#and it catches me off guard every year without fail

[stormwaterwitch]

[pearlymel]

☆ cw. mdni, fem!reader, fluffy smut, talks of having children, established relationship.

Zayne Always admired that look on your face whenever he would start making love to you.

Your messed up hair that no matter how much he tried smoothening it out with his fingers, it would end up even messier, your swollen parted glossy lips, and half-lidded awaiting eyes.

Zayne doesn't really know when he became fond of you. Perhaps it was when he first met you all those years ago, when you two were kids. Maybe it was when he found you passed out under a tree during a storm.

But ever since he realized his feelings for you all he could think about was making sure you don't get hurt. He's not sure if he's been doing a good job with that. Especially when you're asking for another round after he just wrecked your pussy from the long hours at the hospital, could you really blame him?

As if you could read his mind, you whisper "you're doing well, dearest."

"I should be the one reassuring you, love." He chuckled as he pressed a kiss on your forehead. He's quite glad you're in his arms. There are days where his work takes a toll on him more than usual.

He knows sometimes you're able and willing to go another round since you're quite greedy to keep the feeling going, he'd always make sure to stop you. You can be a little too impatient sometimes, it makes his cheeks flush a rosy pink as he rubbed the tip of his re-hardend flushed length against your slit, coating himself in your slick.

And there's your gasp and arch of your back once he pushed in with a slow, deliberate thrust, filling you all at once, like your cunt was swallowing him in that it never misses to make him dizzy.

His right hand traces along your left arm until it reached your hand to enclose your fingers together, where he could feel your wedding ring on his skin. with that, Zayne starts to move, his hips rolling in a slow, steady rhythm. He sets a gentle pace, focusing on long, deep strokes that aim to please rather than overwhelm as your lips find his into a messy, open-mouthed kiss, your tongues tangling lazily.

He angles his hips, hitting that spongy spot inside you that never fails to make you whimper and squirm underneath him. He reaches his free hand down between your bodies to find your clit, and he rubs slow, tight circles around the sensitive bud, matching the rhythm of his thrusts and your hand squeezes his so hard, signalling your pending orgasm.

Zayne can feel his own release building, the pressure coiling tighter and tighter, he redoubles his efforts, his fingers working on your clit faster as his cock starts pounding into harder, deeper for your pleasures. Your fluttering walls responds with a tight clench around his cock until your eyes are rolling back.

"Zayne," you pant his name softly like a prayer to his ear, your fingertips brushing over his shoulder to his cheek, "do you ever.. ever want to have a baby—"

The question catches him off guard. It's not that the thought of having kids with you doesn't excite him. Quite the opposite. You've both been married for a while, and he's quite keen on the idea.

"Haaah—" So keen that that it makes him cum right on the spot, he buries himself to the hilt inside, he groans low and long, his cock pulsing as he spills his seed into your awaiting womb in hot, thick spurts.

You're both silent in eachother's embrace for a while before he pulls out, you watch his every move without a word, from him cleaning you up to joining you back in bed so he could hold you close.

"You didn't answer me." You poke your question at him, and he raises an amused eyebrow, ".. the thought of having kids with you crosses my mind everytime i see you play with them." He answers you with passion, your heart skips a beat.

"... I think a copy of you and i would be cute." The idea of having a child that's a mix of both him and you being cute was something he also thought many times before. "Is that the only reason you want a kid?" He teased lowly, his hand moving to caress your nape now.

"Well you'd be a great father," you say it as if it's the obvious, and Zayne's smile grows wider as your statement, he couldn't help but feel happy hearing you think of him as a father.

The thought of you, carrying his child was quite appealing to him. He's quite sure he'd pamper you and take care of you ten times more than before.

"Do you really think so?" He asks as he watches you blink sleepily, "of course.. you're attentive, caring, loving, plus a doctor."

"And you think those will make me a great father?" His hand moves further down from your nape, it's now resting on the top of your hip, grabbing it lightly. Zayne's thumb continues to trace the skin of your hip in a soft manner. "How about you? Would you be a good mother?" He asks genuinely.

You're hesitant, "i don't think so."

"Why not?"

"..."

"I think you'll be an amazing mother, you just don't know it yet." Zayne softly pecks your cheek, and you blink slowly at the kiss.

Sometimes even he wonders why you can't see yourself the same way he does. He's sure if you were to give birth to his child, you'd instantly be in love with the little baby in your hands.

"you're so easy to love." You murmur, and his eyebrows furrow, "i mean.. anyone could fall for you because of your loveable nature." You peck at the corner of his lips this time.

Zayne's response is silent as he's still bewildered by what you said. He's never considered himself to be someone that would make a woman fall madly in love with him, when all he's ever thought of loving was that one person he's known all his life, in every universe.

"Don't think about it so much," you look down at him from your side in this still night, with your arms moving to cage him in close, "I love you."

He's quite lucky to have someone like you in his life, you're too sweet and kind with your words. He's always known that.

He stares at you quietly for a moment before responding. "I love you, so much."

You both retire for the night, with your heart's content knowing there still is a long way to your marriage.

[lanf1an]

SEASONS lando norris x fewtrell sister pt.4 - january 7 2025

pt.1 pt.2 pt.3 pt.5 pt.6 pt.7 pt.8 pt.9 pt.10

Wordcount: 1936

The group was scattered across the slopes, each pairing off for a morning of skiing or snowboarding. Lando and Dylan had somehow ended up together after riding the lifts, and were carving through the snow in companionable silence. Lando had to admit Dylan was annoyingly good on a board, making it look effortless as he sped down the powdery trails.

At the bottom of the run, they paused to catch their breath. Dylan stretched his arms above his head, grinning. “Man, this is the life. It’s great you guys have been doing this every year.”

“Yeah, it’s the best,” Lando replied, adjusting his goggles. “You’re lucky you got the invite.”

Dylan laughed. “I guess I passed the test with her, huh?”

“Guess so.”

As they lined up for the next lift, Dylan turned to him. “Speaking of passing tests, she told me she’s thinking of taking that job in Japan. Pretty big deal for her, right?”

Lando froze. “Wait—what job in Japan?”

Dylan looked confused. “She didn’t tell you? It’s with her company. Some kind of high-level exchange position for a few months. She’s not sure yet, but we’ve been talking about it.”

Lando forced himself to stay casual, though his chest tightened. “You’ve been talking about it?”

“Well, yeah,” Dylan said. “If she goes, I’d probably go with her for a bit. There’s great boarding in Japan, so it’d be a win-win. But she’s still deciding.”

Lando didn’t respond immediately, pushing off as the lift began to carry them up the mountain. 

“She didn’t mention it to me,” he said finally, not wanting to admit it.

Dylan shrugged, oblivious. “She’s probably waiting until she decides for sure. I mean, she’s got you, Max, her parents—it’s a lot of people to think about.”

“Right,” Lando said shortly, staring out over the snowy landscape. — Later that evening, the group was lounging in the cozy living room of the chalet, the fire crackling softly in the background. Dylan was engrossed in a card game with Max and some of the others, leaving you and Lando alone in the corner, sipping your drinks.

Lando leaned closer to you, lowering his voice. “So... Japan?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“Dylan mentioned something about you getting a job offer in Japan,” Lando said, trying to sound nonchalant but failing. “You didn’t think that was worth mentioning to me?”

You sighed, swirling your drink. “It’s not set in stone, Lan. I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it until I decided.”

“Decided what?” His voice had an edge now. “Whether or not to move halfway across the world?”

You frowned, defensive. “It’s an amazing opportunity, Lando. I’m not saying yes or no yet, but it’s something I have to consider.”

His jaw tightened, and he set his glass down a little too hard on the coffee table. “What about the season? You’ve always been there—well, mostly. I can’t imagine doing it without you around.”

Your expression softened slightly, but your tone remained firm. “Lando, I wasn’t at every race last season, and you were fine. Look at your results!” You gave him a small smile, trying to lighten the mood. “You’re a superstar. You don’t need me there holding your hand.”

He stared at you, his lips pressed into a thin line. “It’s not about needing you to hold my hand. It’s...” He trailed off, running a hand through his hair. “You being there—it just makes things... easier. Part of my routine I’m used to”

Your brow furrowed. ‘’Part of your routine?’’

“I just… It’ll be weird without you around. You’ve always been there.’’

The sentiment was sweet, but there was something about the way he said it that made your chest tighten. “You’ll be fine,” you said, forcing a smile now. “You’ve got Magui, and Max, and the whole team. You’re not exactly lacking in support.”

“It’s not the same,” Lando replied, his voice barely above a murmur.

Your hand froze mid-reach for your drink. You set it down instead, the clink of glass against wood sharper than you intended. “What are you saying, Lando?”

He hesitated, like he hadn’t expected you to call him on it. “I’m just saying… you’ve always been part of this. Part of my life, my career. You get it in a way that—” He stopped himself, shaking his head. “I don’t know how to explain it.”

“Try,” you said, your tone sharper than he expected.

His brows furrowed, and for a moment, he looked like the boy you’d known all those years ago—earnest, vulnerable, and completely unaware of how his words could cut. “I guess I just… I need you. You’ve always been there, and I don’t know what it’s going to be like if you’re not.”

“You need me?” you repeated irritated. “Lando, I’m not going to Japan to sit on a beach. This is my career. My chance to do something for me. Do you even realize how that sounds?”

His eyes widened in confusion. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just saying—”

“You’re just saying you want me to put my life on hold so I can keep holding your hand through yours and be part of your routine?” you snapped, the words tumbling out before you could stop them.

Lando recoiled slightly. “That’s not what I’m asking.”

“Isn’t it?” you pressed, you voice rising. “You’re asking me to stay, Lando. To stay and make your life easier, while I give up something I’ve worked just as hard for. Do you know how selfish that sounds?”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he said again, but this time his voice was quieter, tinged with guilt. “I just— It’s not easy, okay? Doing this. And I thought… I thought you understood that.”

You stared at him, your heart pounding in her chest. “I do understand. That’s why I’m still here, isn’t it? That’s why I’ve always been here. But you don’t get to ask this of me, Lando.”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, you thought he might argue. But instead, he nodded, the weight of her words sinking in. “You’re right,” he said finally. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think.”

The tension in her shoulders eased slightly, but the sting of his words lingered. “I know you didn’t,” you said softly. 

— Mexico, 29 november 2023

The shrill sound of tires screeching and the thud of impact echoed through the paddock speakers. Your breath caught in your throat as the screen showed Lando’s car slamming into the barriers, a plume of debris scattering across the track.

“Red flag. That’s Norris in the wall,” the commentator announced, their tone serious but calm.

You were already on your feet in the McLaren garage, staring at the screen with wide eyes. The replay looped, showing his car losing grip on the exit of a corner before careening into the barriers.

“Is he okay?” you blurted, your voice sharp with worry.

One of the engineers turned to reassure you. “We’ve got radio communication. He’s fine, just frustrated.”

The knot in your stomach didn’t ease until you heard his voice crackle through the team radio, muttering, “I’m okay, I’m okay. Sorry, guys.”

You exhaled, hands trembling slightly as you sat back down. He might be physically fine, but you knew how much this would rattle him mentally.

The energy in the hospitality area was buzzing with activity, mechanics and engineers rushing around to prepare for tomorrow. You made your way over to Lando, who was perched on a counter, still in his race suit, a bag of ice pressed against his shoulder. His helmet sat beside him, a little scuffed from the impact.

“You alright?” you asked, leaning against the counter beside him.

He shrugged, wincing slightly as the motion aggravated his shoulder. “Yeah, I’m fine. Car’s a mess, though.”

You shot him a look. “The car can be fixed. I’m asking about you.”

Lando glanced at you, his expression guarded but softening under your gaze. “I’ve had worse.” Then, with a self-deprecating chuckle: “Though I can’t say the engineers are thrilled with me right now.”

“They’ll get over it,” you said firmly. “They know you’re pushing to the limit—that’s what you’re supposed to do.”

“Yeah, well, limits don’t win races if you’re sitting in the wall during quali.” He leaned back against the counter, his jaw tight.

You didn’t let the tension linger. “Oh, c’mon, Lan. You’ve come back from worse. Remember last season? You started at the back of the grid and still finished in the points.”

A faint smirk tugged at his lips. “That was different. I didn’t stuff it in the barriers first.”

You reached over, grabbing a nearby energy drink can and tapping it lightly against his knee. “Then tomorrow’s your chance to remind everyone what you’re made of. You’ve got the pace, and we both know you love a challenge. Besides,” you added, grinning, “you’ll make the highlight reel if you pull it off.”

That earned a real laugh from him, and he tilted his head toward you. “You think I’ll pull it off?”

“I know you will,” you said, your tone unwavering.

Lando sat there for a beat, then hopped off the counter, dropping the ice pack onto the surface. “Alright, then I guess we will see.” —  The garage was absolute chaos. Team members shouted and high-fived, celebrating an incredible recovery drive. Lando had fought his way through the field with surgical precision, finishing in a stunning P5. The relief and joy in the room were palpable.

Lando barged into the garage, his race suit unzipped to his waist, hair a wild mess from pulling off his helmet. He was grinning ear to ear, waving a bottle of champagne in the air.

“P5, baby!” he shouted, and the room erupted in cheers again.

You were standing with Max and a few others when he spotted you. “Oi, don’t act like you’re not impressed,” he called, pointing at you with the neck of the champagne bottle.

You crossed your arms, pretending to look unimpressed. “P5? Meh, could’ve been P4 if you’d overtaken Gasly one lap earlier.”

Lando strode over, uncorking the bottle with a loud pop and spraying it wildly, catching you and a few nearby engineers in the crossfire. You shrieked, laughing as the cold champagne hit your face and jacket.

“Alright, alright!” you yelled, holding up your hands. “You win, Norris! P5 is pretty damn good!”

“Damn right it is,” he said, grinning as he took a swig straight from the bottle, still dripping champagne. “You doubted me for a second, didn’t you?”

“Never,” you replied, swiping the bottle from his hand and taking a sip yourself.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “That’s mine.”

“Not anymore,” you quipped, handing it back to him with a smirk.

The atmosphere was electric, the team chanting and laughing around you both. It wasn’t long before the post-race interviews started pulling people away, but Lando lingered for a moment.

“Hey,” he said, leaning in so you could hear him over the noise. “Thanks for, you know, earlier. Couldn’t have done it without your support.”

You glanced at him, surprised at the sudden sincerity in his voice. “What are you thanking me for? You’re the one who clawed your way back.”

He gave a small shrug, “Yeah, but you’re always there. Even when I’m a proper idiot.”

You rolled your eyes, though your smile betrayed you. “You’re always a proper idiot.”

He laughed, holding up the champagne bottle. “Guess it works for me.”

“I guess it does.”

tl: @ash88-yep @lewishamiltonismybf @harrysdimple05 @lex2205 @il0vereadingstuff @martygraciesversion381 @joannaln4 @obxstiles

[speaknowgirl3184]

I Loved A Monster

Unburnt! Darth Vader x female reader

You're part of the Rebellion. You discover the Sith Lord hunting you used to be the love of your life. The reveal destroys you, and yet, some part of you still sees the man he was.

Warnings: ANGST, Major character death, killings, death, blood, war, gore. (Let me know if there is anything else not mentioned).

Word Count: 2.2k

Masterlist

The hangar was in flames. You didn’t look back.

Your boots pounded against durasteel, blaster fire ricocheting off the walls behind you. Another squad had arrived, stormtroopers, white armor gleaming in the smoke. The Rebels were falling back, but not you. Not yet.

You had to make sure the data got out.

“Y/n, evac’s on the east wing, go!” shouted Obi-Wan through the comms, his voice crackling with static.

You ducked into a corridor, your breath ragged, clutching the drive against your chest like your life depended on it, because it did. It held the Empire’s newest fleet movements. Too many lives would be lost if it didn’t make it back to command.

The corridor flickered. The lights above you sputtered, then died.

The temperature dropped.

It wasn’t the failing power systems. It was something else. A weight pressing in on your chest, your ribs.

You turned the corner.

And there he was.

Tall. Cloaked in black. Breathing slow and mechanical. The hiss of the respirator was worse in person, like the ghost of a man who should’ve died long ago.

Darth Vader.

You froze. Every cell in your body screamed at you to run, to hide, but your legs wouldn’t move.

He stepped forward.

“You cannot escape,” came the voice, warped and metallic, but… underneath it, a note of something else. Something you recognized without understanding how.

And in that instant, it was like the world stopped.

You had heard stories of Vader, how he crushed enemies without lifting a hand, how he bled worlds dry. But that wasn’t what rooted you to the floor.

It was his presence in the Force.

So familiar it made your knees buckle.

“No,” you whispered, voice cracking. “No. It can’t be…”

He tilted his head slightly, just enough to be human, and that made it worse.

