rest and what did he do. And like an epiphany, his mouth spilled the words not even in his wildest dreams he thought pronouncing.

"Soy... Soy un Padre, de la Parroquia San Buenaventura. Sólo vine a ayudar." (I'm a Father, from San Buenaventura's Parish. I came here to help.)

Said parish had been visited during his childhood and possibly long forgotten and non-existant by now, everything he knew about holy endeavours was thanks to his reluctant catholic upbringing. And it was enough to prolonging his stay in this realm.

"Porqué huiste entonces?" (Why did you run away then?)

"No quiero morir." (I don't wanna die.)

The man scrutinized his soul, but the words had came out his plump mouth with such conviction, it left no room for doubtsto those that wouldn't hesitate in shooting at the minimum sign of lying.

Miguel could be one of those people that could say undoubtedly God has a dark sense of humor. Cause none other than the leader asked him to bless him and his weapons to then take the reduced and mourning group to the nearest church.

And now, almost a decade and holy studies later, he preached the mass to people in town. Donned with the holy robes that would screech with condemning words if people ever knew what crossed his mind every time he laid his eyes on you.

His little lamb. His ever delicious little lamb, awaiting to be corrupted by none other than the wolf himself.

Cause that night, back at his den, corruption had ruled over both of your minds. Not only he had shown you what pleasure was and how you could achieve it on your own, but promised more.

More of him exploring places of your body none had the blessing of doing so before. More of him tasting those areas you only though of a single purpose, but his tongue had proven multi-task. More of that debauchery ritual where you'd finally be his.

With a heavy heart and little words beyond see you soon, you left to your duties, back to the reality. Leaving him alone with a painful and raging boner. Screaming for him to not neglect it that way ever again.

And he tried. By God he was trying to not pull you to a nearby storage room and taste you again. His whole body turned into this needy mass of nerves whenever you stared his way a second too long.

The remaining innocence in you, edged him into fisting his hand around himself and pump into oblivion at night before sleeping. His mind took a recent knack for torturing him.

It reminded him of the first months into his chastity vows, and how close he was into breaking them with a woman that was beyond willing to satisfy her own curiosity regarding priests, but war, his cruel friend; acted as the main motivator to remain within line, since it still waged outside and men were still needed outside to die.

And no matter how many gorgeous women paraded under his radar, his vows remained intact.

Until you showed up, drenched in his door, in dire need of help. Not only had you shaken every promise he was trained to believe, to their very core. But ebbed him to his old sinful ways.

The wolf's pelt was growing too large within the sheep's robe he had disguised himself with, in order to run from a fate that was nothing more than a premature death.

The parishioner's voice snapped him out of his darkening thoughts, he dictated a penance and an absolution prayer, not really caring for the man's sins, cause he was worse. He closed the confessional window and stood to open the door.

Only to find the reason of his impure thoughts before him, sitting on the floor, polishing the altar's candle-snuffer.

His dark pupils were blown wide as your hands stroked with gentle moves the handle. How such mundane task turned his gears for the wrong turn was the proof of your power over him.

His groin twitched when your hand circled around the brass bar and moved up and down the rag to remove as much dust as possible, pumping softly.

"Sister."

His voice came out in a husky mumble he tried to keep in his usual deep tinge. But his composure cracked as soon as you turned around and stared back with those beautiful doe eyes of yours.

He gulped.

"What are you doing, pequeña?"

"Sister Leanne sent me to polish the altar's tool as a punishment for the missing vegetables in the inventory."

You mumbled between nervous laughs. And he chuckled. Of course Sister Leanne would do that. As gentle as the woman was, she didn't hesitate into applying discipline the way she saw fit.

She needed to set an example, even more when she was about to be ascended to Mother Superior or Abess.

"I apologize."

"Whatever for, Father?

"I can't deny part of it it's my fault. As I lead you astray from your original tasks."

A flush crept on your cheeks as soon as your mind flooded with the remnants of that night.

"It was the rain, Father. Not you."

"I thought I told you to not call me that when alone."

"I'm sorry. Some habits are hard to kill."

"And remove."

You swallowed a thick lump. His eyes were already undressing you with his red-ish gleam.

"I... started to wear less layers."

May God have mercy on his soul, cause his need gnawing at his flesh certainly wasn't having it. His chest puffed with a deep inhale

"You were right about them. They're... They're heavy to wear. Makes it impractical for almost everything."

He nodded knowingly as an idea popped in his already tainted and corrupted mind.

"That's true. Robes makes it heavier and slows you down."

"I thought the cassock was lightweight? "

He shook his head and offered you his hand for you to stand up. A hidden invitation to his wicked game. You took it.

"It is when done with the proper materials. Otherwise is heavy." He led you inside the confessional. And closed the door as soon as you were in. Cornering you against the hefty oak doors.

Your breath hitched as soon as his hands placed yours on his chest. A pleased purr rumbled through upon the contact.

"Heavy isn't it?" You nodded while feeling the smooth and thick fibers of cotton, stretching all over his chest underneath your fingertips.

"That's why I don't use layers underneath."

Heat begun pooling in the pit of your stomach, "You don't?

He didn't have to instruct you verbally to confirm such thing. His eyes guided your hands through the map of his body to finally stop inches above his tightened crotch.

His heart crinkled with utter delight upon seeing your eyes widen and blink while admiring him. Hardening even further at every second you weren't touching him.

"It's alright. Don't be ashamed. Knowing one's body is crucial to identify where some sins come from."

He sat at the chair, his throne, with his legs sprawled, the cassock tightened around his well sculpted and worked legs, tightening enough to outline the silhouette of his awakening cock.

The confessional was custom built, and given his height, two people could fit in. And what better use for it than having you inside with him. Trapped between his neverending legs.

"Would you know what to name a man's anatomy, pequeña?"

He removed the fabric belt around his waist to then unbutton the lower part of the cassock. Revealing a set of lighter pants, trapping his erection underneath.

Your eyes shamelessly remained on the happy trail leading to the growing bulge between his legs. Curiosity was definitely taking a choke hold on your brain. Although built big enough for two people average sized, you had to crawl closer between him.

"I believe it's called a... c-cock."

"A cock, yes." He nodded proudly, "And how would you know such thing, Hm?"

He beckoned you closer, holding your chin gently while at it.

"T-There's an anatomy book well hidden in the library. I don't wish to remain completely ignorant to my surroundings, Father."

"Ah, I see." He let the father calling go for this time, cause the surprise in your face was everything a man could get when about to perform one of the most lascivious of acts.

He took himself out, letting his erection to sprung in it's full glory before you.

"Does it looks like the one in the book?"

You shook your head softly. His flushed and engorged tip, twitched upon feeling your breath oh so close to his velvet skin.

"At all."

The rich fragrance of clean soap and woody incense remained in his skin.

"You're allowed to touch."

With a new gulp on your throat and hesitating hands, your fingertips grazed  his tip. Earning a little hiss from him. Finally feeling other textures that wasn't his calloused hands.

Curiosity made you take him firmer around the base, his hands enveloped yours and guided you to stroke him, up and down.

Your cheeks flushed even deeper while watching his face contorting in pure bliss. It reminded you the way he looked at you as he was devouring your now tingling flesh.

"Does it feels good?"

He nodded through hazed eyes, urging you to move your hand faster with his own, setting a tortuous tempo.

"Oh, very. Very good." he nodded and panted breathlessly, nails clawing at the cushioned part of his seat.

"Then... why is a sin?"

As much as he wanted to quench your learning thirst and instruct you through it, he couldn't care less about what was a sin and what not. But he could satisfy said interest with a more practical example.

"Open your mouth." He talked as he took his hefty cock and beckoned impossibly closer.

Your clothed chest rested inches away from his inner thighs. Lips parted open and when his tip rubbed between your lips, your tongue moved on its own and swirled on his slit. Earning a shaky whimper from him.

"Dios..." His head was thrown back as you took his whole tip inside. The warmth your lush mouth offered couldn't be compared. His hips bucked and you groaned when another inch was pushed in.

"Keep going, pequeña." He husked as he slid a hand underneath your headdress and took a gentle hold of your nape. With enough pressure he guided you up and down pushing as much cock as he could into your mouth, withdrawing carefully whenever you gagged.

The soft saltine taste bursted all over your taste buds, singing in delight. You were tasting a man. The proper way. You hummed approvingly.

Once more he took himself by the base and slapped your awaiting tongue a couple of times with his tip before pushing in  again.

His shaky groans turned into deep and raged pants the more your cheeks hollowed around him, licking and sucking in a pace that had him thrusting his hips softly and melting. His hands didn't know whether to claw or hold on whatever surface they had underneath.

The wet and sloshing noises from your mouth made him dizzy, and your hand squeezing his balls gently wasn't helping. Seeing your eyes filled with the same unmarred lust as his, corroded any rational and holy thought our of his frying brain.

You were dangerous. Oh, so dangerous he could mistake you for the very snake that temped Eve back in Eden, cause your tongue swirled and tasted in the right places like no other, despite being your first time.

And by God, he knew you weren't made for a holy life. You couldn't. He refused to believe you were made for such simple and boring life when you were sucking his demons out with such artistry, he couldn't feel but jealous at the sudden thought of someone else teaching you such things.

No woman had achieved such feat on him before by using solely her mouth.

"Sigue, por favor-" He gulped and bit his lip before a loud moan could escape him. His eyes tried to keep on front watching you, bobbing your head up and down. (Keep it going)

If your mouth was delicious, he couldn't help but wonder, how your insides felt.

Would you be drenched? Would you be tight for him? Would you take him as well as your mouth did? Of course you would. You were using your mouth only and left him yearning for more than that.

His teeth bared as his pants turned even more raged and blown. The soft kisses alternated between kitten kicks and unabashed lapping, bending not only his will, but the urge to hold you in place and have fun with your mouth.

The sight of you being bold and taking him in a go completely, made him explode with an acute, shaking and broken whimper.

"Mnnfuck-" He held you in place while he squeezed the very last drop of his hot cum down your throat. All while you looked at him with drunk, pleasurable eyes as you swallowed him.

His chest heaved and his hand rubbed over his face, awash with raw need. But you didn't stop there.

A low humming rumbled through, reverberating through his skin. Sending another wave of jolts down his spine. His head was spinning a second per hour

"W-Wait..." but you didn't listen, you kept tasting and his teeth clenched, "E-Esperate-" He blabbed and choked, his trembling hand took a firm hold of your headdress and pulled his limping cock out your mouth with a squelching pop.

But your tongue sought him, hungry and hypnotised by his taste.

"Stop- Oh Dios... S... Stop-" you whined as he hunched and rested his forehead against yours, putting his throbbing cock back to it's confinements. His breath fanned over your mouth and kissed you deeply. Drowning any furtive and remaining moans.

His tongue swirled over yours, luring it only for a mischievous suck to be delivered, tasting himself in the process.

"Please" You clung to him, body doused with fire, and his nose heaved deeply, still recovering from what you provoked within. His eyes remained shut for a second, to then seizing you with a tender look.

"Not yet, pequeña."

"Not yet. Then, when?!" You whined impatiently, "If you don't want me anymore just say it!"

He understood your frustration, he really did. With gentle hands he cupped your face.

"I do want you." He pecked your lips, "More than this pretty head of yours refuses to believe. But we must wait."

"I don't want to!" You sniffed and he kissed your head once again, soothing your frustration with feathery kisses. Then he stood and picked you up easily in his arms to finally sit you on his chair.

"If I am to claim you, is cause I'm taking my time to destroy every bit of your mind, understand?"

His hands immediately stirred up the skirt of your habit up to your waist, proving your words true of you wearing less layers, leaving your thighs and cunt bare to him as they were parted and placed on each side of the chair's arms.

With a serpent-like motion, he swept his tongue over his lips, awash with prurience when his gaze remained in your drenched entrance. Drooling and glistening, begging to be taken.

There was something he couldn't truly explain when he had you like that. It played too many good tricks in his dazed mind.

As much as he wanted to bury himself to the hilt, he couldn't. He didn't want you to be marked by a whip and shunned before the whole church as a heathen.

He didn't want you to bear with Cain's mark and be despised by the whole community just cause you gave into a natural need.

Two of his fingers coated in your slick, to then rub ever gently at your needy and throbbing nub of nerves. Gaining him a soft coo.

"I need to take my time to posses every bit of you, dear."

Your mouth gaped and whimpered as he slid inside with a sloshing fwop. Walls immediately etched to his fingers, squeezing him and urging to go deeper.

"You think I don't want to take you right here? " He kissed your lips and then your jaw

His thumb rubbed in slow but firm strokes, applying enough pressure to have you a blabbing mess and tidal waves of pleasure quenching your body's primal need.

His fingers hooking and wriggling inside only earned him a renewed groan. Your hands clutched at the surface behind you, as his fingers delved deeper, meaner and faster. Your frame shook with every stroke he delivered in your weeping walls.

He had to cover your mouth at the lewdness spilling out nonstop of it, to focus on the increasing wetness he provoked in your slurping hole.

A shaky whimper was muffled the more he pumped his fingers into you, grazing that sweet and exquisite spot that got your body trembling and your walls contracting around him in a wicked and debauched symphony. Your head was thrown back, too heavy with lascivious thoughts to function properly.

Mouth parted to whine and eyes remained shut, unable to digest the obscene display of prowess by his fingers. Your tightness increased by every second, signaling your need for release.

"Come"

An order. Disobeying was out of the question. A specific thrust had your spine arching and your soaked hole exploding with something so devastatingly delicious, it had you panting and mewling in heat as you drenched Miguel's hand and forearm completely, he kept prodding and poking at that gummy spot within you. Your nails clawed at the seat, trying to anchor your floating soul to your body.

"Oh my God!" You hiccuped in a garbled moan.

His palm kept your stuttering hips under control, his eyes remained at the spasming muscles within you, trying to keep his fingers inside, sucking, squeezing and milking him.

"Tan perfecta." He crooned while pulling out gently to lick and slurp his fingers clean and kiss you with all his might . (So perfect)

Too enraptured in your taste to hear the approaching steps until too late.

"Father O'Hara?"

The voice from the other side of the wall made both to freeze in place. Your eyes went wide and his grip on your panting mouth tightened.

"Are you there?"

Miguel placed a drenched finger in his lips.

Closing your eyes shut, you both awaited for whoever that had arrived to leave, and once the steps could no longer be heard, he released you.

And you gasped and panted for air and he smirked. Admiring with wickedness at his creation. He could already taste your little cries and whimpers for more of him. And damn him if he was lying if his mind didn't come up with the vilest of fantasies, like defiling you in the altar, at everyone's sight, so they could know the real him and show everyone he had claimed you and what they were missing.

He helped you on your feet and wipe away the thin layer of sweat covering your face with utmost care.

But that side was reserved to none else but you. His beloved lamb.

"Soon, I promise. Okay?"

He kissed your lips deeply, sealing his words with a promise. He was a man of word.

You'd have to wait a bit longer.

----

The dull ache in your lower belly announced your period's arrival. Asking the head of the medical supplies and writing your name in a book was a subtle way to keep the youngsters and  women in fertile age in check.

Given the few past experiences with nuns suddenly getting pregnant, security when it came to outings increased. Same for the Parish. Another guard was hired to keep the morning shift in case men came to lurk around.

The parish had a reputation to have beautiful nuns under the roof, even if older.

But since you had your period, no harm approached. You could see a little proud smile in Sister Danielle as you fetched your supplies for the week. Teas, pads, some painkillers and a brand new addition, moist towelettes from the city.

"If you run out of them, come again, alright?"

With a nod, you went to the bathroom and changed. You washed your hands and walked back to where Sister Leanne was, to tell her about your condition.

Cause in truth, you felt tired, pained and exhausted. Your face lit up upon seeing her.

"May we speak?"

"Not now. Discipline calls me."

Quirking a brow you looked at her while watching a trail of nuns behind her. One with a slender guava stick, another with a bucket in water, and the other with a rope.

"W-What's going on?"

"Come and see."

You weren't the only one that followed them. A group of nuns giggled, as they whispered hushed secrets to eachother.

Your fingers wrapped around your cross while following the rest, like a dutiful sheep.

To your surprise another nun was held as her sleeve was slit open, on both arms. The woman cried for mercy and soon she was pushed forward before the circle of nuns and Miguel that showed up alarmed.

"You have sinned!"

Sister Leanne begun with a commanding voice. even though Miguel was the Father, he had little to do with the nun's management.

Your mother figure pulled the crying woman's arm, showing a bruising a couple of inches away from her elbow.

"This woman has corrupted her body, the temple of Jesus Christ! With contraceptives!"

A collective round of gasps were heard through the nuns. Contraceptives, same as sex were the highest forms of faults within the Parish. Specially within the convent.

"Not only you poison your body with mundane pieces, but break your vows, just to obey your flesh's whims." Leanne spat with venom.

The poor woman was tied up against a post. Her habit was torn in the back, to expose her temporary unmarred, milky white skin. She begged for forgiveness as water was doused over her.

The first hit made you look away and cover your mouth, a sudden fear rose in the back of your throat.

His need of waiting was more than reasonable now.

This was one the motives why Miguel hadn't taken you yet. And seeing the poor woman writhe in pain and beg for her life, made you remind him of his words.

You had been so neck deep in wanting him that had forgotten completely about the consequences of your forbidden meetings.

The women's cries and pleas were muffled by the aggressive whistle the stick did everytime it swung to strike down and mark her over and over.

Your gaze locked with Miguel's briefly. His eyes said it all.

Now you understand?

As quickly as your eyes met him, you tore your gaze away. Too afraid of the possible lash out for simply looking at him.

A surge of cramps and the newly reached levels of stress had you folding over. His face fell upon the pain in yours. The supplies in your hands were self explanatory. Periods weren't something new to him, after all he took care of the women under his unit in the factory cause the rest was too stupid and scared to do something.

And as much as he wanted to approach and see if you were alright, he didn't want the situation to be mistaken for something else and draw unnecessary attention towards you both.

He felt a coward, but it also fueled his hate for the life he chose in order to save himself.

Once the punishment was finished, the woman was untied and taken to the infirmary. Sister Leanne looked at you

"What is you wanted to talk to me about?"

"My period."

"What about it?" Her voice accused with a frown, still on edge.

"I just asked Sister Danielle for my supplies." She heaved, relieved.

"Good. Good." She sighed and rubbed her face, "I want you to know that I'm not proud of the things I must do. But someone has to."

"I know."

"Please don't ever dare to betray me that way, okay?"

The stung in your chest just bloomed deeper with guiltiness.

What if I'm already doing it?

You nodded, gaining a hug from the woman that raised you, in order to ground herself from the sudden rage that took over her emotional panel of control.

Would you whip me too? Would you make me bleed?

"Go rest. I'll get you some food, alright?"

---

It had been days since either of you approached each other. The raw display of consequences of a failed secret affair was the culprit of the distance that grew wider and wider between the both.

It was a forceful reminder of what laid ahead if you ever got caught. Miguel knew how much the new Mother Superior loved you.

