#but things are going forward and that's what matters

[jinnie-ret]

cover me

poly!stray kids x fem reader

genre: angst, fluff at the end

content warnings: stress from uni/work

word count: 1.5k

summary: money, work, school. it was only a matter of time before the boys would see her crumble, and be there to pick up the pieces

requested: @straykidsnerd255

1K FOLLOWERS PLAYLIST 💚🖤

MAIN MASTERLIST

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Every time she tried to take one step forward, something would ultimately knock her back twice as far. Finally having a very generously paid job as an intern at a big company was serving her well, yet with the return of going back to university, finding a work-school balance was becoming difficult.

Truly, that was the hardest thing. She had great people around her, those being her uni friends or her loving boyfriends, the renowned Kpop band, Stray Kids. The way they cared for her and each other with such strong morals and support meant that surely it would be easy to confide in them.

Not always, especially in this case.

Other times she would be thankful for the fact that her partners all had a longer practice at the company, not to their own detriment of course, but because it gave her more time to get herself together and paint on a calm picture of 'I'm definitely not struggling right now and on the brink of my second breakdown of the day'.

However, this time she really needed them. The stress had amounted to such a level that she felt it right through to her bones, and so she found herself crying over the smallest things, which in turn let out the release of her biggest pain.

"Stupid shoes, why aren't they organised, there's too many," she sniffled, sat on her knees by the front door as she began to cry at shoes. Yes, shoes. Her boyfriends' shoes to be specific. She would have thought at least Seungmin would have berated the others for their lack of organisation at this point but even his were out of place.

"They didn't even match them back up," she cried, and more tears spilled out, "oh, why am I even crying right now?"

Sometimes being in such a state meant that it was hard to understand your own feelings, your thoughts far too occupied with the wants of other people to be able to manage the basic needs of your own.

Eventually she gave up on the shoes and wiped her tears, walking slowly over to the sofa and letting her body fall into it with a soft thump. She tugged a soft velvety blanket over herself, one that Felix probably picked out due to it's plush exterior, and instinctively cocooned herself. Her heart felt heavy, her eyes hot and burning as the tears kept falling. All it took was a reminder on her phone for a work assignment, and a uni assignment, to trigger a sob to catch her throat.

"Too much," she sobbed to herself, trying to muffle the sounds even though there was no one else to hear them, "it's too much."

She was wrong. Not about her feelings, gosh, no, but the fact that she thought she was alone.

"Hey, hey, what's going on?" Hyunjin was crouched down right in front of her trembling form, almost hidden if it wasn't for the blanketed lump that had been shaking so much it couldn't have been natural.

His hand brushed her hair back and his thumb rubbed under her eyes, catching the tears that seemed to keep appearing. Hyunjin watched on in deep concern, just like their other boyfriends did the more they realised something was wrong.

"What? When, when did you get back?" she gulped down her sobs, or attempted to, even though her words still came out messily. She sat up, the blanket falling off her shoulders and resting around her hips.

"Don't worry about that, love. Just tell us what's going on, yeah? What's wrong?" Chan held her against him immediately, taking a seat ñext to her. The only time his arm that was wrapped around her moved away, was to let Jeongin lift the blanket back up to keep her warm.

"I don't know," she sniffed indignantly, coughing lightly through her cries when she tried to clear her throat. Her arm pressed against the lower half of her face.

"You're getting yourself in a state now, come on, move your arm, you know you don't have to hold back in front of us," Seungmin sighed sadly, seeing his girlfriend so stressed. He pulled her arm towards her lap which he was sat in front of, holding her hand with one of his own and the other rubbing her knee.

"Thanks," she said sarcastically at first, until hearing the rest of what he had to say and tilting her head up to the ceiling to blink away the rest of her tears.

Chan pressed a kiss against her forehead, and everyone was around her to offer comfort, Felix and Changbin in particular wanting to jump out of their seats on the adjacent sofa to take all the pain away.

"What's got you to upset, jagi?" Jisung pouted, his own eyes glistening as he saw how upset you were.

"It's stupid, really," she began, rubbing at her eyes roughly, Hyunjin subsequently tutting at her and pulling her other hand away that Seungmin wasn't occupying.

"We're not doing that, jagi," Minho shook his head, brows furrowed, looking down at the floor with his hands folded together, "if it's upset you, it's not stupid."

"Exactly, please just tell us, you know we just want to help, that's all," Felix quickly pitched in, face crumpled sadly much like your own.

"There's just too much going on really. You know? Like, oh-" she had to cut herself off when her voice cracked with emotion again.

"You're ok, take your time," Jeongin gave a small smile and nod to reassure her.

"We're listening, baby," Changbin's raspy voice rung out.

"I've got a good job right? Like, it pays so well, but now with going back to uni it's just like I don't have time for anything. I-i'm having to squeeze in hours where I don't have them because my boss won't help me work around my timetable," she explained, the clashing of two parts of her life and time issues being what was clearly causing so much turmoil.

"I'm sorry, darling," Chan tugged her closer to him, a frown on his face.

"Don't be sorry, not your fault, is it? I'm just so tired, I'm exhausted," she admitted, pressing her lips together and taking a deep breath in order to not cry again.

"We'll help you figure this out, ok?" Hyunjin leant his head against her shoulder.

"Ok, ok," she let out a deep breath and nodded.

"I think you need to focus on uni, love. If work can't meet you in the middle then, it's hard," Seungmin trailed off, not wanting to fully leave her in the dark but not wanting to be too blunt.

"What do you think, jagi?" Jisung wondered, curled up against Minho, one leg hanging over the older's lap.

"I don't know. I don't even wanna make any decisions right now," she shook her head tiredly, blinking a couple times.

"That's understandable, baby, how about we just relax for now, ok?" Changbin suggested.

"And if anything else is upsetting you, please tell us," Chan huffed with a knowing smile.

"Ok, promise," she grinned.

₊˚⊹♡

She must have fallen asleep without realising, as she found herself waking up to Jeongin and Felix giggling over something on the latter's phone.

"What's going on?" she murmured tiredly, pressing her face deeper into... Jisung's chest, it took one whiff of his cologne to be able to tell it was him.

"Had a good sleep then, hmm?" Minho poked her forehead, slow blinking at her.

"Mm, yeah," she nodded, "Lixie, Innie, what's funny?"

The two froze, looking at her a bit guiltily.

"Well, umm, you know we have that camera in the hallway, just in case for security, like if someone broke in or-" Jeongin began to ramble awkwardly,

"I know, yeah," she nods, adjusting her head against Jisung's chest as he loosely keeps an arm around her, securing her to him.

"We're actually sorry for laughing, babe, it's just... You were crying over our shoes earlier?" Felix can't even keep eye contact as he explains.

Jisung stifles a laugh and so she slaps his chest playfully through her mild embarrassment, making him yell out dramatically.

"What's Sungie done now?" Hyunjin asks as he flops onto the sofa, entering the room again after leaving Chan, Seungmin and Changbin to managing the cooking.

"It's more about what our jagi did," Minho teases, looking at her with a smug grin.

"Guys, I was stressed, leave me aloneeee," she huffed, but it didn't stop the light laughter that filled the room knowing that she wasn't completely upset about it.

"Sorry, but..." Jeongin chuckles again, "the way you throw the shoes away from you is so funny!"

"What did our shoes do to you?!" Felix laughed again as he watched the video on replay.

"They smelt bad," she grinned happily, teasing them back as revenge, "specifically Ji's."

"Yah!"

Jisung gave her a noogie, keeping her trapped in his arms. He couldn't let her discredit him like that.

"Sorry! Sorry! Hahaha!"

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••��•••••

listeners: @skz-streamer @kiraisastay @kpopmenace143 @haodore @arloo00 @dunno-wut-to-do @splat00z @his-angell @2minstan @skzoologist @lovingchan @atinyniki @writingforstraykids @minholing @lilmisssona @astraysimp @lixie-phoria @theo4eve @linoalwaysknows @royal-shinigami @jolly04 @turtledove824 @yangbbokari @thisrandomgoofy15 @lieslab @hannamoon143 @arumlilyeclipse

[pickingupmymercedes]

A smile like that - Lewis Hamilton

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

warnings: playful, silly and sassy

wordcount: +1k

a/n: Lewis was smiling and so were we❤️❤️

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

______________________________________________________________

I should’ve known what would happen the moment I sent that text.

So, the secret ingredient to you is a shitty Friday and some drama, then?

When Lewis has something to prove, he really proves it. Not just to himself, to the entire world.

And in typical Lewis’s fashion, he doesn’t miss an opportunity to boost about it, even when I’m literally working.

I’m properly miffed as I storm into his driver’s room—no knock, no warning. Just righteous annoyance, fully loaded and ready to fire.

I can’t let him get away with this one, I tell myself. Not today.

Not after that ridiculous Instagram post. I was working, for God’s sake. Interviewing drivers, doing my actual job. And he’s out there, posting photos like it’s some romantic movie.

I should stay mad at him for at least a good ten minutes, minimum. Really drive the point home this time.

But as I catch sight of him, slouched on the couch with that ridiculous grin, my resolve wavers.

Damn it. It’s like trying to stay mad at Roscoe.

He’s still in his Mercedes shir, looking far too pleased with himself, his braids peeking out from under his cap, sweat glistening on his forehead.