You remembered the boy with fire in his eyes. The man who kissed you under the twin suns. The Jedi who promised he'd always come back to you.

“Anakin,” you breathed.

He hesitated. Just a flicker.

And then, like a wave crashing down, the moment shattered. You ran.

You didn’t see him follow. You didn’t need to. He would find you. He always did.

And this time, he wouldn’t be the one you loved.

The Rebel outpost on Derra IV was buried beneath meters of ice and stone, but you couldn’t stop shaking.

Not from the cold.

You sat on a crate in the medbay, the data drive clutched in your hand like a lifeline. No one questioned why you were silent. No one asked why you looked like you’d seen a ghost. Maybe they’d seen him too. Maybe they’d felt him.

Darth Vader.

But not just Vader. Not anymore.

Anakin. Your Anakin. 

The name hadn’t left your lips in years, not since the Clone Wars ended and he vanished, presumed dead in the fires that consumed the Jedi.

But he hadn’t died.

He’d become something else. Something… unrecognizable.

Except he was recognizable. That was the problem.

That presence. That pull. The way your heart knew him before your mind could catch up.

You buried your face in your hands, trying to breathe. It was all wrong. He was dead. He had to be.

Because if he wasn't… then you had loved a man who became the galaxy’s greatest monster.

And worse, you still felt something when you looked at him.

-----------

The doors slid open behind you.

“Thought I’d find you here,” came a voice.

It was Obi. 

You didn’t look up. “How bad is it?”

Hw exhaled. “Could be worse. Thanks to you, we’ve got the fleet movements. You saved lives today.”

You nodded numbly.

He paused. “But something’s wrong.”

You turned your head just slightly. “When you… when you first saw him, Vader, did it feel like you knew him?”

Obi-Wan blinked, taken off guard. “No. Just fear. Why?”

You looked down at your hands. “Because I did.”

A long silence followed.

Then quietly: “You knew who he was.”

You swallowed hard. “I think I did. A long time ago.”

-----------

That night, sleep didn’t come.

You stood alone in the comms tower, staring out at the icy plains, your breath fogging the glass.

The dreams kept coming.

His smile.His hand brushing your cheek.“I’ll protect you, no matter what.”

Lies now. All of it.

And yet, when he looked at you, even through the mask… there’d been something in him that knew you.

You pressed your forehead to the glass.

“What happened to you?” you whispered.

And far above, hidden among the stars, the Dark Lord watched your signal trace across the sector.

He didn’t speak.

But he remembered your voice.

-----------

The alarms didn't go off until morning.

You were already awake.

The nightmares hadn't stopped, but this time, they weren't filled with fire or screams, they were quiet. Softer. Just him.

Ani as you remembered him. The boy who grinned when he flew. The man who carved you a charm from starship scrap and tied it around your wrist like it was a promise.

It still sat in the bottom of your pack. You hadn’t looked at it in years.

You wanted to throw it into the snow and bury it. But you didn’t.

-----------

The medbay was emptier now. The wounded had been moved or lost. You moved through it in a haze, checking in, taking inventory, pretending to be useful. Pretending not to be broken.

But when you reached the back storage unit, you stopped.

His name wasn’t written anywhere. There was no record of it. No one had spoken it out loud since the purge. But you still saw it, like a ghost etched into every wall.

Anakin Skywalker.

You leaned back against the cold shelving unit, arms crossed over your chest.

It didn’t make sense. None of it did.

He loved you. You knew he did.

And you… you never stopped.

Even now, with blood on his hands, with that machine where his soul used to be, you still felt it.

Still hoped, in some small, twisted part of yourself, that there was something left of him inside that mask.

-----------

Later, you found yourself alone in the command center.

You shouldn’t have accessed the records. You knew better. But your hands moved on instinct, pulling up the encrypted logs from the mission. The surveillance cam in the hallway—the one just before the power went out.

You watched the footage.

You watched yourself turn that corner.

And you watched him step out of the smoke.

Darth Vader.

Even in shadow, he filled the frame. The stormtroopers behind him didn’t move until he did. He raised a hand, signaling them to stand down.

And then…

He saw you.

You paused the frame there.

Just before you ran. Just after he stopped.

Zoomed in.

It was barely anything. A shift in posture. A breath caught. A flicker of hesitation that the others might’ve missed.

But not you.

You knew him.

You stared at the frame until your vision blurred.

Because in that moment… he remembered you too.

-----------

You were halfway to Obi-wan’s quarters before you realized what you were doing.

You knocked once.

He opened the door in his flight suit. “You look like you haven’t slept.”

“I need to speak to Mon Mothma,” you said quietly. “Or General Draven. Someone high enough to listen.”

His expression shifted. “Why?”

You took a breath.

“Because I know who Vader is,” you said. “And I think there’s still something human inside him.”

Obi-Wan stared at you like you’d just lost your mind.

Maybe you had.

But it was too late now.

Because you were going to find him again.

Not as an enemy.

But as a reckoning.

-----------

They didn’t believe you.

Obi-Wan had begged you to let it go. Mon Mothma looked at you like you were already gone. Even Draven had pulled you aside, tried to warn you: “If you go after him, you won’t come back.”

But none of it mattered.

Because you knew.

Anakin was still in there. Somewhere beneath the armor, beneath the weight of the Dark Side. You couldn’t prove it. You could barely explain it.

You just felt it.

So you left.

One stolen ship. No authorization. Just you, a tracker, and a hope as fragile as glass.

-----------

He was on Dagobah. That’s where the rumors led you, an Imperial facility crawling with storm troopers and whispers of Vader's presence. You didn’t have a plan. Just a name on your lips and a fire in your chest.

You made it to the surface undetected. Through the ruins. Into the steel heart of the fortress.

But they found you eventually.

You tried to run. Tried to fight.

But there were too many.

You held your own, long enough to make it to the inner corridor. Close enough that you could feel him through the Force, like a storm just beyond the horizon.

That was when one of the troopers panicked.

You didn’t see the blaster turn toward you.

Just a flash.

And then fire.

-----------

You dropped to your knees.

The world tilted sideways, cold and wrong. You pressed a hand to your side. Warmth bloomed beneath your fingers. Too much.

Everything around you blurred. The voices, the footsteps, the shouting. But one sound cut through it all.

A scream. Mechanical. Twisted. Agonized.

Then the storm arrived.

You didn’t see how it happened, just the bodies flying. The troopers crushed against walls. The hallway trembling beneath the weight of his fury.

And then—

Silence.

You were on your back now, barely breathing. The ceiling above you flickered with the failing lights.

Then he appeared.

Not the monster. Not the Sith.

Just him.

He dropped to his knees beside you, arms gathering you up like you were made of something holy.

You tried to speak, but your throat was thick with blood.

“Don’t,” he whispered, his voice breaking even through the mask. “Don’t talk. I’m here.”

You blinked slowly, your fingers twitching weakly toward his.

His gloves came off. You felt his bare hand, warm and shaking, cover yours.

“I should’ve found you sooner,” he said. “I should’ve left the Order. I should’ve run with you when we had the chance. I thought I had time, I thought if I had power, I could keep you safe.”

His voice cracked. “I became this for nothing.”

You stared up at him, eyes glassy, lips parted.

“You loved me,” you managed, barely a breath.

He took off his helmet and leaned closer, forehead resting against yours.

“I still do,” he whispered. “I always did. I had plans, I used to dream about a place far from Coruscant, like Naboo. Just us. A little house. A ship with your name painted on the side. No war. No Jedi. Just peace.”

Your fingers curled slightly against his chest. You could feel the thrum of the respirator. Slower now. Quieter.

“I would’ve given it all up for you,” he said. “If you’d asked. I just… I didn’t know how to stop.”

You looked at him, truly looked, and for one brief second, the amber eyes were gone.

You saw him.

His eyes were wet. His hands trembling. A boy lost inside a man made of steel.

“I waited for you,” you said.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered.

Then everything faded.

-----------

He held you long after your breathing stopped.

He didn’t speak again.

Not for a long, long time.

But somewhere, deep in the Force, something broke.

And for the first time in years, Anakin Skywalker wept.

-----------

Epilogue: Anakin's POV 

They burned your body on a forgotten moon.

No ceremony. No names spoken. No one else knew who you were to me.

That was the only kindness I had left to give, keeping them from turning your memory into a weapon.

I stood alone while the flames rose.

I didn’t wear the armor.

I couldn’t.

Not when the last person who knew the man beneath it was gone.

-----------

The galaxy keeps turning.

The war continues.

The Emperor asks nothing about the mission. He never does.

But I can feel his curiosity, like a blade pressed to the back of my neck. He knows I lost control. He knows something happened.

Let him wonder.

He can have my anger. My obedience.

But he doesn’t get you.

-----------

I kept the charm you wore.

It was still in your pack. The one I made from starship scrap—back when we were both young, stupid, full of hope.

I remember the way you laughed when I tied it around your wrist.

"You’re not going to lose me," you told me.

But I did.

I lost you the day I chose power.

The day I believed the galaxy needed me more than you did.

I would undo it all if I could.

I would burn the stars down just to go back to that moment, to stop myself.

But there’s no time machine in the Force.

No way to rewrite the story.

Just ashes. Just silence.

-----------

So I’ll carry this guilt.

I’ll wear it beneath the black robes and the breathing and the fear.

Let them all call me a monster.

Let the galaxy hate me.

They should.

Because I was loved by someone good.

And I destroyed her.

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

I hope you are bawling your eyes out like I am right now! Anyway if you have any recs or ideas just dm me or message me, love you guys, ty for all the support. 💗

[reiinaissance]

STEP UP YOUR GAME ft. arataki itto (genshin impact) x female! reader

⟢ summary Arataki Itto, one of the troublemakers in your university, needed to pass his test in his failing subject to be able to play this year's football game. So he begged for you, the smartest girl in his class, to tutor him. You never thought it would lead to something more...

⟢ content warnings nsfw, modern! university! alternative universe, sub! reader, oral (male receiving), dirty talk, size kink, unprotected. minors do not interact.

⟢ word count 1.5k

reupload from my old account ☻

archive of our own

"No."

Arataki Itto almost dropped to his knees. No? "W-What?"

"I won't tutor you."

"Why?!"

You told yourself you wouldn't get involved with the Arataki Gang who were notorious on the campus for being... well... troublemakers. Kuki Shinobu was an exception, though, because she's your best friend. And she mostly stayed out of trouble. You never knew how she joined them, it just happened.

"I just... I have a lot of stuff to do this week." You said, opening your notebook to read the lecture for today's class.

You heard Itto sighing sadly, and you almost felt bad. Almost. "You don't have time to tutor me this week? Even just for an hour?" When you didn't respond, he clasped his hands in front of you, "Please! I'll do anything! I really have to pass this subject to be able to play the upcoming game!"

Okay, you lied. You felt bad.

Shinobu sometimes drags you to one of Itto's football games, and he was a good player. It would really be a waste for the team if he doesn't get to play in his upcoming game.

...You know what?

Clicking your tongue, you nodded. "Fine. Every 8 p.m. on weekdays at starting tomorrow."

He pumped his fist up in the air, "Woo-hoo! I'll see you tomorrow... Uh..." You tilted your head. "What's your name again?"

All you have to do is to do your best in tutoring Arataki Itto and hope to God he does well in the test. So much for not wanting to be involved with the Arataki Gang.

"This is the third time I've explained this, Itto." You pinched the bridge of your nose. You've been in his dorm for almost 2 hours now, and you had to be back in your dorm by 11 p.m.

"Wait, wait!" Itto shook his head vigorously. "Just explain to me one more time and I'm sure I can understand it!"

You sighed at the pouting look he gave you and stood up to get your water bottle from the table. "So why didn't you ask Kujou Sara to tutor you instead? She's smart." You asked, and Itto shuddered at the mention of her name. "...What's wrong with Sara?"

"Are you seriously asking me that...?! She's literally the most difficult person to get along with!"

You furrowed your eyebrows, walking back to the bed. "No she's not. I get along with her."

"Hah, right. Of course, smart people get along." Rolling your eyes at his remark, you continued teaching the math problem to him. After a few more explaining, he got the problem right.

"Hey, that's correct! Good job." You flashed him a small smile, and you could've sworn his eyes twinkled with joy.

"Really?!" Without any warning, he hugged you, catching you off-guard. "I'll make sure to focus really hard so I can get all 'em right!"

You get that he was happy about it... but...

You never thought his abs would be that rock-hard. Your clothed breasts were pressed up against his clothed abs, and you felt a weird sensation in your—

Y/N! Snap out of it!

"Uhh, you there?" Itto pulled away, looking at you with a concerned look, then his eyes widened. "Oh— Oh. Sorry, it's just when I'm happy I hug... people. Like when we win games, you know? I hug my teammates and I'm sorry if I—"

"It's fine." You chuckled, and there was an awkward silence until you spoke again. "Um, let's move on."

He nodded and answered the next question. Wrong.

"No, no, it's like this..."

And before you knew it, it was already 11 p.m.

“Thank you… really! I already think I’m gonna ace this test ‘cause of you!” Itto flashed a handsome smile, “Be safe on the way to your dorm, alright?”

You returned the smile, waving at him. “I will, bye.” Itto was about to close the door but you stopped him when you heard footsteps. “Wait.” Shit. Shit, shit, shit!

You completely forgot someone monitors the dormitories as soon as it is 11 p.m!

Itto pulled you into his room and closed the door. You leaned back on the door in distress, “Oh, I forgot about the dorm monitor. You can’t go back to your dorm any time soon…”

“No shit.” You sighed and looked up at him.

He looks… attractive. You were so focused on tutoring him that you never realized he was this attractive.

“Y/N?”

You came back to your senses, “Hmm?”

“I said, you can stay here till the monitor is gone. They’re usually gone by 12 a.m.”

You cleared your throat, nodding, “…Yeah… yeah.”

He chuckled, “Y/N? You okay?”

You nodded once again, “I am…”

“Then… why do you keep staring at me like that?”

“…Like what?”

“Like that.”

Itto was looking at you, and you couldn’t help but gulp at the way he was gazing at you. Archons… he looked so hot. What the hell? “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” You walked past him and sat on the bed. “Guess I’ll have to wait… like 30 minutes or so.”

He turned, a smile on his face, “Wanna do something fun to kill time?”

All you could think about was him fucking you senselessly, trying to keep quiet so you don’t wake the others.

“Sure. I’ll tutor you some more.”

Tutor, my ass.

You were on all fours on Itto’s bed, his dick in your mouth as he stood in front of you. You wrapped your hand around the rest of his length that you couldn’t fit into your mouth, and looked up at him. He was biting his lip, grunting quietly.

“Archons, Y/N… Who knew you could suck dick so good?”

You didn’t know how it got to this point — You were tutoring him once again, but you couldn’t focus. You kept stuttering and Itto couldn’t understand you. But then seeing his hard-on… You looked up at him and he was gazing at you…

You both couldn’t resist each other.

Choking on his cock, he gripped onto your hair, hissing, “Fuck…”

Then he pulled your head away, the string of saliva connecting your lips and the tip of his cock. You looked up at him, breathing out, “Fuck me.”

Itto was still panting, and the side of his mouth curled upwards. “Yeah? You gonna be quiet while I fuck you?”

“Mhm… Please…” You whimpered, then gasped when he pulled you up and then pushed you down onto the bed.

He kissed your neck, his hand reaching for your wet clit and rubbing it. You moaned quietly, rolling your hips against his hand then whining when his hand pulled away from you.

"J-Just the tip, first..." You whispered and bit your lip, feeling the head gliding along your clit. "It won't fi— Agh!"

Itto covered your mouth with his hand, growling quietly as he carefully thrust into you. "I'll make it fit, don't worry."

Suddenly, footsteps were heard outside the room. You looked at Itto as he covered your mouth, and your eyes widened when he moved against you. “Shh. Don’t make a sound…” He whispered as removed his hand from your mouth and kissed you.

You couldn't help but clench around him and he groaned, pushing deeper into you. You moaned through the kiss as your legs wrapped around his waist. “Mhhf… O-Oh…”

He's so big that you could feel his tip touching your cervix, hitting it with every thrust he does. He pulled away from your lips as he fucked you harder, your moans coming out as silent gasps.

"Fuck, baby..." Itto whispered, gritting his teeth. "You like that? Does it feel good?"

You could only nod your head in response, afraid to talk because you might moan too loud. He let out a breathy laugh as he continued pounding deeper into you.

Tears filled up your eyes from the pleasure and you could feel the knot on your stomach as Itto went faster. "Mm— 'm gonna...!"

"Shhh, do it for me, baby. Come on."

Your body shook as your orgasm washed over you. He grunted once more, biting into your neck softly.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck..." And he finally pulled out, cumming on your stomach, "Fuck…"

The sight of your almost-passed-out figure on his bed almost made him hard once again, but he resisted himself. He fell next to you, letting out a contented sigh.