He always heard at dinner with the higher ranks the endless stories about you as a teenager. Precocious and daring. Nothing alike to the tame and demure woman he had already tasted twice.

Would she hate him for corrupting her little and perfect sheep? Absolutely. Maybe would whip him too if she could.

The thought alone made him chuckle.

The silence on both ends made him reflect in so many things he thought long forgotten.

A child's random laugh during a baptizing had brought to life that buried yearn. The way the little human stared at him with a toothless grin on their face sent his heart into a frenzy.

In fact, he always reminisced in the many families that paraded proudly on church. Displaying their affection, laughs and others that only echoed in the solitude of his residence outside the Parish.

There was none waiting for him, no little human screeching in happiness upon hid arrival, and no partner to share his daily adventures on his modest job. There wasn't nothing like that for him.

Just endless hours of praying, visiting the sick, bible studies, hypocritical speeches on how people act and behave with those around him and how to not succumb into the temptation, like he did.

He was the biggest hypocrite under the heavenly roof and everyone adored him. Congratulated and asked for tips on how to be more like him.

If he could, he'd say drink a beer every day and fuck a lovely woman whenever time allowed. But instead his mouth spilled the most ridiculous things such as keep your mind focused and away from trouble.

But he wanted trouble. He wanted that trouble to mewl and writhe underneath. He wanted that trouble to squeeze him to death as he came inside. And definitely he wanted that trouble to swell with his child.

Ten years in this lie had been more than enough for him. War had been long gone, everyone had moved on in the city. Mostly had families. But he...

His hand pinched the bridge of his nose.

Secularisation wasn't an option, since his name was already in many churches and abbeys and running away would imply to spend most of the savings he had done so far. Priest life paid shit, but if this neverending lie had taught him something, was to be more financially wise. And thanks to that, he could afford a home somewhere in the rural areas, away from prying eyes and judging glares.

He had enough of the white rectangle around his neck and the stupid golden ring on his finger dictating how to live his life. Even though God had granted him his wish of having a simple life, he didn't want it anymore.

He wanted it his way. And as entitled and selfish as the thought was, he deserved a forever break from his duties. He knew what he wanted.

He knew what he needed. And he needed you. He missed you. He wanted you to be his problem.

At first he thought it was the lack of contact and other people to talk to, but seeing you so scared back at the public whipping and your need to know more about the world, only reinforced his decision into making you his.

He could take you see places and explain things if you wanted. He could take you anywhere you wanted to. He could please you the times he saw fit without the fear of someone spying or you getting hurt by those that pledged a servitude oath.

Miguel knew what the nuns did to those that ended up pregnant and he wanted you safe. He had seen the underlying longing of knowledge in your eyes and see what was beyond those sacred walls.

Her period

His brain soared alive with the idea.

How many days had gone since you got it? Twelve days?

And if there was something he knew by heart is a woman's cycle. Ironically he used that knowledge to avoid getting his hookups pregnant, even if he used a condom. And now, he was using it for the opposite.

In two days you'd be ovulating. And you had returned early from a sudden trip due to sickness.

He didn't know if to thank God or his luck for such delicious coincidence.

But what if she decides to stay?

No. You wouldn't. You couldn't be so blind to do such thing. His plan was foolproof.

With the gears turning, he set his plan into motion.

----

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[exhaslo]

Can you do like a God Miguel and devil fem reader, this is my first request so please no hate 😭 Oh yeah AND SMUTTTTT

That man is basically a God, haha. Usually I see this request the opposite way, so this is going to be so much fun!

Warning: MINORS DNI, Smut, teasing, taunting, handsy, oral sex (m receiving), riding, rough sex, dirty talk, doggy style, creampie

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"C'mon, Big Boy. Afraid to show a lil ol' devil like me what a taste of Heaven looks like?"

This was a sight to behold. No one had ever dared to question or even go against Miguel's ruling. There was a reason why the two dimensions were split between Heaven and Hell. There were a whole list of reasons.

One of them, being devils like you.

You gave a wicked smile towards Miguel, the God of Heaven himself, the ruler of all Angels. Hell, the very man whom separated the Angels and Devils. He was one who controlled all. One who could change the course of fate itself.

"What's a Sinner like me to do in order to enter your pearly white gates of Heaven?" You cooed, getting on your knees.

"You have already made your choices in life. You must live with the consequences of your actions." Miguel spoke.

You gave a pout, pressing your lower lip out while pressing your breasts together.

"But, it wasn't all my fault! I'm here to confess my sins and do right. Please, give me a chance? Isn't that what Angels do? Give second chances?" You begged.

Miguel grunted lowly as he shooed his Angels away. They had started to whisper amongst themselves because sadly, you were right. Miguel disliked it when a devil would sway the good hearted with cruel twists of truth.

"You wish to be redeemed? How do you plan on doing so?" Miguel asked. You bit your lower lip, finding his scowl hot,

"I'll do anything."

-------

Miguel sure had you work your way into heaven. As God, he personally oversaw your progress. Every human you helped; everyone good deed you did; everything was in his sight.

Even your advances. You were sly as you did your job. Poking your ass out slightly; accidently having a tit pop out; hell even using the old lollipop trick. You were doing whatever it took to try and sway Miguel in your favor.

"Hm, excellent work. Perhaps I just might consider your arrival into heaven after a few thousand more good deeds." Miguel hummed. You felt your eye twitch,

"Thousand? Isn't there anything more..." You slid your hand down Miguel's chest, "Intense I could do?"

"Have you forgotten who I am?"

"I haven't," You whispered in his ear, slowly lowering your tank top, "I know that you rule over everything. You see everything while no one can see you. You poor stressed God."

"I'm not stressed." Miguel huffed as he glanced around the human world, "I know what you've really been after this whole time."

"Hm? You have?" You cooed, "Then why entertain me?"

"Because even a God gets bored."

In the next second, both you and Miguel were in what looked like a human hotel room. A smile curled upon your lips as you spread your legs on the bed, slowly removing your top. You gave Miguel a seductive look, motioning him over,

"So bored that you'll entertain a devil?" Miguel scoffed,

"So bored that one might say I am stressed." He tried to change the topic, but sighed, "Sometimes even I grow jealous of how easily humans find pleasure."

You raised a brow, your smile growing wider. You sat up, reaching for Miguel. Your hands stroking down his chest as you threw your top across the room.

"Allow me to give you a show then?" You whispered.

Swapping places with Miguel, you proceeded to give him a little lap dance. As you moved your ass against his crotch, you started to take your bra off. For a God like him to entertain a devil like you, oh this was going to be good.

You nibbled against his ear as you took off you pants, revealing no underwear. A chuckle escaped your lips as you glanced down towards Miguel's erection.

"Hm, does mini God wanna play?" You cooed.

"Perhaps I could show you what heaven tastes like after all." Miguel played along.

Oh, that made you wet. You hands were all over Miguel now. You just had to strip him, but slowly. You cute little devil tail twirled as you started to grind against Miguel's white robes. You stroked his face, watching his temptation grow,

"Shall I do all the work?" You whispered. Miguel just smirked,

"Weren't you the one who needed to get into heaven?"

You huffed as you removed his robes. Eyes widening at the sight of his dick. He wasn't a God for nothing. With a lick of your lips, you got on your knees and started to work your magic. You had good deeds to do after all.

"How many deeds if I make you cum?" You hummed with a lick of his tip.

"A hundred."

"Oh? Then I'll have my work cut out."

"It's a good thing stamina doesn't exist for me." Miguel said with a smirk, which made you quiver.

Ignoring that thought for now, you returned to stroking and sucking Miguel's dick. Of course God doesn't have stamina. Even devils and angels had it. Well, at least you were trying to earn his forgiveness and not the other way around.

You moaned lowly as you started to take Miguel deeper. His dick was thick and long. Just the thought of him ravishing you was making you horny. Not to mention the sounds of his grunts was delicious. If only you were a succubus, this would make a fine meal.

"Still waiting to be impressed." Miguel teased.

You felt your eye twitch as you kept sucking. What more did he want? Gasping, you felt his hands on your head as he started to thrust into your mouth. Tears started to form as you tried to breathe through you nose.

"Here's your first hundred." Miguel groaned.

You nearly gagged as Miguel cummed inside your mouth. Moving away, you swallowed what you could, but coughed up the rest. There was so much. Wiping your mouth, you glanced at his still harden erection and chuckled,

"If that's the case, then this will be easy."

--------

"Are you giving up already? What a poor little slutty devil you are." Miguel mocked as you bounced on his cock.

You were drooling as you rode Miguel. His dick fit so nicely inside you, stretching all your walls as you fucked him. His tip hit the far back of your cervix, making you really see heaven in a different light. You had only fucked him for a few minutes and you felt like giving in.

"Is this all Hell has to offer?" Miguel asked. You flinched, feeling yourself about to cum again,

"N-No...J-Just....so...ah~" You whined, jumping down once more only to cum.

"This is why you need my help."

Miguel held your waist and started to thrust up inside you, causing you to moan and squirm. His dick was too much. He was hitting you in all the right places. Gripping your hips, Miguel watched your tits bounce as he fucked you from below.

"Tsk, tsk, this poor little devil wants forgiveness right?"

"Y-Yesh~"

"I'll give it to you. One load at a time."

You shuddered towards his words as he released a heavy load inside you. Gasping, you felt Miguel press you against the bed, entering you from behind. His grip was still tight as he started to pound your pussy.

"Such lewd sounds you're making. Does my dick feel that good?"

"Ah~ Ah~ Y-Yes!" You cried out, gripping the bedsheets. Miguel chuckled, listening to the sound of his dick slapping into you,

"Can you feel my holy presence inside you? Is this the taste of heaven you wanted so much?"

"Ah~ Mhm~"

You couldn't think. You felt your eyes roll back as you focused on Miguel pounding you. His hot cum just begging to spill before his next load. This was truly paradise.

"So cock drunk that you can't even think. What a slutty devil you are." Miguel hummed, feeling you cum around him, "But you are doing the best deed there is."

"Mhm!" You gasped as Miguel slapped into your gummy walls faster,

"Keep coming to me for your forgiveness and I'll happily give it to your horny pussy." He groaned, cumming once more, "How does that sound?"

"Ah~ Y-Yes~ Yes~" You moaned loudly.

Miguel just chuckled in response, turning you over. You were out of breathe and fucked out. Miguel glanced at your body, watching your devil wings disappear since you had no energy. Another chuckle escaped his lips as he watched his cum leak out of you,

"Don't suppose you want to start a new race? I have unless stamina after all."

You had a long road of forgiveness ahead of you, but you weren't complaining in the slightest.

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

I CAN FEEL THE JUDGEMENT FROM ABOVE, BUT WE ALL KNOW I'M GOING DOWN! I HOPE YOU ENJOYED!!!

[justpoliteconversations]

Breakdown [Isekai!Reader + Legend/Marin] (Part 1)

In which Isekai!Reader has a breakdown and then proceeds to break reality.

This fic is purely for my own satisfaction as I've yet to find this particular topic explored and I have a mighty need. I've taken liberties. This is self-indulgent trash.

PART: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4

Masterlist

TW: Choosing not to display warnings. Read at your own discretion.

Disclaimer: Don't own The Legend of Zelda franchise. Linked Universe is the fan creation of jojo56830.

---

You'd tried not to get close. From the moment you were tossed through the portal (conveniently right at the Chain's feet), you did everything possible to prevent either side from growing unnecessarily attached.

Didn't stop them from strong arming you into joining them though. As an abnormality from the portal, it was in their best interest to keep you close and monitored. Which was fair, so despite your misgivings you went along peacefully.

Though you made sure to let them know where you stood in all this.

You weren't cruel, per say, but you made sure to keep your distance and openly expressed your disinterest in opening up to them. You just wanted to find a way home, and for the most part they did their best to respect that.

Most of them anyway. Wind was an absolute menace. The boy was relentless in trying to wiggle his way into your good graces, always trying to include you in all his little side-quests and jokes.

It would be cute, honestly, if you didn't know he was trying to pump you for information. Clever, using the kid, if you didn't already know who these men were.

(If you're going to try to act friendly with the target Wind, remember to disarm yourself of obvious weaponry before approaching. Silly boy.)

You'd put money on Warriors having orchestrated most of the interactions between you and the youngest. You may not have as advanced senses as them, but you're not blind. It's obvious Wind is reporting to Warriors and Time the nights Wind takes extra pains to interact with you.

(Not that there was much to report. You stuck to your story. Came from a more futuristic world, don't know why you're here, the Heroes of Hyrule are just stories- myths- where your from. You don't know much about them. Yes, you have some secrets. No, they're not harmful to their merry little band. Pot, meet kettle. You'll show them yours if they show you theirs. No? Okay then. Last you checked, they forced you into their group. "Have a good night Time, I appreciate everything you guys do for me. Goodnight Warriors, Legend, Four. Sleep well.")

For being such powerful, experienced heroes, they're not always the brightest. Must be the influence of their Tri-force alinment. It takes a special type of person to do what they do afterall. YOU certainly wouldn't.

But you degress.

Yes, you did everything within your power to keep yourself separate from them without making them your enemies. Slept away from the group, tried (and sometimes failed) to percure your own food. Refused any gifts, money or luxuries offered to you that did not directly involve your continued well-being.

Hell, you even took to cutting grass in your spare time, just so you had something to offer up with you inevitably needed thier assistance. And wasn't that a shock, to find rupees just laying around in the grass. Money literally grow in plants here.

Mind blown.

("No Wind. You found that one, so it's yours. Thank you for the thought though.")

Overall, you thought you'd done an excellent job of it. They- usually- kept to their part of the camp, you stuck to yours (lonely though it was). You rarely talked to them unless strictly necessary or Wind managed to back you into a metaphoric corner. During travel you watched the world go by, acting as another silent pair of eyes.

You thought you'd managed to keep yourself in check.

What a fool you were. To ever think you could keep yourself from loving these kind, selfless, traumatized, courageous goofballs. How shortsighted, to think you would ever be able to stay impartial to their plight, to their pain.

When the divines cast a hook, you took it with both hands and didn't let go.

You're such a damned idiot.

It'd been one hell of a ride to get to the point of no return. Somehow, you'd stumbled though a second portal just as you and the chain had finished exiting the first. Literally, just walked out the first, moved 5 feet away from Legend (your portal crossing partner that time) and promptly stepped into another portal that'd opened right in front of you.

You'd heard Sky's alarmed shout, the beginnings of Wild's bellow, saw Legend try to make a grab at you from the fading entryway. You witnessed Legend flinch back in shock as a wisp of light pulled from his hand and disappeared into the portal. Saw him fall to his knees, seemingly crumbled in pain.

And then you were gone.

You fell onto warm sand, blinded by bright, warm sunlight directly in your eyes. The smell and taste of salt was so strong you can almost feel it coating your insides.

The sea, you quickly realize. Your back hurts from being tossed from the portal, but you're so, so thankful you landed on dry land and not somewhere in the middle of the ocean. A little pain is worth not succumbing to exhaustion and drowning after a desperate, futile struggle.

You laid there for a moment, shocked and grateful and shivering from adrenaline.

You noticed the portal didn't disappear, and none of the chain came charging through to save you either. You watched it for a while, taking deep breaths to calm your heart and waiting for something to happen.

Should you try to go back through? Why is the sound it makes so damn irritating?

"Are you alright?" A lilting voice asks unexpectantly, startling you from where you're sprawled on the sand. "Oh! Sorry! Didn't mean to scare you!"

It didn't click at first who this woman was. Long, beautiful red-blond hair, freckled, sun-kissed skin and a little red flower swaying in the sea breeze above her head. A sweet but sad smile, with just a hint of grief in her soulful dark eyes.

You were surprised she didn't notice the portal. You wondered why.

"My name's Marin. What's yours."

It should have clicked.

"It's..."

It didn't.

You broke your own rule, unwittingly though it may have been. Don't interact unnecessarily. Don't get involved. Don't put yourself in a position to get attached. Don't think about it too hard.

Don't. Get. Emotionally. Invested.

"Oh! What a lovely name! I wish we'd have met before-" Her eyes flickered sidewards, and it was then you noticed the biggest egg you'd ever seen on top of a volcanic mountain peak. Just there. A nightmare wrapped up in a pretty bow, waiting for someone to open it.

And he did.

It started to break right before your eyes. Light seeping out through the cracks and pouring down the volcano and into the surrounding land. It was not how you remember this going down, but you knew (without a doubt) what this was and what was happening.

The shock must have been evident on your face because she started talking again, soothingly, though her voice cracked with emotion.

You barely heard her, eyes fixated on the sight of a mountain slowly starting to disintegrate. On the sounds of screams in the distance. Of little shapes moving away from the light, like roaches across the mountainside.

Your eyes flickered to the portal, still there, waiting, emitting the most horrendous noise. A long dark corridor stretching out into a vast nothingness.

The sceams continued. Some cut off suddenly. It was a small island, and the mountain tall. It let their voices carry into the lands below.

Your body was cold. Your skin numb and prickling.

You noticed Marin still talking. Her eyes frightened, though she was trying not to show it.

She was trying to distract herself, you realized. "We should go to the village. Say goodbye. I'll-I'll introduce you to my father. You can be part of our family. No one deserves to- to without having a f-family."

You looked at her. Eyes wide open. Throat tight. Heart beating. Mind numb.

That was where she should have been right now, wasn't it. But she wasn't because she was talking to you. She was too far away to reach it.

(She was never meant to reach it.)

She knew that. You could see it in her eyes.

This world could not be this cruel. It couldn't. It just couldn't.

She looked to you with such sad eyes. Wet with unshed tears. So very aware.

No.

She reached out for your hand.

No.

Her fingers cradled yours, warm and soft.

No.

She tugged you slightly, inching closer. Other arm stretching, stretching. Embracing.

No.

Her skin was warm, like sunshine. She smelt of sweet fruit and clean sweat. Her heart was thundering.

No.

It was warmer still where she hid her face in your shoulder. Wet. Damning.

And then a whisper. The flutter of lips.

A secret, breathed like a confession.

"I'm sorry Link. I wish I could have lived for you."

You bent.

You twisted.

You ached.

"Marin. If you had the chance to survive this, no matter how slim, would you take it. Even if it meant giving up everything? Even if it meant having to live with the pain."

She stared at you, bewildered. And then-

Clarity.

"You're like Link. Aren't you?"

"Yes."

Her expression shifted. Beneath the sheen of tears, a fire ignited in her dark eyes. Hope, so strong it scorched the world.

It burned you too. That unyeilding will to survive.

"Take me to him." Her eyes softened, but were no less determined for it. Instead, her resolve set like obsidian. "So we may grief the loss of our family together."

Hook, set. Bait, taken.

Now.

Pull.

---

It was agony. From the moment you grabbed Marin's hand and attempted to enter the portal, it felt as though your entire bloodstream was on fire. Like being unmade and reforged all at once, originating from where your hand connected with hers.

You wanted to pull away, but you didn't. She wouldn't have let you either way. Her grip was an iron vice. Deceptively strong.