Honestly, it should be illegal for someone to look that good after sweating like they do on those cars.

“Oh, hey, love,” he says casually, not even bothering to look up.

Oh, we’re going with casual now.

I close the door with a deliberate click and lean against it, crossing my arms. “Do you want to explain yourself?”

He finally looks up, eyes twinkling with mischief. “What?”

I scoff, unfolding my arms as I march toward him, pulling out my phone with the offending evidence.

“This” I practically shove the screen in his face. It’s his Instagram post, the one where he posted a photo of himself gazing down at me in the media pen with: Had to make sure her smile was also because of me.

It takes all my restraint not to groan aloud. Because honestly, the audacity.

Lewis leans back, completely unfazed, a slow grin spreading across his face. “You were smiling though?”

“That’s not the point, Lewis,” I deadpanned, even though, yes, I was smiling.

But of course I was. It’s impossible not to when he’s around, and that’s exactly the problem?

I hate how he does this to me. One minute, I’m determined to stay mad, the next, I’m grinning like an idiot just because he threw me a smile. It’s infuriating, and yet…

Yet here I am, standing in front of him, and no matter how much he drives me up the wall my traitorous heart does a little somersault because he’s sitting there, giving me that crooked smile like he’s some damn rom-com lead who just said the most heart-melting thing in the world.

He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, hands clasped together like he’s gearing up for a negotiation. “It’s totally the point.”

I blink at him. “You seriously posted this just to see if I’d show up here?”

“Well…” He pauses, his eyes flickering over my face as if he’s gauging just how annoyed I really am. “That, and because of your text earlier. You know, the one about my shitty Fridays ?”

I raise a brow. “That was sarcasm.”

“Mm-hmm,” he hums, not buying it for a second. “I was just making sure you had a smile like that for me, too.”

God, he’s infuriating.

I huff, but it’s weak. “You know, I was working. Like, interviewing drivers. Doing my job.”

Lewis stands up, taking slow, deliberate steps until he’s standing right in front of me, way too close for comfort—except it’s always comfortable with him. “And one of us was making sure the most important person in the room was smiling.”

Oh. Great. He’s bringing out the charm now.

“You’re unbelievable” I mutter, but there’s no heat behind it anymore.

“And yet, you’re here” he says, stepping even closer, his hand brushing against mine.

I roll my eyes, but my lips twitch, betraying me. “Don’t get used to it.”

He smirks. “Too late”

I let out a long-suffering sigh, even as my heart betrays me, pounding a little faster.

His hands find my waist, warm and steady, and with one gentle tug, I’m pulled into him.

I tell myself I’m still annoyed, but the way his fingers trace small circles against my back makes it impossible to hold on to that thought for long.

The scent of sweat and his signature cologne fills the small space between us, and I hate how comforting it feels.

I should be making a point here.

Instead, I find myself leaning into him, my cheek pressing against his chest, the steady thump of his heartbeat grounding my own.

Because it’s Lewis, and no matter how annoying or cocky or insufferable he is in these moments, I’m always going to melt when he holds me like this.

And should I say it? The words are there, right on the tip of my tongue.

Once I say them, there’s no going back to the easy banter, no covering it up with another snarky remark.

But he deserves to hear it. Especially today.

I lift my head slightly, just enough to look him in the eyes. His teasing grin has softened, replaced by something quieter, something that makes my chest tighten.

“You know,” I murmur, my voice a little more vulnerable than I intended, “I’m really proud of you.”

He freezes for just a second, his eyes searching mine. And then his grip tightens, just slightly, like he’s anchoring himself. “Yeah?” His voice is soft, cautious, like he doesn’t quite believe it yet.

“Yeah.” I nod, the corners of my lips tugging upward despite myself. “Never doubted you, not for a second.”

For a moment, something flickers across his eyes, and I know this means more to him than he’s letting on.

Lewis can put on a front, make jokes, tease all he wants, but deep down, this sport is his entire world, and today had been a good day.

After a Friday where nothing went right, after a car that was fighting him every step of the way, he still pulled through. And I’m proud. Proud because I know how much it takes, how much he gives.

He lets out a breath, resting his forehead against mine. “You always know what to say, don’t you?”

I grin. “Part of the job, remember?”

He chuckles softly, his breath warm against my skin. “I’m still gonna hold you to that smile thing, though.”

I snort. “You’re so needy.”

It’s ridiculous how comfortable being in his arms is—how easy it feels, even if it shouldn’t.

I tilt my head back slightly to meet his gaze again, my hand sliding up his chest to rest just above his heart.

“So,” I say, my tone casual but laced with a hint of something more, “tomorrow…”

His eyes darken with interest. “Yeah?”

I give him a coy smile. “I could make it worth your while if you get a win.”

He raises a brow, his grip on my waist tightening. “Oh? And what exactly does ‘worth my while’ entail?”

I shrug, playing it cool. “Guess you’ll have to win to find out.”

He groans dramatically, leaning his forehead against mine again. “Now I’ve got pressure.”

“You love it though” I tease, throwing his words back at him.

He pulls back slightly, eyes narrowing playfully. “I’m holding you to this.”

“Good. But this is if you win.”

He pouts, an exaggerated look of defeat crossing his features. “Podiums are awesome too! Come on, at least give me top three.

I tilt my head, pretending to think about it. “Hmm, tempting… but no.”

He shakes his head, but he’s grinning now, his dimple making an appearance. “You’re ruthless.”

“And you love it” I say again, and this time, I mean it in more ways than one.

“Okay,” he says, his tone amused “but when I win, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

I raise an eyebrow. “You’re that confident?”

He smirks, leaning in just close enough that I can feel the warmth of his breath against my lips. “You just gave me one more reason to be.”

There it was again, that damn confidence. How was I ever supposed to resist that?

The heat of his body seeps into mine, making my pulse quicken, and for a second, I realize he’s the one with all the control here.

“Good,” I murmur, pressing a quick kiss to his lips before stepping back, trying to regain some semblance of professionalism. “Now go do whatever it is you do here.”

He watches me with amusement as I head toward the door. “Leaving already?”

“Yeah. Some of us have work”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “You’re unbelievable”

“Stole my line Hamilton” I glance over my shoulder, giving him a wink “But now you’re the one smiling.”

______________________________________________________________

TAGLIST - @saturnssunflower @xoscar03 @chocolatediplomatdreamerzonk @itsmrshamilton @vicurious28

@0710khj @thecubanator2 @neilakk @bigratbitchsworld @adriswrld

@fearfam69691 @cmleitora @goldenroutledge @timmychalametsstuff @jpgnsf

@priopp123 @strqirlhrts @hmmmmm-01 @bisexual-babygirl-mj @bebesobrielo @hiireadstuff

If you’d like to be added to my taglist you can leave a comment or send me a dm/ask.

[simpjaes]

Anonymous asked: Vampire! Jay who feeds on reader during missionary

WARNING: reader "dies" while squirting lmfao

a/n: accidentally posted the ask too soon so i deleted it, here is ur drabble.

Ah shit.

The way it pours out for him forces his brain into overdrive. So much with each thump, thump, thump of your heartbeat. He couldn’t stop now even if he wanted to, despite his very clear thoughts before this moment.

It’s the way you’re not fearful of him and let him drink as he pleases, plunging in all at the same time. He’s not even sure what he’s moaning for at this moment, if he’s being honest. A pussy so tight, sweet, and wet squeezing the cold length he offers or the way your neck offers a different clench and pulse against he slams into you. The broken skin there offers an almost similar sensation that you give to his cock.

He’d say he’s in heaven if he knew it existed, but it doesn't. 

You give him something profound. A need, a willingness that is rare to come across when his truth is revealed. That blood you let him have means more to him than any orgasm or flurried orgasm, and he could feed on you for hundreds of years if humanity dared to live so long.

It doesn’t though, and he can’t stop. No, he’ll keep drinking until his stomach is full and his cock is empty. The consequence isn’t the best for you, but he is frenzied and no longer cares about that. Eyes dark, pupils wide and nearly blurry as he stares forward with a blank expression through each thrust, moan, and sip. He does try to work you through it, trying his best to give you an easy death, but the pleasure is almost too much for him to comprehend as each thrust grows harsher, more deep, more violent.

You’re in euphoria too, feeling the numbness of your body take hold with each quart he drinks. Little by little, each finger, toe, and limb goes numb and limp, but that matters little to you considering it feels as though most of your blood sits in your clit and gut. Right there where each thrust meets and gives you waves of pleasure. 

To die is one thing, but to die while feeling so held, so adored, so wanted is another. It doesn’t mean a goddamn thing to you at this moment as you chase what that thickness in you he offers. Wet, wet, wet, is how you feel. So bloody, so dripping, soaking his cock in more than one orgasm as the hours pass. He occasionally kisses you through it too, locking eyes and whispering against you, leaving little stains of your life against your skin with red words of “Doesn’t it hurt?” and “You’re asking for too much, do you wish to die so easily?” 

And you do. Death doesn’t scare you when you’re squirting your life out for him, gushing a heat warmer than your blood onto his pelvis and shaking through it. Each body part now entirely numb and fuzzy, uncaring of if your brain is living or dying through it. It’s a pleasant way to go, you think. 

Except you don’t go. 

Jay couldn’t fathom never tucking himself into this tight hold you have on him again. Whether it be your clinging numb arms, or your tight, now cold, pussy. He wants more, and will always want more.