You closed your eyes, still panting. "I was only gonna tutor you. Not fuck you."

Itto laughed, caressing your thighs. "Too bad."

"So you're telling me you weren't at your dorm last night because you were at Itto's?" Shinobu gave you a disapproved look. You smiled sheepishly.

"...Look, it just happened, okay? What were we supposed to do while waiting for the monitor?"

Shinobu sighed. "So much for telling yourself to not get involved with the Arataki Gang."

reiinaissance © 2025 | all rights reserved. do not claim as your own, modify, copy or repost.

[seoll3miwrites]

Fireworks | Y/N x Ahkmenrah

Masterlist British!Reader is feeling homesick without celebrating Bonfire night. After confiding in Ahkmenrah, he seeks help from the others to make sure they don't miss out on their favourite holiday (WC: 2334) AN: I wrote this in basically a day so apologies if it's not super polished.

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

Y/N had been working as a night guard for the museum of natural history for a little over six months now. They’d moved to New York from the UK a year ago to attend NYU studying archeology. So when they were desperate for money and they found out the local museum had an open position, they happily took it.

The job did take some adjusting, especially when on their first night they came face to face with a moving t-rex skeleton, but thankfully, with the help of Larry and the other exhibits, they slowly became apart of their mismatched family.

It was notable that over the last six months Y/N had grown closest to Ahkmenrah. Not only due to their closeness in age but also their shared interest in history. Most nights Y/N could be found walking with Ahkmenrah, either listening to his stories or catching him up on recent history.

It was now November, Halloween had just passed, and Y/N was feeling unusually more homesick than usual. Instead of listening emotively to Ahkmenrah’s stories, they simply hummed in acknowledgement. They’re so caught up in their homesick melancholy that they fails to notice that he’s stopped speaking.

"Y/N, are you alright?” He nudged them gently as he asked. “You seem distant this evening?”

"Sorry, it’s silly, really.”

"Are you sure? You don't seem alright," he says quietly, his crystal eyes watching them. "You never ignore me."

“Oh Ahkmen, I’m so sorry!” Their face suddenly filled with emotion. “I didn’t mean to ignore you.”

He shook his head at their apologies and stepped forward to hold their hand. "No, it’s fine, Y/N, but what’s wrong?”

“I’m just missing the UK this time of year.”

Ahkmenrah's eyes soften as he takes their hand. "I understand. It is okay to miss your home." He says quietly. He looks up at them, and he can tell that the homesickness that they’re feeling is a very heavy thing.

He gently squeezes their hand. "Do you talk to your family back in England?" He gives a thoughtful glance before looking back up at them.

“It’s not that; I spoke to them just this morning, but..." Y/N pauses for a moment before continuing, “I kinda miss the fireworks.”

His brows furrow slightly in confusion. “Fireworks?”

“Every year in the UK we set off fireworks and make bonfires on the Fifth of November.” They begin to explain, “We call it Bonfire or Guy Fawkes night.”

The confusion is now replaced with wide-eyed curiosity; his eyes sparkle with interest as he speaks, “That sounds wonderful, so you celebrate with fireworks?”

Y/N nodded, happy with Akhmenrah’s genuine interest. “Um yeah, it’s a way to commemorate when Guy Fawkes failed to blow up parliament in 1605.”

Ahkmenrah raises his eyebrows. He seems more intrigued than ever at this point. "A failed attack on a government.. so you celebrate?" he says, almost in awe at the idea. "How exciting!"

“Yeah, although like most holidays we mainly use it as an excuse to get stinking drunk.” They laughed quietly at their own joke, “But my parents and I used to always go see a fireworks show every year.”

“Did you do anything else?” He asked, still curious, to which Y/N’s asked sparkled before they spoke. The two then spent the rest of the night talking about different traditions and foods that bonfire night often had. They also discussed different holidays Akhmenrah would celebrate during his life in Ancient Egypt.

Eventually, the sun began to rise and the two had to part, but not before Y/N escorted him back to his tomb. “I’ll see you tonight, Akhmen.”

“See you tonight, Y/N.” He replied, but he looked as if he wanted to keep talking, making Y/N confused, but they didn’t have time to reply as the sarcophagus closed and the tablet glowed once more.

Y/N sighed before gently tapping on the sarcophagus and whispered the one thing they could never say during the night, “I love you...” before stepping away and heading back home.

The next night, Larry greeted them with a favour: "Listen, could you just keep an eye on the minis tonight? They’ve been whispering, and I got a feeling they're planning something.”

“Sure, no worries.” They ended up spending their whole night with Jedediah and Octavius. Y/N took them to the projection room and let them pick any movies to watch; they ended up picking The Lord of the Rings trilogy.

By the time Sunrise was close, they had only just finished the second film, and with a promise to watch the third movie, the two let Y/N carry them back to their exhibits. Once they had finished closing their assigned exhibits, Y/N made their way to the museum lobby.

As they walked down the stairs, Y/N paused as they spotted Ahkmenrah and Larry talking in hushed tones and looked at something on Larry’s laptop. The two hadn’t noticed Y/N as they slowly walked closer to the two.

“What are you boys whispering about?” They asked, causing the two men to jump slightly at the sudden voice. Larry quickly shut the laptop, looking incredibly awkward at being caught.

“Ah, Y/N. We were just... discussing some work stuff. Nothing important.” The older nightguard spoke rapidly, not sounding convincing at all. He glanced at the young pharaoh to back him up, who proceeded to nod while smiling a bit too widely.

“Uh Huh…” Y/N spoke with their arms crossed, clearly not believing them. “You guys are keeping something from me, and I’m gonna find out, but it’s close to sunrise, so it can wait.” 

Ahkmenrah squirms a little under thier scrutinising gaze. Larry, still looking sheepish, scratches the back of his neck. "Right. Yes. Sunrise." He agrees quickly. "Everything can wait." After a moment, he nudges Ahkmenrah, who hasn't spoken yet.

The Egyptian Pharaoh coughs and composes himself quickly. "Yes, yes. Sunrise," he said as his face went back to the usual cool and calm look.

Y/N smiled at the Ahkmenrah fondly before gently grabbing his arm and saying, “Come on, I’ll get you settled back in your room.”

Ahkmenrah doesn't look so tense anymore after seeing their smile. Once they grab his arm, he lets out a quiet breath and relaxes a little. "Thank you," he mumbles under his breath and lets Y/N lead him back to his exhibit.

As they led him, Y/N started to talk. There's no specific topic to their rambling, but it helps distract Akhmenrah from the inevitability that soon he’ll be in the sarcophagus once again. When they arrive in front of his exhibit, Y/N feels him tense next to them and gently guides him towards the sarcophagus.

“It’s okay, we’ll be right here for you when you wake up,” they try to comfort him as he lowers himself into his tomb.

He lays down in his sarcophagus and gives them a small nod, a silent thank you. "I trust that you will," he murmurs as his chest rises and falls with calm breaths.

As Y/N looks at him, their mind runs on autopilot and, without thinking, reaches down and places a soft kiss on his forehead. Realising what they’ve done, Y/N pulls away wide-eyed, "Sorry, I don’t know why I did that.”

Ahkmenrah is still stunned for a moment, his face red. "I-" he stutters slightly, trying to organise his thoughts. "No, it's alright," he manages, his voice trembling a little from the unexpected gesture.

Before they could reply, they spotted the tablet begin to slowly glow. With a sigh, they turned back to Ahkmenrah and said, "Sorry, it’s sunrise; I need to close this.”

Ahkmenrah reluctantly nods, his face still a little flustered from the kiss. The tablet's glow grows brighter as the sun rises. "Yes, of course," he mumbles, his voice slightly hushed.

He takes a deep breath before speaking again, trying to hide the hint of disappointment in his voice. "I'll see you tonight then."

“See you tonight.” With that, Y/N pushed the sarcophagus closed and waited until the glowing ended before heading home. As they walked down New York Street, Y/N couldn’t help but wonder exactly what Larry and Ahkmenrah were whispering about; they made a mental note to ask on their next shift.

Yet when they arrived the next evening, Y/N was confused to find the main lobby entirely empty, even despite the fact they’d arrived over thirty minutes late.

“Hello?” They called out as their voice echoed around the museum, “Where is everyone?”

Still no response, causing Y/N to sigh slightly. Suddenly the sounds of footsteps approaching caused them to tense as possibility spread through their head, What if there thrives in the museum? What if they’d stolen the tablet?

As the footsteps grew closer, Y/N hid behind the desk while clutching their torch like a weapon, ready to strike. They heard the person stop in front of the desk, causing Y/N to jump up and swing. Only to be stopped by an outstretched hand and a loud voice yelling their name.

“Atilla?” Y/N’s eyes were wide as they realised who they’d nearly attacked. “I’m sorry, I thought you were an intruder.”

He replied in Hun and a small pat on their left shoulder to indicate no harm was done before holding his hand out. Y/N took his hand and allowed him to take them to the new planetarium that had been built a month ago. They stood outside for a moment before the doors swung open.

Y/N gasped as they saw how the room was decorated with various streamers and balloons and spotted the rest of the museum happily partying with each other.  Everyone is having a great time, and the room is filled with music and laughter. Larry, among the others, is near the centre holding up a drink. He sees you and waves.

"Ah, Y/N!" Larry calls out. "There you are! Was starting to worry you weren't coming." He gestures to the surroundings. "What do you think? Pretty neat, huh?”

They approach him slowly, still taking in the surroundings. “Larry? What on earth is going on?”

“We’re celebrating bonfire night!” He exclaimed excitedly while handing them a drink, “I think we got most of it right but added our own American twist, you know?”

“How did you even know about this?” Y/N asked, to which Larry simply pointed to a corner where they could see Ahkmenrah talking to Sacagawea and Teddy.

They left Larry at the bar with a polite wave and made their way over to the trio. Ahkmenrah’s eyes instantly locked onto them when he saw them approaching. “Y/N! You finally made it!”

“Did you do all this for me?” They asked while smiling brightly.

"Yes! Yes, I did," he replies enthusiastically. "Larry and the others helped, of course. But I wanted tonight to be special for you."

His eyes sparkle as he looks at you, happy to see your reaction to his efforts. "Do you like it?"

“Like it?” Y/N began while looking around again in wonder, "Ahkmen, I love it!”

“You do?” He asked, to which Y/N nodded, "Well, there’s more to come still; in fact, it should be starting in just a minute.”

“What’s starting?”

Instead, he grabbed their hand and led them to a specific spot. “It’s a surprise, but follow me; I know the perfect spot to watch.”

Before Y/N could ask another question, the main lights dimmed, leaving them in darkness. They looked up as the constellations began to move, gently dancing for a moment before one of them exploded into a dazzling display of colours.

Y/N’s eyes widened in recognition before they looked at Ahkmenrah and whispered, “Fireworks...”

“Larry said we couldn’t get real ones, but I thought this would be a good alternative.” He explained, watching as they smiled brightly, their face illuminated by the beautiful light show.

Feeling incredibly proud, he takes Y/N’s hand and stands beside them, watching the animated sky with them. "I'm glad you're enjoying it." He mumbled quietly and squeezed their hand.

Y/N continued to watch the fireworks, but as the display neared its end, they turned toward the young pharaoh. “Could I do something a little crazy?”

Ahkmenrah tilts his head a little and smiles, intrigued and curious about their question. "Of course, Y/N, what is it?"

Instead of answering, Y/N slowly reached a hand out to caress his cheek. They looked into his eyes for a moment before reaching forward and gently placing their lips on his. Ahkmenrah freezes for a moment, stunned by their action, but then he slowly blinks and closes his eyes.

In the dim light of the planetarium, he gently returns the kiss, his lips moving gently against theirs. After a moment, he hesitantly wraps his arms around them to pull them closer, his fingers lightly tracing along their back.

The two only pull away once a cacophony of cheers and clapping surrounds them. Y/N quickly hides their blushing face in Ahkmenrah's chest when they turn and see all their friends congratulating them for finally taking the next step.

Y/N feels his chest move as he chuckles softly before pulling them closer. “Thank you, my friends, but I think we should get back to the party.”

With his kind but commanding words, the rest of them quickly began to party once more, but not without a suggestive whistle from a certain cowboy.

They pull away from his chest slightly before speaking, “Thank you, Ahkmen, for all of this.”

"I wanted to make this special for you, and it was worth the wait," he says softly and gives their forehead a light kiss. “Shall we get back to the party?”

“Lead the way.” Y/N replied, allowing him to lead them by the waist to join their friends on the dance floor.

In that moment, finally being with the person they cared about most as their friends danced around them, Y/N realised they hadn’t thought of home once. Even if for a moment, Akhmenrah had healed their homesickness, and they couldn’t be happioer.

[xxaraaq]

𝙎𝙞𝙡𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙖𝙛𝙛𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙨

Synopsis | Nanami finds out what he's been missing for the better part of his adult life

wc | 0.5k

cw | Infidelity, age gap, porn with a little plot

Nanami x black! Reader

A/N | Nothing really, hope you enjoy!

No one can blame him for the choices he’s made. He’s only a man, and a man has his limits.

He’s done everything he can in his life to make sure he can say he’s done what was expected of him. He has a stable nine to five, white collar job that he loathes but still performs great at, he takes care of his stay at home wife, and everything else that he’s supposed to do.

But it’s not enough.

There was something missing. He couldn’t pinpoint it, but day by day he dragged himself around until the day was done. He thought he was depressed at first, almost booking a therapy appointment, but he realized that he was lacking an essential part of life; something that every human being needs to stay sane.

Pleasure.

The realization hit him like a truck, his life was so boring because he had none – nothing to look forward to when he went home, nothing to look forward to when he woke up. Nothing. Even having sex with his wife was mediocre at best. His days were dull at best and straight up dreadful at worst, simply because he was the lacking excitement needed in one’s life.

Until he met you.

A pretty, young college student who recently started working in the cafe he frequented. All sunshine and rainbows, you never failed to greet him with a smile and a wave. He started to look forward to seeing your beaming grin every morning, even occasionally returning a smile. You were the cutest thing he’s ever seen, and he had to have you.

It was late when he came, to your surprise. He told you that he was working late in the office,

and decided to come by for a short break. You made him his usual black coffee, which you thought was weird, and the two of you talked – well, mostly you – about everything and nothing.

He was getting drunk off you, your voice lulling him into something he couldn’t describe. He didn’t know what came over him, but he leaned in and kissed you, catching the both of you off guard. 

“I- I apologize, I don’t know what came over me.” He backs up, but you pull him in by the collar, crashing your lips onto his once more. His hands grab your waist, pulling you flush against him. He knows it’s wrong, that the right thing to do is stop and pretend it never happened, but he wont; he can't. He needs this, he deserves it, and he’s not going to let a little bit of remorse stop him from fucking you until you can’t take anymore.

It’s sinful really, the way he picks you up and fucks you against the wall. He would expect this from someone like Gojo, but the thought soon leaves his mind once he hears those beautiful moans he’s dreamt so often about. 

You scratch at his back, begging him to slow down, but that only stirs to go faster. He fucks into you with a fervor he doesn’t think he’s felt before. 

He pulls out and cums on your sweaty torso, panting as he slowly lets you back on the ground. The two of you clean up without a word and he heads home after placing a kiss on your temple. For the first time in years, he walks home with something to look forward to in the morning.

-Nene

[wreckedandpolemic]

won’t fuck unless he famous - matty healy

(mdni) in which you're a serial starfucker, and you finally have a chance at the man who tops your wishlist. part of summer75 2024. 3254 words.

warnings: semi-public sex, oral (f receiving), titwank, slightly problematic power dynamic

The energy surrounding you is electric as the final note squeals out of the amplifiers, drawn out as the crowd around you cheers wildly. Fireworks pop and fizz against the inky sky, heralding the end of the evening’s entertainment for so many. Yours, though, is just beginning. As you watch the band leave the stage, your eyes are glued to the frontman with a singular goal in mind: getting under him.

Look. You aren’t famous, by any stretch of the word. Notorious is more like it, a careful balance of easy charm and knowing the right people buying you access nearly anywhere you want. Matty Healy, though, is your white whale, having eluded your grip at every turn, a blank spot in your ever-growing red ledger. You’ve wanted him ever since you first laid eyes on him at 16, screaming along to The 1975 in your bedroom, bars you’d snuck into, the front rows of sold-out arenas.

And you can pinpoint the moment it switched from an idealistic, childish fantasy to a question not of I wish, of if, but of when.

The first time you’d flirted and conned your way backstage at a festival, you were barely legal and making the most of your gap year. It hadn’t led to much, a passing fling with some singer whose album and dick were equally forgettable. The lasting impression of that night was the split-second of eye contact you’d made with Matty as you came — you and the guy hadn’t really tried to hide, just slipped around a corner and backed against a wall. You’ve replayed the memory so many times it’s worn smooth, and you don’t know whether you recall his eyes dilating for a fraction of a second before he stumbled away, or if it was a trick of your mind, imprinted and false.