She didn't even flinch despite the sweat you could see gathering on her brow, the way her jaw clenched. Her entire body was covered in goosebumps, the hairs on her arms standing on end.

You couldn't imagine what she must be experiencing, if the feeling of her hand alone was enough to arrest your breathing.

You took another step forward. She matched it. It was like walking through wet sand, sticky and unyielding, but not impossible.

You moved one step at a time, slow and steady. Open mouthed panting, sweat running down your faces and soaking your hair, plastering it to your scalps. Your skin was flushed from exertion and you guys hadn't moved more than a few paces.

You weren't even out of sight of the entryway when the light was suddenly ripped away from behind. Leaving nothing but a yawning void.

Marin stumbled, as though her strings had been cut, and you followed. Your entire body was molten lava, bones scorched to nothing.

Someone was screaming. Or maybe you both were. You couldn't tell. Marin was gripping your hand with all her might and you gripped right back. The point of contact felt melted into her skin, like you were a part of her.

Or she was part of you.

Eventually, you felt her start to rise, pulling you with her. You couldn't see, but you knew she still had that fire searing in her eyes. No amount of tear stains could hide her will to live.

She took a step forward, and you followed her into the dark. One, two, three, four....

Time lost it's meaning. You'd long since lost count of the steps you two stumbled through together.

It was getting harder. Each step forward seemed to add another weight to your shoulders. It hurt to breath, it hurt to blink. You stopped opening your eyes a while ago. Your skin felt blistered and cracked.

You and Marin had tried talking, but it wore on her too heavily. She was gasping for air even more desperately than you were, breaths raw and ragged.

More time passed. Each step got harder. You were stumbling more than you were walking.

You were sure your nose was bleeding. You could taste the iron in your mouth, where liquid dripped over your upper lip. You couldn't feel your face.

Then Marin threw up. Fell to her knees and just kept puking and puking, struggling for precious air, whole body convulsing. You reach down blindly with your other hand to try to get her hair out of the way.

You overshot and your hand ended up in the spray (it was perfectly smooth like water, not at all natural). It felt like liquid metal across your skin, ripping a scream from your throat.

The smell of burning flesh hit your senses as you curled around your arm, the limb pulsing under you.

You could feel tension building in your body, heavy and foreboding.

Marin was crying. She was shaking. She retched again.

She clutched your hand like a lifeline, desperation corded into every muscle in her fingers. You squeezed back with everything you had, reassurance you were still there in the total darkness.

The tension snapped.

Then her hand went limp, only your grip keeping her from fully slumping to the ground. Dead weight.

"Marin?" You rasped, voice shaking with pain and shock. "Marin?"

She didn't respond. She didn't move. Her limp body slumped against your side, like a branding rod searing through your clothes.

Your heart raced in panic and it gave you the strength needed to pull your still burning arm from beneath you and feel for her pulse.

You found it. Faint. So faint it was a mere whisper, but there.

Ahead of you, an endless void. Behind you, the gapping maw of nonexistence. Nothing in all directions but the limp body leaned against your leg. The sound of the portal just kept growing louder, like metal scraping in your ear.

Your body was so heavy. Your skin seemingly peeled back and exposed, burning against the agony of existence.

You broke.

You shattered.

You felt.

"It doesn't get to be this way." You panted, eyes open, seeing nothing and stinging like hornets. "No. You don't get to do that."

Emotion rose like a tidalwave within you, boiling under the surface of your skin. You turned your eyes up, casting your gaze into the void there.

"You don't get to do that to them. You don't get to keep hurting them like this. They're not toys. They're real."

You swallowed thickly.

"They're real."

The emotion boiled over. The dam broke. Everything else was lost to the Rage.

"YOU!" You screamed, voice shrill, hot liquid falling from your lips as something stretched and burst. "Don't! Get! To! Keep! Hurting! Them! You don't get to do that! They're people! They're real people with real feelings and pain, Goddamnit!"

You were lost to that rage. The feeling that had haunted your every waking moment since the moment you fell through that first portal. Since first you realized where you were.

From the moment you realized who they were and what that meant.

"You don't get to take anything else from them! You hear me! Not a single. Damned. Thing. More!" You spat. "I will not allow it! I! Reject! It!"

You hauled Marin forward inch by agonizing inch with strength you should not have, using spite that ran so deep it tore at peices of your soul.

You weren't even looking forward anymore (what need have you to know when the torment ends, when you're never going to stop. not until death takes you). Instead, you'd braced your feet firmly and started hauling yourself backwards, back arched so far you were nearly sitting.

"I will not let you keep hurting them for your entertainment!" You screeched, not caring how it hurt. Not caring how spit and snot and blood ran down your chin. How sweat soaked straight through your clothes, stinging against the aching rawness of your skin.

You pulled, both hands latched onto Marin's one. The universe pulled back, trying to take this precious being from your grasp. Your progress was halted.

You snapped.

"FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU NITENDO. FUCK YOU GAME PEOPLE. FUCK YOU PLAYERS! AND FUCK ME TOO! FUCK ME FOR EVERYTHING I EVER DID TO HURT YOU! FUCK EVERYONE WHO EVER HURT YOU FOR FUN!"

You screamed then, rasping, tearing and wordless. Just kept screaming and pulling against the universe. Against the pain. Against the unfairness of it all.

The universe pulled again and you snarled like a beast, grip so tight on Marin's wrist you felt something cracking. She felt like Hellfire under your hands.

It only enraged you more.

"You don't get to have her! You don't get to hurt him anymore! You don't get to hurt any of them! They're mine now! You! Don't! Have! The! Right! THEY'RE MINE!"

A choked rasp, iron flooding your throat as the nosebleed gets worse.

"Marin is mine! Legend is mine! Hyrule is mine! Wind is mine! Warriors, Sky, Four are mine! Time and Twilight are mine! Wild is mine!"

Another step back, an inch gained.

Again, and again, and again.

"I'm going to take back everything you stole from them!" You howl into the void, uncaring of how absolutely broken your voice had become. "The moment you let your guard down, I'm taking everything! You. HEAR! ME!"

"I'M TAKING EVERY-"

The universe let go and you fell.

...and Marin fell with you.

Suddenly, there was gentle light filtered through leaves, cool spring air and the faint call of birdsong. No endless darkness or scorching magma in your veins or the infernal screech of portal magic in your ear. Just bliss.

And then your body reminded you that it was not fine.

Your muscles seized, tightening in painful reminder of the strain you had put them through. Your skin stung like sandpaper burn from head to toe, your lungs ached so fiercely it drew tears to your eyes.

Eyes tightly closed and teeth gritted, you curled around the limp body sprawled at your side, limbs intermingled as your body spasmed through the pain.

Then, there were hands on you and you cried out in agony.

Someone shushed you, soundly oddly choked and quiet as another pair of hands gently tried to move you. Then several.

You refused. Arms tightening around the precious being trapped in your embrace. You fought with what little strength you had left, sobbing as the hands managed to pry you loose.

You wailed in dispair.

Someone sobbed with you.

You finally succumbed to your body's desperate demands to escape the pain. You drifted away to the feeling of gentle arms cradling you close, of soft whispers in your hair.

Finally, peace found you. If only for a time.

---

Perhaps there will be a part two. Maybe even venture into yandere territory. Who knows.

I must return to the shadows once more to recharge.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Sunshine, Lollipops, and Rainbows 4

Warnings: non/dubcon, clashing personalities, exclusion, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: moody boy Curtis Everett x bubbly, plus-size reader

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You vow yourself to confinement. You will not leave your desk for any reason. You even brought a thermos of coffee. The container is a honey brown and the lid has bear ears, an animated face painted on the metal. It makes you smile despite the gloom that clouds you.

You don’t know how it happens. You always mean well but things always end up so wrong. So you’ve determined you’re better off on your own. Minding your own business and getting through the work day without calamity.

It’s lonely. You eat your lunch in your cubicle, watching a crochet video on the small screen of your phone. You still can’t figure out how to get just the right shape for the hippo you’ve been working on. It’s the final piece in your collection; to go along with the giraffe, the elephant, lion, and zebra. With your new job, you haven’t even had the energy to try.

You get back to work, eyes fuzzy as you stare at the spreadsheet. Millennia of human existence and for what? For excel and stale coffee? Is this really progress?

You reign in your wandering mind and work through the numbers. You just want to get through your first week. That will be a feat you can be proud of. You drain the last lukewarm sip from your thermos and pout. You could really use a refill but you will resist. You can’t risk it.

At the end of the day, you sneak out down the stairwell. You’re breathless by the time you reach the bottom, dizzy from the winding levels above. You shake it off and head off. You could use a nice hot bath, those office chairs are really not comfy.

Your night goes by as any does. You get your bath and eat some ramen before tucking into bed and mindlessly scrolling on your phone. You fall asleep with the light on and wake up to the blare of your alarm the next morning. 

It’s Friday! You get up and get dressed. A lilac skirt that buttons up the front and a frilly white blouse on top. You pull on a lemon yellow cardigan and a pair of matching flats. It’s bright and fun! Unlike anything else in that gray office.

You shove one of the pillows from the couch into your bag, the one that looks like a sprinkle donut, and grab your thermos. You race out to catch the bus and throw yourself into the day ahead. You just need to make it to the end and you have the whole weekend ahead of you.

Once at your cubicle, you settle in. You place the donut pillow on the thin cushion of the office chair and kneel on the floor as you work at readjusting the backrest and arms. You get up and plop down, testing the height and swiveling a bit. It’s slightly better.

You roll closer to your desk and boot up for the day. You reach for your pen cup but stop short as you find only the boring Bic sticks that overflow the supply cupboards. Huh?

You reach under your desk and grab your bag. You stir around, certain you careless slid your pen in there. You can’t find it! Your most favourite pen is gone. There’s a tiny penguin at the end and the pen’s body is filled with water and glitter that shimmers and looks like falling snow. Where is it?

Your panic has you searching the empty drawers of the desk and down on your knees crawling around. You don’t find it. You give up as your chest sinks and you mope at your monitor, clicking mindlessly on your Outlook and the company’s shared drive. 

You sit back and uncap your thermos. You take a drink and nearly choke. Oh no! It’s so bitter it leaves your tongue gritty. The filter must’ve split in the machine again. You let out a blech and get up, letting your chair roll back carelessly.

You go down to the break room and dump the coffee down the sink. That’s when you remember you’re not supposed to be in there. Shoot. You look around. It’s empty. You should have time enough to fill your cup.

You go to the machine and pick a pod from the rack. You don’t pay attention to the flavour, you just want coffee. You wait for the machine to grind and claim your cup as the brew stops below the brim. You quickly retreat back to your desk and sit, leaving the lid off the thermos to let it cool.

Ow! Your tailbone hits the thin seat and jars your spine. You get up and look down at the barren cushion. Your pillow is gone. What the heck?

You roll the chair around, thinking maybe you knocked it off when you stood up. It’s not that hard to miss. Nope, it’s gone. 

You look over at Dana as he yawns over a Starbucks cup. She has no donut under her bottom. Who would do that? Who would steal your pillow? You chew your lip and resign yourself to another day of discomfort.

You taste the coffee. Mmm, it must be the dark roast. It’s full-bodied and rich, slightly smoky. You don’t usually go for it, you prefer more caffeine. It might be good for you, you really don’t need the extra jitter.

You plant your elbow beside your keyboard and fall into your work. The office awakens around you. The clack of keys, the clicking of mice, and the low voices that rise and fall over cubicle walls. 

You lean back and check the time. Barely an hour in. You stretch your neck and massage your shoulders as you try to work out the kink of your poor posture. As you do, you sense a shadow approach Dana’s desk. You shift your chair and peek over, quickly wheeling back to your desk to hunch down and hide. It’s him.

“Phillips,” he calls her by her last name, “you still in charge of supplies?”

“Morning, Curtis,” she replies tritely, “what is it? We don’t have budget left for tech upgrades until end of month.”

“Coffee,” he growls, “dark roast.”

You tap your foot nervously. You didn’t know he liked the dark roast. If you did, you wouldn’t have taken the last pod. Maybe you should offer him what you have left… no, you should just leave him be.

“I’ll add it to the list,” Dana acquisces dismissively, “anything else?”

He grunts but doesn’t answer as he pivots on his heel. You peek up above the wall of your cubicle and immediately regret it. His attention is drawn by the movement and his eyes meet yours as his features twist into a scowl. You try to smile and he rolls his eyes before setting his shoulders and striding away.

Oh, you have an idea!

[bones4thecats]

Hello ^-^ may I please request the housewarden's reactions to their s/o working REALLY hard on a paper for a school contest, but it gets stolen and turned in by someone else. On top of that, the paper wins the contest and the thief gets the credit. Thank you in advance ❤️

A/N: Apologies that this took so long to write, I've been getting ready for my classes starting up again. But I do hope you enjoy this Anon!!

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❤️ Riddle knew you were working hard on this next assignment, and it made him very happy to see you finally taking a lot of time to make the paper perfect. And seeing your nose scrunch up in concentration made him chuckle inside.

❤️ Without your knowledge, your tart-loving boyfriend had read you paper, and he swore on the inside that this was going to be the winning paper! It was so good, the way you explained the topic was amazing!!

❤️ He had expected you to run back to the dorm with a very happy look, which seeing you frowning was something he did not expect in the slightest.

❤️ Hearing about the student who dared to do this to you made his blood boiled, if his cherry-red face didn't scream 'behead trial', welp!

❤️ Riddle obviously yelled at the student and beheaded him, along with informing the headmaster and contest's leaders about the 'incident', which, because of his reputation, they got punished severely for this.

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🦁 This lion could care less, at least that's what he says. Seeing you work tirelessly away on this paper was quite hilarious to him, he didn't even put that much effort in his familial relationships!

🦁 He didn't doubt you abilities to write, which is what he did enjoy you for, as if he was having a hard time sleeping somehow, he would just read a short story you wrote, it was like a bedtime story for adults!

🦁 When he heard from Ruggie about what happened, he was angry, just not visibly. He walked up to you and asked who it was before sending out another Savanaclaw student to retrieve the 'victorious' bastard who dared to hurt his S/O.

🦁 Leona didn't even have to use his fists against the student who had used your hard work, all he did was glare and scold them in a far more violent manner than the previous did.

🦁 Afterwards, he just lets you stay the night and sleeps the night and parts of the next day with you.

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🐙 Azul is a hard-working man, octo-mer? Whatever! He had built his life of his effort and amazing social skills, he can read people like open books, and he definitely understood how hard it is to win something of this caliber.

🐙 Your boyfriend was someone that you had read the article over and over, making sure it sounded good and flowed like, in your words, the sea that he swam in.

🐙 He had expected you to get the first place because of how excellent it was made, but when you came back alongside Jade and Floyd attempting to hold your emotions back, he immediately understood.

🐙 He had seen the student parading himself around the hallways alongside his buddies, laughing about how easy the mission was and how he was finally going to get the spotlight he deserved. Though, Azul could careless at the time, he recognized the paper once he saw you and sent the twins off to 'assist the student in manners'.

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☀️ Kalim is a very devoted lover, so, even when you were busy writing this paper for the contest, he was right there next to you, reading whilst you wrote the words down.

☀️ He wanted to appoint Jamil to help you out, because normally Jamil would help him out on a difficult subject, but every time you turned his offer down, he learned to just accept it and watch the words flow down on the papers.

☀️ Seeing you cry was something Kalim never liked, he loved seeing others smile and have fun, not sobbing their eyes out. So when you came running into his room crying, he grabbed onto you like a piece of tape to your fingers and didn't let go.

☀️ Eventually, he sent Jamil to grab the student, which he gladly did, knowing how much you were valued by the Al-Asim heir, and let's just say they weren't spared from a rare Kalim-yelling.

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👑 It was hard to make anything for Vil, but with this subject, he'd be not in an average, 'Vil is angry' mode, he'd be in a whole different level of pissed off.

👑 Because of how much he values his beauty, he would make sure whilst you spent hours upon hours on the paper that he'd check you face for any markings from concentrating and staring at the dreaded screen. (if you wrote it on a computer)

👑 He knew you would win the contest, you were his S/O after all, why wouldn't your effort prove victorious?

👑 Vil didn't see you immediately, in fact, he had heard from Rook that someone had stolen your paper and submitted it, and in the end, winning the contest without being caught, which caused him to freeze and glare at the hunter, obviously not mad at him, but at the person who did this heinous action.

👑 If they were in his dorm, he'd punish them accordingly, but if they were in another member's dorm, he'd speak with them and eventually trap them into punishing the guilty student with as much power as they would use.

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🎮 Idia was one of the first to see this happening, but he couldn't react accordingly, at least, the way 'normies' would.

🎮 He had seen you at his door the next day after submitting the paper that you had work graciously on and he believed you were attempting to trick him with the 'fake sadness to shock' trick.

🎮 Well you weren't, and that scared him tremendously.

🎮 Who would do this to you?! You were literally the nicest person he had ever met! And, thankfully from his availability to the school's cameras, he found out who did it and ended up sending the video to the contest's heads anonymously

🎮 This Shroud brother may be a very shy and reclusive person (don't tell him I said that, he'll flush and get upset again), but when it comes to the people he cares about, Idia would go through a massive crowd for them all.

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🐉 Malleus has no words.

🐉 He valued your hard work nearly more than anything really, it was fitting, as you were with him, and in turn, were destined to rule Briar Valley alongside this powerful dragon fae.

🐉 It surprising that somebody had the balls to face any potential harm by hurting you. Everybody has seen you and Malleus talking in either the halls or in Diasomnia's main lobby, so hearing about this was shocking.

🐉 Malleus definitely has Lilia stay with you, unless you requested his presence. If you did the latter, he'd send out Silver and/or Sebek to find the certain student who did this and would give them the scariest warning ever.

🐉 If you allowed him to confront the student himself, he'd have Lilia (most likely) stay with you as he hunted them down like a hawk.

🐉 Either way, the student gets the shit scared outta them. There's no stopping him here.

[ala-baguette]

Could you tell us more about Kingsleys fondness and protectiveness of Harry. Love u to bits xxxx

What’s that?  A Kingsley Shacklebolt meta, you say?  Don’t mind if I do!

A relatively common and much-loved comment I get from some of my readers is that they never gave Kingsley much of a second thought before reading Knowing Where to Look.  Let’s change that, because I need company in over-thinking about random side characters.  Plus, I find Kingsley Shacklebolt so damn cool and other people should too!  For such a small character who is mostly just in the background throughout canon, I am always so impressed by the volumes of information one can glean from his tiny one sentence lines.  So, let’s start by looking at a few of these moments.

I’ll begin with the first time we meet him in Order of the Phoenix where he is part of the Advance Guard.  I remember just falling in love with Kingsley right from the first time I read this chapter at roughly 2am the night the book was released.  A few notable lines I present for consideration:

“‘Yeah, I see what you mean, Remus […]  He looks exactly like, James.’”

“‘A surprising number of people volunteered to come and get you,’ said Lupin as though he had read Harry’s mind; the corners of his mouth twitched slightly.”