If at all, you’ll be a pretty addition to his room, and he’ll feed you as he pleases. 

[wwwaegoncom]

empty office

At a dull work event, you and Aegon sneak away to a quiet office.

modern!aegon x fem!reader

warnings: 18+, smut, p in v, fingering, drinking/alcohol, semi-public, mean aegon? (ever so slighty mean) few descriptions to what reader is wearing (skirt and heels)

authors note:

i love modern!aegon so much. Basically just sex no plot <3 this was actually originally a rafe cameron smut i wrote last year, but now i rewrote it to be an Aegon smut <333 i feel so cringe anytime i write smut... BUT MHMM HOPE U LIKE IT

"Aegon, we shouldn't be doing this" you giggled as you let Aegon drag you into an empty office.

You and Aegon had quietly slipped away from the work event, with a bottle of wine in his hand. Your father was Viserys' business partner for more than 20 years, which led you and Aegon to meet every now and then. The event had been a dinner, the kind where people stayed afterwards to network and exchange forced pleasantries. You and Aegon had been forced to attend. Neither of you stayed for the tiring small talk - you stayed to have an excuse to get drunk.

The event was as you had expected, boring speeches, boring people, talking business like it was the only thing that mattered. You had considered going home, but that was until you heard the sound of a chair scraping against the floor, as Aegon pulled up a chair next to you. He knew the people around you were too caught up in their conversations to even notice the two of you, or too drunk to care. He was too drunk to care. He snuck an arm around you, almost as if he had done it a million times before, whispering in your ear, suggesting the two of you should sneak out of there.

And that was all it took, and know you were in an empty office with him. You could have taken a cab to his or your apartment, but neither of you wanted to wait.

You didn't know whose office you were in, and frankly, you didn't care. "Calm down, nobody will even notice we're gone" Aegon reassured you, locking the door behind him.

"If we get caught I'm saying you seduced me"

You teased, the soft clicks of your heels filling the silence as you moved over to the desk. You hoisted yourself up the desk, crossing your legs as you watched how Aegon's eye followed your every movement. A frown almost formed on his lips when you crossed your legs.

You had met each other before. Polite smiles at other work events, the occasional small talk but it was never anything more than that. Even the summer the both of you interned together, you never got to really know him aside from the formalities.

Aegon had tried his best to stay away from you, but the sweet smiles and giggles he heard escape your lips, made him crave you even more. His father had told him, warned him, to stay away from you. He knew why he said it, you were the daughter of his business partner, and you were strictly off limits. So all he got was polite handshakes and a glance.

But when he saw you sitting all by yourself, downing what was probably your 4th glass of wine, he couldn't help but make a move.

Aegon let out a chuckle at your comment, as he opened the bottle of wine, taking a big sip before putting it down on the table.

His hands slid up your thighs, as he parted your legs with ease. "Seduced you? I think it's the other way around" Aegon commented, his voice deep and teasing. He stepped closer, situating himself between your now parted legs, one hand boldly resting on your inner thigh. The smirk that fell on his lips was pure arrogance, knowing you wouldn't push him away.

You leaned your face closer to him, just enough to make his pulse skip, he could smell your perfume and the wine that lingered on your breath. But you pulled away just as quickly, holding in a giggle as you looked up at him. Aegon's head tilted to the side, his eyebrows knitting together as you leaned away from him.

His hand started to move up under your skirt, stopping right at the hem, "pretty skirt" he commented. Aegon then leaned forward, his other hand pushing the hair on your shoulder back, exposing your neck to him.

He started to kiss down your neck. The alcohol in your system made you want him all the more. You could almost feel Aegon grinning against your neck, as he let out a chuckle. "You like that?" He teased, his voice low and almost a whisper. You nodded, your breath was starting to become heavy as you wrapped your arms around Aegon, pulling him closer. Your hands made their way down his sides, slowly caressing his shirt before they found their way to his belt, which you shakily tried to unbuckle. But before you could, Aegon slapped your hand away. "Aegon" you whined his name, leaning back to look into his eyes with a pout, but he didn't let you. He held your wrists together with his hands as you tried to get your hands free.

"Gods, you're impatient" he teased, releasing your wrists, as he gently rubbed them before his hands found their way beneath your skirt.

He was lightly tugging at your nylon tights, but he didn't tear them, just yet. "That won't do" he muttered, more to himself than to you as he looked down on the tights that covered your thighs. You had expected him to pull them down, but you should have known better. Before you even had the chance to react, he impatiently ripped them apart.

Just as you were about to complain, irritated that he just ripped your tights, his hands found their way between your thighs again, as he hiked up your skirt and pushed your underwear to the side. His fingers slid through your wetness, as he found your clit. Light moans started to fall from your lips, desperate for more. Your hands found their way to his hair, raking your nails through it, not even caring about your tights anymore. You closed your eyes, biting your lip to try and suppress them.

Aegons hand found its way to your face, lightly tapping on your cheek, a playful but commanding touch. "No, no" he murmured, his fingers continuing to circle your clit. "Open your eyes" His words were low, his voice smug and direct. You opened your eyes, your lips slightly parted from the moans and your breath was unsteady.

"Such a good girl." Aegon praised, almost in a mocking tone and his fingers started to move faster, and it was getting hard to keep quiet. He knew that. Lucky for you the event was taking place down the hall, but you still didn't want people who might be walking past the office to hear the lewd sounds you were making.

You tried your best to suppress your moans. Aegon tried his best to make them louder.

He was irritated that you would suppress your moans, so he removed his fingers from your clit as his fingers found their way inside you instead. You felt the moans escaping your lips when his fingers entered you, pumping in and out, your fingers desperately holding onto his hair.

You were trying so hard to be quiet, that you buried your head in his shoulder to try and muffle your moans. You felt him curl his fingers in you, and even though you couldn't see him, you knew he was that conceited smile across his lips, pleased he was making you feel so good.

"I don't have a condom with me" Aegon groaned, his face right next to your neck, you could the warmth of his breath against you, his fingers still pumping in and out of you. You leaned your head back, your eyebrows knitting together, trying to steady your voice "I'm on the pill" you murmured, looking into Aegons eyes. "Yeah?" he started to curl his fingers inside of you, hitting just the right spot.

But then he retracted his fingers from you, earning a whine from you. He carelessly wiped his fingers on the inside of his shirt, before taking a step back, the space between your legs now empty. You almost worried you had done something wrong, but Aegon spoke before you could even begin to ask him. "Turn around." He ordered. His tone was stern and his gaze lustful. But you happily obliged, jumping down from the desk, your knees a bit weak, as you turned around, placing your hands on the desk, kicking off the heels you had been wearing for better stability. And you quickly pulled down your panties, letting them fall to your ankles.

You could hear Aegon undoing his belt, and you turned your face to see him out of the corner of your eyes, he was impatiently trying to get his belt off as fast as possible.

"Impatient much?" you teased Aegon, it was almost reflexively to do so, even at this moment. "Shut the fuck up" he groaned, even though his words were harsh, his tone stayed teasing. He finally undid his belt, releasing his already hard cock from his boxers as you felt it against your ass.

You felt Aegon against your folds, and you couldn't stop a moan from escaping your lips when you felt his tip poking against your entrance. His hand wandered from your hip to your waist finally stopping when it reached your face, cupping your face as he turned your cheek so you would look at him, the best you could. You arched your back further into him, your body begging him to just take you.

Aegon's lips curled into a smirk, as he watched you badly you wanted him inside you, "impatient much?" he taunted, using your own words against you. His hand softly glided back down, landing on your lower back, making small tender circles with his thumb. He then fully entered you with no warning, harshly, and your body instinctively jolted forward, but Aegons hands quickly went to your hips to keep you in place.

Your fingers started to curl as they held onto the wooden desk, "you're taking me so well" Aegon breathed, and you could hear how his voice had started to become unsteady.

You felt Aegon lean in closer, his breath ghosting over the side of your neck. His face nestled into the crook of your neck, as he muttered something incoherent. His thrusts became less intense. He wrapped one of his arms around your waist, trying to bury himself deeper inside you, hitting the sweet spot in you. It was almost sweet how close he was to you, but what really caught your attention, was the sounds he was making. A low, almost needy whine as he continued to fuck into you. "you feel so good" Aegon murmured behind you, you could hear how his voice had started to become unsteady. Your moans had started to slow down, and you instinctively moaned his name.

He then pulled back, and his hands went back to your hip. He started to harshly pick up the pace, you almost felt as if he was treating you like a doll. His movements were so brutal, completely different from how tender he had just been. You felt your knees start to get wobbly, as you tried to keep yourself up, using the desk as support.

You considered asking him, begging him, to slow down. But every time he pulled your hips back, slamming into you, his cock hit the right pot. So you didn't do anything but take it.

"I'm close" you purred, looking back over your shoulder to try and get Aegons attention, his gaze fixated on how he slid in and out of you. But you managed to get his attention, a smirk spreading across his face when he made eye contact with you. His hand then sneaked around you, finding your clit, as he started to play with you. The same smug expression he always had on his face. "You gotta be quiet" Aegon chuckled, as he started to slow his movements, lazily playing with your clit. He was close too. You muttered his name, feeling yourself become overstimulated, it was all too much. Anything that was happening on the other side of the door was none of your concern now. Anybody walking past this office would hear your desperate pleas. "I can cum in you, right?" Aegon breathed, as he was trying not to cum inside you right this second, waiting for you to say yes. You nodded, permitting him to come in you. It didn't take him long after that to cum, filling you up.