Either way, he’ll be seeing a lot more than just your o-face if you get your way tonight. Squaring your shoulders and pasting on a blithe smile, fluttering your lashes and describing a nondescript (read: nonexistent) friend who’s crew until the security guard relents and lets you back. By now, you’re an expert in acting like you belong, able not to react when you brush shoulders with celebrities. You know just when to stroke an ego, play up your awe without coming off obsessive, and it’s gotten you under men far more famous than your next target.

The grass is worn through under your feet as you wander up to a bar, carefully scanning for his presence as you scoop up your rum and coke and saunter away. A girl you know is their crew catches your eye, one you’ve met before, the last time you failed to catch Matty’s attention. You wave, and she brightens, dashing up to you like you’re old friends. “Sorry!” she hisses in your ear when she flings her arms around you. “I could not shake that guy.” You laugh, tipping your head back like she said something hilarious, and cast your best disgusted glare at the guy, who thankfully takes the hint. “How’d you get back here, anyway?”

You grin. “Well, you know what they say about lying, right?”

“What, it’s the most fun a girl can have without taking her clothes off?”

You lean in. “But it’s better if you do.”

She chuckles, eyes alight with mischief. “Hey, you scratch my back, I scratch yours. You want me to introduce you?” Raising an eyebrow, she nods in answer to the question you haven’t even asked. Your eyes practically bug out of your head, unable to hide your shock.

You’d figured that actually getting to him was going to be the hardest part, but clearly it pays to have friends in high places. Steeling yourself, you let your mask of implacable calm fall over your face and follow the girl (whose name you still don’t remember!) as she strolls up to Matty like it’s the most casual thing in the world. He greets her with a smile and a friendly side hug, then lets his gaze flicker over you. He maintains a skilled poker face; if you weren’t so well-versed in what interest looks like on the faces of men like him, you’d miss it entirely, the brief flare of his nostrils, his tongue flickering out to wet his lips, his hand unconsciously raking through his hair.

You let the moment hang for a second, charged as his lips quirk into a half-smile, then introduce yourself. Matty doesn’t remember you, but he recognises you, immediately catching onto exactly what you want. Good. You like it better this way, when you don’t have to play cat and mouse, act coy while they pretend not to want you. As the conversation rolls on around you, Matty starts literally, actually eye-fucking you, gaze lidded as he imagines all the filthy things he’d like to do to you. When there’s a lull, you seize the moment, dipping into your pocket for your out. “Spliff, anyone?”

The others, predictably, decline, so you and Matty wander off until you’re mostly secluded, lights and music fading into the background as you edge towards the tour buses. “I know who you are,” Matty says as you lift the spliff to your lips.

“Then you know what I want,” you say, smirking. The flame from his lighter illuminates him for a second, shadows pooling under his features as he’s cast in an ethereal, golden glow. You inhale deeply, letting the burn in your lungs pull you away from his distracting beauty. You pass Matty the spliff, smoke curling free from your mouth, his gaze glued to your lips. He’s calculating, formulating a response that will give him back his footing. You interrupt before that can happen. “So, why don’t you tell me what you want? You wanna hear how incredible you were tonight? How incredible you’ve been every time I’ve seen you?”

At that, he seems genuinely surprised. “You’ve seen us before?”

The answer comes before you think it through, impassive facade slipping the longer you spend in his presence. “Yeah. This must be, what, the tenth or eleventh time, now?” Matty’s eyes light up, and you thank God for his ego, that his decisions are already being made by his dick and not his rational brain.

“Thought you were just lookin’ for another name in your little black book. But this is personal, isn’t it?” he breathes, voice thick with smoke. “You want me, don’t you, darling?” He leans close, takes a deep pull and slots his lips over yours.

You breathe in greedily, letting the high overtake you, head going hazy with some intoxicating combination of the weed and his hand sliding into your hair. “Yes.”

Matty groans against your lips, the spliff burning forgotten in his other hand. “S’fucking hot. Girl like you, spendin’ all her time looking for a famous fuck, and the whole time you’re just hoping I’ll look your way, right?”

Heat creeps up your spine, warming your cheeks as arousal starts pooling in your belly. You nod, swallowing thickly “Been tryin’ forever. Think about you every fuckin’ night,” you confess, gasping for it as his lips hover cruelly out of reach.

He grins wickedly, backing away to stamp out the spliff. “Why don’t you tell me what you think about, and I’ll decide if you deserve me, yeah? Needy little groupie.” Your thighs clench involuntarily, desire burning in your blood as you search his expression for anything but sincerity.

“Think about waitin’ on my knees for you when you come off stage, lettin’ you take out all your stress on my throat and swallowing like a good girl.” Matty inhales sharply, pupils blowing wide despite his straight face. “Wished you could fuck me backstage, shove your fingers in my mouth to keep me quiet while you just take what you need from me. Knew you’d change my life,” you add, feeding into his ego a little as his smirk grows wider.

Gripping your hips, Matty pulls you in, eyes liquid with desire as your breathing grows laboured. You stumble, crashing into him as his lips meet yours, his kiss commanding. Arousal drips between your legs and you moan into his mouth, knees buckling when he pulls away to mouth at your jaw. “C’mon, darling. Come let me change your life.” His expression is pure arrogance, a man who knows he’s got you exactly where he wants you, wet and needy and made of pure desperation.

You trail after him as he suddenly turns on his heel and strides away, tugging you by the hand and pulling you in for hot, breathless kisses every few steps. Matty knocks the wind from your lungs, pressing you against the outside of their tour bus, kissing and biting possessively at your neck. “Please,” you whimper, writhing under his touch and widening your legs pathetically.

“I don’t think so,” Matty scoffs. “Already bein’ so greedy, baby, gettin’ the dick you’ve been gaggin’ for for so long. M’gonna take my time with you, okay?” You nod frantically, his clothed cock pressing insistently against your core as you soak your panties. Your head is swimming, dizzy and still a little high and disbelieving that Matty fucking Healy has a hand creeping up your thigh. You don’t say a word, not risking anything that could break the spell surrounding you in this breathless moment. “Get your tits out f’me, yeah?”

Thoughtlessly, you obey, tugging your shirt down off your shoulders so your tits spill free, hissing softly at the cold air kissing over your bare skin. Matty groans appreciatively, taking a greedy handful and squeezing hard, a low moan falling from your lips. “You like ‘em?” you murmur, arching up into his touch. “Could fuck ‘em, if you want. S’long as you cum on my face.” His jaw goes slightly slack, suddenly picturing your face painted white and growing impossibly harder against your thigh.

In an instant, your dress is shoved up around your waist and Matty’s tugging your panties down, motioning for you to step out of them when they hit the floor. He tucks them into his pocket with a wicked smirk. “For safekeeping,” he says, kissing his way down your chest until his lips wrap around your nipple. A bolt of arousal strikes in your core at the scrape of his teeth against your sensitive skin, pain flashing under your skin for a second before he soothes you with his tongue. “Such pretty tits, darling. Gonna let me fuck them after I eat you, yeah?”

“Anything you want,” you whine, sliding your hand into his hair to push him back down as he starts to pull away. “Mark me,” you plead. “Please. I need to know this wasn’t a dream when I wake up tomorrow.” You feel Matty smirk against your skin, throwing your head back to allow him access to your neck. He bites a trail of bruises down your neck, collar, over your tits, patches of sore, red skin blooming gloriously under his touch. When Matty drops to his knees, you feel shockingly exposed without his body covering yours, your dress pulled down below your tits and up above your waist so your dripping cunt is bared to the cool night air. Matty’s nails dig into your thighs, pulling your legs further apart so he can slot himself neatly between them.

Your stomach clenches in anticipation. “So fuckin’ wet, baby. D’you get this soaked for everyone before they even touch you, or are you just a little slut for me?” he murmurs, licking a broad, flat stripe across your cunt.  Vision practically whiting out, your answer dies on your tongue, a helpless whine of his name spilling free instead. “C’mon, baby, answer me. Can’t be so dumb already, I’ve hardly touched you,” Matty scoffs, the condescension dripping hot and sticky down your spine.

“Only f’you,” you gasp out. “Fuckin’ dreamed about this, I– oh, fuck,” you moan, his tongue working over your clit in quick, tight circles. You grind down against his mouth, pressure mounting in your belly. You’re on a hair trigger, you can tell, the barest touches already pulling you close. It’s near-Pavlovian, the realisation of all your fantasies exhilarating. Cunt clenching as he tongue-fucks you languidly, you bury one hand in his hair as the other scrambles for purchase against cool metal.

“Close already, aren’t you? So fuckin’ desperate,” Matty croons, fingers coming up to toy with your swollen clit. You buck your hips against his hand, whimpering and pleading incoherently. He laps greedily at you, moaning softly and tugging at your hips so he can drive his tongue ever deeper. He moans into your cunt, the sound vibrating deliciously through you as you tighten your hand in his curls.

Your eyes fall closed, head thudding against metal when you tip it back with a groan. Ecstasy winds tight in your belly, tugging insistently at you as Matty speeds his motions at your clit, every nerve in your body aflame. “Shit, Matty,” you gasp, tense with the effort of holding back. His nails bite into your thighs, the pain at once sweet and grounding, a blissful anchor amongst the night’s unreality. “Feels s’fucking good, Matty.”

Without warning, he pulls away, and you whine pathetically. The sight of him on his knees with his lips and chin dripping with your arousal is almost too much, your legs going weak as you stare unashamedly, cataloguing every second with careful precision. You’re going to fantasise about this night every day for the rest of your fucking life. “Play with your tits for me, okay, angel?”

The epithet makes you hot all over, shivering under his gaze as you obey mindlessly, grasping and pinching at your tits and letting pleasure run over you. You’re helpless against the tide, head thrashing back and forth as Matty makes out with your hole, moaning into your cunt and circling your clit ever faster. Cunt throbbing, you rock your hips, unconscious of anything but Matty’s hands on you, his fingers against your clit, his curls brushing your stomach, his tongue in your cunt. It’s sloppy, soaked with spit and desire, your entire body unspooling under his touch.

“Matty, m’so close, fuck,” you gasp, your words coming out slurred through sick desire. Your heart is hammering, prey caught in a trap you couldn’t escape from if you wanted to, Matty devouring you as you’re pinned, immobile against the pure ecstasy roaring in your ears. “Oh, my fucking God,” you cry, teetering precariously on the edge.

“You gonna cum, darling? Gonna fuckin’ soak me? Go ahead, angel, cum f’me,” Matty murmurs, wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking hard. Your knees buckle, your orgasm crashing over you so hard you practically fall out of your body, pure pleasure wiping your mind clean. You can feel it in every inch of your body, your every nerve alive with it, hot and sweet and seemingly neverending. Moaning helplessly, you start to sway on your feet, head swimming in ecstasy that’s making you dizzy and dumb. Matty’s hands are steadying at your waist, electricity jumping from everywhere his skin touches yours.

His lips and chin are fucking soaked, glistening with your arousal, visceral evidence of what you’ve just done. You lick into his mouth greedily when he kisses you, something illicit thrilling in your veins as your bare tits press against the leather of his jacket, the zipper cool against your heated skin. The contrast of him still being fully-clothed while you’re exposed makes you shiver from something entirely separate from cold. Matty steps back, eyes glued to your tits as a smirk stretches across his slick lips. “My eyes are up here,” you scoff.

“Yeah, and your tits are down here.” You can’t find it in yourself to feel shame at the rush of arousal that sweeps over you at his words.

You grab one of your tits, kneading it gratuitously and thumbing over your nipple. “Still wanna fuck ‘em?” His eyes blow wide, shooting you a look that says what kind of question is that? and fumbling to let you into the tour bus. You scramble breathlessly after him, letting him push you down onto a bed and desperately shoving his jacket off his shoulders. He tugs his shirt off, and you drink in the sight of him shirtless from up close, sweat glistening on his toned chest.

There’s a visible wet spot on his boxers when he strips out of his jeans, you notice with a bolt of pride-tinged arousal, your mouth watering as his cock springs free, thudding stickily against his belly. “Shit, got me so fuckin’ hard, angel. Gonna let me fuck those pretty tits, let me cum all over your face?” Matty kneels over you, slowly stroking his dripping cock as he watches your chest heave.

“Please,” you breathe, gazing up at him as he leans down to spit on your tits, the slick, messy slide sending a pulse of heat between your legs. His lips part around a guttural moan as he slides between your tits, thrusting shallowly and groaning out soft praises. You drop your jaw, sticking out your tongue to lick over his head, the salt taste of him intoxicating.

Precum and spit smear across your chest, rhythmic moans filling the tiny, cramped space as Matty fucks your tits. “Doin’ so good, baby. Like a little fuckin’ sex toy f’me, such a good girl. Y’look so pretty, baby,” he coos, your entire body flushing under his affections. You kitten-lick over his head every time he thrusts, his answering moans heating your core, arousal dripping from your cunt. “Such a little cumslut, angel.”

“Mhmm,” you moan, arching your back and pinching a nipple, dizzy with desire. “M’your cumslut, Matty.” His pace speeds, sloppy as he drools precum over your chest and against your tongue. You lap it up eagerly, drunk on him. Pure lust is written across Matty’s face, jaw slack as he watches himself disappear between your tits, awed.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Matty gasps, his cheeks hot and lips wet with drool. “M’getting close, angel. Where do you want me?”

“On my face,” you breathe, the words coming without you even having to think. “In my mouth, please.” With what looks like a monumental effort, he climbs off you, fisting his cock gracelessly. Eagerly, you watch him fuck his fist, jaw hanging open expectantly. With a low moan of your name, Matty spills across your face, ropes of cum splashing hot against your cheeks and on your waiting tongue.

Closing your eyes, you swallow deliberately, moaning at the taste of him and smiling beatifically. “Good girl,” he grins, panting slightly and watching you fondly. “You need anything? Want me to get you cleaned up?” God, you don’t know if you can take him being all sweet with you on top of it all. You’re going to do something embarrassing like beg for his number if you don’t change the mood, and quickly.

“What, you only good for one round, or somethin’? Getting too old to show your groupies a proper fuck?” you taunt.

The glint in Matty’s eye turns dangerous, and you gulp. “Greedy girl’s not satisfied with my cum all over her face, s’that it? You want more?” You murmur out an affirmative, anticipation tense in your belly. “My little cockslut,” he smirks, climbing over you and caging you in with his arms around your head. “Don’t worry, baby. M’gonna give you what you need.”

[beomiracles]

𝓦𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒' 𝓦𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐃 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒

hii ! in spite of my account currently being shadow banned I still wanted to make a little wrapped of the year that was. (I've seen a lot of creators on here do it, though I'm not sure who started it so if you know of anyone I can credit for this please let me know)!

#serene adds ✎.. where to even start >.< ? in February of 2024 I started writing/or more like dumping my thoughts onto a doc and then posting them lol. I never in a million years excepted to finish the year with nearly 1.7k followers and so so much support. This year has allowed me to express myself creatively and explore the world of literature in ways that has both challenged and helped me grow immensely and I'm forever thankful!

𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐘 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐒 None of this would've ever been possible without you guys ! Your continued love and support for this little blog is what keeps me going and interacting with you guys never fails to make me smile <3 I love to be equally excited over the things I write with you guys, and you've never done me wrong in any way. I don't know how to ever express my gratitude towards you enough, but I do truly, love each and all of you <3

..and now for the wrapped !

𝐓𝐎𝐏 𝟑 𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒

THE REDEMPTION OF CHOI YEONJUN At 2085 notes trocyj is without a doubt my most popular fic of the year! Posted all the way back in July yet it still gets recognition almost everyday, I'm beyond amazed. You guys liked the concept just as much as me and I'm so excited for its long awaited sequel to be released soon!

NOONA'S ROOM With 1044 notes Noona's Room proudly takes second place, and I'm so happy with this fic! Definitely wasn't one I expected to blow up like it did but I'm forever thankful nonetheless. Brother's best friend trope is a classic :3

THIN WALLS Now this one took me by surprise.. Posted in literally February of 2024, Thin Walls is my second oldest work, ever. The writing is beyond poor and the parts are short. However I can't deny that there's a certain charm to the grammatical errors and the awkward story telling. It shows my growth in a beautiful way I think.

𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐄'𝐒 𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐂 𝐎𝐅 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒

A MOMMY'S BOY

I think it goes without saying that this fic is beyond my favourite. I talk about it too much for it to go unnoticed. AMB is one of my most emotionally deep works and I think that the storyline flows in a perfect way. The characters are fleshed out to my liking, the smut is divine and ties the plot perfectly. The ending is my favourite ending to ever have written, the way the title ties into the story has me on the floor, in all, I love A Mommy's Boy and will continue to boast it for as long as I live.

𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐄'𝐒 𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐒 One thing about me is that when a fic sticks with me, it sticks. I have read so so many beautiful works this year, but the three that stood out the most to me would be the following:

Divnity for the Damned by @koqabear The storytelling of this fic is so compelling, it draws you in like no else, immersing you completely in the plot. I love the dream aspect of the fic (without spoiling too much) but it's such a niche yet important detail to the entirety of the fic that I feel most writers would just skip over. The ending catches you so off guard yet it's so completely perfect and makes so much sense that you wonder how you couldn't have seen it coming yourself. Perfect fucking fic, cries.

.3:13 a.m. (m) by @agustdiv1ne Onto my long vampire agenda. I've consumed every pixel of vampire!txt that I could possibly get my hands on. This I read back in march, but it's the one that has stuck with me throughout this year and that's why I feel it deserves this mention. The writing, the longing and the yearning. The way he literally cannot hold himself back, I am going to die on the vampire beomgyu hill and I shall do so with pride. This fic had everything I'm looking for.

(sort of) fucking annoying neighbour by @hyewka This fic. I love the idea of cocky Yeonjun being put in his place. There's just something so oddly satisfying about the whole build up of this, the growing tension, Yeonjun's cockiness but also his blatant obliviousness is fucking perfect. Then again, anything by rana I will absolutely devour like I was on death row being served my last meal.

𝐆𝐎𝐀𝐋𝐒 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓 This year has been on my mind a lot, huge things are to come my way, like graduation! And while I'm nervous as shit for most of them, I can't help but feel a sense of excitement too! This year is going to be my year, and I have so many aspirations for it !

I want to finish Criminal Conscience! The series has been on my mind a lot recently and it's something I've been meaning to get around to for the later part of last year as well, I'm hoping that now can finally be the time!

I want to experiment with different au's, explore the depth of my writing skills.

I want to write something big.

And most importantly I wish to be happy and continue to thrive on this blog <3

2024 was amazing thanks to you guys and though I've had a lot of hardships outside of Tumblr, being on here always made me feel better. I'm wishing for an even better 2025 for all of us ! Love, Serene.

[billys-slutcherson]

'Nightshift Degeneracy P.T 2' 18+ MDNI

Mike Schmidt x F!Reader

────────────────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.───────────────

Chapter 2/2:

After his near miss of being caught up to no good on the nightshift, Mike thinks he might be in the clear. However, you relish in letting him know you caught him. Desperate to fulfil his urges completely.

Tags:

Handjobs, Semi-Public Sex, Orgasm Edging, Edging, Begging, Submissive/Soft-Dom, Exhibitionism, Shyness/Nervousness, Riding, Wet Kisses, Wet & Messy, Non-Plot Heavy, Smut

────────────────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.───────────────

Mike hunched over, gripping his knees as he sighed with relief. Thinking he was in the clear, albeit the utter humiliation wracked his senses. Standing more upright one hand moved to his waist, whilst the other pressed over his forehead.

"So close, such an idiot, Mike." He berated himself. Cringing as his eyes darted back to the sloppy mess on the table. Hoping you perhaps didn't notice. How naïve. He rushed to the desk, pulling the drawers open.

Looking for something to clean it, and hide any evidence of his late-night depravity.

With no luck he turned on his heel, so focused as he wandered to the locker. Yanking the door open. He physically flinched, raising his hand to his face as he yelped. "Fucking Christ..." He sighed, knocking over the silly little balloon boy figurine. Annoyed at how it caught him off guard.

After the initial frustration, he chuckled at the scare. Crouching as he snatched the tissues from his backpack, making his way back to the desk.

Mike leaned against the edge of it, rolling up the security jacket, as the cuffs of his sleeves clenched against his forearms. Cheeks pink as he tried to clean the splatters of his excitement, trying to hide what a pathetic loser he was, at least that was how he felt anyway.

Quickly, moving to wipe the keys. The main monitor switched accidentally. As his eyes swerved to catch you on-screen. Walking into the party room. Lips parted as he stared. Like a puppy, his eyes wide.

Wetting his lips slightly. Crouching in front of the desk. Compelled by you.

"So pretty..." He almost whined. Blinking slowly.

--

Your footsteps pressed into the old shag carpet, splayed with bright patterns. The colours of the old building are dulled by decay. A smell that lingered in the air. Sweet yet putrid. Flashlight in hand, raised beside your head as you survey the pizzeria.

Checking your watch, it was just hitting 02:00 am. It always had an eerie unnerved feeling this late into the shift. Yet, your thoughts existed elsewhere. Remembering how you almost caught him in the act. How his cheeks burned red, the way he pulled away from the simple little touch of your hand. Weirdly though, you felt his shame was cute. Somehow, endearing. Recalling catching his stare during your recent shifts. The way he seemed to stutter more when you watched him speak. It wasn't like you hadn't been toying with him, quipping back with little flirtful comments. But, he was oblivious. Clumsy with you.

Approaching the main stage, your fingers traced the edge of the curtains, curling the tips over the fabric as you tugged it open, only a little. Swallowing firmly as you looked up at 'them'.

The animatronics, weren't how they seemed when you were young. The years were unkind. Your eyes drifted between the three on the 'Show Stage'. Dishevelled, decrepit, and god the fucking smell of them. It gave you the heave. They loomed ominously, the height of them alone was enough to creep you out. Every night without fail, the song seemed stuck in your mind. As you softly hummed 'talking in your sleep'.

'You tell me that you want me,

You tell me that you need me'

The lyrics softly left your lips as you sang, staring up at the monster-like animatronics.

Suddenly startled, you heard the ruffle of the curtains at 'Pirate Cove'. You about jumped into the air as you turned to check it. Trembling as your flashlight wobbled in hand.

--

In the office, Mike's brow furrowed, the security cameras were too shitty to have audio. Nevertheless, he watched as your startled body jerked back against the stage. You seemed, anxious to him. He watched only for a moment till he noticed the shaking of your hands. Tilting his head to the side as he snatched his flashlight from the drawer. Wheels squeaked against the checkered vinyl floor as he moved to his feet. Wandering

the hallway towards the 'Party Room'. The silence always made his stomach feel like a rock. Like he was filtering towards a liminal void. He didn't care for the animatronics, and was certain somehow, they likely felt similarly to him.

--

Looming in the entranceway. One of the bulbs on the arch flickered.

You heard the scuff of his sneakers and gasped. Dropping the flashlight. Grabbing at your chest with fright. Glaring at him.

"What the hell are you doing creeping in the shadows!" You scolded. Bending to grab your light once more. Flashing it towards his face, your eyes still startled.

"I-I saw you on the cameras... Something seemed, wrong. I just-... I wanted to check you were okay..." He falters.

Shy as he admitted to essentially spying on you.

Sighing as you lowered the light from his scrunched face. Embarrassed that the place seemed to get to you more tonight than usual.

"I- it's fine, sorry for shouting. I just-... Foxy's curtain moved." You raised your arm pointing. Stepping closer to his platform. Mike hesitated, watching carefully, before stepping closer. His presence eased you.

Peeking through the crack in the curtain. As your light filtered through. Reflecting over the old rusting metal.

"They used to be, magical... now they are just...creepy." You remark.

He raised an eyebrow, noting you knew the place before, well, before the 'rumours'.

You pulled the curtain back closed, dragging your hands over it. Tension easing some as you turned scoffing.

"At least they haven't run off, just being quirky is all." You smirked.

"Not yet anyway." He retorted with a grin. Smiling suited him, you liked to see that morose little face light up.

Playfully narrowing your eyes at Mike. You sauntered over to the 'prize desk'. Humming that familiar tune. It was adorned with old toys, strips of tickets slung over the desk. You hopped up and slid your rear over the countertop. He followed, eyes tracing over your hips as you scooted over the other side. The corners of his lips tugged upwards. Watching you closely, as you flash him a smile. Tossing your hands up in the air. Practically shouting.

"Step up, step up...Pick your prize, Mikey boy!" You teased with a sneaky wink. Bending against the counter cockily. The smile grew on your face, as you caught his eyes trailing down your body as you pressed over the desk.

He stifled a little, as he scratched the back of his head. Approaching.

"Well..." Hesitating as he speaks

You rest your chin in your palms.

"I already know the best prize.." You hummed in a sing-song tone.

"What are you doing..?" He laughed with an almost look of nervousness, though his smile never left. Not for a moment. Resting his palms on the edge of the counter.

Careful, trying to bite your tongue. But you couldn't help but remark.

"What were you doing?" He watched as you snickered while saying it.

Stuck in time, it felt like the words were choking him as his breath hitched.

"What do you mean?.." Responding so quickly he tripped over his words, trying to play dumb. You could see the pink wash over his freckled cheeks.

'Gotcha!' You thought to yourself. Tilting your head to the side. Batting your eyes at him.

Repeating slowly, mockingly even and you relished in his cute flustered little face.

"I asked, what were you doing? Earlier, when I came in. You seemed... on edge?" You couldn't hide your delight at his discomfort.

He scoffed a little. Leaning on the counter just across from you his fingers pushing his curls back slightly.

"I-I just got a fright from the door... that's all" He lied, it was painful how bad he was at it.

"No, I don't think that was it. Lie better." You grilled him playfully.

"I- I am not lying." He continued to fib. "W-what do you think I was doing?" He deflected.

"Oh, I don't know... But you better have cleaned your little mess." Pushing him further. Revealing you did in fact notice.

He was caught, stammering and ashamed. Why did he feel the need to keep denying it? He felt a twinge in his jeans. He couldn't help but think you 'enjoyed' the fact you'd caught him. Did you know he was thinking about you? His heart thudded in his chest.

"I don't know what you're talking about." His tongue poked against his inner cheek. Fiddling shyly with his hands, staring at the counter. 'Don't look at her, do not'. He thought to himself. She knows.

The distance slowly closed between you both as you leaned that little more towards him.

"You are cute when you are embarrassed, aren't you?" Stroking his nervous palms with your fingertips, feeling him freeze. His hands practically vibrated under your touch.

"What were you thinking about, while you...?" Enjoying how he squirmed, craving to hear him admit it. Your mind wondered how he sounded. Did he call out for you? You hoped so. Knew so.   

You were used to this cold, moody, quiet spirit. Though now, he was suddenly defenceless. Showing how powerless he was around you. Uncovering how much of a little pervert he embodied. Pathetic. Cute, but pathetic.

He stayed quiet. For what felt like an eternity to him. His lip trembled a little, as he felt himself unravelling. Sighing, as he thumbed over your palm. The simple touches riled him.

Leaning till you were inches from his face.

"... Was it me? Is that why you panicked?..." You asked in a sly, little whisper.

You caught how he blinked in defeat. Tilting his head down.

"I... I really didn't know you were in tonight..." Cut off as he lifted his head.

Indulging in the heat of the moment you pressed your lips to his, hand cupping his cheek. This is all you wanted, right now. Tasting his lips on yours. He hesitated as his body stiffened. Shoulders pulled up. You drew your lips back from his. Uncertain if he wanted this. Though, he followed you, clutching at your hand.

"N-no please.." He whispered. Leaning towards you as his fingertips found your hair. Touching so gently. Lips brushing yours. Hesitating.

You didn't overstep, letting him follow at his pace as you couldn't refrain from smiling. Sweetly, he stuttered an apology.

"I just-... it was you... I-I'm sorry.." He stammered guiltily. You could have melted there at how desperately needy he was being. Brushing your fingers over his warmed cheeks.

Moving both hands to his face, his cheeks squishing in your palms. He nudged his forehead against yours, desperate to find your lips again.

You mumbled teasingly against his lips.

"I already knew... I am not stupid... but, God, you made such a mess... So messy, Mike." Purring against his lips as he kissed further. Trying to bury his shame. Having yearned for you, for such a long time.

The kisses between you both, are filled with precious passion. You lean over the counter on your tippy toes. Trying to close the distance of the counter between your bodies.

Mike felt lightheaded, gripping your wrists as you held his face in your hands.

Palming them back down on the counter, dragging his nails along it. You broke the kiss, your hands shifting to grip the scruff of his jacket.

"Come here." You urged, giggling in a way he hungered to hear. Longing to be the reason for your laughter. Quickly, he sprung into motion, climbing over the countertop clumsily. Not at all like you had. Tumbling off of it he stumbled into you. Trembling hands grazed at your waist, as he nudged his lips back to to yours. Mesmerised by you.

Your giggles washed over his lips, making him wait a moment. Pushing at his chest. As his body pleaded with you.

Your tongue slipping into his mouth aroused him to no end, as you felt his hard-on press into your leg.

Catching one another's stare. You pulled back from the kiss.

"Clearly, you needed my help the first time..." You quipped as he scoffed looking away. You dragged his stare back to you, as you gripped his jaw. Catching a silly smile on his lips.

His hands were still wrapped against your waist. Stroking his fingertips against the small of your back, teasing your spine.

Reaching between you both, you unbuttoned your shirt. His eyes drifted from yours. Watching him glimpse downwards. You allowed it. This time.

He kept playing with your hair. Totally fawning over you.

Soon your shirt is off and falling to the floor. His fingers dance against the straps of your bra. Images of tearing it between his teeth filtered back to him.

"Tell me what you pictured... in the office?" You teased. Slowly reaching to unbutton his jeans, slipping your hand inside. Massaging lightly. Knowing he is likely still sensitive.

The breaths escaped him as you touched him, finally. Even if clothed, he was still overcome. He pressed his eyes shut, savouring the moment. Slow down, please, please. His poor mind raced, so fragile against you.

"Uh...I hm.." He breathed out heavily. Eyes flickering back. Panting.

"I th-thought of you on your knees.." He grunted a little as your fingers laced around his shaft. Stroking his already hard cock.

Hunching against you, he gripped your shoulders. Squeaking out sharp little whimpers.

"Only my mouth?" You toyed with him, your lips touching his, though not kissing.

"No.." He swallowed.

"Then on top, and you...didn't stop till...s-shit" His words trailed off. You smiled deviously but knew he couldn't possibly cope for long. Nudging him back to the counter, smooching him softly. Fumbling as you pushed your trousers down. Kicking your boots with them. Pulling him to the floor with you. His back was pushed into the counter, as you kneeled between his legs, pulling his jeans back down to his knees.

Mike was so flustered, his shame still threatened him as he watched you slowly stroke. Bending.

"N-no, please, I... I won't last..." He fumbled. Reaching to guide you over him. Clutching at your hips, you didn't stop him. All he could bear was to feel you. To be inside of you.

"I love it when you are all flustered..." You smiled over him as you straddled his waist. His lips curled as you caught his small smile.

Tracing his fingers against your underwear. He shyly played with the waistband. Raising your hips, you helped him pull them down your thighs. Kicking them off your ankle, as you adjusted your body. Pressing your hips down to feel his length glide against you. Fingers stroked over his cheeks as he pressed his head back into the wood.

Eyes never moving from yours as you whisper.

"So adorable..." You breathed against his lips.

"You...make me so pathetic." He whines out, bucking his hips up against yours. Visibly desperate to feel you wrapped around his dick.

"I like seeing you be such a horny loser..." You smirk. The hot and breathless laugh that escaped his lips only served to make you need him more.

You felt his fingertips dig against your waist. Sinking your hips downward, stretching around him, his girth much more than expected. Your breath rushed against his neck, letting out a moan that surprised you both, feeling him twitch within. Wrapping your arms against his shoulders to steady yourself. The pair of you losing composure, in the moment, wanting nothing but to feel one another.

Mike's hips jerked upwards, his cry of relief so sweet, as his nails dragged over your spine. Showering his lips with kisses, as you inhaled his breaths. His mind whirled with lust. Watching you, caressing and softly crying out.

"Fuck..fuck, you are so fucking hot..." The words rushed from him disjointedly. His lips hung open, as he grew closer. His climax built within, threatening. Cursing at himself. You could feel as he throbbed, he was fucking you so clumsily. The jut of his hips quick, like a piston slamming up into your cunt.

"Is this what you jerked for, huh? This is what you needed, I know... you need this." You taunted. It felt so good watching him under you grovelling for more.

Nodding as he tightened his lips closing his gawping mouth. He could only nod. Straining his back as he bucked you up and down his length. You kissed his lips, working little kisses down his jaw, till you reached his ear. Sucking on the lobe, tugging only gently.

"You are so close, huh..." You teased, hips bouncing now. As you felt his whimpers against your neck. "That's it, Mike...Cum for me... P-please" You faltered, he could hear that whimper. How you needed this, just as much. It ruined him.  

He felt so intensely embarrassed at how quickly he was losing all control. Your encouragement unravelled him. Cracking at the edges of his quiet exterior, he was quickly coming undone. Unable to admit, nor warn, as his orgasm rushed through. His cock spasmed inside you and released a thick stream of his cum. So much so, that his white sticky finish seeped from you.