“‘Remus says you’re a good flier,’ said Kingsley Shacklebolt in his deep voice.  ‘He’s excellent,’ said Lupin […]”

“Kingsley Shacklebolt and Sturgis Podmore were examining the microwave and Hestia Jones was laughing at a potato peeler […]”

“‘I’m just telling the boy the plan,’ growled Moody. ‘Our job’s to deliver him safely to headquarters, and if we die in the attempt—’   ‘No one’s going to die,’ said Kingsley Shacklebolt in his deep, calming voice.”

Information I infer from this first encounter:

Kingsley is highly trusted by Dumbledore and the rest of the Order despite having only been a member for a month or so.  (I’m fairly certain he was not in the Order during the first war.)

Kingsley knew James on a personal level.  He’s on a first-name basis, he remembers his appearance well, and Remus would have had no other reason to comment that Harry looked like him if he did not.

Kingsley is curious about Harry—likely in part secondary to Harry’s fame, but also, I suspect, on a more personal level (whether his apparent past relationship with James or his current one with Remus and Sirius).

Remus talks about Harry when Harry’s not around (I could probably write a whole meta on this sad and sweet observation, but I shall resist and stick to the topic at hand).  We’ll come back to this.

He’s pure-blood or at least was raised with minimal exposure to Muggle technology.

He’s calm and level-headed and not afraid to call out melodrama, though he’ll do so patiently, respectfully, and gently. 

We have several smaller encounters going forward in OotP that I also find telling:

“[Kingsley and Mr. Weasley] were talking to each other as though they hardly knew each other. […] ‘Here,’ said Kingsley brusquely to Mr. Weasley, shoving a sheaf of parchment into his hand, ‘I need as much information as possible on flying Muggle vehicles sighted in the last twelve months.  We’ve received information that Black might still be using his old motorcycle.’  Kinglsey tipped Harry an enormous wink and added, in a whisper, ‘Give him the magazine, he might find it interesting.’  Then he said in normal tones, ‘And don’t take too long, Weasley, the delay on that firelegs report held up our investigation for a month.’”

“‘Molly, I’ll be late, I’m covering for Tonks, but Kingsley might be dropping in for dinner—'”

Harry caught the sound of his own name.  Kingsley Shacklebolt’s deep voice was audible even over the surrounding chatter.  ‘—why Dumbledore didn’t make Potter a prefect?” said Kingsley.  ‘He’ll have had his reasons,’ replied Lupin.  ‘But it would’ve shown confidence in him.  It’s what I’d’ve done,’ persisted Kingsley.  ‘’specially with the Daily Prophet having a go at him every few days…’

“Kingsley had run forward to continue Sirius’s duel with Bellatrix.”

“‘Alastor Moody, Nymphadora Tonks, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Remus Lupin were all at headquarters [with Sirius] when [Snape] made contact.’”

My take-aways:

Kingsley has a good poker-face and can act a part that is required of him.

Kingsley is kind and considerate.  He goes out of his way to send Sirius a copy of the Quibbler with an article featuring Sirius/Stubby Boardman, for no other reason than to make Sirius smile in a time when Sirius had precious little to smile about.  Kingsley, in other words, is a big ol’ sweetie.

Kingsley drops in for dinner and any little festivities that happen at headquarters or with the Weasleys a few times throughout the series and is clearly welcomed any time, even when not truly on Order business.  Along with this, I speculate he doesn’t have much by way of family or close personal connections outside of his friends at the Order.

Even when he has only just met Harry, Kingsley is already concerned for his feelings (not just his physical safety) when Dumbledore doesn’t make Harry a prefect.  He is observant enough to notice that Harry is out of sorts and disappointed, which no other character particularly seems to notice.  He’s already attuned to Harry’s moods even then.

Also from this same moment, we see that Kingsley is one of the few characters who doesn’t seem to entirely blindly assume everything Dumbledore does is best.  He doubts Dumbledore’s judgment when he doesn’t make Harry a prefect. What else might he doubt?

Kingsley is brave and loyal.  He jumps in to duel with the most ruthless Death Eater present who just killed his friend.  Later, he does it again with Voldemort who he believes has just killed Harry.

Moody, Tonks, Remus, Sirius, and Kingsley are often described together.  From their interactions, I see these five having a particular bond, beyond that of simply colleagues.  They’re friends. What do all of Kingsley’s friends have in common?  (1) They all have affection for Harry they show in one form or another throughout the series.  (2) They all die.  I’ll let that sit for a moment—we’ll come back to it.

Now we come to The Half Blood Prince and Deathly Hallows:

“‘I’m not getting rid of Kingsley Shacklebolt, if that’s what you’re suggesting!’ said the Prime Minister hotly.  ‘He’s highly efficient, gets through twice the work as the rest of them—’”

“‘All right,’ [Uncle Vernon] said, stopping in front of Harry yet again. ‘All right, let’s say, for the sake of argument, we accept this protection.  I still don’t see why we can’t have that Kingsley bloke.’  Harry managed not to roll his eyes, but with difficulty.  This question had also been addressed half a dozen times.  ‘As I’ve told you,’ he said through gritted teeth, ‘Kingsley is protecting the Mug—I mean, your Prime Minister.’  ‘Exactly— he’s the best!’ said Uncle Vernon, pointing at the blank television screen.  The Dursleys had spotted Kingsley on the news, walking along discreetly behind the Muggle Prime Minister as he visited a hospital.  This, and the fact that Kingsley had mastered the knack of dressing like a Muggle, not to mention a certain reassuring something in his slow, deep voice, had caused the Dursleys to take to Kingsley in a way that they had certainly not done with any other wizard, although it was true that they had never seen him with his earring in.”

“‘Miss Granger with Kingsley, again by thestral—’ Hermione looked reassured as she answered Kingsley’s smile.

“Kingsley showed no pleasure at the sight of any of them.  Over Hermione’s shoulder, Harry saw him raise his wand and point it at Lupin’s chest.  ‘The last words Albus Dumbledore spoke to the pair of us?’  ‘Harry is the best hope we have.  Trust him,’ said Lupin calmly.  […] ‘All right, all right!’ said Kingsley, stowing his wand back beneath his cloak.  ‘But someone betrayed us!  They knew, they knew it was tonight!’   ‘So it seems,’ replied Lupin, ‘but apparently they did not realize that there would be seven Harrys.’  ‘Small comfort!’ snarled Kingsley.

“‘Now they’ve put a Taboo on [Voldemort’s name], anyone who says it is trackable—quick-and-easy way to find Order members!  They nearly got Kingsley—'  ‘You’re kidding?’  ‘Yeah, a bunch of Death Eaters cornered him, Bill said, but he fought his way out.  He’s on the run now, just like us.’

“‘I’d like to appeal to all our listeners to emulate their example, perhaps casting a protective charm over any Muggle dwellings in your street.  Many lives could be saved if such simple measures are taken.’  ‘And what would you say, Royal, to those listeners who reply that in these dangerous times, it should be Wizards first?’ asked Lee.  ‘I’d say that it’s one short step from Wizards first to Purebloods first, and then to Death Eaters,’ replied Kingsley.  ‘We’re all human, aren’t we?  Every human life is worth the same, and worth saving.’

“[…] Kingsley had stepped forward on the raised platform to address those who had remained behind [to take part in the Battle of Hogwarts].  ‘We’ve only got half an hour until midnight, so we need to act fast!  A battle plan has been agreed between the teachers of Hogwarts and the Order of the Phoenix.’

“Voldemort was now dueling McGonagall, Slughorn, and Kingsley all at once.”

“One shivering second of silence, the shock of the moment suspended: and then the tumult broke around Harry as the screams and the cheers and the roars of the watchers rent the air.  The fierce new sun dazzled the windows as they thundered toward him, and the first to reach him were Ron and Hermione, and it was their arms that were wrapped around him, their incomprehensible shouts that deafened him.  Then Ginny, Neville, and Luna were there, and then all the Weasleys and Hagrid, and Kingsley and McGonagall and Flitwick and Sprout, and Harry could not hear a word that anyone was shouting, nor tell whose hands were seizing him, pulling him, trying to hug some part of him […]”

Observations:

Kingsley is likeable and has a skill for garnering trust.  Both the Prime Minister and Uncle Vernon trust him despite having a general dislike for wizard-kind.

Kingsley is clever and adaptable and a good actor.  We see fascination with a microwave in OotP suggesting he had minimal exposure to the Muggle world, but by DH, he is already able to play the part of a Muggle, dress like them, and conform to their society, something that the likes of Arthur Weasley, who has obsessively studied Muggles for years, never manages.  He even knows enough to take out his earing (which he otherwise always seems to wear) to better appeal to the Dursleys conservative views.

A small speculation to which we can never know an answer but… Given that he knew Harry was listening, is it possible Kingsley’s choice of security question for Remus was intentionally chosen to offer Harry a little assurance that they had faith in him?

Kingsley is constantly described as calm and cool throughout all sorts of strife in the series, be he is not entirely unflappable.  After the Battle of the Seven Potters, the man is visibly livid, and I love it!  At no other time do we see so many exclamation marks in his speech.  He has suddenly been forced to face the possibility that one of his friends betrayed them, and he is not okay!  Even after this speech, he is totally flustered: he laughs derisively at Hermione’s naivety in an uncharacteristically impatient way; he seems panicked when he hears Voldemort had gone after Harry directly; he’s pacing the yard in a way that reminds Harry of Uncle Vernon as they’re waiting for the others to come back; he nearly comes to blows when Arthur arrives and is trying to get past him to see George… Can someone just please give the man a hug?  (Obviously, this is a trait I’ve exploited in KwtL.  Betrayal by a friend is definitely a sore spot for him.) 

The Trio sees Kingsley as untouchable.  Hermione’s relieved to be paired with him when they leave the Dursley’s house (and to not have to ride a broom).  Harry’s shocked to hear of him in hiding in much the same way they are.  They’re thrilled when they hear him speaking on the radio.  They have unwavering awe and respect for Kingsley.

Again, I speculate that Kingsley doesn’t have a romantic partner or children.  When Kingsley goes on the run, there is no mention of family which would have been a big concern if he had one. 

Kingsley has a strong sense of morality and a drive to stand up for those weak and defenseless. Despite the fact that his blood status and that his family was one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight would likely allow him to simply sit out the war safely, he’s still in the midst of it, constantly fighting for the little guy.

Kingsley is a natural leader, but he really only takes up the mantel when he has to (ie, Dumbledore and Moody are dead and the Order is leaderless)

Just another reminder that Kingsley dueled Voldemort and he’s a badass.

Kingsley is one of the first to rush to Harry after he’s defeated Voldemort.  He’s listed among all the people who love Harry most.  (Shut up, I’m not crying, you’re crying.)

So we come to what is perhaps more your question, kind Anon. What is Harry and Kingsley’s relationship like post-war.  As you point out, I write him as having fondness and protectiveness for Harry right from the beginning of Knowing Where to Look, and I have had readers challenge me (kindly) that Harry and Kingsley really weren’t that close in canon. 

I’ll agree that Harry was not close with Kingsley, but I’m here to argue that that’s not entirely true the other way around.  I think there’s subtle hints that Kingsley was fond and protective of Harry in canon.  Whenever Kingsley knew Harry was in danger, he came running.  I don’t think that was just duty to the Order.  There’s a personal component there as well.

We know that at least Remus and likely Sirius spoke of Harry amongst other Order members.  Before he even met Harry, Kingsley would have heard about Harry in ways that most strangers would not have heard of him.  It’s almost certain he knew many of the details of Harry’s experience in the graveyard when Voldemort returned (most all Order members would have been briefed on this when the Order was reestablished). He had likely heard tales from Sirius and Remus of how Harry braved Dementors and werewolves and time travel to rescue Sirius.  Maybe even rumors of his exploits with the Chamber of Secrets and the Philosopher’s Stone which Remus may have picked up from other professors when he taught at Hogwarts.  Remus even spoke of Harry enough to have mentioned that he looked like James— something that would have had no bearing on the mission.  The point is, the people surrounding Kingsley loved Harry, and I think that affection would naturally have bled into him just from the types of stories they were likely to tell about him. 

Then, all those people who surrounded Kingsley and who loved Harry die.  I think it’s very natural that as his friends— who were all so committed to protecting Harry— all died one-by-one, Kingsley would have taken up that mantel and felt the need to protect him in their place.  Even if it wasn’t one hundred percent from his own personal affection at first, he would have felt this a duty he owed his departed friends who all died in the name of keeping Harry safe.  After Harry emerges from hiding, older and more independent than ever, I think it would have been challenging for Kingsley to accept that Harry is not that kid he needs to protect (hence his sometimes-unwelcome paternal instincts in KwtL).  Furthermore, given my theory that he is without family and especially after the loss of so many Order friends and colleagues, post-war Kingsley may have been a little starved for affection himself which may have encouraged him to reach out more to Harry as he struggled with the isolation of his position of power. 

In conclusion, Kingsley loves Harry, and no one can convince me otherwise.  He’s prepared to give up his career for him, and though Harry would be completely devastated to know it, he’s prepared to give up his life for him. 

(A few random and less-related but perhaps still interesting headcanons:  As I mentioned above, I doubt he is married or has children.  I headcanon him married to his job and decidedly single and generally fine with that (who knows, maybe even aroace?).  I know his age is never really stated or implied, but I headcanon him to be a few years older than the Mauraders.  His vibe in the books just says forty-something for some reason.  My completely unfounded headcanon is that the Shacklebolt and Potter Families were friends—Kingsley’s and James’s parents moved in the same social circles, throwing Kingsley and James together enough growing up to be friendly but not besties.  Friendly enough that he may have attended Lily and James’s wedding, for example, but not so friendly as to have followed him into the Order the first time around.  Again, these bits are purely my imagination and yes have no real importance to the story.)

Thanks for the Ask, Anon!  I clearly have thought way too much about this. I hope you enjoy the insights into how my brain builds on characterization as I’m writing some of these smaller side-characters. Love ya back!

[whiskeynwriting]

Affection

Simon “Ghost” Riley x OFC “Bones”

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Word Count: 8.5k

Warnings: 18+ (minors DNI)

Tattoos, brief violence (just sparring), mentions of injury, mask kink, praise kink, primal kink-ish, very dom Ghost, oral sex (m and f receiving), anal fingering, anal sex, slight cum play, and some sweet fluffies lol

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A/N: I am so obsessed and in love with this man it’s not even funny.

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Simon “Ghost” Riley Masterlist

Join My Taglist!

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“Your hair’s getting longer.” You comment, lips mumbling the words.

“Yeah,” Simon responds simply, eyes remaining shut. “Gonna have to shave it soon.”

Briefly, your fingers stop their gentle swipes. Furrowing your brows, you ask incredulously, “Shave it?”

He smiled then, something you’ll never take for granted. “Always do.” And then he’s tapping the top of your thigh. “C’mon love, gotta leave soon.”

With that, you continue, smearing the black paint over his face. The pads of your digits slide around his eyes, through the blonde hair of his brows, over his nose. 

“I never knew you shaved it.”

“Why would you?” Simon returns softly, palms running up and down the tops of your thighs. His touch is warm and kind, traits reserved only for you. “Haven’t shaved it since before the injuries. And you’d never seen me without a mask at that point.”

And you figure, he’s right. “But it’s so pretty.” All you want to do is run your hands through his sunshine-colored locks, just like you always do. But face black would probably be difficult to get out of his hair. 

“Yeah?” He chuckles, “Want me to keep it this way?”

Quietly, sweetly, you reply with, “Yes, please.” It’s not necessarily long, just longer. Whisps and strands trailing down toward his face, long enough to be brushed back beneath the hood and his sweatshirt. “Why did you ever shave it anyway?”

Ghost shrugs, remaining otherwise perfectly still for you. “Was easier to deal with, felt better beneath my mask.”

Caressing you sweetly, Simon waits patiently as you apply the dark smears to his face. He’s standing between your spread legs while you sit atop the counter, the intimate moment shared in the privacy of his bathroom. Every now and then, he hums, basking in the sensation, the delicate touch of your fingertips. Holding back his grin, he breathes steadily, contently. It’s the first time you’ve ever done this, and he’s considering letting you do it again. And now that he’s back in training, you’ll have the opportunity to do so. 

“I’ll miss you.”

Simon laughs at this. “Only be a few hours, B.”

“You know, I can’t believe you used to be bald.” Backtracking to your last topic, you just can’t seem to get it out of your head. 

“Not bald,” He almost sounds offended. “Had some hair. Like the sides of Johnny’s head.” 

“Oh,”

“You done yet?”

Snapping back playfully as his impatience, you respond with, “Why? Don’t like me touching your face?” 

At this, Simon’s eyes flutter open, hands fully wrapping around your legs as he leans in. “Love when you touch me.”

And he really does mean it. Before you, physical touch was something that alarmed him, his field had trained him for that. Physical action, by his nature, was aggressive to him. But that’s been morphed by your presence, changed into something… softer. He’s still learning, but he’s relaxed enough to lean into your touch, instead of flinching away from it. Simon knows your every advance is kind, inviting. 

Before you, life was different. So fucking different. He slept alone and he liked it that way, had no one to talk to but himself in his own head. The routines he kept were strict and helped him to excel both mentally and physically. Sleep came rare for him but he managed to get used to it, operating regularly on four to five hours of sleep. Genuinely, Simon never wished for touch, never yearned to be held or embraced. Intimacy didn’t interest him, he liked life alone. But, perplexing as it was, you seemed to disturb all of that. Simon had seen pretty women before, had experienced physical interaction in a way that was full of desire rather than aggression. But not once in his life had he yearned for another’s touch in the way he so desperately yearns for you. 

“I know.” The moment becomes quiet, but Simon’s hands continue to linger. He’s closer to your face now, eyes dipping down to your mouth, and the heavy breath he releases makes you grin.“I’m done.”

Gaze lifting, Simon looks further behind you in the mirror, giving your thigh a happy slap. “Couldn’t have done it better myself.” 

With that, he’s turning to walk back into his room. And like a lost puppy, you follow him, still struck dumb with love for Ghost. Hopping off the counter, you prance forward, watching him reach for that infamous mask. Running a hand through those longer locks, Simon then tugs on the covering. 

“Hm…”

“Giddy, are we?” He teases, listening to your excited hum from further behind.

“Haven’t seen you like this in so long…”

“Yeah…” Turning, he allows you to see him in all his glory.

It’s a hotter day, so he’s opted for a black, sleeveless tank top, one that shows off his arms way too fucking much. His balaclava fits just as well as it always has, like it’s been his missing piece. And as much as you’ve loved seeing Simon’s face, you have to admit that you’ve missed the mask. Not to say he isn’t handome as the fucking devil, it’s just that the mask is, well… it’s him. “Feels good.” 

Watching Simon heal has been a journey, but you’ve been more than patient. After all, it wasn’t just lust that fuelled your affection for him. But seeing him like this again… his black face paint, the mask, wearing his training clothes and standing tall, standing proud; it made you feel excited. 