He stayed inside you after he came, now fully focused on your pleasure. His fingers circled your clit again, doing his best to get you to cum around his cock, staying inside you for as long as he could.

You felt your knees buckle, and you had to lean down further onto the desk, resting on your elbows. You felt the tension build within you, as you put your hand over your mouth to conceal the sounds you were making. It only took a few more seconds and you felt yourself cumming, your breath panting as your fingers dug into the desk.

Aegon then slid out of you, grabbing a tissue off the desk to clean himself off, before putting his pants back on.

“You okay?” He asked you, head leaning slightly over your shoulder, taking another tissue to clean you up. You nodded, slightly whimpering when he cleaned you up. Aegon pulled your skirt back down to cover your ass, lightly slapping your ass.

You turned around to face him, sitting back down on the desk to remove the tights Aegon had ripped earlier. Your knees were too weak, your legs still shaking so you sat on the desk, trying to steady yourself.

"We should do that more often," Aegon muttered, his voice was a mix of satisfaction and amusement. He stepped closer to you, his breath was still unsteady as he reached out, his hands finding their way to your messy hair. His fingers tried their best to smooth out the strands of hair that had become dishevelled. A gesture that felt more intimate than you had expected.

[shalomniscient]

[nsft utc] (jane doe x reader)

“c’mon, how ‘bout we try again, sweetheart?”

you lean back in the interrogation chair, one arm on the armrest, the other on her waist. your hand on the armrest has her tail wrapped around your knuckles like a cord, and you have the base of her tip pinched gently between two fingers to prevent her from doing anything naughty like trying to nick you. though, you don’t really think she has quite enough brain capacity for mischief at the moment, stuffed full of your cock as she is.

jane makes a strangled, huffing noise, nails digging into your shoulders through your detective’s coat. her pretty teal eyes are half-lidded, and a delicate flush sits on her pale cheeks. her shorts are discarded somewhere, and you’ve conveniently created a nice hole in her leggings to access her pretty cunt. the fact that jane herself had decided to forgo underwear is a bonus—or maybe something she planned as well.

“don’t know what you mean, detective,” she breathes, rocking her hips again, or at least trying to. you hold her in place with a firm hand, keeping her still, and a petulant noise slips from her lips. you chuckle lightly, then without warning, snap your hips up roughly. jane yelps, then moans, eyes rolling back she she squeezes tight around you.

“sure you do, sweetheart,” you coo, lazily shifting your hips. the sheer size of you ensures that each of your movements hits at least one of her sweet spots every time, creating an almost endlessly pleasurable experience for as long as she sits on your cock. “you wanna stop lyin’ to me?”

she laughs, and the look in her eye turns dangerous, challenging. it makes a thrill run through you, your veins lighting up both with oxytocin and adrenaline. her fingers thread in the hair at the base of your neck, giving a sharp tug to make you look up at her. “what makes you think you deserve the truth?”

“bit of a spitfire today, ain’tcha?” you muse, unbothered by her little display. your hand on her waist shifts a little lower and your thumb brushes her swollen, neglected clit, and she’s nearly immediately folding, muscles in her abdomen jumping and a throaty moan spilling from her lips. you pair it with another slow roll of your hips, and she cries out, her eyes nearly disappearing into her skull. “but ‘s alright, sweetheart. we got a few hours before anyone comes knockin’, and that’s enough time for me to get ya to confess, ain’t it?”

it’s a rhetorical question. she opens her mouth to answer, undoubtedly with some smartass thing, but you fuck up into her before she can and her words break on a squeak of pleasure. and this time, you really get going, one hand holding her down and ensuring she sinks onto your cock all the way each time while your hips ruthlessly piston into her. her thighs tremble from the impact, and you think idly that it’s a shame you don’t have her bent over the interrogation table like last time so you can see the way her cute ass shakes with each thrust. ah, no matter. there’s always next time.

you focus back on railing her absolutely senseless, your thumb toying with her clit as you go. jane’s fingers tighten in your hair, her head thrown back in pleasure, and you take the opportunity to lean forward and seal your lips on her chest, even through the thin fabric of her top. jane whines when your tongue laps at her stiff nipple, coaxing it to hardness through her clothing. her back arches, and she pushes more of her breast into your mouth. you tend to her almost hungrily, giving each tit the same amount of attention until you feel her squeezing even tighter around you. then you draw back with a wet smack, grinning like a cat who got the cream.

“gonna cum, sweetheart? wanna finally be honest with me?”

teal eyes meet yours, and you still see the hint of challenge in them. in response, you slow down ever so slightly, and suddenly they’re widening, defiance giving way to desperation as she rapidly shakes her head, bouncing on your lap to not lose the stimulation. “n-no, please,” she manages, still trying to ride you, “fuck, baby, don’t stop— don’t you dare stop—“

“tell me what i wanna hear, sweetheart, and i’ll let you cum,” you coo, holding her in place, and you know if jane had her tail free she’d probably strangle you. instead she just looks at you with glossy eyes as she rides you, plush bottom lip trembling.

“no one— no one fucks me like you do,” she confesses, burying her head in the crook of your neck. “need you so bad, baby, this fucking assignment— haven’t been fucked in weeks and i need it—“

you soothe her with a kiss to her temple and another hard rut of your hips. “see? wasn’t so hard, wasn’t it? let me take care of you now, darlin’.”

and take care of her you do. you release her tail in favor of gently wrapping your arms around her as you fuck into her, holding her close to you. she’s small, and fits perfectly against your form. jane’s tail slithers down to wrap around your leg, and you chuckle at her unspoken need for closeness. you kiss the side of her face, her neck, her shoulder as you fuck your cock in and out of her dripping cunt, until her teeth sink into your shoulder and she cums with a strangled cry. you grunt as she squeezes you like a vise, eagerly drawing whatever you have to give her. you’d been backed up yourself, and your cum ends up leaking out of the seal her pussy forms around your base.

you sigh and lean back in the chair, carding your fingers through her hair. “you alright, sweetheart? need some water?”

jane shudders, and then her lips press against your pulse point. she shifts a little, making both of you hiss at the slight overstimulation, but then she presses closer against you. you hum and run a hand up and down her back soothingly.

“missed you,” she murmurs, her voice small and raw and honest in a way you know is reserved for you. for as much as jane loves toying with her prey, she isn’t infallible or immune to her own heart. and neither are you—hence why when zhu yuan took her in on the pretext of an interrogation, you’d commandeered it immediately. you deal with CIs anyway, so it was fine.

“missed you too, sweetheart,” you whisper back. “always.”

in about half an hour, you’ll pretend to leave the door unlocked and she’ll pretend to escape, and then you’ll both pretend to not know each other until the day jane brings all her criminals to light, and you’ll be there to cuff every last one of them. but until then, you hold your wife close to your heart, where she should be.

[lilacxquartz]

A SIGHT FOR SORE EYES

part 1 of 3 • mahito x reader

summary: following an accident that destroyed your vision, you begin to suspect that your boyfriend, your caretaker, was actually replaced by an imposter.

tags/themes: body horror, psychological horror, reader insert, disturbing themes, dead dove, dark

ao3 • masterlist • more series

1. Fade Away

The accident itself came out of nowhere.

All you could remember was the squeal of the tires and the slamming force that threw you forward against the dashboard. The glass around you held for maybe a second before it collapsed and fell like sharp, near lethal snow.

Soon after, darkness followed, but not the slow pull of sleep or even death, but quite literally something pitch black and devoid of colour that crept into your vision, or lack of.

Before you knew it, the world was taken away from you and as was your remaining hope.

Essentially, you were left unable to see.

At least maybe temporarily, or so the doctors had otherwise claimed, feeding you a false sense of promise that the light could one day return. Days, maybe weeks all blurred together in perpetual darkness otherwise, so it didn’t take too long for your hope to fade.

The recommendation was to wear eyepatches over your eyes, or rather, a dual patch to both protect your eyes as they heal as well to hopefully make the gradual return of vision not feel so overwhelming.

You hated the things if you were honest; the very feel of them resting atop your eyes only served as a mocking reminder of just how easy it was to ruin the course of your life within mere seconds.

Your boyfriend however, as sweet as he was, tried to see you through it all. His calm and kind voice was the only consistent thing throughout your entire experience. He was always there to guide you when you couldn’t find your way—telling you it was all going to be okay—even if that word no longer made sense to you.

What was it… to be okay anymore?

Everyday, you looked forward to his calming voice and his gentle touch, except for when you didn’t; at least not anymore.

It was a subtle shift in the air, but something had changed.

When he walked into the room, something about his presence felt off. He greeted you the same way that he did before and the sound of his voice was familiar enough, but there was a different quality to it. It wasn’t wrong, at least not exactly, but something about the way he spoke had suddenly felt unnatural.

The way he touched you felt slightly… off, too. His touches were usually light against your skin; yet whoever this was, seemed to apply an uncomfortable amount of weight against you.

The scent in the room, the scent of his cologne that he wore was the exact same, although it was certainly faint, as though stale.

Maybe you were just going insane…?