Your hips still riding, as he burst through that orgasm, crying out sharply. As you didn't slow, he gripped at your back, stroking harshly. Marking your skin, feeling your hips halt. As his tender cock ached. Mike's eyes rolled back, as he felt you slam down, a wet rush flowed over his skin as he heard you wail against his neck. Another weaker rope splurged from his tip as he twitched under you.

Taking a breather you held yourself against him. Feeling his palms cradle you a moment before lifting off of him. With a moan, till the cold air washed over his shaft. Resting your hips back against his. The twitching against you made you shiver, your weight pinning him down.

He finally opened his eyes. A goofy smile on his lips, as you stroked his cheek with the back of your hand.

"That was... fucking.." He rasped, trailing off as he struggled to find the words. Quickly leaning to kiss your neck softly. Drool on his mouth, before resting back against the counter, looking up at you.

"I know... " Breathily scoffing, as you playfully patted his cheek.

PART 2, A PART 2!

I had fun writing this! It is totally smut, if you ignore the sexual tension? LMAO.

If you made it to this point, see you in hell (●'◡'●)

In no way did I intend for it to be 3,041 words, oopsie.

[colavoxi]

blake headcanons (nsfw under the cut)

handwrites bestie valentines day cards every single year

no matter what he's starved for kisses. everytime bestie kisses him it's like his eyes roll back into his skull and he's fully enamored in them

he changes his eye color with transformative magic/concealment magic to come across more as a dreamwalker

has a tattoo sleeve on the upper part of his left arm

actually an alarmingly powerful magic user. he's most definitely specialized at dream magic because he's practiced so much, but he's also practiced his seer abilities enough trying to map out the web of future around bestie. specifically he's impressive when it comes to three types of magic: seer, dream, warding. in that order due to practicing and specialization.

in his house he has an alarmingly large collection of books, typically around history and theology

does hold a significant amount of prejudice against d(a)emonkind

he's 5'8.

he doesn't align with all of closeknit's ideals (such as practically worshipping the "weavers") but a significant amount of them still effect his subconscious or general back of his mind

he was a theatre kid. while bestie was an actor, blake was a stage hand. unless bestie got a romance role, than blake would take it without fail every single time in high school

him and bestie are both empowered, they found out around the same time in unempowered society and got even closer due to it

sometimes him and d'deridahn lowkey just bicker within blake's head

nsfw

has a tattoo on his pelvis just above his dick/happy trail that said "property of [bestie's name]". bestie knows about the tattoo.

at most he's versatile but i personally think he's submissive, especially for bestie. he wants to pleasure them in any way possible and their affection/attention just makes him melt (did u HEAR their confession audio??)

probably has a collar or something that he wears as an accessory that bestie tugs on to get his attention

he LOVES when bestie rides him or cockwarms him. it just completely turns him into mush at their will, his brain completely shutting down by their tightness around him

ofc he loves when they're inside him too (either with their dick or a strap its up to you, masc!bestie is true to me tho), clawing at their back to mark them

huge marking kink

idc how problematic it is. cnc is that man's favorite roleplay.

bestie owns lingerie. its lacy and they have an array of 4 colors: blue, red, black, and white. frequently they wear it under whatever clothes they wear that day. sometimes blake checks in on them using seer abilities and it completely catches him off guard every single time, his brain short-circuiting and blood rushing to his dick.

[thewulf]

For That Long? || Aragorn

Summary: Request -Hello! 👋 Your work is absolutely amazing! Especially your Aragorn fics (My King! 🗡️👑❤️) In fact, whenever works best for you, here’s an idea: During the victory celebration at Helm’s Deep, the reader (also a Dunedain Ranger) offers a quick dance lesson for Aragorn to a) enjoy the celebration with him and.... Read Rest Here

A/N: Thank you for the sweetest little request anon! I had too much fun writing this one. I love trying to get into his head. Keep sending amazing requests my way! And thank you for you kind comments!

Pairing: Aragorn x Reader

Word Count: 3.5k +

TW: fluff?

“Not like that, Strider.” You giggled something fierce as he tripped over his own feet for the umpteenth time that night. Somehow you had convinced him to dance with you after quite literally decades of trying to get him as your partner.

“Have I not already told you how hopeless this is, Callia?” He asked you by your chosen Ranger name. You had to abandon Y/N when you left home all those years ago. If you were captured you must never give up your true name for your family could bear danger to your chosen work.

“You just need to relax yourself. Your mind.” You poked his forehead while grinning from ear to ear.

He sighed, “I cannot keep making a fool of myself in front of…”

You stopped him by placing his hand on your hip catching him most off guard, “My King overthinks.” You whispered as you took a soft step towards him. He smelled good. Like of the woody scent he naturally had but even better.

“I am no King.”

You smiled more to yourself than him, “Not yet. But the people have decided. It be but a mere month and you shall be.”

“It does not feel right hearing you call me that, my lady.” He countered while raising his eyebrows right up waiting for your retaliation.

Trying your best, but failing, you made a face in reaction, “You know I am hardly a lady.”

He hummed. Not even realizing you had begun to lead him you kept talking trying to rid his mind of the thoughts that plagued him. For if there was anybody who knew Strider better than himself it was you. Time had a way of making your heart the softest for him and truly only him. Countless sleepless nights of diving into your worst nightmares and trauma would find a way to bond the two seemingly hopeless souls.

“The opposite is true.” He smiled down at you with a look you had rarely seen from the hardened leader. You had been away from him longer than you wished. He had told you to go to Minas Tirith after getting orders from Gandalf to help the Hobbits of the Shire. You had heard the story of the great Bilbo Baggins and now apparently Strider had to accompany his nephew, Frodo. He had told you to go to Minas Tirith and wait for his word.

That had been six months ago. You had gotten used to life without him how odd it may seem. You had made a few friends that you probably never would have had Strider joined you. It was terribly uncomfortable. Your simple life changed when you had gotten word from him asking you to join him in Rohan. He knew something was coming and needed all the help he could get.

“A lady does not count her kills.” You spoke breaking the comfortable silence between the two of you. A shift occurred as he had taken control of the dancing now. Your easy banter all but freeing his mind from his thoughts. Dancing wasn’t so bad. Especially if he got to hold you like this.

“By your definition.” He smirked down but dared not look into your eyes for he knew he would cave to any of your demands, “Not by mine. And did you not say I was to be King?”

You fought every urge in you not to pinch his side, “You are impossible.”

“Do you not refute, my lady?” His smirk only grew as he noticed your face fighting the urge to react. It was amusing watching you try and stay neutral. For he had missed this. Sure, it was not only the two of you dancing but it had felt like it. You had a way of taking his mind off of whatever he needed. You had always seemed to have known what he may have needed.

“It is no use in arguing with you, Aragorn.” You gave him the eye letting him know you were not over the little secret he had kept from you for so long. You had only found out of the name when Legolas shouted it on the battlefield almost costing you your life. It had left you stunned. Who was Aragorn and why had Strider reacted as if it was his name.

Because it was. He had apologized profusely before you finally gave in. Leading you to this moment with him. You had finally convinced him he needed to learn how to properly dance since he was to be the king. And lucky for him you so happened to know many dances as your mother had insisted a girl your age to learn them all those years ago in Dúnedain.

An amused smile crossed his features as he led you across the dance floor. Maybe he was not so pathetic after all, “It is not like you, Callia, to bite your tongue.”

“Hush you.” A laugh escaped you. It was no use trying to hide your own amusement. Yes, he pushed you, but it had also shown you how much he too cared for you.

He slowly stopped the two of you from your dance before replying, “You are most fortunate the music has ended."

A quick nod left you head as it spun out of control by his soft touch and daring words, “Most fortunate indeed.” Begrudgingly you took a step back knowing the moment between the two of you had ended.

But his words had stopped you from turning all the way around, “I will stop teasing you if you lead me in another dance. For I must learn. I do not wish to embarrass you.”

You only grinned before stepping back into his hands, “You could never embarrass me Strider.”

Your eyes glistened with unshed tears as you took in the breathtaking room before you. Stifling a laugh, you couldn’t truly believe you had made it here with him, alive and in one piece. Your truest and oldest friend crowned the King of Gondor. How you would never have believed this only three years prior. You watched as royalty and common people alike danced with joy and glee for their newfound leader. Aragorn. It felt the most surreal as you watched him mingle with people that mattered. A King. Who would’ve thought. Glancing down at your nearly empty glass you sighed knowing you had to make the walk back to get another drink.

But you never made it as you were intercepted by nonother the man you were watching far too often that night, “Strider!” You smiled trying to play it off as nothing as his broad hands covered the length of your forearm with ease, “You best get dancing. You have many eyes on you, my King.” You grinned with ease knowing calling him such made him uncomfortable. You truly had known him as Strider for as long as you could remember. You’d met as teenagers in your youth, kids from Dúnedain.

Your fathers were friends keeping you close together often until he went off on his own. When it came time to leave you had heard Strider was a Ranger. Having a feeling you’d run into him again you weren’t surprised you were assigned to his company not long after you left home to find a purpose. Just like him. In a lot of ways, you were the same. But in so many different.

For the last sixty or so years the two of you became something of a menace in the North. Something to be feared. Always working as a team, the two of you always seemed to come out of battles unscathed.

He grumbled in response to the title name you had used on him, “I have told you not to call me that. It does not feel right hearing those words from you. Strider will do.”

You smiled seeing how you managed to get under his skin with such ease, “Strider is too informal. May I call you Aragorn at least?”

“I think Strider is perfectly formal. But you may call me as you see fit. So long as it is not, my King.” He smiled right back at you. Even he had to admit how nice it was seeing you so at ease. He had roamed the North for nearly sixty years with you. He had never seen you so relaxed. He was sure he had seen you smiling more tonight than he had in the past sixty combined. You smiled like that bright eyed teenager who had an obvious crush on the older teen. It was times like these that made him wish he had told you how he had felt the same. He had longed for you for so long in silence. He had a duty to uphold. But now? Time was different. He needed somebody on his side. He had always known that somebody was you.

You bowed just knowing it would push his nerves further, “As my King wishes, I shall only refer to him as Aragorn.”

His mouth dropped at your brazenness, but he should have known better. He was convinced you were placed with him was to keep hm grounded. You had a certain way about you that had him acting his very best, “Y/N.” He let out an audible sigh letting you know he was annoyed.

“Strider.” You raised an eyebrow as if to challenge him knowing that name was now obsolete in your vocabulary. He was Aragorn now. You could get used to it.

He looked to the dance floor before turning back to you, “Would you join me in a dance?” He held his hand out for you to take giving you your favorite impatient face. It was your favorite thing to do after all, push his buttons.

Your smirk turned up into a genuine smile, “This is a pleasant change. I would be honored to join you in a dance, Aragorn.”

“Are you going to choose a name Callia?” He grumbled as you placed your hand in his. His smile never faltered even though he pretended to be most annoyed by you. It wasn’t lost on your how gently he wrapped his hand around yours before nodding his head to the nearly empty ballroom floor.

You giggled more to yourself knowing how annoyed he was with you. Maybe you should stop winding him up. It was almost too much fun to stop though, “Am I not allowed to interchange two of your many names?” You followed along his lead down to the center of the empty floor.

He stopped once he had found a place good enough. Placed one hand over your hip and one behind your back, “Hands on my shoulders.” His voice dropped nearly an octave as he gave you a simple order. A shiver ran down your side at his touch. This was new for you as well. Sure, you had found him ever so attractive, but he hadn’t the slightest interest in you. Everything was platonic as could be between the two of you. So, you had backed off and kept it cool knowing nothing was ever going to happen.

You did as he wished and wrapped your hands around his neck, far more intimate than you had intended but you were committed now. It would be almost more embarrassing to unwrap yourself from him, “You did not answer my question.” You spoke trying to rid your mind of overthinking this situation you had seemed to find yourself in.

He gave you a grin as his eyes trailed all over your face, “I was only playing with you. You may call me as you please.”

Before you could answer the music started forcing your concentration of following his lead. It was impressive how quickly he had picked up on the steps of the dances you had only taught him only a few times a month ago. It had been a little over a month after the Celebration of Helm’s Deep after the hell that was the battle.

You were almost upset when the music had stopped knowing his hands would soon leave you. It was not right to have these feelings for such a longtime friend. Let alone the King of Gondor. But how could you not? He was Strider the great Ranger of the North. He was Aragorn the leader of the Fellowship. He was the King of Gondor. He was everything.

Fortunate for you he hadn’t move his hands from your waist even as the music stopped, “I do think I should call you Aragorn. It suits your stature. You have outgrown Strider.”

He bowed his head before slowly bringing his eyes up to yours, “Then Aragorn I shall be, my lady.” He was smirking now knowing how much you too loathed the high title he had seemed to start calling you.

With a frustrated breath your eyes narrowed at his, “If you shall call me my lady, then I will call you my King.” You too didn’t enjoy how the high title rolled off his lips. You were anything but a lady even in the dress you protested but had been convinced of.

He let out a breathy chuckle as he finally came back to his senses and let his hands go of your waist. You feared to admit how much you had enjoyed his touch and closeness, “I suppose that is fair, Callia.”

Stepping forward to straighten his collar you could only smile up at him in adoration, “You look very handsome tonight. Who knew you cleaned up so well?”

He took your hand in his once more, “It took a fair bit of work. But I must say, it is you who shines the brightest tonight.”

He had never complimented you so forthright before it drew a small gasp out of your very own mouth, “You are most kind to me. Thank you Aragorn.” You were suddenly thankful you had put some makeup on. You were praying it was covering up the sure-fire pink tint that was bound to be covering your cheeks.

He watched as you turned away from him, “You must get back to your advisor. He looks very weary over in the corner.” You tried a good excuse to walk away from him. He was suddenly becoming too much even for you.

“Wait,” You stopped and turned back to him with that subtle blush coating your face. When you stopped he continued, “Come take a walk with me. I wish to talk with just you.” His darting eyes let you know people were listening, always listening in now that he had such a high title.

“As you wish.” You followed him as he left the hall as discretely as he could.

The two of you had made it all the way to the gardens before he had spoken once more, “I want to thank you, Y/N.” By speaking your true born name, you knew this was serious. There was no playfulness of my lady or the knowing name of Callie. Y/N.

You had no clue where this was coming from. Truly, you rattled your mind for further thoughts before you gave in, “Whatever for?”

He smiled as he led you down the path of roses he had grown fond of in his short time here, “For always being there for me. You have shown up for me time and time yet again.” He paused taking your hand in his before placing a gentle kiss on the back of it. Had he no idea what he was doing to you?

“You are my truest friend.” You answered honestly after a few long moments of trying your hardest not to cave into whatever was taking over your mind. He was your friend! Only a friend. That is all he had ever wanted. He was simply thanking you for the journey. That was all. One chapter of your lives had closed and the next was to begin. You had to wonder where you would end up. In the capital being a guard? Roaming the woodland realms for danger? Head home and care for your aging parents? The choices were endless for your new life.

He let out a short laugh, “For that you are. May I tell you something?”

“Anything.” The response was so automatic it almost took you by surprise.

“If not for you, I would not be here.” He spoke quickly.

It took you much longer to process those words, “What do you mean?”

“If I had not known you would always be there I would not be king.” He smiled as his eyes traced your nervous face. You were truly the most beautiful woman he had ever known. How had he gotten so lucky with you? And by any other stroke of luck, you would accept his next question that had been weighing heavily on his mind.

“I am not sure what you mean Aragorn.” Your heart rate sped up just a tad as he stepped back from you. He fished something out of his robe pocked. Your eyes went wide as he held an old relic. A beautiful ring covered in gemstones.

“You have always been there for me Y/N. I fear nobody could ever take that place. I wish nobody to take that place. For I am the happiest when I am with you. Those last six months have not been good for me. But now that I am back with you I feel whole once again. There is no lady that could take your place Y/N. For your place is next to me.” The last words to come out of his mouth almost came out as a whisper for even he was nervous. The mighty King of Gondor afraid of some feelings he had almost his entire life. Oh, how his father would be laughing now.

Your heart rate kicked it up another notch. It felt like you had been training it was racing so fast, “Forgive me, I fear I am not enough…”

He stopped you this time though by placing a gentle finger on your lips, “I wish to not hear you speak poorly of yourself. For I do not respect those words. I will never believe them. I do know your entirely Y/N. Please, do me the honor of letting me court you.”

Your breath had been taken from you now, “You like me?” You had managed to get out feeling oddly faint.

“I love you.” He said so effortlessly you weren’t sure you had him quite right.

Your eyes turned up to his as he stepped closer to you, “You love me?”

A quick nod came from his head as his eyes bore right into yours, “I do.”

“I love you, too.” You spoke back before you could let your thoughts get the better of you.