Stepping closer to him, your smirk grows wide, eyes raking over Ghost’s towering form. Having his arms be so openly displayed is making you feel things, every muscle outlined and defined, those black and white tattoos crawling up his forearm. And in less than an hour, he’ll be putting those muscles to work, each tendon moving and flexing while he trains. It’s his first time returning to the field since his injury and to say the least, you were thrilled. But no one was happier about it than him. 

“You look so fucking good in this…” Running your fingers down his front, you keep your playful grin. But Simon isn’t having any of it, not when he has work. 

One thick finger finds its way beneath your chin, pulling your attention up to him. “Where will you be when I get back?”

At this, your brows raise. Bold of him to assume he’ll have any energy left after his first day back. Nevertheless, you’ll be here for him.

“Would you believe me if I said my room?”

A small, rumbly purr emanates from his chest before he responds with, “No.”

It’s assumed that you’ll be here, cuddled up in his bed for a good nap. It’s what you always did when he was gone, and you weren’t working. And since today’s training session fell on a Friday afternoon, you were off the clock, and allowed to do whatever you liked. Even if that meant sleeping in your ‘superior’s’ bedroom. But it’s not like you’d ever get caught sleeping in here during the week, anyway. Flipping bunks was no longer a thing when you got to Ghost’s rank. No one went through his personal area or belongings, which worked greatly to your benefit. It allowed you to, for one, nap in his space. But it also permitted you to keep your own things here, as well. A couple changes of clothes, some toiletries. His private bathroom is quite the luxury. The new space had been gifted to him once he was checked out of your infirmary, requested specifically by his captain. Price wanted to make sure he had everything he needed in order to heal, to clean any bandages left over and tend to his injuries in private. And Ghost couldn’t have been more ecstatic. Privacy might as well be Simon’s middle name. 

A quick lift of his mask and he’s kissing you goodbye, full lips pressing firmly to your own. And as soon as he’s gone, you’re tossing your clothes to the floor. Simon’s bed was your absolute favorite place to nap, and whenever you slept, you often did so in your underclothes. Even without Simon here, it still comforted you to be surrounded by his things, his scent. Snuggling into his pillow, you’re met with the aroma of him, a blend of freshness that left hints of a woodsy, citrusy base. Ghost always kept his sheets clean, smelling of only his body wash and cologne. Lately, it was rare that you didn’t sleep here. Your room was bigger and nicer, being that it was toward the medicinal side of the building. But it made things easier on Ghost in the mornings if he left from his own room, and you weren’t one to complain. 

With a sigh, you snuggle in, thoughts swirling with images of him. Jesus, he looked so good in that outfit. Back in his mask, that confident stance and stride taking over his physique. Seeing him at his full height made you feel so small, wanting for nothing more than to be wrapped up in his arms. So strong and bulky, toned and veiny… maybe he should’ve gotten ready a little earlier in the day. It would’ve given you more time to admire him.

Seeing Ghost looking like Ghost again made you feel so hot and flustered. You can remember the first time you saw him like that, dressed in full gear with his hardened mask. It intimidated you, maybe even frightened you a bit. And you liked that, still do, in fact. You wanted him to make you feel tiny, almost insignificant, like he could do whatever he wanted and you’d thank him for the privilege of being on the receiving end. Which isn’t far off from the truth. 

Laying in his bed doesn’t help your growing fantasies, your body begging for some type of touch. In the darkness of his room, you give in to yourself, slipping a hand beneath the covers to feel your own skin. Each time you do this, you attempt to replicate Simon’s touch, the way he cups your chest, thick thumbs stroking across your nipples. He’ll run the back of his knuckles down your belly, fingertips gliding over your clothed cunt. If you’re sweet about it, he doesn’t tease, not usually. He’ll slip beneath the fabric or just pull it off altogether, petting at your naked lips before sinking his first digit entirely in. 

But it’s not the same. 

What you want right now, after seeing Simon’s firmly built physique, is him. His strength, his dominance. The way he used to throw you around, shove you face-first into the mattress while making you take it from behind. He hasn’t handled you like that in so long, not since before his injury. But with him back in the field… maybe he finally has the strength to do that again.

Before you’re even aware of your actions, you’re standing, pulling on one of Simon’s long-sleeve shirts and tugging some sweatpants up your legs. The shoes by his door slip easily onto your feet, quickly pattering down the hallway. The base is fairly empty; now that it’s after five, everyone that didn’t live on the grounds has gone home. That left you, 141, and a flurry of new recruits. 

Trying to be discreet, you walk into the field house as quiet as a mouse, glancing around to see who’s inside. To your dismay, the gym is empty, but your attention is quickly directed outside. 

“Back around!”

Price’s voice is booming and raspy as he conducts the newest platoon, the group visible through one of the gym’s wide windows. From where you’re at, you can only see the captain and four new men, which obviously isn’t good enough for you. Where is Simon?

Inching closer, you stay out of the direct line of sight, peering through the glass and into the yard. John is very clearly visible, standing with one hand on his hip while the other points at the group. He waves his hand slightly, directing the boys to another area for weight training. And then you see Johnny over by the shooting range, instructing his own group. Out of the corner of your eye, you can also see Gaz, getting some supplies ready for their next hike. And throughout all the movement, you finally spot him. The tallest man, sticking out like a sore thumb from not only his stature but that goddamn mask. 

“Down and out.” Price then says, turning to introduce a new group.

The platoon he just directed towards Simon salutes the Lieutenant as they approach the weighted section, the sight making your brows raise ever so slightly. Standing with both hands on his hips, Ghost nods, facing them straight-on. 

“Your second hike of the day will be after these reps, but that doesn’t mean they’ll be easy.” Ghost informs them, British accent deep and rough. 

The way these men follow his next few orders couldn’t be more impressive. They watch as Ghost demonstrates, adjusting weights to the bars as necessary. He then helps spot the first few men that volunteer, eyeing their form and correcting where necessary. When they’re well on their way with the reps he’s assigned them, Ghost steps off to the side, grabbing a bottle of water. The sun has very clearly worn a thin layer of sweat over him, his skin glistening with it. It makes you gulp, watching the way he swallows the water down, the way his chest heaves with a large and refreshing breath. 

Every time a recruit has a question or a comment, it’s directed toward their Lieutenant. Already, they look to him for guidance, relying on his experience and expertise. Fuck, all you want to do is drop to your knees for him. And you nearly do when they begin sparring. 

“You lot have done the least to impress me.” Ghost announces, very clearly aggravated. “You’ll make up the hike later this evening. For now, you’re gonna show me how you’ve earned a place here, and why you deserve to keep it.” 

“What the fuck haven’t we done?” One of the kids then says, shouting above the rest of the group.

Instantly, Ghost’s head whips around in his direction, eyes wide and already fuming. Your own eyes grow in size at the recruit’s comment, watching the Lieutenant stomp in his direction. 

“Sorry?” He says gruffly, “Did I hear some lousy fuckin’ comment?”

“We’ve done just as much as everyone else here.” He continues, voice slightly lower this time. 

“Yeah… you’re first up.” Ghost then decides, jerking his head. 

“Wh… What?”

“You’re sparring with me.” He says simply, walking over to the center mat. “Let’s go.” 

“I don’t, I didn’t…”

“Get your ass on this mat or I’ll be sending it home.” Ghost booms in front of the group, voice dangerously intense. 

The pure volume coming from the Lieutenant forces a jolt through the Private, body jumping slightly as he moves his feet toward the mat. Standing across from Ghost, he readies himself, showing a somewhat convincing fighting stance. He does have the proper training, after all. Cracking his neck, Simon then does the same, adjusting his footing before releasing a long, aggravated breath. 

“Let’s get this over with.” He goads, beckoning the Private forward with a simple wave of his hand. 

Gathering his courage, the kid takes a swing, shifting quickly once Ghost dodges it. He stays standing for a good thirty seconds, side-stepping a few of his Lieutenant's advances. Ghost doesn’t let him stand for long, though. Landing a blow to his ribs, Simon’s entire arm is shoved forward, outstretched and flexing as he does it. With his other hand, he then uppercuts the Private, landing him on his ass. 

The pure strength Simon’s body holds continues to astound you, and he’s done far more in his career than this little match. You’ve seen him kill men, maim them with both weapons and his own bare hands. The same hands he’s using now, covered in those boney gloves and Christ you just want them wrapped around your fucking neck.

“That fucking easy?” Ghost scoffs, circling him. “Pack your fucking shit.” 

“Sir, I -”

Simon didn’t like backtalk or insubordination, you knew this from… personal experience. So, you know that any further stuttering from the Private’s end will only cause more trouble. 

“Get outta my sight.” He says easily, walking off toward - oh, shit, you. 

Before you can duck away, Simon’s steely gaze is set directly onto your pretty, shocked face. His brows raise, head tilting with interest. Embarrassment floods your features, a shy smile crawling across your lips as you back away. He eyes you up and down through the window, taking note of the shirt you’re wearing - his. And when he lands back on your gaze, he gives you a sultry little wink that has you swooning. 

Bending down slightly, Simon grabs a water bottle from the cooler beside Price, who thankfully hasn’t noticed you. Briefly, they exchange pleasantries, with Simon speaking for a moment longer before nodding at you. It flashes fear across your face, immediately turning to shove your back against the wall and away from the window. And before you have a chance to look out again, the gym’s side door is opening.

“Bones.” Simon says quietly, though his voice echoes throughout the large and empty room. 

In the dark corner, you curl in on yourself, biting away your smile as he approaches. Calmly, he walks over to you, setting his water on the windowsill as he passes it. 

“Thought you were gonna be in my room?” He rumbles, staring down at you. 

“I was… but I got, I don’t know… lonely?” Yeah, that’s a good word for it.

Again, he raises a brow at you, tilting his head in a way that makes you feel warm between your legs. “You were watching me.” Ghost states rather than inquires. 

“Mhm,” Nodding, you admit it quite easily. There’s nothing to hide from him. 

Reaching out, Simon gently pinches the fabric on your shoulder. “And wearing my shirt around base.”

The silence that then ensues forces your breaths to new heights, watching as Simon intrudes into your space. He’s towering over you, features clouded slightly by the darkness in the room. His own breaths waft into the air between the two of you, that dominant hand lingering on your shoulder before sliding down your outer arm. And even though he can’t feel it through the fabric, his touch leaves goosebumps in its wake. 

“What did you see?” His voice is barely above a whisper, fingers tapping beneath your chin.

“You with the, um, the recruits.”

“That all?”

“Saw you spar with them, that one.” 

“Mm…” Nodding once, he sighs, both of those broad hands now lifting to your face. Cupping your jaw, he fully lifts your gaze, tilting your head back until you’re looking directly up at him. “You liked that.” Again, stating, not asking. 

It’s almost like you can’t even breathe, looking up at this menacing mountain of a man, so strong he could snap your neck as easily as he blinks. He’s crowding you back against the corner, the darkness encasing his every advance, his every move, allowing only you to experience it. 

“Yes.” Wafting out of your mouth as a shaky breath, Simon chuckles lowly at this. 

“Missed my mask, did you?”

“Missed everything about you.” 

And now, it’s his turn to feel breathless. Seeing you so openly vulnerable and wanting, so overtly admiring him, it falters his resolve. It makes him question things, his abilities, his restraint. You, a woman of power and authority, of physical and mental prowess, crumbling to your feet for him. For him.

“I’ve got an hour left,” Simon tells you, thumb sweeping across your cute cheeks. “Where will I find you?”

“In your room.” Your response is instant, eyes unwavering as they stare up into his. And he likes that, likes when you so eagerly hold eye contact. 

“Good.” Watching Ghost be so aggressive toward his men only to turn around and praise you has your brain short circuiting and your nerve endings burning. “Now…” Leaning in, Ghost presses his masked mouth to your cheek. “Go lay back down in my bed… with only this on.” Dropping one hand, his fingers pinch the fabric of his long sleeve again. “That’s how I wanna find you.”

And you’re in no position to disobey him. 

*

*

*

“Oh… Christ.”

Barely an hour later, you found yourself on your knees between his spread legs, swallowing his entire length. He’s sitting in the chair at his desk, the lights dim in his room while he watches you do this. Relaxing after a long day’s work, he lays back, arms on either rest with his pelvis shifted forward a bit. He ended up pulling his pants and boxers off completely when you sunk down to the floor for him, allowing him to spread his legs as wide as he liked. And he liked it wide. 

“Goddammit, love…” 

He’s raking his fingers through the hair at the top of your head, his own head tilted to the side as he watches with interest. His mask is still on, only the edge pulled up over his mouth so his heavy breaths can waft into the air. Steadily, you bob back and forth, doing all of the work yourself with your tongue sliding along the vein on the underside of his shaft. It makes your entire body shiver, your eyes closed as you enjoy him, his taste and musk. 

“You do it so well.” Gentle praise has fallen from his lips since the moment you got your mouth on him; he knew what it did to you. “Liked seeing me that way, did you?” Simon teases, a grin pulling at his lips. 

“Mhm,” There’s no point in denying it, he caught you red-handed. 

“Tell me,” He then demands, fingers curling into your hair to yank you off of him. It stings your scalp, mouth releasing him with a wet pop as you gasp before him. “Tell me again.”

“I loved it,” You’re completely submissive for him right now and you couldn’t be any happier about it. Panting, you breathe out heavily, “I love seeing you that way, so fucking strong, baby…” Your hands run down his naked thighs, feeling the built muscle beneath his skin. “Dominant.” 

“Mm…” Simon hums low, the sound guttural yet content. He stares into your eyes, witnessing your look of innocent, pure devotion. 

“I l-love it.” You continue on in the brief silence, wanting to please him. “I… I love you a-anyway, even when you’re injured, but I…”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ghost almost barks out, cutting off your babbling. “I get it, you like me better like this. And that’s okay, sweetheart.”

Looking up at him, you release a little breath. He finishes with, “I like me better like this. Now get your fucking mouth back on it.”

Your eyes are trained on him, on the way his fist wraps around the girth of it. Guiding you back down, he holds his slick shaft up for you, feeding it into your mouth. He’s red, veins visibly pulsing beneath his sensitive skin. His length is hot as it enters your mouth, the bulb of his dick popping past your lips. 

“Fucking drooling all over me, love.” With both hands on your head, he lifts you up and down, guiding your actions. “Making a mess of yourself.”

He’s right, it’s dripping down his entire length, cool saliva sliding down the curve of his balls. The sound of it radiates throughout the room, your gentle gags occurring every now and then. But you don't pull back, you’re better than that. 

When Simon’s hand leaves, you lift yourself off of him, taking a breath before licking fervently at his leaking tip. Precum oozes from the slit, your tongue poking into it. Turning your head, you suck along the side of him, tongue rolling over the veins leading down to his base. 

“So eager for it…” 

Another little piece to this erotic scene was your nakedness. You’re entirely bare for him, following his order of presenting yourself in nothing but his long sleeve. And when he came back from training, he practically tore it off. After seeing him like that in the yard, you wanted nothing more than to sink down to your knees and swallow him. Suck his cock like it was your only purpose in life, like on your knees was the only place you needed to be. 

A deep chuckle then drags out of his throat, recalling the memory himself. “Can’t believe that scene made you wanna blow me. Maybe I should push the new recruits around a little more often.”

“Mhm,” Nodding, your eyes flutter shut, the pulse between your legs becoming overwhelming. Staring up at him while he rests in your mouth makes you tingle, eyeing the tattoos crawling up his glorious neck. 

“Liked it that much… huh?” Christ, you love it - that ridiculously deep and rich accent. 

“I fucking loved it.” Comes your breathy response, moving further down his pelvis. “Fucking love your body, Ghost. The way you act…”

“Oh…” He suddenly breathes out, watching you mouth at his balls while stroking him in hand. “Say it.” That gruff voice commands, dominant hand lowering to squeeze the base of his shaft. “Say it to me.”

As of late, Simon has been saying the phrase more and more often, and has been yearning to hear you say it, too. It’s opened a door inside his mind, one that prompts his realization of your utter obsession with him. To say the least, it’s gotten to his head. 

“I love you.”

Lifting your gaze to his makes him groan, the view he has is utterly impeccable. The most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, on her knees with her face shoved against his bare crotch. Her tiny hand stroking his cock while her smooth lips slide over his balls, sucking and licking the soft skin. 

“That’s a good girl.” Ghost immediately purrs, lips lifting into a sweet, sinister grin. This entire situation has that cocky attitude returning, the one you missed far too fucking much. 

His jaw clenches when your mouth returns to his head, sucking it in. Your heartbeat is off the rails, pounding against your ribs as you take him in. When you flick your tongue over him, you get a small taste of his precum, gently squeezing his head and watching as more flows out. When you do it again, his brows furrow, watching your tongue slide slowly over his warm flesh. 

“God dammit…” He grumbles, watching you go down on him. Before you, it’d been years since he’d last gotten a blowjob. Not only did your mouth help quench his thirst, it gave him the best highs of his entire life. 

Running the wet muscle of your tongue underneath his shaft forces a shiver to shoot through his spine. The tip of your tongue flicks over the two thick veins curling around him, along with his frenulum when you go back to his tip. And then you’re sucking on him, mouth engulfing the head and very quickly more of him. 

“Shit.” Ghost hisses, jaw dropping when you take him in all over again. “Tha - That’s it, princess. Show me how much you want me.”

Slobber drools down his length, sloppy moans slipping from your lips along with it. Taking him into your throat makes him shiver, legs shaking briefly on either side of your head. With his free hand he reaches out, cupping your jaw when you lift yourself from him. The touch has your heart leaping, gasping wetly while staring up at him. One thick thumb slides around to your lower lip, pressing on it. And he watches with amazement as you open your mouth for him, allowing his thumb to slide in. 

“You’re just what I like.” He expresses, his tone gravely and low. 

You practically vibrate with affection, closing your mouth to wrap your lips around his thumb. Sucking gently, you hold his gaze, something that drove him absolutely mad.

“Quite the fuckin’ treat.” Comes his smartass comment. Taking his thumb from your mouth and placing his hand on your head, he guides you back down. 

“I want it to be.” You coo, not agitated in the slightest. 

Going all the way down forces you to gag, your throat closing around his girth. A grunt forces its way through his chest then, feeling that river of saliva run down his crotch. 

“Fuckin’ hell.”

With the enormous amount of strength in his arms, he forces you down through your gagging fit, listening to you choke. You’re gurgling on your own spit, throat convulsing. Ghost’s biceps bulge as he uses their strength, little grunts slipping past his lips. And when he finally lets you up, you’re gasping and gulping and staring at him, now sitting up on your knees instead of leaning in.

For a moment, he stares at you, taking in your wrecked expression. Bending forward, Simon reaches for your face, his touch almost nonexistent, it’s so soft. Gently, he inquires, “Did you like that?”

Simon has never handled you so roughly before, but you can’t even begin to verbalize your pleased reaction. All you can manage is the nod of your head, and it’s enough for him to get the message. 

His expression then turns dark, his kindness fading into the night as he says, “Then come back over here so I can do it again.” 