It wasn’t that unlikely, you supposed. The trauma was life altering enough and after being in a loop of total darkness for the last couple of weeks, it was highly probable that the very last strings of your sanity were finally on their last threads. This whole thing was disorienting enough, since you essentially lost what you knew as the entire world in just a matter of minutes, so maybe it was the case of your senses being elevated a little too much.

It was a possibility, right?

Your mind was probably to blame, playing sneaky and cruel little tricks on you and feeding into the exhausting paranoia of losing one of your most vital senses.

The feeling however still persisted deep down. It was a creeping unease that would sink to the depths of your stomach and bubble away into poorly digested yet festering doubt every time he would reunite with you.

His laughter, while soft and familiar, now carried a hollow tone. His breath felt somehow hotter, his words felt almost… rehearsed. Your heightened remaining senses be damned; you knew it in the core of your very being that you weren’t crazy for picking up on such things.

It was the way his footsteps walked down a methodical path on his way to be with you. or how he hesitated to say your name, instead calling you sickly sweet nicknames that he had otherwise never before in his life used on you.

It was strange, but the company of someone you supposedly had loved for the last five years, had become almost foreign to you.

At one point, you reached for his hand while lying down next to him in bed and your fingers grazed against his, only for you to pull back away in an instant. His soft palms were now calloused and you could feel strange sorts of sutures line up his wrist in brushing retaliation.

You continued to try and drill in the idea that this had to have been all in your head out of desperate delusion, hoping, praying even, that it was the fault of the darkness for twisting everything into something so vile.

But still, that nagging feeling persisted. It wasn’t fear clouding your judgement; it was an innate warning to trust your gut to understand that something was actually terribly wrong.

You didn’t dare question him however, because after all, this person—whoever he actually was—was the only one who had fed you, bathed you and cared for you. How could it not be him? You kept telling yourself that it had to be because you were otherwise stumped on all other plausible explanations.

Whoever it was that tucked themselves away next to you in bed and idly traced haunting patterns in your skin was not the person you once knew.

It was absolutely, without a doubt, someone else.