His hands moved to your cheeks as he held you in his own, “For nearly seventy years I have yearned to hear those words from your lips.”

“For that long?” You asked in bewilderment to his statement. How had he kept it from you with such ease? It amazed you he had managed to be so stoic when you had been so obvious. Why had he fought it for so long?

He did what you least expected and bowed down to you, slowly. He had made sure you knew his intention, “I may not have always been wise to it but indeed. I have always loved you.”

You nodded quickly, your smile beaming brighter than ever before. He was sure that was his new favorite look on you, “Yea.”

“Yea?” He asked you as confirmation.

“I accept. I would be honored to stand by your side Aragorn.” Before you could bow to him he caught your chin in his hand shaking his hand to let you know that would be most unnecessary.

“You are doing me the honor.” He fastened the necklace with the ring on your neck tucking it underneath the top of your dress. His hands trailed down your sides resting on your hip for longer than he should have. He needed to take a step back or he would kiss you. Not that you wouldn’t let him, no. He was sure you would be more than happy about it. He simply wanted to charm you before he kissed you. He would not rush into this with you. For he had taken nearly seventy years to admit how he had felt. What was a little longer?

“You made it, Strider. You did it.” You brushed his wavy hair away from his face knowing that would be the last time you referred to him as such. From here forth he would be Aragorn. And you would wed him. How a life you dreamed of had come to fruition was beyond you.

He shook his head grabbing at your hands once more, “We made it. We did it.” He spoke of all the wishes the two of you spoke about in your many long nights. The dreams had seemed to come truer than either of you could have imagined. It almost didn’t feel real.

You nodded with nothing but love in your eyes, “Indeed, we did it.”

Permanent Taglist (Message me or comment below if you want to be added!) : @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @hardballoonlove @rosiahills22 @djs8891

[seiwas]

masterlist

・・・・・ this is the masterlist for my one year anniversary collab event! minors dni. links to each fic/art will be updated as they come; if you're interested in joining, you can check out this post for the guidelines! this masterlist will stop updating on july 25, 2025.

fics

boku no hero academia

ꕤ bakugo katsuki

feelings left unspoken by @peachsukii # fluff fluff fluff. just how katsuki acts in love. sfw. summary: bakugo’s hidden love language is touch. any and every kind. hand holding, arm slung around your waist, hand at the small of your back, ankles hooked under a table, etc.

[title tba] by 🌱 # early relationship katsuki summary: tba

untitled by @gfguren # f!reader, pro-hero!bakugo, hurt/comfort, established quirk, strangers to friends(?) to lovers summary: bakugou likes to think he knows everything, can handle just about anything that's thrown his way with flying colors and then some. so why can't he figure out this tug in his chest, or the upset in his stomach whenever you come around lately? you with your stupid quirk and all your stinkin' audacity. who do you think you are to figure him out with one little touch, one measly brush of your fingers against his anyways?

ꕤ todoroki shouto

[title tba] by @withclawandvine # sfw, established relationship summary: tba

haikyuu

ꕤ iwaizumi hajime

[title tba] by @merumis # tba summary: you’re not unfamiliar with a regretful hookup, but last night’s might just make the top of your list. still, you and iwa planned this roadtrip to see your friends months ago—surely things won’t be different. so why does he keep looking at you like that? and why is his cold water bottle always against the back of your neck?

ꕤ kuroo tetsurou

[title tba] by @tetzoro # sfw ; tooth rotting fluff ᡣ𐭩 summary: kuroo tetsuro has spent his whole life looking after others. it’s something that came naturally to him, as simple as breathing. it never fails to catch him off guard when he finds you doing the same for him and yet, he can’t help but melt under your tender care.

ꕤ ojiro aran

he's not subtle! by @noosayog # gn!reader, sfw, fluff summary: maybe he’s not one for over-the-top declarations, but it’s all the same when he makes it this obvious.

ꕤ sakusa kiyoomi

love me from your point of view by @irisintheafterglow # pro player!sakusa x rockstar!reader, strangers to lovers, secret relationship, character study, angst/fluff, sfw summary: you teach sakusa kiyoomi how to love, in spite of the cameras and the gossip.

jujutsu kaisen

ꕤ fushiguro megumi

[title tba] by @raven-cincaide # sfw summary: tba

ꕤ fushiguro toji

untitled by @cuntcure # nsfw, fluff, morning sex, very domestic and soft! summary: most mornings, you are only partially roused to a place just beyond being fully awake and coherent.

[title tba] by @pmpmyread # f!reader, mostly fluff, with suggestive themes and implied/non-graphic smut summary: tba

ꕤ gojo satoru

i won’t come back to you broken (i’ve been away too long) by @kissxcore # sfw, blind!gojo, angst probably, jjk spoilers summary: in which you prove to gojo that every part of him is loveable, even without his eyes.

and five more by @mieiri # gn!reader, fluff fluff fluff! summary: boyfie! satoru sleeps on your shoulder. you think about him in the meantime.

ꕤ nanami kento

[title tba] by @selarina # sfw, anniversaries summary: tba

the ghost of u by @em1e # a little bit of angst, sfw. summary: the intimacy of sharing music.

ꕤ sukuna

[title tba] by @miss-cincaide # nsfw summary: tba

wind breaker

ꕤ hiragi toma

bloom by @melon-fodder # sfw, 'shedding' as little signs of your partner being in your space summary: over time you fill hiragi’s heart and home with little pieces of yourself.

ꕤ togame jo

[title tba] by @shinuko # tba summary: tba

art

jujutsu kaisen

ꕤ gojo satoru

romantic encounter by @mididoodles # gn!reader, sfw description: cat!gojo and bunny!reader cuddling/sleeping.

ꕤ nanami kento

[title tba] by @mididoodles # selfship, fluff description: tba

thank you for participating, and enjoy!

[pinkhairedlily]

"sakura, good morning!" shizune waves her over and gives her coffee.

"busy day huh." most days, she's thankful the hospital staff already knows her preferred brew—dark, hot, bitter.

"you wouldn't believe what just happened though." shizune sips her iced latte. "sasuke asked for your schedule."

sakura takes a beat to reply, savoring instead the aromatic notes that slowly wake her 18-hour-shift-riddled senses. "oh yeah. we agreed to discuss new chore arrangements."

"you're living together."

"he's sleeping over."

"living. together."

"should i blush?" sakura winces. "besides, it has only been a few months. well, a year."

shizune slaps her back and leaves in a giddy. "you're already blushing, lover girl."

===

"hey thanks for dropping these off." naruto grins at her through towering stacks of folders.

"we really should organize a courier system or tap into those digital things gaara has been using in suna."

"totally agree with you." he hands her a chocolate bar. for a few minutes, they pass the sugar supply back and forth, grateful for the silence and the little indulgent treat from olden days.

"by the way, sasuke has been asking some weird things."

"such as?"

"like your favorite color, favorite food, favorite music." naruto gets the last chocolate cube. he cracks it into uneven halves and gives the smaller one to her, as usual. "so i told him mine are red and shoyu ramen."

sakura laughs and pops the piece into her mouth. "back to work, future hokage-san."

===

"where's ino?"

sai hands her an apron and an order slip. sakura releases a petulant sigh, rolls her eyes, and begins to pick the flowers listed. she waits until sai settles on the presentation and prods again.

"supplier issue." he shows her a peony and a carnation.

"the peony definitely."

sai shrugs and finishes off the bouquet. "we had a curious customer earlier."

"hmm?"

"sasuke came in. he said he didn't want reds. it would be too obvious, he said. so i suggested whites."

"mums?"

"uh-uh and roses and lilies."

sakura turns pensive at this. "he must have bought them for his family." she smiles at sai and pats him on the shoulder. "you're sometimes kind-hearted, aren't you?"

sai's fixed smile fades. "sakura, he didn't—"

a customer dings the bell and sakura, already sensing sai's intention, slips out of the boutique like a true swift kunoichi.

===

"haruno-san."

"yes, i know it's midnight and i need to go home."

the guard loiters by her door. "actually, you have a visitor. he's at the wisteria arch."

"oh? but it's so late. can't this wait until morning?"

"it's the uchiha ma'am," the guard purses his lips, "he's been camping since eight in the evening."

sakura runs. she hates running in corridors, particularly when half of the people are asleep, but she manages to reach the grounds without an ambush diagnostic or a surprise checkup.

sasuke is waiting. there is a picnic blanket in a hideous shade of bright red under him, a basket, a bouquet, a bottle of wine that must be lukewarm by now.

"shizune said you were free tonight," he said.

"what's all this for?" sakura has to catch her breath. she sits across him and takes him in. gorgeous, even under the pale moonlight.

"i never got the right answers." sasuke pulls every item out of the basket. thermos for hot water, instant ramen packs, dango, a lunchbox that smells like curry, spring rolls. "i don't know exactly what you like. i don't know if you still like the food that you liked when we were kids."

"i still have a sweet tooth," sakura chuckles as she reaches for the dango.

"but i noticed you always ask me to cook curry and you never fail to look for spring rolls." 

"because you cook curry the best, sasuke-kun, that's why i love it the most."

he avoids her chiding glance and hands her instead the bunch of daffodils. "i also don't know if you still like these flowers. you would pick them up in the forest, remember? trying to make me and naruto and kakashi wear these crowns of yellow blooms."

sakura laughs at the surfacing memories. "they're very beautiful, sasuke-kun." she basks for a while in the afterglow of his awkward yet patient persistence as he scoots closer to her side and slowly brushes her fingers against his in reacquaintance.

"what's with all these though? what did i miss?" sakura entangles their hands together, his thumb caressing her knuckles.

"happy anniversary."

"..."

"..."

"fuck."

"not here sakura."

"i forgot about it! fuck!"

"it's okay, let me." sasuke plants her down with a hand on her cheek. "you're busy, and there are few things in life i look forward in celebrating."

"i'm so sorry."

"i think it's me who has to apologize. i haven't nailed down everything."

"well, we've got the rest of our lives to figure that out."

sasuke hides a smile. "that's a plan."

[twin-tailss]

@sonic-au-collision

CIRCUIT BOARDS AU

BOOK 1, CHAPTER 1

Swift (Sonic) has always been the fastest cyborg around. He has also always served the chaos councils every whim since his parents sold him to them- or, more specifically, Mr. Dr. Eggman- when he was five years old. He’s thirteen now. He’s known for a long time that there wasn’t an escape and trying to would only get him hurt worse.

All of that would change when he was chasing a two-tailed little criminal through the subways of new yoke and he got hit by a train- literally.

NEXT

READ BELOW! ⬇️ OR IN THE LINK ABOVE

Chasing. That’s what Swift was doing when he was hit- chasing a criminal. Watching, as he had hundreds of times, his own body running without him, chasing someone who didn’t quite fit into the Chaos Council's idea of perfect.

Would he be doing this if he had a choice? He didn’t think so, but he wouldn’t know- he hadn’t been himself for a single moment in eight years. Eight years ago, he had been turned into nothing but a killing machine for the Council. It had been a long time since he gave up on escaping, trapped in his own body.

The criminal he was chasing through the subway was a golden fox kit. He couldn’t be any older than five. Swift felt bad for him, but he had long since abandoned the feeling of guilt, and empathy had been programmed out of him, so it wasn’t as if he was going to be able to magically stop chasing the child through sheer force of will.

Miles “Nine” Prower, civilian code 381–082. Guilty of rebelling against the Council's orders. Brilliant. Destructive. Extremely quick. Be on guard at all times. His brain spat out easily. The small, agile fox darted around a corner and Swift was quick to follow him. He was mildly impressed- no one had ever been able to keep up with him before, but here was this fox child- keeping ahead of him with fluid ease. It was… mortifying, to say the least.

It didn’t matter. In the end he would catch the fox, just like everyone else who had ever stood in the councils way. Then he would submit to the Council’s rule. Maybe making machines for them, if they were as smart as the council believed. Or dead and thrown onto the side of the road on the off chance they weren’t as smart as the Council thought they were. That felt blasphemous. Was it? He didn’t know, and holy shit he had bigger problems right now-

Blinding light scorched his eyes as the train slammed into him, agony shooting through him like a lightning bolt, white-hot and nearly blinding. His mouth wrenched open in a silent scream as his body slammed against the cold metal. Fuck, fuck! The agony wrenched through his bones, down to the very depths of his soul. There was this god-awful noise as metal hit metal and his body scraped against the track, and then there was nothing as his mind slipped away from him- simply darkness.

—————————————————————————

Had it decapitated him? Was he dead? Hah- That would be a mercy, with a ‘life’ like his. A mercy he wasn't lucky enough to have. Or was he just unconscious? Was he about to wake up and be yelled at by Mr. Doctor Eggman, or worse, Doctor Done-It for failing to capture the fox? He knew he should’ve been on guard, but they were so small, and he had faced off against people about twenty times bigger and stronger and he had been just fine. They hadn't given him nearly as much trouble, even the highest-profile ones. He really didn’t want to watch his body groveling at one of the doctor's feet, begging for forgiveness again. It was just as humiliating as they intended it to be.

Something was shoving his mechanical arm. It had pushed over onto his mostly mechanical body, but he could feel it as it brushed against his quills. He didn’t move. Maybe they would leave him alone if they thought he was asleep. Hah, maybe the Council wouldn’t lecture him if he was in a coma.

A small hand pushed against his face, poking him. Doctor Babble, maybe? So it probably wasn’t a lecture in store for him. Maybe he had fallen asleep while being forced to babysit them. Maybe it was all some awful dream. His eyes slid open with a quiet groan…

This was not the capital of New Yoke City. He knew that instantly, the moment he opened his eyes. The colors were all wrong. The ground was too hard. He wasn’t in the capital, which probably meant one of the citizens had woken him up so he could continue chasing the criminal. He knew some people believed that Council's rule was best, as that was all they had ever known, but he hadn’t met any yet. They were usually law-abiding citizens that he was never sent after except for false reports of heinous crimes.

“Hello?” the voice wormed into his ears as they stopped ringing. Young, about the age of the criminal he was supposed to be chasing, he assumed. His whole body ached, and he didn’t want to get up, but he had to, or he would face punishment from the Council. He turned his head towards them, and if he had a heart anymore it certainly would’ve stopped beating at that exact moment.

Golden fur. Two tails. Blue eyes. This was Nine, the five-year-old child he was chasing- the one who had tricked him into running straight into an oncoming train. Had they decided to turn themselves in? That was the only reasonable explanation, wasn’t it? Maybe the kid was as smart as they said, but they likely weren't if they would do that after damaging the chaos councils favorite pet.

“Oh, you’re awake. Good. Check if your weapons systems are online.” Was he asking him to kill him? Hah, now that would be a mercy, but then the Council would probably tear him apart and put him back together for going overkill in his mission and killing a ‘potentially valuable asset’, so that was not happening.

His arm raised to point at the ceiling without even thinking about it and attempted to fire off a plasma blast. It didn’t work. He tried again. Again. His weapons systems were definitely offline. What had this child done to him? A chill went up his spine, and he swallowed. He couldn’t defend himself without his weapons. He couldn’t do anything without his weapons. He was entirely helpless.

“They are non-functional. I must go to a workshop and get them fixed.” His body stood up without him, as it always did. This was not the subway, he realized. It was some kind of workshop. It had a big computer in one corner, and the floors were littered with inventions of all kinds. It was messy and would surely be hard to walk through without stepping on anything and possibly breaking it.

“No, you’re staying right here. They were intentionally disabled.” His body stopped moving as they spoke, about halfway to the door. What? He turned around, watching the two-tailed fox. How is this possible?

“But why?” That wasn’t the question Swift felt like he should be asking, but fine. “I need them to be useful. That is my purpose.”

“So you can’t kill me.” Hah, Swift could still kill him, if he wanted to. If he had to. He didn't particularly like killing, but he had no choice. He had to obey his orders. He could imagine bones cracking underneath his metal foot, the fox’s neck captured in his hands, unable to breathe. In fact, why was that not happening right now? He couldn’t kill him, as his mission was capture, but Swift could still harm him enough that he would be unable to fight back. That’s what he had expected to happen, but he wasn’t attacking the fox- in fact, he was listening to him! What in the world?

“Your new purpose is to be company. A friend, I guess.” The foolish fox shrugged, as if the very thought of Swift- a killing machine for the council, a robot that most feared and few loved- being friends with a criminal he had been ordered to capture was not laughable. If Swift could laugh, he would be rolling on the floor right now.

“But why? I am supposed to be nothing more than a killing machine for the Council.” Swift hated those words, even if they were true. That’s all he was. Even if he was set free somehow, he would probably still follow their orders, as it was all he had ever known.

“Well, not anymore.” The tiny fox grabbed his metal hand in one of their paws, bringing him back down to the ground where he was before. Surprisingly, his body didn’t fight him. He had expected bones to be breaking the moment the fox had touched him, but it did not seem as if he could hurt him.