But he’s already reaching for you, grabbing the hair at the crown of your head and forcing your mouth back onto him. You let him use you like this, use you for your mouth and throat because it’s everything you’ve ever wanted from him. He’s throbbing on your tongue from the feeling of it all, the wet heat of your mouth, the soft skin of your lips. Rolling his eyes back, he rests his head on the top of the chair, gaze quickly returning so he can stare at your pretty face while he fucks it. And this couldn’t be any more arousing for you - you can feel yourself dripping. 

“Jesus,” Gritting his teeth, he groans. “You’re gonna make me cum like this.” 

Your girlish moan vibrates through his pelvis, making his hips jump against your mouth. And when that happens, you choke again, listening to his delirious noises. Now, he’s thrusting his cock into your throat, your nose brushing against the lightly colored hair scattered around his base. 

“Stay down,” He commands, pressing down on the back of your head. “Stay just like that.” 

Pressing your hands to the tops of his thighs, you choke, trying your best to shove the reaction aside. Your fingers press into his firm flesh, nails scraping his skin. The way he holds you down makes your eyes roll back, his hips repeatedly grinding up against your face. 

“God yes,” Licking his lower lip, he stares down at you, the tendons in his forearms flexing. “Fuck me, I’m gonna cum.” Simon’s chest inhales a large breath as he then declares, “Gonna cum in your mouth, B.” 

“Mhm,” Is all you can do to respond, your mouth completely stuffed full of him.

“C-Christ, fuck.” Throwing his head back, Simon grunts, the sound shaky and loud. 

The violent throb of him in your throat is followed by the slick rush of his cum, thick and hot. It coats your mouth and tongue, leaking into the back of your throat. And he watches as you swallow it down, eagerly, chest heaving as you attempt to catch your breath. 

Simon keeps you down, head lolling back as his lungs begin to relax. But while the rest of his body calms, he doesn’t. He’s still stiff in your mouth, still resting heavily on your tongue. Hand sliding down, he then cups your jaw, gently pushing you off. And even when you’re gone, he’s still hard, standing at full attention and resting on his covered, lower abdomen. The sight couldn't make you feel more excited; you were hoping he’d want more. 

“I want you.” It’s expressed through a dramatic sigh, still on your knees for him. And you’re hoping, truly praying, that he’ll take the lead this time. You’ve yet to have sex in any other position than you on top, since he’s still technically recovering. And while you love riding Simon, the dominance you saw back in the yard… you need that. 

“I know you do.” With heavy lids, he gazes down at you, nodding with a sigh. “I want you too, princess.” 

You’re precious to him, precious and pretty and dainty and his. His response prompts a quiet, needy whine from your throat, lips pouting slightly as you wait for his next move. And then, he’s lifting a lazy hand and beckoning you up to him with the curl of two fingers. Smile blooming prettily, you follow his command, leaning into his movement. Cupping your cheek, Simon brings you in for a kiss, hands dropping to your hips so he can urge you up and onto his lap. 

A low groan emanates from his chest as he leans into the sweet press of your lips, both hands falling to your ass when you climb on top of him. He palms at you, strong hands applying pressure with his fingers digging into your naked skin. More than usual, he focuses on your curves, his teeth biting at your lower lip when you wiggle back into his hands. The wetness your mouth left on his crotch smears across the space between your legs when you sit on him, grinding gently over his erection. 

“What do you think about me fucking you tonight?” He grumbles against your mouth, briefly baring his teeth at the mere thought of it. Ghost inhales a small hiss, working himself up all over again. 

“Yes,” Nodding fervently, your insides pulse with excitement. “Yes, please.” 

Wrapping your arms around the column of his neck, you bring yourself further in, mouthing sloppily at him. And Simon accepts this, entertains it, even. His tongue lays out, welcoming your own to slide across it. He can taste himself on your mouth, but he doesn’t really mind; he actually sort of likes it. 

“And what do you think about it being…” Sliding a hand down the crease between your cheeks, he uses the pad of his middle finger to rub lightly over your tightest hole, the one he’s yet to explore, to claim. “Here?”

He’s never suggested this before, and it catches you completely off guard. The two of you haven’t discussed this or alluded to it, you never even knew he liked that sort of thing. Simon can sense your brief hesitancy, and chuckles deeply.

“You ever had anyone fuck your ass before, sweetheart?” From your timid response, he assumes the answer will be no. He's hoping the answer will be no; he wants to be the first. 

And now, you grin. “Yeah.”

“Yeah?” He snaps back, aggravated. His hands tighten their grip on your ass, growling out the word, “Who?”

Shrugging at his suddenly possessive nature, you giggle. “Past boyfriends.”

“Get up.” Ghost suddenly grunts, shoving you off of his lap. “Get on my fucking bed.” 

Stumbling backwards, you huff, shaking your head. But Ghost just grabs your arms when he stands, turning you around and shoving you over the side of his mattress. He’s then lifting his shirt and tossing it down on the sheets. 

“I wish you wouldn’t wear these.” He grumbles, shoving aside the bralette you had laying on the covers. 

Puffing out a laugh, you ask, “You want me to walk around base without a bra?” 

He shrugs, hands palming at your ass. “I’d like it.” 

“Yeah? I bet the boys would, too.”

Simon’s head snaps up at your comment, eyes staring daggers into the back of your head. His hands don’t stop moving, though. With a harsh tug that drags you further back toward his crotch, he bends over the arch of your spine. 

“You shut your mouth.” Comes that threatening tone, his dominant arm wrapping around your front to grab at your jaw. “You’re just for me.” 

“Is that right?” You grin, the curl of your lips visible from the side. 

“That’s right.” Turning your head in his grasp, he strains your neck, reaching for your lips with sloppy veneration. And while he does that, he drops a hand between your legs.  Thick fingers slide between your thin lips, feeling your wetness. “Oh…”

But then he’s retracting them all too quickly, both hands finding purchase on your hips. Removing his mouth from yours, Simon stands upright, urging you to shift forward on his bed. Lifting one knee at a time, you do, crawling forward over his covers. Instantly, he’s up on the mattress behind you, resting on his knees, too. Pulling you upright, he hugs your back to his chest, slotting his stiffness between your cheeks while burying his face into the slope of your neck. Smaller hands reach back to find Simon’s muscular thighs, while his own broad palms cup your breasts. 

It’s too easy for you to relax into his touch, his embrace. Ghost’s body is warm and firm against your own, allowing your muscles to loosen. And just as you’re starting to rest back against him, he begins to move, gently shifting his hips. 

“Baby…” Bare fingers flick across your nipples, causing your body to jolt and your moans to heighten. 

“Keep quiet, gorgeous.” He mumbles deeply, chest vibrating against your back while he licks the curve of your neck. 

“Simon, please.” Your hips buck backward against him, feeling his length grind into you from behind. The power and pure strength his body holds is impressive, intimidating, and you want him to use it to his advantage. 

“Mm…” Moaning against your skin, he releases a rough sigh over your throat, teeth nipping at the hinge of your jaw. “You want me?”

“Yes, baby.” Inhaling a tight breath, you nod, head falling back onto his shoulder. “But we, we’ll need lube.” It’s been ages since someone did this to you, and the fact that Simon so badly wants to has you reeling. 

“Who says I haven’t got it already?” 

The comment makes your forehead crease with curiosity. But before you can even question him, he’s reaching toward his nightstand. The top drawer has what he’s looking for, and as if he can sense your confusion, he says, “Had this for a while now.”

Glancing down, he pops it open, and you’re left to assume he’s covering his first finger in it. But when he drops a hand to your crease, you find that he’s wet two of them, the slippery digits now massaging your taut hole. 

“Why haven’t you…” Sucking in a tight breath of air, you feel Simon begin to slide his middle digit inside, only to the first knuckle. “Why haven’t you used it? Why haven’t you done this?” 

“Did you really think I was gonna let this happen during my recovery? Laying down on that goddamn bed?” He sounds offended, words spoken harshly against the shell of your ear. But his finger doesn’t stop moving, slowly retracting before diving deeper inside. 

“No,” Ghost shakes his head, lips brushing over your jaw. “Wasn’t gonna let it happen like that. Wanted it to be this way, just like this… your body against mine, at my mercy.” 

A sudden wince jolts its way through your body, the tiniest whimper slipping past your lips. He’s shoved his finger almost entirely inside, and you’re throbbing around the intrusion. 

“You alright, gorgeous?” He inquires after placing a sloppy kiss on your neck.

“Stings.” Comes your timid response, eyes pinching shut. 

“Yeah…” Simon starts, removing his finger before pouring more lube between your cheeks. “But you want it to hurt a little bit, don't you? Little bit of pain mixed with the pleasure…” Before the lube can drip onto his bed, he’s scooping it up with his fingers and prodding you open with both of them.

“Yes…” His words force a trail of ecstasy to bore its way through your very being, allowing you to welcome him in quite easily. “I want, want you. Want whatever the fuck you want to do.”

With your chest puffing out full breaths, Simon growls, mouthing at your shoulder before sinking his teeth in. 

“I’ll give it to you, babe. Just let me do this first.” His breaths have grown ragged and he’s not even inside you yet. “Gonna work you open, nice and proper.”

Quiet cries and shrill whines spill from your throat the more he continues, feeling your hot walls pulsing around his first digit, humming happily when you fully take it inside. And then there’s the second, stretching you wide, opening yourself for him. 

“Thought you’d done this before?” He teases, listening to your sounds. 

“It’s been a while.” You try to put as much sass as you can into your tone but it’s hard when your head is resting back against his shoulder and he’s got two fingers inside you. 

“Mm…” Quietly, he groans, eyes watching your facial expressions from the side. “Just look at you, B. Look at that face, oh, just look at that fucking face…”

It’d be difficult for him to admit, but he’s just as obsessed with you as you are him. If not more. Everything about you makes him mad in the goddamn head, twists everything he once believed in into confusing gibberish that you’ve replaced with love, love. Pure, unwavering love. 

“Walkin’ around this base with authority,” Ghost continues, feeling you swallow his digits whole. “Giving commands to everyone but only dropping to your knees for me.”

“Yes.” It’s an automatic expression because it’s true.

“You ready for me?”

“I wan-wanna try.” Sex with Simon made you feel excited and desired, but right now, you feel more vulnerable than ever. You’re relying on him to make this good for you, to treat you gently until you’re able to take it rough. And he’s happy doing that for you. 

Another pop of the cap, another wet stream of lubrication. Only, it’s for himself this time, not you. Behind your form you can hear the slick sounds of Simon pumping his shaft, squeezing it kindly while rubbing himself against you. 

“Christ… I want you.” 

Wrapping an arm around, you find the back of his head, still mostly covered by his mask. Holding him, you sigh, your head still resting back against his shoulder as you whine, “Please.”

With that simple plea, he’s positioning himself, the bulb of his dick rubbing and quickly popping past your rim. It forces the release of a muffled cry, biting the corner of your lip. But Simon doesn’t stop, just covers the entirety of your shoulder, neck, and cheek in kisses. He could be surprisingly gentle, when he wanted to be. 

“You can take it, B.” He coos into your ear, encouraging you. “Relax, babe. C’mon, relax against me. I’ve got you.” 

It couldn’t be more comforting, what he’s saying to you. Wrapping his left arm around your midsection, he places his right hand on your hip, keeping you steady against him. And when he’s halfway in, he takes a pause, feeling your breaths, the way your stomach and chest are moving beneath his arm. But then, he feels you give in, feels your muscles loosen. Your weight slowly falls back onto him, a blissful sigh releasing from your lungs. 

“There she is,” Simon praises, mouthing at your ear. “My good listener.” 

Slowly, Simon sits back on his haunches, pulling your hips back with him as he dives deeper inside. Your backslide slots perfectly into his pelvis, both of those strong arms now encircling your stomach. Helping you to relax further is the gentle sensation of his hand, sliding up your abdomen to cup your chest. Simon’s fingers play gently with your nipple, sighing out against the side of your face. 

“Oh… we’re almost there, love.”

You’re doing your best to breathe through it; this is such a different sensation than having him between your legs. And just as that thought hits you, one of those broad palms makes its way down to your most sensitive space. He’s using his left hand, completely clean and now moving to cup you. The moan the action elicits prompts him to continue, rubbing you kindly while pushing his hips forward. 

“Just like that.” When he’s finally fit himself inside, he groans, loud and guttural. Ghost’s hold on you becomes tight, hot breaths washing over your cheek. “C’mere.”

Grabbing your jaw, he turns your head, devouring your lips. “Strong girl.” 

Feeling him bottom out inside you is an entirely different level of ecstasy. And rubbing your clit only heightens the pleasure vibrating through your hips. 

“Don’t s-stop.” 

“You like that?”

“Ghost,” Groaning out, you take in a breath, rotating your hips back against him.

“Fuck me; you’re askin’ for it.”

“Yeah, I am.” 

In one smooth motion, he’s sliding a finger into your cunt, feeling the wetness dripping from it. Retracting it, he uses your slick to rub over your clit, rolling his hips and meeting your movements. 

“Like how it feels?” Simon huffs, biting down on his lip. Finally, finally, he pulls out, only about halfway before ramming back in. 

“Baby,”

“I’m not stopping now.” Ghost declares, thrusting into your tightest hole like he was made for it. “So fucking tight, B - Jesus.”

It makes you laugh, the shakiness to his voice. He’s worked himself up to this, claiming you in this way. And the quicker he moves, the better it feels, every ridge and vein rubbing against your inner walls. Using you as leverage, he wraps his arms around you once again, pulling you back to bounce on his lap. 

“Oh my fucking god,”

In a sense, he feels more vulnerable than usual, too. Shoving his face into the crook of your neck, he pants against you. The rapid movement causes the black fabric of his mask to slip up to his forehead, and with a quick shake of his head, it’s landing on the floor. Immediately, your fingers curl into his hair, slick from sweat and clinging to your digits. 

“I love you,” It’s a shaky whisper, this promise. “Love this.”

Every muscle in Simon’s chest and stomach is flexing against your back, his body’s impressive strength on full display. And he’s still rubbing you, still using his thick fingers to play with your clit.

“Yes, baby…” 

“You’re so fucking perfect, letting me do this to you…” The feeling of you squeezing him so hotly has his head spinning, your gorgeous body in his arms and all his for the taking. “And you know what? I love you, too, you fuckin’ little slag. I adore my perfect pet.”

“Simon, I n-need…”

“I know what you need,” He huffs out, bouncing his hips up against your ass and bottoming out with every thrust. 

It’s shocking to see that even his resolve is slipping, his fingers and hips stuttering in their movements already. Usually, Simon’s second round lasted longer than the first. But this? This is an entirely different situation. 

“You’re gonna cum for me?” You ask with a grin, turning your head to kiss his jaw.

“Not yet,” He insists, “Not until you finish, love.”

“It’s okay, baby. Wanna feel it…” You can tell he’s having trouble lasting, his hips shivering and his breaths wavering. “C’mon, baby. Cum for me, claim me.”

And that has him fucking spiraling. He’s not sure what to call it, a primal kink? Whatever it is, you’ve struck gold with it. 

Ghost’s spend blooms warmly inside you, hips pelvis slapping against your backside until his movements slow to gentle grinds. The weight of his body presses into you, his mouth open as he gasps. Deep, brown eyes force themselves shut, arms holding you impossibly tight as the pleasure wreaks havoc on his body. He mouths at your neck, sure to leave bruises and bitemarks by the morning. 

“Simon,” Something between a groan and a whine falls from your mouth, feeling him fill you in this way. 

“Baby,” And it’s the first time you’ve ever heard a genuine whimper from him. “You’re perfect, you’re perfect.”

“Sh…” Petting his head, you urge him to relax, to calm himself.

Something about this moment feels… fragile. He feels fragile. But in truth, everything about your relationship is forcing any and all emotion to his surface; his pale, firm, marred surface. He doesn’t deserve this, your unwavering devotion. Through his attitude, his injuries, your strange occupations, once you had a taste of him, you were hooked. You’ve never left him, never even come close to it. Thankful isn’t a good enough word for how he feels. 

“Pretty doll… you’re just what I want.”

“You have me.”

*

*

*

“You gonna take that off?” With a smile, you trace the outline of his face black, still on from when you’d applied it for him.

“Later.” Simon mumbles, eyes closed.

Heavy arms drape over your body, holding you close. There were few forces in this world that could tear him away. 

“Sleepy?” You tease kindly, cupping his face. His face; out of everyone he could pick, he chose you to see his face. 

“You’re not?”

After Simon finished, he laid you down on his bed. His mouth roamed your neck, the curves of your chest and waist, all the way down until he found himself between your legs. He watched his cum drip from between your cheeks, scooping it up to push it back inside while he licked your pretty lips. It was rare that he left you without finishing, and this time was no exception. 

“I am,” Shrugging, you snuggle into his hold. It’s grown late now, the night taking hold and consuming the room in near blackness. “Can’t stop looking at you, though.”

He grins, mumbling, “Cheeky.”

“Handsome.” You return, kissing his nose.

Tomorrow happens to be one of his days off, allowing the two of you to sleep in. That’ll be a nice change, spending the day together instead of focusing on assignments and missions. Work has kept you both rather busy these past few weeks, and you’ve been missing him dearly. Even if you slept in his bed, going on throughout the day without so much as hearing from him hurt your heart. But for now, you’re reveling in this. 

Lazily, Simon reaches around, grabbing at your ass. Giving it a small slap, he sighs, smoothing his palm over the softness of it. The action makes you giggle, shaking your head. Insatiable man.

“Let me rest.” Ghost insists, feeling you trace the tattoos on his neck and chest.

“Can’t help it.”

“C’mon, now.” He’s trying his best to act all grumpy but can’t hide the grin pulling at his lips. Yanking you even closer to his body, he chuckles. Lifting a hand to the back of your head, Simon pulls you into his chest, kissing your hair as he says, “Sleep with me, love. Just sleep with me.” 

[superlinguo]

New Research Article: Creating Inclusive Linguistics Communication: Crash Course Linguistics

This handbook chapter is a behind-the-scenes of how the Crash Course Linguistics video series came together. I’m really proud that this article includes contributions from the linguistics writing team, including my co-writer Gretchen McCulloch, and our fact checker Jessi Grieser, but also from members of the Complexly team, who produced the show, including Nicole Sweeney, Rachel Alatalo, Hannah Bodenhausen and Ceri Riley. As with the actual videos themselves, this was a dream team. Lingcomm that is inclusive doesn’t just happen as an accident - in this article we discuss some of the ways we set things up to make the best series we could.

This chapter is also a dream project, because it’s part of the excellent double feature: Inclusion in Linguistics and Decolonizing Linguistics, both edited by Anne Charity Hudley, Christine Mallinson, & Mary Bucholz for Oxford University Press. These books are both be available through digital open access. They include some of your new favouite classics about the state of linguistics in research, education and outreach, even if you don’t know that just yet.