Someone pretending to be him.

~~~

The doctors had been cautiously optimistic concerning your recovery; a phone call with the person who had initially treated you had revealed that while the accident had been devastating, your future might not be in ruins just yet. With time and provided that you were correctly taking the medicine that your boyfriend had been giving you, you should actually begin to heal.

There were signs to look out for in your returning vision; flickers of light, passing shadows and the like. They warned you that it might at times seem alarming, but it was all positive; a sign of healing, if you were lucky enough.

And much to your delight, you started to indeed notice hints of your vision returning after a while. Exercised moments without the eye patches would reveal partial sight in the form of colourful blurring patches manifesting within your view. It was something so little yet so hopeful, but you couldn’t help but cling to the fleeting glimpses of colour that painted your vision with almost elated anticipation.

Anything but constant darkness.

If you could at least see colour, even if it wasn’t so clear, then suddenly the future wasn’t as bleak as before.

Yet, every time you thought you were getting better, the progress would soon slip away every time he visited.

Just like the initial shift, it all started subtly. The brief casted moments of light would be stolen from you the second that he left the apartment, leaving you behind in a suddenly plunged black void and whenever you would mention this in a call to the doctors, they were simply perplexed. According to them, if you were seeing positive changes in your vision, then it should be improving—not deteriorating.

They told you that they would arrange for your partner to pick up a changed strain for the medication, hoping that an adjustment to your treatment should guide you in the correct direction.

But try as you might, the pattern continued to repeat itself, again and again.

You would heal and then the lights would go out.

You could have sworn that it was his doing somehow, even if the assigned blame was insane in its own right. With every touch from his tainted fingertips, he would somehow weaken you despite being otherwise gentle. It was so odd, because it was like he eluded poison from every stroke against the contours of your flesh.

You soon grew to fear contact with him as a result; dreading any sort of contact with the impostor who claimed to be your lover, lest he would damage you again. It was as though every time his fingertips brushed against your skin, he changed something about you and with every recurring visit, it only got worse.

You kept trying to talk to him about it, hoping that his once warm personality would return and tell you that you were wrong about your assumptions but you never got such comfort.

Again and again, you would ask him something of the same sort of variation, “I’m getting worse, aren’t I?”

But there would be no comfort that followed.

“Don’t be silly,” he would often taunt, almost, his words always so playful as they flicked off of his tongue with hidden venom. “Why would you feel worse, huh? That’s so funny to me, because you shouldn’t. I’m taking such good care of you, silly. You should be feeling better.”

His voice was soft when he spoke too, like smooth dripping honey against your weary ears. “Maybe you’ve got it all wrong, even. You’re feeling worse from me not being around. Don’t worry though, I’ll keep you running, safe and sound.”

His words were now more erratic, almost playful. He no longer carried the same patterns that your partner once did with his speech. You wanted nothing more than to pull away from this monster—because that’s what he must have been—to escape from him, to scream at him to leave you alone because how dare he pretend to be someone you loved?

And yet you didn’t.

You couldn’t.

Instead, you did nothing, resigning yourself to just sitting there, laying there as he would continue to purr falsely planted reassurances into your ears with promises that you prayed that he would not keep.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere,” he would say, “I’ll be right here, always. Watching every last bit of you unravel—I mean heal. We’re in this together, right? I’ll stay with you until there’s nothing left—I mean, until you’re fixed right up.”

You could only sigh and endure, the ache behind your eyes getting gradually worse, as if something was pushing and pulling inside of your skull somehow; messing around internally, poking and prodding in places that should have remained untouched.

It didn’t take long for your body to feel wrong, like it wasn’t put together correctly anymore.

Like it didn’t belong to you anymore.

You could have sworn that your skull was contorting under your skin, slowly twisting and waning through whatever pressure his passing touch would apply.

Sometimes, late at night (or what you assumed to be night), you would lie awake and feel things moving inside of you; slowly, and deliberately—as though something was crawling beneath your flesh.

And all you could do was just sit there.

Broken, blind and waiting for the next visit.

For the next time that this thing wearing your boyfriend’s persona would return and wrap its hands around your body once again, uttering sweet little lies while tearing you apart from the inside.

“It’s all gonna be okay,” he would murmur or rather, mock, “I’m here for you, after all.”

But it wasn’t going to be okay.

That much you did know.

In fact, you had a very good idea that nothing was ever going to be okay ever again.

[sugashook]

wade goes "i need you" and he literally grabs logan and is very clear and consistent on it, like i need you, all the time. i think logan needs that clarity and certainty and forwardness..honesty, someone to push him and need him. someone with transparent emotions that will get him out of his head,

and wade needs someone to be there for him no matter what a stable rock. it's like logan's no longer a puzzle piece for war, he's extremely important in wades world, his other half at the moment perhaps (bark)

wolverines entire thing is that he can take great beatings and come back seemingly fine and unaffected its like a very strong closed off person, a fortress that protects his emotions. i think he feels good having people to protect.

but that's also a bad thing because being really strong and feeling like you can take all the bullets you took in your life and bounce them off while at the same time suffering in silence seemingly unaffected by what happened to you is harmful to your psyche. and seeming this way to others as well is even a bigger issue, especially with logan who has the base need to be with people and be there for others.

and for that he NEEDS someone to dig deeper and pierce through his perfect disposition he is NOT easily open and easy going like wade he needs someone to see him and give him a chance and fight for him! wade will make way for himself in someones life, logan will go deeper into himself.

others could see you perfectly "unscathed" all the time and if they don't understand you or try to understand you and how much you can be dealing with complex emotions inside, they will grow resentful,you'll be rejected and treated badly.

wade is very fragile on the other hand, sure he regenerates, but the scars of his trauma are visible and harsh on him, he knows it , everyone knows it.

that's why he's so repulsive to others, his life beat him so hard that he can't control himself with his emotions and it weirds people out, they don't understand it and they get mad,upset,etc.

even scared just by looking at him, you survived trauma, but it shows on you how it affected you and it makes ME uncomfortable, that's pretty scary, you're different and you don't fit in anywhere. they judge him in the opposite way that logan is judged. your overwhelming presence is unnerving to me.

thats why wade hides with his suit his entire face, and the blood. dont notice me,my wounds, and the wounds i give to others. while logans suit screams "notice me!! i'm not okay!! i want people to see me!"

when he regenerates, wades body generates bad body tissue from his skin to his core. and the scars of all that trauma add new trauma so he's constantly re-traumatizing himself and it layers on. he doesn't get stronger or bounce it off himself, bad things such as trauma are just bad they create more bad and he's made out of all the bad things that happened during his life sort of, so he needs a lot of external support.

cause he has no strength left! all the trauma and SLS (shitty life syndrome) is like up to his gills. but he is very joyful and positive despite the harshness of life.

he is a little positivity clown bouncing around in wolverines fortress of solitude.

wolverine can sort of take attacks from life and endure and wade can attack life more easily, he's a positive, up beat, go getter. he loves the world and sees hope in it when there's none. and when the world doesnt love him back ,it crushes him and he cant take it. he doesn't understand how anything he tries he gets hurt by. but he never stops trying :)

logan shuts himself off from the cruel world with his perfect skin and metal bones, but the world has shut off from him as well. wade keeps being hurt and open to the world just like his open wounds and scarred body. even though the world hurts him through his openness.

[rafaelsilvasource]

Husbands (we love typing that as much as you love reading it) T.K. (Ronen Rubinstein) and Carlos (Rafael L. Silva) are coming into the fifth and final season of 9-1-1: Lone Star (premiering Monday, September 23 on Fox) already dealing with the unsolved murder of the latter’s father. But there’s more drama to come.

Carlos’ obsession with that investigation is going to put their marriage to the test. T.K.’s half-brother, Jonah, is coming to Austin (which is sure to affect Rob Lowe‘s Owen as well). Below, co-showrunner Rashad Raisani previews that and more that’s ahead for the fan-favorite couple.

Carlos is investigating his father’s death. What can you preview about that investigation? That’s also going to involve Campbell (Parker Young), right?

The way we’ve been talking about Campbell and Carlos is that they’re like two brothers, the big brother and the little brother. Carlos comes along, and in Campbell’s mind, he got kind of a free pass because of who his dad, Gabriel Reyes, was, the legend, and to go to the front of the line and become a Texas Ranger. The first episode is about these two brothers both fighting for daddy’s love and daddy being Chief Bridges, their boss. But what’s gonna happen is they learn to respect each other and they’re gonna discover that they’re so much better when they work as a team and they really complement each other brilliantly, not just as investigators, but as characters and frankly to me, as actors. I think just they have a wonderful dynamic that only gets richer as the season goes forward.

Carlos’s father’s murder is a thing that Carlos is not giving that up. It is the central driving force in Carlos’ life. And there’s no way we’re going to end the series without giving that poor guy some answers. So there will be some answers at the end of the day on that.

The season description says that T.K. and Carlos’ marriage is put to the test because Carlos becomes obsessed with solving his father’s murder. What can you tease about how we see that play out and how tough things are gonna get in the middle of that for them? I do have faith that they’re gonna be okay by the end.

A big part for me about their marriage was I really wanted to treat it like a real marriage, and by that, I mean that even though these guys are so wonderful to each other and they’re so handsome, life isn’t perfect no matter who you are and everybody has real struggles that affect even great relationships. And the true strength of a relationship isn’t the absence of challenges and problems, it’s how you grapple with them and encounter them and if they make your relationship stronger or weaker.

And so for Carlos, this burden of his dad’s murder is going to sit there and take up a lot of oxygen in the room and T.K., who is an incredibly supportive husband, is gonna try and be patient and graceful and allow Carlos to have that space. But at a certain point, he’s got to advocate for them to have a future together, and that’s part of what you were talking about with Jonah. I like to think that little boy, in some ways, represents the future of their relationship and Gabriel’s murder represents the past of their relationship, and there’s gonna be a tension between those two things and that’s gonna be their central dynamic this year, is that one person is struggling to get answers in the past and the other person is struggling to move on and build a future, which I think is a very relatable human experience.

All of this makes me think about kids, and that has been a bit of an issue for them in the past. How does that come into play?

I think that’s another pressure point because Carlos was very upfront with T.K. about, “Hey, I’m not ready to have kids and I don’t know if I ever will be,” and then now that his dad’s been murdered, in his headspace, that’s the last thing that he’s got the bandwidth or the emotional energy to deal with. But like I said, T.K. is feeling like life is happening right now, like we don’t get moments back, and especially as a first responder, they see that you can’t take anything for granted. And circumstances are going to align that are going to [lead to] a situation where T.K. is like, I know that you were uncomfortable with taking this next step as a father, but I feel like it’s something powerful that I need to do, and to make that a crisis point for them as well.

I hope that the audience can see the argument from both of their points of view and just go, “S**t, I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what I would do either.” That’s what I hope because I feel like people have real problems that aren’t so simple as to say, well, he’s right, he’s wrong, whatever. We just wanted to put them through that.