“Now, you’re my assistant slash friend slash… whatever else I can think of.” There was something else going on here, but it didn’t make sense to Swift’s brain. He just couldn’t put the pieces together, probably because he was usually surrounded by four geniuses- Doctor Babble not included- who usually put the pieces together before he could even start using his brain.

His eyes fluttered shut. “New directive accepted.” his voice droned out robotically. Swift wished he could recoil in shock. What the actual hell? Only an admin could change his directive-

Oh. The pieces clicked together, and an emotion he had long since abandoned welled up inside of him. Hope. A glimmer of hope. This insanely stupid, yet at the same time extremely brilliant fox hacked me. I have to follow his orders now.

…Hopefully, it would be better than being there. It seemed as if it would be, with his new directive. To be… a friend. A barely there glimmer of anticipation flicked to life in his chest. He had never had a friend before.

“Good.” A tiny smile crawled its way onto Nine’s face. Swift watched him for a moment, wondering what was going to come out of his own mouth. The silence felt as if it stretched on for a thousand years, becoming more awkward with every passing second. Swift had never experienced an awkward silence before, not that he could remember at least, probably because he had never had a real conversation since he was sold to Eggman, Mr. Doctor Eggman, specifically, before he had figured out how to make those five copies of himself. Before he had found the shard. Before… everything. There wasn’t any need to talk to the people he had to capture, and those who tried to talk with him usually shut up pretty quickly when his laser blaster was pointed at them

“Who are you?” He asked after waiting for god knows how long for him to just say something. He already knew who he was, of course, but he was just trying to end the awkward silence already.

“I’m Miles Prower, Civilian Code 381-082. Chosen name Nine.” They respond. “You?”

“Nice to meet you, Nine.” It wasn’t nice to meet him, but this… was nice, for however long it lasted. He wondered when it would all go bad. “I am Ogilvie Maurice Hedgehog, former Civilian Code 128-791, chosen name Swift.”

“Whoa, that’s messed up.” Nine breathed out, his eyes widening in shock. A tiny paw reached out and brushed over some of his real quills, pulling back immediately as he felt just how not-metal they were. “How did the Chaos Council do this to you?”

“I do not have the clearance to access that information.” They didn’t want him to remember that. Sometimes… it made him wonder if they did care about him after all. He knew they didn’t, logically. But sometimes he still wondered. Wondered what it would be like if they did care about him. Wondered what it would be like if his parents cared about him. Wondered what it would be like if even one single person had cared about him in his thirteen long years of living. How different his life would be if anyone had ever been there for him.

The fox stared at him with immense pity in their sky-blue eyes. He wondered absentmindedly if it counted as sky blue anymore. He could remember when the skies were blue, instead of the reddish color they were now. He remembered being so proud of being the same color as the sky. Now, he wondered if that color exists anywhere else but himself and the ocean. It’s not as if there are any flowers left.

“Okay.” the fox managed out through the knot in their throat. “Is the person you used to be still conscious, or are you just a robot?” He stared at them for a moment, considering the question, mulling it over in his mind. Could he be considered more than a robot, even if he were conscious, if the programming controlled every aspect of himself and his personality? He didn’t know, but Nine was waiting for a response. He decided to go with the one he believed would please them.

“I am conscious.” it was technically the truth- he was conscious, after all. He was a being with his own thoughts and feelings, but the programming dictated his thoughts and emotions and he was unable to disobey when an admin gave him an order. That only seemed to make Nine seem more horrified, though.

“That's even more fucked.” He wished he wasn’t programmed to be unable to laugh at that moment- Mr. Doctor Eggman had always found his laugh annoying, so he had decided to program away his ability to laugh. He had cried a lot that day. He cried a lot more than now back then. He wondered if it was another change to his coding. It didn’t matter. He was whoever the admins wanted him to be, and that was that. It had always been that way. “I don’t know how to undo all the programming, at least not yet. Programming language isn’t one I use often.”

Alarm slammed through him. He… what? No, he can’t. He couldn’t be without it. He didn’t know who he was, or would be without it. He didn’t want to know. He didn’t want to know who he would be without it. He was perfectly fine as himself, even without his own brain. He was happy this way. Or at least, he was perfectly fine the way he was. Shit, what did he do?

“Why would you do that?” His voice was perfectly calm, smooth, and robotic, as it always is. He couldn’t change the tone of his voice. He couldn’t show any emotion. He was not supposed to be anything more than a killing machine. In fact, he wasn’t supposed to have feelings, period. He should go and get it fixed- but he couldn’t do that.

“You don’t know where I’m located. Returning your bodily autonomy wouldn’t do me any harm, plus the Chaos Council wouldn’t remove the bodily autonomy of someone who wants to work for them.” Nine’s words are reasonable, but he couldn’t accept them. He also knew he couldn’t really argue against them because he made himself an admin.

“I am a cyborg.” he tried anyway. “I was once a hedgehog, but I am no longer. I am fine the way I am.” Am I? A tiny voice in his head spoke up. Or is this contentment with who they made me into programmed into me as well? He intentionally smothered the voice. If it was, it would be nice of them to think of his emotions- which he wasn’t supposed to have, so shh. It was pointless to think of that anyway. It didn’t help him.

“Is that the real you talking, or the programming?” Nine asks easily. His fingers curled into a fist and he glanced down at the ground. He was trying to cover up any emotions, like normal, but it was harder because the feelings were much less muted than before. Something must’ve come loose with that hit. He should go back to get his brain fixed, but he couldn’t. He wasn’t about to admit that he… didn’t know, anymore. He didn’t want the fox to give him that look again- as if he was a weak little thing that needed support. He hated that look more than anything.

“I have not been without it for many years, since my power first developed and my parents sold me to Mr. Doctor Eggman.” He was being completely honest- at least, he believed he was. He didn’t… think, or at least, didn’t want to think that they could change his memories. They could lock away his memories, sure, but changing them… he didn’t want to think about the fact that the few nice things he could remember could’ve never actually happened. He swallowed slightly around the lump that formed in his throat. He blinked away any tears that may have welled up from that train of thought, hopefully before Nine realized that they existed. “There is no difference anymore.” something happens to my voice, and for a moment it feels as if I can’t breathe. I don’t know why, I don’t know what's going on. I don’t like this.

“Wow.” He could barely keep himself from glaring at the fox, his teeth gritting. Wow. Was that really all he had to say? Was he impressed with what they had done to him? Was- “even more fucked. What do you need to survive?”

He stared at the child, his brain trying and failing to make sense of the question. Why in all the circles of whatever hell awaited him once he passed from this mortal plane would they not know? It was obvious. He needed food and water, just as anyone else. He wasn’t- he… well. He couldn’t exactly just lie and say that he wasn’t a monster, could he?

“The same as any other living being, as I am still technically alive.” He informed him, his voice monotone. He had always hated his voice, as far back as he could remember, but he felt as if there was a time he couldn’t remember when he had loved it, but it had been a long time since he had heard it doing anything but throwing out slimy threats and insults and droning out orders on the Council’s behalf. “Meaning food, water and exercise.”

“Got it.” Nine walked over to his workbench, bobbing his head in a nod. Swift watched him silently as he sat down, getting something out. It was some kind of plug. He wondered what it was for. Nine got up again and started walking back over to him.

“What would you like me to help with?” He asked, trying to fill the silence again. He didn’t really care what Nine wanted out of him. He just… needed his programming. He couldn’t allow someone to take it away from him, it was all he had. The only thing that had been consistent throughout most of his life- other than the Chaos Council- but he wouldn’t mind losing them as much.

“Just answer any questions I ask for now. How old are you?” He paused, trying to think back to the last time his birthday was celebrated. When he was five, he thought. How many years ago was that? Eight, right. So he was probably thirteen. The fox was watching him, waiting for his answer.

“I believe I am thirteen.” he spoke after another long and awkward moment. The other watched him carefully for another moment, taking in that information with the fact he had paused, and Swift rushed to fill the silence. “Last time my age mattered, I was five. I had to figure out how many years it had been since then.”

The fox looks at him like that again. With pity in his eyes. He didn’t need to be pitied. He didn’t need to be pitied. He hated it when people pitied him or felt bad for him. It felt as if they didn’t take him seriously. Him, of all mobians they could possibly not take seriously! Chaos.

“I’m five.” the fox responds after another long moment of awkward silence that seemed to drag on for years. He found that he absolutely despised awkwardness. It had a way of crawling under his skin and making him feel uneasy, which happened to be another feeling he hated.

“Why do you feel the need to take away my programming?” he spoke up after another long, awkward silence.

“I’m curious on how it works, and I want to know what you’ll be like without the programming. Stay still.” Swift swallows hard as the fox starts moving the plug towards his head. That must be how he had hacked him. No one was supposed to know about that panel except for Mr. Doctor Eggman.

“But what if I don’t want it gone?” Swift speaks up quickly before he can stop himself. The fox stares at him as if he just told him that the sky was blue, or that this whole place was one grassy meadow.

“Doesn’t matter.” They say. “I want it gone, and we have no idea whether or not not wanting it gone is part of the programming. We’ll find out soon anyway.” he gritted his teeth, glaring at the ground as they open up the panel. Hah, ironic- he had never gotten a say in anything that had happened in his life, and now he wasn’t getting a say in the very thing stopping him from having a say getting removed. He tried to calm himself down as the fox plugged him in and went back to his computer, where there was now a plethora of code in place of the blank screen that had been there earlier. He could adapt to this. He could adapt to anything… in fact, if he deleted too much, he could capture this idiotic fox and go back there to get himself fixed.

Go back there? Oh god, what am I thinking?! He blinked a few times. There was something horribly, awfully wrong with him if he was legitimately thinking of returning there when he had a choice not to, just to get reprogrammed.

…He didn’t need to be awake for this. For them rummaging around in his brain and taking away his coding. He rolled onto his side and closed his eyes, trying to fall asleep the best he could to the sound of Nine clicking away on his computer. After who knows how long, his mind floated off into nothing and he was asleep.

(I wrote this back in 2022, lol. I’m much better at writing now, but hopefully this is still good! Tell me what you think if you want too ^^)

[jade-of-mourning]

listen the idea of lin & mako having history pre-canon is the funniest shit to me ever idk why it's just funny especially seeing how their relationship casually evolves throughout the series

edit: i wrote this before getting around to rewatch and i drastically failed in my characterization of lin please forgive me

There's a ratty kid running messages in the middle of a busted underground drug transaction. He gets arrested with the rest of the participants who didn’t scram fast enough and is taken to the station — where he promptly escapes his juvenile cell before he can get pulled in for interrogation. Lin knows his type, thin-faced with eyes older than their body, and she hopes that this is the last she sees of him, because she hates having to deal with kids involved in crime.

Two months later, she's on the night patrol when she runs onto the scene of a Triad raid. There's a small firebender wielding flame and settling the building ablaze, stark against the black sky; she makes eye contact with him and realizes that it's that ratty, slippery kid who had been running messages. As more officers arrive on the scene and quell the flames, she snatches him before he can flee with the rest. He's snarling sparks and biting at air with his teeth, kicking his feet viciously in an attempt to escape the metal cables wrapped around his body, and she hauls him into the station and sits his ass down in the interrogation room, where he gets his first mugshot taken and she fills out the paperwork to send him back to an orphanage. A few days later, she reads an offhand report that a kid’s run away.

She doesn't see him again until a year later in the aftermath of a violent robbery, this time hauled in the back of a getaway car that their pursuers don't catch. There's a woman lying in water with smoke coming off her body, and Lin can see the lichtenberg figures crawling over her skin.

They're on a stakeout on a warehouse when he fires lightning through the window, shattering glass. Lin's yelling orders and fighting off a triad of gangsters, and as whips her cables around the last man, she turns around to see the now-teenager whipping lightning through her officers' metal suits and kicking flames through the air. He spits in her face when she captures him in earth and breaks away the back to cuff his hands and calls her the worst of 'em all, the mighty fuckin' Chief of Police herself. He's sitting in the interrogation room with his hands bound to the table and infinitely subdued, dead silent under the weight of her gaze, meeting her eyes with a hard dirty gold edge. His face is still thin and young the way it'd been years ago, bones still jutting out of his cheeks, hair chopped unevenly and falling across his brow. You must be close to Zolt, to have learned lightning to any level of proficiency, let alone been taught, she says to him, and he scowls and hisses like a feral pygmy-puma and doesn't speak a word. His second mugshot gets stored in his growing file. She learns from other subjects of interrogation that he's Zolt's project and intended successor should he survive long enough, learns of their general resentment towards him. Someone still busts him out of jail by the next night.

He's way too involved in the underground for anyone's liking. He's Zolt's protege and he's constantly involved in raids and exchanges and assaults. He's often the last one fighting off several officers until he's captured by Lin, the warehouse scenario playing out over and over again: he's shooting lightning and spitting fire and fighting viciously until his blood is in his eyes, absolutely wild without reservation. He vomits insults at the police out of his mouth while driven to the station, curses them for the lack of care the world's ever shown towards him and his brother. Every time he ends up in a jail cell and the guards look away for a minute, he's managed to slip away, a slippery bastard eel-shark. He quits his silence, tears into her and her job over interrogation rooms in handcuffs and still escapes despite it all. (He even manages to snatch the blasted red scarf out of her office while on the way out. What the fuck.) He's got nearly half a dozen mugshots accumulated in his folder at the station, each one documenting his eyes darkening to a harder gold, the growth of bruises around his neck, evidence of his increasing inability to fill out his skin.

And then he vanishes. At first she doesn't notice, but his absence becomes more evident as Zolt's work begins showing up with increasing frequency rather than his favorite errand-runner. She doesn't really give a shit about the little asshole fire-spitting punk who'd only caused trouble while running with the triads, a notable accomplice in harassing the city for the past four years — but she also can't help but wonder what happened to him. No body ever turns up and she eventually forgets about him; crime never stops.

Imagine her fucking surprise when three years later, he's suddenly best friends with an even more asshole fire-spitting punk: the Avatar. She sees him in the City Hall when she comes to assert her support for the pro-bending arena, doesn't register who he is until he turns in surprise and narrows his eyes at her, familiar in the cold fire behind them. She realizes that he’s the Mako she’s been hearing on the radio, the rapidly rising star of the sport. She also doesn’t get the chance to address any of this madness before Tenzin drags her aside, and then the world moves too fast for her to figure out how the fuck he’s involved in this mess. She sees him fight now and she knows that he knows she knows, but they don't acknowledge it at all because there's too much more at stake. His voice is still low and scratchy, but it's now carefully articulate, no sign of vicious vitriol and derision that had once spilled from his lips, just reservation and consideration.

Their non-interaction lasts until after the entire Amon ordeal is (somewhat) resolved and her bending is restored. She confronts him, grudgingly acknowledges his role in saving the city, then flatly declares that she doesn't trust him for shit. He glares her down for a moment before the familiar fire fades from his eyes and his shoulders slump ever so slightly. He says that he’s trying to be a better man now, that he cares deeply for the people around him now, that he doesn’t ever want to turn back to who he was forced to have been because it was never who he wanted to be. She tells him that she can’t let him go unanswered for his crimes from when he was younger; he begs her to not ruin everything that he’s worked so hard to make for himself. It’s unexpected for all that she thought she knew of him, the desperation open on a face no longer carved by starvation.

And Lin knows in her heart that he’s trying. She can see it in the way he looks at Korra like she cradles the sun in her palms, the way he puts his hand on his brother’s shoulder and opens his arm to embrace, the way he talks to the Sato girl with softened edges and keeps his eyes on her face, not her pockets. But she can’t trust that trying of itself is enough. It comes to her: she needs to keep an eye on him, and he needs a stable job (— kids like him who’ve managed to crawl out of the gutter are always on the hunt for one after all, despite how rarely they find it).

So she offers him an application for the force, tells him that she’ll turn a blind eye to his past if performs this service under her watch. She admits he’s got a good head on his shoulders, that he’s a good fighter — she would know —, and states that if he’s truly so determined to do right, then he should be extending that to the city as well. He looks at her and asks, Do I really have a choice? 

She looks at him wryly, raises an eyebrow. I don’t have much of a choice myself, now do I? she tells him.

other random mako-related tumblr writings i did: x / x

this is also kind of the only way i can picture mako joining the rpcd initially, because it actually makes no sense to me lmfao. how he got involved, that is. like i can definitely see him being super passionate about it and ultimately coming to enjoy working for this fictional police force, probably finding some kind of self-appointed redemption for himself as a kid, but also how did this get started in the first place. consider me baffled.

… i kinda wanna write a oneshot on this now. oops. goddamnit </3

spat this out in maybe two hours cuz i thought it was funny. i'm still writing That Fic, it's almost 10k long somehow and i think i need to delete about half of it, but we'll see lmfaooo

also here's a wip on him i started that i may or may not ever finish