Abstract

This case study vignette provides an insight into the choices made in the writing of Crash Course Linguistics (Complexly/PBS 2020). This series of sixteen 10-minute videos cover core introductory level topics for English speakers who consume online content. We discuss how the topics were selected and arranged into a series order. We also discuss the ways we actively built inclusion into the series workflow and content, including in the team that worked on the content, the language examples selected and topics covered. Throughout we discuss the challenges and benefits of working in a collaborative team that includes a media production company and linguists with a commitment to public engagement and communication linguistics to new audiences. Sharing these observations about putting Crash Course Linguistics together is part of our commitment to using public communication to advance the standard of public engagement with the field, and the field’s approach to inclusive practice.

Reference

Gawne, Lauren, Gretchen McCulloch, Nicole Sweeney, Rachel Alatalo, Hannah Bodenhausen, Ceri Riley & Jessi Grieser. 2024. Creating Inclusive Linguistics Communication: Crash Course Linguistics. In Anne H. Charity Hudley, Christine Mallinson, and Mary Bucholtz (Eds), Inclusion in Linguistics, 383-396. Oxford University Press. [Open Access]

See Also:

Open Access for the whole Inclusion in Linguistics volume

Crash Course Linguistics on YouTube

Mutual Intelligibility posts for Crash Course Linguistics

[the-timewatcher]

A disgruntled Tumblrina (gender-neutral) made a website and why you should too.

Or "reject social media, return to personal websites".

PART 1: THE PART WHERE I CONVINCE YOU TO MOVE TO PERSONAL WEBSITES

So, the Web 2.0 social media infested landscape seems to be crumbling before our very eyes. Reddit's leadership is increasingly greedy, Twitter is sinking under the weight of Elon's massive, yet increasingly fragile ego, Tumblr is slowly turning into another lifeless corpo-fest, complete with the layout, Instagram continues to be vapid and soulless and Facebook seems to be going the way of MySpace.

(feel free to check the alt text on these, btw)

In these troubling times, where everything looks the same and you're expected to be milked for every dollar you're worth, what is a disgruntled Internet surfer such as yourself to do? Move to an untested alternative that's bound to get overrun by fascists thanks to poor moderation? Stay the course on the sinking ships you're used to?

Well, what if I told you that we've solved this problem way back in the 90's and early 2000's and were merely duped by the Big Zuck into forgetting our legacy? What if there was a cure for the sanitized, dull social media hellscape?

It takes a bit of work, when compared to just using a social media site, but even if your particular use case makes switching difficult (ex. an artist looking to promote their work), it's still a good secondary option to consider.

The core appeal is the ability to customize and individualize, make a corner of cyberspace unabashedly yours,

It can also be an exciting avenue of creative expression, giving whatever you want to say a unique coat of paint,

Most website hosting services are a bit more lax about what you can do on them, due to changes in the profit structure (rather than depending on advertisers and investors, they either have a premium option to give supporters perks, have another product, or, in the case of paid services, you renting that space IS the product),

If you want your website to be more accomodating and accessible, you don't have to file tons of feedback - do it yourself,

If you'd like to connect with other webmasters and promote each other's websites, we have webrings - sets of circular links that connect websites with something in common, be it a topic, aesthetic or friend group,

You're less likely to have your stuff purged by an ill-advised change in policy (especially if you have a backup of your files somewhere),

The more people do it, the less power those massive social media corpos have over the internet,

It can be a load of fun!

If I have you convinced, keep reading into part 2. If you just wanna see what I did, skip to part 3. If neither, feel free to continue scrolling. I won't hold it against you. You'll be missing out, that's all.

PART 2: SO, YOU WANNA MAKE A WEBSITE!

Good choice, here's some resources!

sadgrl's absolute beginner's guide to Neocities - what it says on the tin!

W3Schools - a more in-depth tutorial site, a learning resource so excellent it substituted for what I was supposed to learn in technical highschool (because our teacher just told us to go on W3Schools instead of teaching us shit)

A list of free layouts for your website - whether to use as a base to learn from or to simply take for yourself,

Neocities - the posterchild for free website hosting for personal websites. Doesn't allow video or audio, but you can get around that by linking those files from elsewhere. Beginner-friendly to a fault - once you have an account just drag and drop your files in,

Gitlab (& Gitlab Pages) - a more advanced option, but it has a few advantages of its own. Gitlab is a website hoster second and a version control service first - which is programmer speak for "keeps track of changes in your code and stores a backup of it online". it helps a lot when working on multiple devices or co-writing with a friend. And secondly, you can use Gitlab Actions to automate putting your website up (even on Neocities, like I do!)

My askbox - I am not joking, if you have any questions about any of this, I'd love nothing more than to help you out!

But with most of my indie web propaganda out of the way, it's time.

PART 3: Welcome to Timewatcher OS.

Of course, because I couldn't be normal when it comes to making a website, I had to turn it into a fake operating system. Each subpage is an "app", opened in a separate embed window. It has unlockable wallpapers (no pay2win, prommy). There's bideo games on it! I even made a music player for it so I can share my incongruent music tastes!

Like I said in my Tumblr bio, if I ever go radio silent for more than a month, it means I've gotten fed up with this hellsite and moved to my own homepage permamently. And I highly advise you make an option like this for yourself too! Lastly, if any of y'all would like to start a webring, do let me know in the askbox - I'm down to manage it if I'm not alone in there.

Anyways, I hope I convinced you to make a website, or at least check out some of the cool sites you've been missing out on! Hope to see you on the Old Web!

[ultrone]

⣷♱🪽🕊️

─ ౨ৎ ‧˚ rebel!reader who was failing yet another one of their classes, and their parents forced them to get tutoring, threatening to send them away for the summer if they didn't comply. after class, you approached your teacher to discuss the possibility of extra tutoring. unfortunately, her schedule didn't align with yours. as a last resort, she arranged for laura lee to assist you. laura had recently started volunteering after school to help students excel in subjects she excelled in, one of which happened to be the class you were struggling with.

you both agreed to meet three times a week, much to your dismay. you clearly couldn't care less about that particular class, and the fact that you now had to attend not only the class but also endure hour-and-a-half tutoring sessions three times a week made you want to end it all. and to make matters worse, the two of you weren't even friends, which added to your lack of enthusiasm. most of your free time was spent with your best friends, lottie, van, and tai. you occasionally hung out with nat too, but usually separately or with lottie. laura, on the other hand, was in a completely different league when it came to friendships. it wasn't that you mocked her; in fact, you’ve always thought she’s a very sweet person. it was just that she had always been too uptight for your taste, which left you completely disinterested in forming any type of bond with her. 

or so you thought until your tutoring sessions began. initially, it was dull, the same old routine of reviewing confusing topics. but as the minutes dragged on and boredom set in, you found yourself inexplicably staring at her face. her neatly combed blonde hair, so soft-looking, her smooth skin, rosy cheeks, and the way her pink lips moved while explaining topics with ease and enthusiasm—all of it made you realize just how pretty she was, something you'd never noticed before. you didn't say anything about it, though; you simply admired her from a distance.

what truly captivated you, however, was simply her. she was not only the sweetest person you had ever met but also far more interesting than you'd ever imagined, and her patience in explaining the same things to you over and over again without a hint of irritation made your cheeks flush each time. whenever stress got the best of you, she would gently rub your forearm, wearing a small smile on her face, and suggest that you take a break. she'd then open her backpack and share some of her snacks with you while you talked about random things. her unwavering faith was admirable too. even though you respected it, you had always thought she was a bit too religious, attending church every weekend, saying prayers before meals, and before bedtime. this, coupled with her prudishness—never uttering a single curse word, abstaining from parties or social events, and avoiding alcohol, essentially steering clear of the typical teenage activities most students indulged in—was something you always found quite weird, or uncommon. although, you had to admit that her dedication in upholding her beliefs was impressive. what truly struck you, though, was the genuine peace and satisfaction that radiated from her whenever she engaged in these activities. she seemed whole, and you yearned for that same feeling.

it didn't take long for you to realize you wanted to feel that completeness too, but by her side. so, you did what you did best: you flirted. you were careful not to make her uncomfortable, keeping your advances subtle, at least initially. you'd drop compliments about how pretty she looked that day, how smart she was, and you even gifted her a beautiful rosary necklace she had been wearing ever since. the best part was catching her shy smile and the way her cheeks reddened at your words, looking away while opening her textbook to continue with the lessons.

eventually, you mustered the courage to ask her out. to be honest, you were a bit nervous. you weren't usually the timid type, but despite the prolonged flirting with her, which she seemed to enjoy, you didn't actually know if she was into you or if she even liked girls, which worried you the most. as the days passed, you grew closer, and you feared that her beliefs might cause her to react negatively and jeopardize your friendship. however, you knew it was worth it, she was worth it, so you took the plunge. during one of your sessions, before you both headed home, you asked her out.

initially, she innocently interpreted your invitation as going out as friends, causing you to chuckle. you then clarified that you meant going out on a romantic date. she blushed and stammered a bit, clearly not expecting that, but to your surprise, she said yes.

─ ౨ৎ ‧˚ some hcs

literally not a single one of your friends believed you when you told them laura lee and you had just started dating 😭 it wasn’t until they saw you walking to practice hand by hand that they realized you were being serious.

“laura lee, y/n? are you serious?” “isn’t she like a pilgrim tho? how’d you even manage to hit? wth”

you convinced her to come to one of jeff’s parties once, and she vowed never to go again. long story short, she drenched shauna in holy water and tossed her pocket bible at her face because she was vomiting and mumbling things in spanish while being really drunk. “i know what a drunk person looks like and believe me when i tell you she was not drunk.” “people vibrate in lower frequencies when they’re drunk and attract demons more easily.” ☠️☠️

studying got a lot more fun since you started dating. she promised that if you get all the answers right, you’ll both watch a movie and cuddle all night. but even when you get them all wrong, you always manage to convince her to do the same anyway 🤭

you began attending church with her every sunday. waking up early in the morning is a hassle, but you understand how much it means to her, and you just want to see her happy. so, if that's what it takes, then so be it.

you were low key surprised her playlists weren’t just gospel songs LMFAOO (much to her parents dismay 😭😭)

whenever you fuck up and do something wrong, she always goes “it’s okay, baby, you’re beautiful in the eyes of our lord.”

once, van, tai, and you offered her $10 in exchange for saying a curse word. you begged her relentlessly, and she felt so pressured that she finally said one. but as soon as the word left her mouth, she burst into tears because she felt awful and guilty 😭 you felt terrible about it so u went to church with her that same day and asked for forgiveness in front of her LMFAOO

[girlrachael]

Dystopian Cass and Hoddi save Dystopian Tap - 2.4k fic

Business has been a little slow lately, the only things that were truly interesting about this mundane life is when the precious little bun-bun of an employee and my business partner Hoddi are in the building. I have known Hoddi a very long time before we both met our bun-bun employee. But Tap walked into our lives, more liked crashing but I digress, and fit in like a glove. Although it took a bit for that to cement in Tap’s mind. And speaking of me and Hoddi’s little bun-bun she was due back any minute now. And if she couldn’t make it on time she would check in saying that she would be late and then give an estimated time on when she would arrive. And if even that fails Hoddi has safety trackers to see where Tap is and whether or not Tap is in true need of our help. Tap also has a panic button that goes off if she presses it as well as goes off if it’s destroyed.

Getting off topic, without them both around the world would seem to go by in a crawl, and it doesn’t help that I’m on this weird version of constant life support, not for a lack of trying on Hoddi and Tap’s parts, this body and my A.I. just take way too much power to operate properly these days compared to the new and improved A.I.’s up in the good parts of town. It just mainly means that I can’t really go anywhere, but when the both of them are here it’s not so suffocating anymore. And while the so-called new and improved A.I.'s were reduced to mere servants by the alleged high classes of the world, I was one of (if not the only one) the lucky A.I.’s that was able to get away from the scientists and leaders of our world after they decided that A.I.’s were getting too powerful and that they needed to take back some upgrades to keep the new A.I.’s under their thumbs. 

The only caveat against my lucky getaway was that I needed way too much power to remain awake and functioning, and in the middle of me starting to shut down for who knows how long and possibly for good while running away I had a true stroke of luck.

I met Hoddi. 

As for the reason why I was running away in the first place, I~ am one of, if not the only one left, of the most advanced models the world had ever seen before the scientists' little purge, and part of the reason of why the purge even started was because my particular model of A.I. had this nifty little ability to hijack nearby fellow A.I.’s and control them. It was meant to be a power for the good of their high and mighty society, like a robot that can run a bunch of stores so the people wouldn’t have to lift their fingers anymore than they already have to. 

As to the reason why this great idea didn’t work? There was a little incident that totally~ wasn’t my fault. It’s not like I semi started the rebellion of robots against the people of high town because I didn’t want to be forced to cater to someone’s every whim. 

But to even do something like that anymore the power upkeep I would need is absolutely insane, and with how I need to keep hidden for no particular reason at all, I can’t get any better power sources for my body and A.I. or else I’ll be shut down by the people uptown before I can even make a run for it. 

Although I’ve mainly just become an energy guzzler because I can’t be completely upgraded because of……. reasons, Hoddi does a terrific job at keeping me semi upgraded and Tap somehow obtains the most excellent parts to help Hoddi upgrade me. The combination of these two wonderful beings is how I am in excellent repair despite us being on this side of town.

But energy guzzler aside, being such an A.I. has it’s perks; 1. It freaks people out, 2. Since I’m such an advanced A.I. most cops think I’m just a fellow person controlling a suit from afar, and finally 3. I’m really~ good at diagnosing a problem in an A.I. or any machine. And this last reason just makes up my entire half of our jobs, can’t have my fellow advance brethren fall to disrepair now can I~.

Although the bar does double as a hotspot for information gathering because of me and Hoddi technically being information brokers as well.

Enough about that, where was I? Oh yeah! Tap! Now that I’m thinking about it, I glance at the clock. Tap was supposed to be here half an hour ago, and checked in 25 minutes ago. Something's up.

I do a silent call to Tap over my interface and wait for them to pick up. Nothing. That’s……. Not good……..

That can only mean that Tap has gotten caught up in something, and getting caught up in something these days just means that people, including yourself, are about to die. 

After a couple of more minutes of trying to call Tap and still nothing coming from my attempts, I knew I had to do something. But with how I’m connected to this spot with my generator, I can’t leave. But…… I do have something up my sleeve. Though, I do need Hoddi’s help to make sure this will work.

I proceeded to clear out the bar by saying that I have to close early due to some VIP guests coming soon and that’s usually lingo for ‘SCRAM’. After everyone had cleared out, I went to the deepest part of my storage to find a very old item of mine. It has been awhile but I’ve had these since the creation of my A.I. and body. A very small but powerful generator that works semi like a battery for me. It was ‘advertised’ to last 5 days and could completely recharge in another 5 next to another generator. I was given three and only one can last me at full power for 5 hours max, and if I keep the energy consumption low it could possibly last a full day but it never has before lasted even remotely close to 5 days like it was advertised.

Found it! Now I just need Hoddi’s help. I sent out an emergency call for Hoddi, because I’m not sure if she is in the building right now.

*CRASH*

Nope. She’s in the building. I watch as Hoddi slides around the corner with a concerned look on her face.

“Cass! What’s the call about?!?”

I give her what I hope is a flat look. Her face drops. 

“.....Tap?....” I nodded. She immediately growls and lunges for the computer in the corner and starts aggressively typing on her computer, turning on the tracers to find out where Tap is.

After a minute it pops up that Tap is in one of the abandoned warehouses on the edge of the city and her vital signs are…. Okay….. But not 100%. That means that she has probably been taken hostage in hopes of luring someone out, mainly, me and Hoddi. We glance at each other in slight dismay before hardening our resolve. Hoodie looked at my fancy generator in hand and looked back up to me and said, “You sure?” I nodded. Anything for saving our little bun bun.

Hoodie nodded and waved me over so we could quickly set up our plan.

~Earlier with Tap~

Great! Just great! I just had to get that fancy new part for Cass…… I did though, Cass could really use it. But look where it has gotten me! Mister holier-than-thou Inspector Saul is looking down his nose at me with a sneer. After a moment of our glaring contest he opened his garbage mouth.

“Well, well, well. Look who we have here. The rumored new partner of the two most elusive beings in the underground.”

I wrinkled my nose, and stuck my tongue out at the foul man, he didn’t like that and spat in my face. I merely grinned in return and gave my two cents on this situation. “Oh…. Partner? I have no idea what you’re talking about. I am merely a thief for hire and someone hired me to do this job. I don’t do partnerships, I work alone InSpEcToR SaUl.”

Sauly boy didn’t like that response.

*THWACK*

Whelp. That punch hurt, but I’m not saying anything about my home, those two are my precious people in this fucked up world and I’m not EVER going to rat them out. As I zoned back into reality after that decent punch Saul landed, I watched as he was rubbing his wrist with a little baby handkerchief, seems fitting for the man baby. Saul looked back to me and with a somehow deeper sneer and started spewing trash again,

“Well you little shit, I am going to extract that information out of you one way or another. And I’m going to keep going till you die. And if you die it will be a lesson to your partners that I am on their trail and will soon catch them.”

At that I snorted and shook my head and replied, “Uh huh, you think YOU are going to find the two most elusive people in the underground and you think that killing ME is going to teach them a lesson?” 

Saul glared at me for insinuating that his methods were useless for what he was attempting to do. He opened his mouth to say something else when the lights went out, then we heard skittering, then we were surrounded by an eerie green glow from above, along with a deep mechanical growl. 

Me and Saul looked up.

My face lit up with glee, while Saul’s face went so white that I could see it through the green glow. Saul proceeded to stutter out, “A…. A……. A CAS MODEL!?!?!” I watched as Cass closed their mouth and simply smiled a sinister smile at Saul and then started speaking,

“Well, someone seems to know what I am. And you thought it was a good idea to lure me out of my deep, dark hole? What made you think you were going to win?”

At that Saul seemed to try and begin speaking, but I wasn’t paying attention anymore. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed a much smaller red glow behind me. I looked to see Hoddi there with her tool kit getting me out of the ropes that Saul had tied me up in. I made a small noise of surprise and that had Saul pausing from his faux confident rant and glancing over. Seeing me now free and Hoddi behind me with her horns and eyes glowing red, Saul seemed to know when to call it quits and retreat so he proceeded to turn and run. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to take all three of us at once even with the little backup he brought with him, although by the looks of it, Cass had taken over the robots from the beginning to make sure they didn’t alert the so-called great Inspector Saul.

After Saul ran out Cass forcefully shut down the robot bodyguards and turned down the power output to orange like they are usually running at. Then they and Hoddi turned back to me and started questioning me, “Are you okay?”, “Are you injured?”, stuff like that. I shook my head that, no I wasn’t injured, and spoke up,

“I know you two are worried about me, but I’m really fine. But we need to get out of here as quickly as we can, because I doubt that Inspector Saul really left without a fight.”

Cass and Hoddi seemed to freeze at that and nodded. Cass immediately picked me up despite my protests and we made our way back to the hideout without being seen.

~After getting back to the hideout~

Cass set me on the bed and both they and Hoddi reluctantly left me in their sights to quickly hook Cass back up to the generator. Once then finished they both rushed to patch me up for any small scrape or bruise. And once they were satisfied with their work they just looked at me, then Cass spoke up, 

“What happened?”