[marvelsmylife]

These wings are made to fly

Pairing: Rhysand x Illyrian!Reader

Request: Could you write a Rhysand x Illyrian!Reader where they meet Rhys is 20 and the reader is 18 and is about to get her wings clipped when Rhysand and his family visit the Illyrian camps and Rhysand feels the mating bond snap just before they’re about to clip his mate's wings and he stops them. Basically what his dad did for his mom, but Rhysand actually cares for his mate and her well-being

A/n sorry it’s so short

Masterlist

Request

Rhysand hated this. Hated witnessing the female Illyrians getting their wings clipped, especially when they perfume this barbaric act in public. He always expressed to his father how cruel it was to strip females of their ability to fly. His father, in turn, would scold him for his words. He then went on to explain that if he ended up with an Illyrian, he would give him the option to not have his mate's wings clipped.

His mother, for the most part, would remain silent when Rhysand’s father would scold him for speaking up. Today was a different story. Today she decided to speak to her son privately after being scolded to praise him for having a kind heart. “I know that you will do great things when you become a high lord. I know you’ll put a stop to this madness. Just keep holding on.”

Rhysand kept hearing his mother's words as they continued to watch innocent females cry as their wings got clipped. He was ready to turn away and hide in his tent when he heard your cries. Looking over, he spotted you being dragged by your father and older brothers. Tears were streaming down your face as you begged for them not to clip your wings. “No” Rhysand whispered as he felt something in his chest.

That’s when he felt the mating bond snap between the two of you. Without thinking, Rhysand rushed to where you were and got between you and the male who was going to clip your wings. “No,” Rhysand said in a stern voice. His father was about to scold him for interfering when Rhysand added “She’s my mate and I’m prohibiting you from clipping her wings”.

Rhysand’s father had a stern look on his face but motioned for the male who was about to clip your wings to step away. “There will be no more wing clippings for today. Everyone go home.”

Just as you were about to relax, your father stormed over to where you were and started berating you. “It doesn’t matter that she’s mated to the high lord's son. She is my daughter and I demand that you clip her wings.”

Rhysand stood up quickly and got in your father's face. “You get no say in what happens to her wings. She is my mate and future high lady of this court and if you do not like it, you are more than welcome to move to another court.”

Everyone gasped at the mention of a high lady because such a thing had never happened in their lifetime. Rhysand’s mother had a proud smile on her face as she watched her son defend his mate with such conviction. His sister was proud of him as well and clapped while Rhysand finished speaking. When your father and brothers didn’t move, Rhysand’s father stepped forward, “I advise you to walk away before you regret it.”

Your father and brothers quickly retreated, but not before saying, “Keep her. She’s not welcome in our home anymore.”

You let out a sob as soon as your father and brothers left. Rhysand knelt beside you and held you in his arms. “It’s ok, it’s ok. I’m here, I’m here and I’m not leaving your side.”

You wrapped your arms around Rhysand’s neck and began to sob harder. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” you kept repeating.

“You don’t need to thank me,” Rhysand wiped away your tears before placing a kiss on your forehead, “You’re going to come live with me, you’re my mate and I’m going to take care of you.” Rhysand looked over to where his mom was standing and noticed she was still smiling before she walked away with his father and sister.

[thedemoninme141]

Her Heartbeat, Chapter 5: Her Secrets

Summary: Wednesday knows you have secrets, and she plans to find them out.

Warnings: No angst yet, FLUFF!!!, Cringe Jokes, Wednesday Addams Apologizing!!!WTF

Previous Chapter

Chapter 1

Worklist

“One black coffee, bitter enough to make even Death cringe.” Wednesday rolled her eyes as she took the cup, muttering under her breath, “You’re insufferable.” You sat in front of her, an annoying smirk already curling on your lips. She knew you were going to ask something, and she silently wished you’d just drop it. But, of course, you didn’t. “So, about the incident the other day… beating up those boys for insulting Enid?” Wednesday’s eyes narrowed, irritation prickling at the surface. She didn’t want to talk about that, but you—being your annoyingly clever self—knew exactly how to prod her into doing it. “Come on, you’ve got to share something for your recent challenge in therapy, right? This could be it.” “Those boys? A challenge?” Wednesday scoffed, looking at you with pure disdain. “The only person who’s ever given me a challenge is Bianca.” Your grin widened, and Wednesday felt the trap snap shut around her. You’d baited her, and she’d walked right into it. You wanted her to bring Bianca into the conversation, and now you were going to run with it. “Oh, so that’s why you lashed out at Bianca today?” “I didn’t lash out. I made a comeback.” “And why was the comeback necessary?” Of course, Wednesday wasn’t going to admit that Bianca had belittled you, and that’s what set her off. “It doesn’t matter.” “But it does, Wednesday. You say Bianca challenges you, so if you keep taking her out of the game like you did today, won’t it get boring?” Wednesday hated how right you were. It was boring, sitting through the rest of fencing class with no one else brave enough to challenge her. Even Bianca, usually sharp and ready, had retreated into self-pity. “She’ll move on eventually.” You leaned forward, your voice carrying that teasing tone that both irritated and intrigued her. “Wednesday, I may not have been a queen bee, but I’ve read alooooot of fanfiction.” She sighed, thoroughly unamused by your antics. "And queen bees like her? They care a lot about their self-respect. The way people look at them. Even I thought she was all cool and untouchable, but after today? Now I see her as weak. Pathetic, even.” Wednesday’s voice was sharp as she cut you off. “You will think no such thing of her. Only I get to think that way.”

And there it was—your smirk again, the one that told her she’d fallen into your trap once more. You tilted your head, amusement flickering in your eyes. “So, you do care about Bianca.” “I do not. I only care about her being my fencing partner.” “Sooo… how are you going to fix this?” “Fix what?” “Her self-esteem, Wends.” “Do not call me Wends.” “Okay, Angry Bird.” “What?” “You know, Angry Bird? You’re like Red, the angriest one.” “Stop this nonsense.” “Fiiine,” you drawled, leaning back in your seat. “But still, the question stands. Without Bianca, your life would be boring.”

Wednesday glared at you, hating that she couldn’t deny the truth of your words. But she wasn’t going to admit that out loud. Instead, she muttered, “Fine. You go talk to her. Tell her I am profoundly remorseful for my actions, and that I’m bawling my eyes out into Enid’s hideous pillows.” Now it was your turn to roll your eyes. Without a word, you took her hand, and there it was again—the strange feeling that Wednesday couldn’t quite understand. Why wasn’t she yanking her hand away? Why was she… following you? The warmth of your palm against the cold of hers unnerved her, and yet, she didn’t pull back. As you led her outside, her cup of coffee swayed dangerously in her other hand, a few drops spilling over the edge, but she couldn’t seem to care.

When Bianca answered the door, the last person she expected to see was Wednesday Addams. She blinked in surprise, raising an eyebrow as Wednesday stood stiffly at the doorframe. “I have come to say that my actions today at the quad weren’t entirely justified.” Wednesday’s eyes darted to the side, where you were hiding at the end of the hallway, giving her a thumbs-up and smiling like an idiot. Ugh. “I shouldn’t have outed your secret like that,” Wednesday continued, her tone flat and almost mechanical. Bianca crossed her arms. “How did you even know about it?” “I have contingency plans for my friends in case they ever choose to join my enemies.” Bianca’s eyes narrowed. “Did you just call me your friend?” "No" Wednesday flatly said glancing once more in your direction, she could see you facepalming, silently urging her to keep going. How can she do this? Hmmm.. bringing up a shared moment of peace from the past might work.

“I… you were right about one thing. I don’t know how people really feel. Whether they like me for who I am or because of my reputation.” She glanced at you again, noticing you clapping silently, thoroughly entertained by this train wreck of an apology. “What I’m trying to say,” Wednesday went on, “ I do not care about what they think of me. But you do. So I was out of line. If you want a comeback, you can tell everyone about the time I cried when my pet scorpion Nero died.” Bianca actually laughed at that. “No offence to your pet, but you’re terrible at apologizing, Wednesday.” She glanced at the hallway, clearly aware of your presence. “Let me guess, she’s the one who put you up to this?”

Wednesday didn’t even bother denying it.

Bianca smirked. “Maybe she’s good for you after all. See you at fencing tomorrow.” And with that, she closed the door. You were practically bouncing when Wednesday joined you at the end of the hallway. “So, how’d it go?” Wednesday glared at you. “I hated every moment of it. But at least I’ll have someone worth sparring with tomorrow.” “Yay!” you cheered, completely ignoring her disdain as you skipped beside her down the hallway. “See? Not so bad, was it?” Wednesday didn’t answer, her mind lingering on the feeling of your hand in hers earlier. The thought unsettled her more than she cared to admit. As you reached your dorm, you flashed her a playful smile. “See you tomorrow, Wendy.” Before she could threaten to skin you alive for that nickname, you jumped ahead, nearly skipping as you disappeared into your room, locking the door. Wednesday stood there for a moment, the corner of her lips twitching as a sense of dread crept into her thoughts. This torture, whatever it was, was heading towards something bigger. She just hoped it was something terrible.

Wednesday didn’t even notice when you joined her the next day, slipping silently into place right beside her, as if you’d always been there. She clenched her jaw. How was it that you, of all people, could move so quietly? “Morning, Angry Bird!” you chirped, your voice much too cheerful for her taste this early in the day. Wednesday clenched her jaw. “If you call me that one more time, I will bury you alive in Enid’s closet.” You grinned, completely unfazed by her threat. “Aw, come on. You can’t tell me you didn’t enjoy last night just a little bit.” She didn’t respond, instead speeding up her pace in hopes you’d take the hint. You didn’t. Of course, you didn’t. It was just that… well, she didn’t exactly push you away, either. And that, in itself, was bothersome. At breakfast, you were sitting with her in the quad. Wednesday’s eyes skimmed over her book as you jabbered away with Enid, your voices creating a murmur of distraction she couldn't tune out. “You guys had therapy yesterday, right? How’s that going? Still surviving?” Enid asked, "Survive? Oh, it’s not that bad. Just getting used to the constant death stares and the general feeling that you’re always two seconds away from being strangled." “Sounds like a dream,” Yoko joined in with a laugh. Eugene arrived just then too, plopping down beside you with a tray loaded with sugary treats. “Morning, guys!” he greeted, adjusting his glasses. “Did I miss anything good?" “Nope, just Y/N being Y/N,” Enid replied, patting Eugene on the back. “We were talking about how her therapy sessions are going with Wednesday.” “Yeah, but why am I not surprised Wednesday hasn’t killed you yet?” Eugene mused. Before you could respond, Bianca sauntered over, back in her usual confidence. “You guys should’ve seen last night. Wednesday came to my dorm to apologise.” Enid gasped, eyes wide. “Wait, Wednesday apologized?” Wednesday still didn’t look up from her book, her voice deadpan. “It was a strategic move to maintain a worthwhile fencing partner.” You smirked. “Totally heartfelt, though.” Bianca rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her smile. “Right. Anyway, it’s rare to see someone like her stumble through an apology.”

“Classic Wednesday,” Yoko chimed in. “Always making an apology feel like an assassination attempt.” Wednesday finally gave an exasperated sigh. “Can you all cease discussing my affairs? Some of us actually enjoy a quiet breakfast.” The group paid no attention to her request, their peaceful banter continued, and Wednesday had successfully drowned out most of it, until Bianca’s voice cut through the noise with an unexpected question.

“By the way, Y/n… where were you last year? You missed all the Crackstone drama.”

The question caught you off guard. Your easy-going demeanor faltered for a second, and you felt your gaze drop to your feet, a nervous laugh escaping your lips. “Oh, uh, just… family stuff, you know. Had to go out of town. Nothing much.”

Wednesday’s book lowered ever so slightly, her sharp eyes now focused on you. You could feel her watching, studying you in that way she did when she knew something wasn’t right.

Bianca raised an eyebrow. “Really? Must’ve been pretty important to miss all of that.” You nodded quickly, forcing a casual smile. “Yeah, just… a lot of boring family stuff.”

But Wednesday didn’t move her gaze. She was quiet, unnaturally so, and you could feel the weight of her attention pressing down on you like a vice. She could see it. The lie. The way your eyes flickered nervously, the way your voice wavered just a touch. She knew something wasn’t right.