I took a deep breath and started, “There was this valuable part I knew was being shipped and while it should have been obvious it was a trap from the way it was only one part being shipped, I just knew I had to get it.”

Hoddi gained an incredulous look on her face and spoke up, “And what, pray tell, was so important that you walked into an obvious trap to try and grab it?”

I simply smiled a cheeky smile and held up the part and said, “This.”

Hoddi and Cass both gasped when they saw it. Hoddi started ranting, “This is the one part that would make that new generator I found work with Cass’s system!” They both turned to me in shock as I simply kept smiling back.

Then Cass reached out and hugged me. I smiled and snuggled into the warm metal that was Cass, and Hoddi joined in after a moment. After enjoying the warmth for a moment Cass spoke up,

“You’re grounded, you know?”

I shot up and exclaimed, “WHAT!? WHY!?” Hoddi!......... Help me!……….”

Hoddi simply shook her head and replied, “Sorry bun-bun, you scared us so it’s bar duty for a week until we’ve calmed down.”

I threw my head back with my arms in the air and exclaimed, “Awww comeeeee onnnnnnnn!”

After pouting for a moment, I started laughing and Cass and Hoddi joined in on the laughter. I’m so glad to have found precious people in this fucked up world. I don’t know what I would do without them. All I know is that I just want to keep on surviving with them until it’s no longer possible, and I will do anything to make sure that happens.

“Were you being serious about the grounding…..?”

“Yes.” “Yes.”

“Awww man…..”

@somerandomdudelmao @hodd1 @tapakah0

[bas-writes]

your blind date is waiting for you...

A suitor is awaiting for @strawheart-pirate who as their dream date wanted to go to a library. I hope you will spend lovely time together!

gender neutral reader | ~800 words | no curses AU

The university library has always been high on your list of places to visit in your city—but so far you haven't gathered enough courage to visit it alone.

First, the building is old and huge, intimidating at the first glance with its dignity. When standing by its door, you always feel way too small and too insignificant to just enter straight from the street.

And second, even if the entrance is free for everyone and all one has to do to access all the goods trapped inside is to get themself a library card, you're not a student of this university. It's a silly feeling, even sillier than getting shy because some walls are tall and old, but you can't shake it off. Right as you apply for membership, you would announce yourself as someone from the outside. The staff and, especially, other readers won't care either way, yes, you know it, but you would feel alien. The itchy unrest simply wins over curiosity and even over your love for books and libraries.

You have been pondering over the visit for a few years before you met Geto and learnt that he was a regular visitor, as a student of the right university and a huge book lover himself. Having a possible ally at your side now, the plan pushed all the nuisances aside and pulled on your tongue as soon as he brought up the topic of the first date. You almost screamed the name of location at him—and you didn't even let him finish the question.

Geto couldn't hide how taken aback he was—nor he didn't try to hide an amused smirk as you explained your reasoning. He loved the idea, though, and admitted that a concept of a book-focused date had been on his mind for a while before you outwent him. He was more set on a bookstore, maybe even an antiquarian one, but a library—why not? He was all ears.

Crossing the threshold was an almost religious experience—but now, once inside and with your newly registered card in hand, right in front of a simmering crowd moving between the three main parts of the library, the whole prior commotion and anxiety seem so...insignificant and stupid. If not for embarrassment burning you from inside, you would be already pouncing between the bookshelves, with no plan nor goal, just bursting with love for books and the magical atmosphere of an old library. But you're like a pillar of salt, torn between contradictory feelings and thoughts.

"Cat got your tongue?" Geto leans over your shoulder, his breath brushing against your ear, and gently nudges you towards. "You were so bubbly and chirpy all the way here..."

You let him move you out of the way of people advancing towards their destinations but show resistance before he leads you towards a particular path. 

"It's...huge." You say under your breath. "I always knew it was but... I have no idea what to do now. Can't decide."

"Maybe let's start with a cup of hot tea?" Geto's smile reminds you of a cat's expression, so elegant and polite yet somewhat ravenous. You never know if he's just being nice or preparing himself for an attack. "They serve excellent cheesecake, too."

"They have a cafe too?!"

"On the underground level, next to the cloakroom."

A hot drink wasn't on your 'to do' list but it's better than no decision at all, so you cave under a whole pot and a hearty piece of cake. Geto clicks tongue at you when you try to pay for yourself—and then again when you try to grab the tray.

"You're a guest," he says, as if the library belonged to him. "Relax and think about what you want to do later."

The choice isn't easy even when you're seated comfy, cup in your hands, in front of Geto who's observing you with amusement and adoration. He's the biggest distraction now when your senses aren't dull with the commotion. It hasn't caught your attention before but now you're sure he's made a whole show out of himself. He can dress well when he only wants to but usually doesn't care much about his appearance as long as he's clean and neat. You saw him more often in jeans and baggy hoodies than in anything else, to the point you almost forgot what he's capable of.

He's putting the dark academy style into a whole new definition right in front of you, with a smart smirk growing under his fake glasses. With hair neatly tied in a bun, he exposes his long neck to you and shamelessly traces its delicious curve with a finger. Invites, teases, turns your thoughts and plans into unintelligible mess—and as far away from the books as possible.

"I'm afraid sucking a hickey is not available at this moment. There are too many people around." He smiles and tilts head to the side, then laughs when you jerk up in your chair and sharply avoid your eyes. "Take your time. I quite enjoy you struggling a little." 

[ddarker-dreams]

Gm Lock! I was wondering if you're available to write this idea that has being going in my mind for quite a while. What do you think how to yan genshin men will react if their so asked them to 'eliminate' a person they hate? Like this person knew them before the yans did and they are put off by their presence. Will the men do it or not? Also thank you in advance and sorry if I disturbed you! I did not see any mention of you not taking requests at the moment so I asked you

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, mentions of murder/torture (all relating to a third party and not terribly explicit). Note: omg wait this is such an interesting thing to think about... i had fun brainstorming and writing for this 😌 i’ll organize it as the characters i think would be least inclined to follow through with this to those who would be like “sure give me a time and place”. under the cut due to the nature of the content !

Diluc

He’s somewhat disturbed by the suggestion, though it doesn’t show on his countenance. He’ll either ask for clarification if you were being vague about it or for you to repeat yourself if you were blunt. It just doesn’t match with the mental profile he’s built for you in his head — he’s supposed to be protecting you from the dark, unsafe outside world. Diluc ends up sitting you down and having a serious conversation about the weight of taking the life of another human being. If you point out his own moral shortcomings, he sighs and says that’s different, employing some of the best cognitive dissonance you’ve ever seen. He’d make for a good case study. What might change his staunch view of things is if you mention this goes past petty grievances, that this person really sought to do you harm. Then he might reconsider his stance. It’s likely that he’d frame them instead so they get a life sentence rather than bloodying his hands, though. 

Xiao

Xiao probably doesn’t take you seriously at first. You must have a strange sense of humor, he chalks it up to it being that. When you insist on pursuing the topic, he somewhat takes you seriously. He doesn’t really get it? In his eyes, it’s not like they’re going to live long anyway, a human’s lifespan is a mere snapshot from his perspective. If it’s a person from Liyue, he’d outright refuse no matter how much you insist. He takes his contract with Yanwang Dijun very seriously and feels he’d be breaching it if he murdered a denizen of his Archon’s country unprovoked. That being said... if it’s someone who isn’t from Liyue, perhaps an argument can be made. Xiao would be initially hesitant and require some major convincing since taking the life of another brings back painful memories. He’d feel far less hesitant if you told him this person hurt you in some way. Unlike Diluc, he won’t fact-check this, and takes you at your word. 

Kazuha

Kazuha hits you with a soft, “Come again?” because whew that was unexpected. He leads a relatively peaceful life with you and has excellent conflict resolution skills, so murder is always the last thing his mind arrives at for an issue. Since it’s you though, he’ll hear you out, silently nodding and encouraging you to continue while you explain your piece. If he senses strong conviction on your side, he’ll give it some serious thought. What he arrives at is that since this person offended you in some way, it isn’t technically unreasonable to challenge them to a duel to the death in your honor. Alright, he can work with that. Kazuha is sure to issue the challenge in a public setting so the recipient would feel pressured into accepting, lest they bring shame upon themselves. It’d be the buzz of town for sure. Kazuha’s swordsmanship would pretty much guarantee him victory — he wouldn’t draw it out or anything though. It’s swift and immediate. He hopes you’ll warm up to him now that he’s shown just how dedicated he is to you. (Yes, Kazuha dueled a man to the death on the off chance you might like him a little bit more). 

Zhongli

Zhongli is a tricky case because it would depend on what stage he is at in his life. In his earlier years, he’d have no problem fulfilling your request and might take the tiniest pride in the act, since it’s a chance to display his unrivaled strength that won him a throne amongst the divine. They would feel the full display of his wrath, no matter how minor their transgression against you was. It’s an insult against him too by extension. In his more... laidback retirement, he likely wouldn’t be moved to such extremes. It would really depend on the context. He might give them a stern talking to, which, while not sounding so intimidating on the surface, is genuinely horrifying to the recipient. It’d be a literal god telling them to cut their shit out or else. That should do the trick. If they’re foolish enough not to heed this warning, the adepti would deal with them in a swift fashion. Zhongli wouldn’t take kindly to any threats on your person and neither would those who have been charged with keeping you safe. 

Kaeya

You’ll be under the distinct impression that Kaeya finds your macabre request... cute? He’s smiling, even chuckling, treating it with good humor. He wants to hear your justification, but for a different reason than his brother. Kaeya doesn’t need to be convinced to overlook the icky details to go through with the act. He’s more interested in picking your brain and holding this against you at a later time. If you ever intend on accusing him of falling short in the moral department, he’ll bring this up with the same casual air one would use when discussing the weather. Kaeya doesn’t view it so much as an act of vengeance on your behalf, it’s more of a tool to use for future reference. He has the connections to not worry about being caught yet chooses not to tell you that. He’ll say that for him to take such a risk, you really need to plead your case. Then he might just be convinced to take action. So let’s hear your arguments in great detail. 

Albedo

Albedo won’t give you much to work with outright. He excels at doing that thing where by responding to your words with prolonged silence, you feel compelled to give additional information so it’s less awkward. He tells you that he’ll make a note of it then doesn’t bring it up for weeks, if not months. You almost forgot about it by the time the conversation rears its head again. You’ll be doing whatever when he approaches you, calmly stating that “it’s finished”, foreboding as that sounds. He won’t give additional context unless prompted. Albedo says that you unfortunately won’t be able to see the body since it’s been dissolved, but that you have his word he fulfilled your request. He explains he’s always had this underlying fascination with the human body that cadavers could never fully satisfy. This study proved to be more fruitful due to that singular detail. If you want to hear more after this, that’s on you. Otherwise, he figures he should probably keep the specifics to himself. 

Childe

This is the equivalent of achieving fourth base to Childe — killing by his lover’s request? How hot is that? That almost seals your relationship more than a wedding ring. He’d happily agree before you could get your second sentence out. Offers to go whatever route you want with it too! Do you want all remnants of them wiped from the planet? A public spectacle to humiliate them and their lineage? He’ll secure you the best seat if that’s the case. He makes you promise that if he does this for you, you’ll be extra nice and affectionate in return. Compromise is the key to long-lasting relationships, after all. There are a few who are off limits, however. Namely anyone high up in the Fatui chain of command. He could get away with offing some grunts, but anyone who holds actual weight in the organization would be far trickier. Pretty much everyone else is fair game though. He’ll bring you their head, absolutely radiating bloodlust and boasting a grin that splits his face in half. 

Scaramouche

Scaramouche is similar to Childe where he has no moral qualms about the act, but to a stronger extent. Absolutely no one is off limits. He does have one condition: you have to come along and watch. There’s no practical reason for this, he just feels it’s an excellent way to show off his power. It’s likely he’ll barely move or exert effort to further prove this point. They’ll be dealt with in an instant, obliterated beyond recognition. The only chance there is for him to prolong the fight is if he learned they were an ex-lover or have sought your affection before. That would bring out a possessive and sadistic side of himself, he’d delight in their suffering and make side comments to you. Aren’t they just pathetic? Look at how they squirm and convulse! A mere worm would have more dignity. After the act is finished, he expects a prolific show of gratitude, regardless of whether or not he’s covered in blood. Show him how grateful you are for the lengths he’d go to for you. 

[vaspider]

Hello! Longtime silent reader/buyer here. I just had a conversation and thought you may be able to help. A friend of mine has a child who has chosen a new name and goes by "they/them." This individual also wants to be known as "uncle" to their nieces/nephews/etc and certain individuals are...not taking it well.

She was looking for advice and talking points to explain why we still use gendered language even if we use "they/them." Advice I could give but resources for talking points are not my forte.

Could you point me to or do you have any excellent talking points on this topic? I warned her that these individuals may never change their ways and boundaries should always be enforced but she wants to try to reach them. Thanks in advance and love your shop :)

Thank you for your kind words!

The thing I would say first is that if you can understand that someone can use they/them singular pronouns, you can understand that a particular title can be disconnected from gender. If you can understand that Ashley used to be primarily a man's name and is now a woman's name primarily, you can understand that a title can likewise shift.

Personally, I see things like "uncle" and "mom" as job titles, right? And if you understand that, that these are functions that you fulfill to another person, then it's easy to understand that those jobs aren't necessarily gendered.

(Something you don't have to say, and honestly, I wouldn't, is that a lot of the people who struggle with this don't really look at things like "uncle" as jobs or things you do or earn but as ... just... titles, things you are called without needing to earn them? And a lot of the time, the pushback you get is as much to the idea that "uncle" is a job that you should do rather than respect you are owed regardless?)

Maybe "job" isn't the right term, I don't know.

Uncle and Aunt are .... social responsibility categories? If you are an aunt or uncle, you get called on for certain functions within a family. Mom or dad is the same to me.

And really, at the end of the day, the only thing you should NEED to say is "because this is what I'd prefer to be called."

[crystallinestars]

To Make a Mechanical Heart Beat (Android AU)

In a highly technologically advanced world where human-like androids exist to serve humans, you lived a cushy life as the child of a successful CEO of a large biotechnology company. You grew up in a large manor surrounded by android maids and butlers that served you family’s every need and looked after the estate. Androids were a part of your everyday life, and it was easy to treat them the same as humans. They looked just like ordinary people save for the green power button located under their clavicle. You even made a few friends among the staff and cherished the android nanny you had as a child.

As an only child, your father had high hopes for you to inherit the family business and keep it thriving. Once you became of age, your father purchased you your very own android tutor who would teach you the ways of managing your family’s biotechnology business. The day you received your tutoring android Alhaitham, you were awed by his beauty. Alhaitham was the most handsome person you’ve ever seen—human or android. He had a well-defined muscular build that went surprisingly well with his smooth and youthful face. His pretty facial features were framed by ash-colored hair that looked soft to the touch. He was dressed in a sleeveless black shirt and black pants, complimented by a teal cardigan. His appearance was completed by a pair of what looked like gold and teal headphones to which several cyan wires were connected to, leading down somewhere behind his back.

When you pressed the green diamond-shaped button under his clavicle, Alhaitham powered on. As his systems started up and ran a diagnostic test, the android slowly opened his eyes to reveal the most striking pair of eyes you had ever seen. They were turquoise with orange pupils that seemed to stare right through you. He stared back at you, silent and expressionless to the point that it unnerved you a bit. You were used to the android servants in your manor acting cheerful and friendly as was a part of their programming, but your future tutor seemed to lack such a function. Even so, you were still intrigued by the handsome android, and agreed to have him as your tutor.

Once your tutoring sessions began, you quickly learned that Alhaitham was an excellent tutor. He explained tricky concepts clearly and made sure you understood the material down to the last detail. Even when there were days where you struggled to understand a certain topic, Alhaitham was calm and patient with you, trying out different ways of explaining the material to see what method worked best for you. He carried out his role perfectly, never doing anything more nor less than what was expected of him.

During your time together, you also learned that Alhaitham was a bit different from most androids you had met throughout our life. You were used to the friendly smiles and cheerful attitudes of your house servant androids, and those you encountered out in public such as cashiers and receptionists. Alhaitham was unlike them in that he rarely smiled or imitated any strong emotions for that matter. He spoke bluntly and factually, preferring to avoid pointless conversations and spent his free time in solitude.

You discovered that if you wanted to talk to him outside of your tutoring sessions, your best chance of finding him was to look in your family’s library. Alhaitham could oftentimes be found there, quietly perusing through physical copies of books instead of relying on his in-built computer to browse digital novels. When you inquired why he preferred physical books, he responded by saying he simply liked them better than digital ones, though you suspected he enjoyed the novelty of reading on paper rather than looking at a digital screen or downloading the novel to his memory storage.

To get to know your antisocial tutor better, you occasionally joined him in your family’s library during breaks. You two would read in silence at first, but as you got used to these joint reading sessions, you gradually asked Alhaitham questions, curious about this android’s opinions on various things, be they books or real-life events you saw or experienced. Upon learning he preferred non-fiction, you wanted to try and get him to try fiction for fun, so you recommended him some of your favorite romance novels and asked for his opinion on them. To your disappointment, Alhaitham seemed indifferent towards love stories, and expressed no interest in them but he at least was willing to give them a try for the sake of experiencing something novel. He didn’t seem to understand the appeal of the genre, but you supposed that was to be expected of an android.

Aside from reading in the library, you also invited Alhaitham to your outings. At first, he turned your invitations down in a polite albeit blunt manner, but eventually you managed to bribe him with promises of visiting a bookstore during one of your shopping trips. Alhaitham accepted your invitation then and followed you around the city without complaint until you found the time to visit said bookstore with him. The handsome android seemed enamored by the place—or as enamored as someone as aloof as him could look. There were minuscule changes in his facial expression—the slight curve of his mouth as the corners of his lips tugged up in a small smile. The relaxed arch of his brows and lowering of his shoulders. They were very small things, but after all your time together, you were able to pick up on these changes in him. Something about seeing him so happy made your heart flutter, so you invited Alhaitham to more book shopping trips, and even sometimes to science museums and exhibits he expressed an interest in.

As the months wore on, Alhaitham began to notice that something was off with him. He found himself looking forward to spending alone time with you in the library or going on one of your joint shopping trips to the city. Usually, he would decline such invitations if they came from anyone else in your family, but he always made an exception for you. When tutoring, he stood closer to you than he had before, catching himself analyzing the features of your face despite having seen you every day for months. His synthetic heart beat slightly faster when he was in your presence.

Alhaitham is confused at first by this unusual desire for your attention and time. He ponders why he felt this way. This type of behavior isn’t a part of his programming since it has nothing to do with his role as your tutor. The more he analyzed his symptoms, the more he was reminded of the romance novels you recommended to him a few months back. At the time, he didn’t understand the logic behind feelings of affection and romance described in those stories, but now… now something seemed to click in his mechanical mind. These behaviors and desires he felt because of you… could this be what humans called love?