Enid, sensing the tension, quickly changed the subject. “Well, you’re back now, so that’s all that matters, right? Plus, you’ve got all the fun stuff ahead of you. More therapy with Wednesday, and who knows, maybe another crazy mystery will pop up!”

Yoko laughed. “Let’s hope not. I think one Crackstone is enough for this lifetime.”

The others didn’t seem to notice how you were quieter than before for the rest of breakfast. But Wednesday’s mind stayed fixated on your lie, on the sudden mystery that you had just unintentionally dangled in front of her. Why had you lied? What were you hiding?

She hadn't considered you someone worth investigating—until now.

[Sorry for the short chapter, Next one is going to be big tho.]

[chippedshake]

Ponyboy stands in front of the mirror, fifteen and one month old. His hair is longer than it used to be, and the still-blond tips brush his shoulders.

There are scissors in his hands.

"Glory, he looks different with his hair like that."

Ponyboy squeezes his eyes shut, hands gripping the sink for balance. The metal scissors clang against it.

"It used to look tuff. You and Soda had the coolest-lookin' hair in town."

He tries to imagine himself a year and a month ago. Squared off in the back, long at the front and sides. It looked real tuff.

He'd complained so much when he had to cut it off, making everything impossible for Johnny, and now he can't make himself bring it back to normal?

"Oh, come on, Ponyboy, it'll grow back."

It did. And now he doesn't know what to do with it.

"Oh shoot, it's just hair."

The front door slams open.

"Honey, I'm ho-ome!"

"I never shoulda showed you that," Steve grumbles

"Well, ya did, and now ya gotta deal with it." Ponyboy can hear the grin in Soda's voice.

Loud footsteps go into the kitchen.

"Hey, ain't Pony s'pposed to be home already?"

"Prolly is, just up in his room with a book. Wouldn’t notice a twister a foot away if he was reading."

Steve snorts. "You up for a game of cards?"

"Sure. I gotta go change first though."

"Ya mean you gotta go stick an ace in your shoe?"

"Somethin' like that."

Soda's voice trails away as he makes his way to his room, but Steve's has grown closer and closer, and Ponyboy knows he's going to see him and ask questions that he doesn't want to answer, but he can't move from where his hands still grip the sink, scissors trapped against it.

"Hey, kid." Ponyboy looks up and meets Steve's eyes through the mirror. He's standing in the doorway, one hand gripping the frame, whole body tense with discomfort, his face drawn with the same worry that strings through his voice. "You want me to get Soda?"

Ponyboy shakes his head and tries to subtly wipe his eyes. It'd be a new low to cry in front of Steve.

Steve's eyes flicker from Ponyboy's face to the scissors in his hand and his ungreased hair. He grimaces when he notices the tears, like he's not sure what to do with them.

"You know, cutting it off don't mean you'll forget them. You've still got a lotta memories that ain't in your hair. Better ones, too."

Steve's tone is matter-of-fact, but soft, softer than it's ever been. To Ponyboy, at least.

Like how Dally's voice reached a high, pleading tone it'd never reached before when they were speeding down that dirt road.

"I know..." Ponyboy whispers, and Steve leans in to hear him better. "It's just the last thing I got from them."

"That ain't true," Steve says. "You got both of their jackets and that book y'all read in the church. You even got the pictures you drew of them."

"Yeah, I know. It just ain't the same." His voice still won't come out above a whisper, but Steve seems to hear him just fine.

"Shoot, kid, I know that." He steps forward and sits down on the closed toilet seat. "But you can't live your life for them. They're gone. And they ain't comin' back. If you wanna remember 'em the right way, you gotta forget them sometimes."

Ponyboy thinks about the last year. About his bookmark that's been on page 118 for five months because Johnny would never get to read any pages after. About all the movie posters he's seen come and go because it wouldn’t be the same to watch them without Johnny. About the blade that's always in his back pocket that he can't stand to look at. About the time he brawled with Curly and then started crying because Dally had been the one to teach him how to throw a punch.

About how every time he looks in the goddamn mirror, he gets scared by his own reflection and remembers the church.

Maybe Steve's right. Maybe if he wants to start living normally again, he needs to forget them sometimes.

"This just ain't us. It's like being in a Hallowe'en costume we can't get out of."

Johnny might never get out of his costume, but Ponyboy could. And he would do it. For Johnny. Because he wouldn’t want Ponyboy to live as a shell of who he once was.

But when he meets his own eyes in the mirror, he knows he can't bring himself to do it.

"Steve, you ever cut hair before?"

He looks up in surprise, and for a moment Ponyboy's scared he's going to laugh at him. Then he stands up and holds his hand out for the scissors.

"Can't imagine it's harder'n fixin' up a car."

[liv2post]

Hii!! I'm not sure if you're still taking requests but I have one if you are, one of my favorite chapters in itlt is the baking one, and I was wondering if you could write a separate fluffy baking fic!

Hi gracie! Thanks for the request! I hope you enjoy it :D

Cinnamon Rolls

Summary: After a long first day of the school year, Severus returns to your chambers in need of your presence and excellent baked confections.

Word Count: 1179

it's the little things story here (if anyone wants to read!)

The door to your office closed with a punctuated clang, the grumpy potion master leaning against it and letting out a weary sigh. He had gotten used to the summer months he was afforded that he had forgotten how cumbersome each new batch of first years’ incompetency was. One boy had not been paying attention during the safety demonstration for handling sharp tools properly and had cut his thumb open so deeply that he needed to be sent to the Hospital Wing. He swore each new injury or exploded cauldron was going to give him a new wrinkle or grey hair.

It was only until the sound of soft music and the smell of cinnamon spice hit his senses that he was able to let go of his frustration. They were a sign of your presence. His love.

He trudged silently through your living space toward the kitchen where he was met with a sight that made his heart flutter with equal intensity each time. 

You were flitting about the kitchen, a jumper with the sleeves rolled up to your elbows and lounge shorts on, but the front of your legs was partially covered by the apron you had tied around you. Your hair was clipped up and out of the way, allowing him a view of the chain you wore around your neck, one that held the ring Severus gave you that remained hidden beneath your day clothes. He could also make out a bit of flour caked along your jaw and near your neck, how you always managed to make a mess he’ll never know. It didn’t matter though. He thought you looked adorable.

As you finished stirring the bowl of glaze, you felt a pair of arms wrap around your middle, pulling you back into a firm chest. 

“Hi, Severus,” you smiled, letting go of the wooden spoon and resting your hands on his forearms.

He sighed into you, his face nuzzling into your hair as he inhaled your scent, loving the way your natural fragrance mixed with the sweetness of the confections you baked. 

“You smell so good…” he remarked quietly.

You chuckled. “I sure hope so.” 

He tugged you a little to the side with one arm, the other coming up to grasp your jaw and tilt your head back and up, his lips eagerly connecting with yours. You hummed into the kiss, your lips moving just as enthusiastically against his whenever he was domineering with you. You felt his tongue swipe against your own and on your bottom lip, sampling the remnants of cinnamon rolls and the glaze you had been perfecting for the last five minutes.

“You taste good, too,” he pulled away with a smug smirk. Oh, how he loved the way such words reduced you to a blushing mess, your face blazing with redness as you managed to turn into his hold and bury your face into the crook of his neck, your arms coming to wrap around his back. His arms readjusted similarly, stroking up and down the length of your back as you both breathed each other in, missing each other's presence as the both of you had classes to teach on the farthest sides of the castle. The both of you had gotten so accustomed to waking up next to one another, absorbing each other's constant presence in your summer cottage. But it was autumn now and the both of you had your respective duties in the school. On the flip side, it was also a school term he greatly looked forward to because you’d bake some of his favorite treats which just so happened to be in season.

What felt like many minutes passed before either of you spoke up once more.

“I missed you,” you said, voice partially muffled by his body.

“And I, you.” He pecked the side of your head.

“How was your first class?”

Severus huffed, holding you tighter. “The words necessary to describe the anticipated ineptitude I’ll be dealing with elude me.” He could feel your smile in comiseration against him. “Yours?”

“I have a feeling I’ll know who my ‘problem children’ will be, but otherwise not bad.” You kissed his neck before he released you. “I imagined you would have a rougher day than I would, so I made cinnamon rolls!” you announced, pouring the glaze over the brown, puffy rolls. “And I believe we still have some Earl Grey in the cabinet.”

The longing in his gaze deepened, the need to be close to you making him press against you his hands lightly grasping your waist as he pressed his lips to the back of your neck, just above the chain. “You’re too good to me…” he murmured. His fingers began to undo the tie around your waist as well as the one resting on the base of your neck. “Allow me to make us the tea. Have a rest on the sofa.”

“Severus, I still have to clean up—”

“Have a rest...on the sofa” he repeated more firmly, a mixture of a warning and a plea. You had done something so nice for him and now he wanted to reciprocate. And he knew that you knew this. “Don’t be stubborn, you silly girl,” he kissed you once more, this time on the forehead as he peeled the apron off of you and proceeded to kick you out of your own kitchen.

The low fire blazed away, washing the office in warm yellow-orange and flickering on along the tan pages of your book. It wasn’t even dinner yet, but the dungeons had a way of making it seem like it was always nighttime. Severus’s soft footsteps caught your attention as he entered your field of vision. A snort escaped you.

“Something amusing?” He lifted a brow. 

“It seems the flour on my apron transferred onto your black robes.”

He looked down at himself and scowled. Indeed, the flour from your apron and on your face had imprinted onto his robes and collar. He set the cups of tea down on the coffee table and handed you the small plate holding two of the cinnamon rolls so he could swipe off as much of the flour as he could manage, though some appeared to be stuck.

“You could always just turn your robes white,” you teased.

“Absolutely not,” he gruffed, giving up on the attempt to clean himself in favor of being next to you. Severus settled down on the couch with you. His side pressed against you as he took a cinnamon roll and bit into it, moaning quietly at how good it was, how the sweet glaze mixed wonderfully with the spiced dough. You automatically leaned back against him, resting your head against his shoulder. The simple bliss of being with one another and enjoying the little domesticities of life washed over the both of you, his other hand interlacing with yours and his thumb gently rolling over the skin of your hand, grateful for his love that brought him so much peace. 

His love, who smelled like cinnamon rolls.

[ghouldtime]

A small drabble based on this post https://www.tumblr.com/ghouldtime/762071216041426944/who-was-going-to-tell-me-that-captain-john-price?source=share

The flames flickering atop the small, chocolate birthday cake plopped square on Captain John Price's would've made for a picture perfect commemorative scene and a heartwarming gesture, if it weren't for two glaring things.

It wasn't his birthday

The two waxy numbers that stood in the middle said 55

John Price was a man of many things and facets held underneath his Captain title: A top SAS Agent, a decorated hero who had more enough ribbons and metals to fill a wall, a driven man and leader who earned his rank tooth and nail, a man who displayed that title and his accomplishments proudly. What he most certainly was not was 55.

The smatterings of a few silver hairs woven into his brown locks surely weren't that bad.

"MacTavish." He spoke as he shifted back into the leather desk chair, the well-worn bearing creaking in protest.

The sergeant's congratulatory smile shifted into a confused furrow of his brows and a small frown as he reluctantly shifted forwards. The lack of his callsign or even his first name immediately had the younger man on edge, listening to his captain.

"Aye, sir?" He spoke, his brows lowered further as he wracked his brain to figure out what he did wrong.

Captain Price's gaze found his for a long, few moments as he remained silent. The steady tick-tick-tick of the old clock mounted to the wall cut through the otherwise pressing silence that spoke louder than any yelling ever could have.

Folding his hands over his lap, he regarded him with a blank expression. His attention briefly flickered over to Gaz who stood right behind him, the slight confusion if not innocence to this deed mirrored Soap's expression.

"Is that how old you think I am?"

Soap blinked once, twice, and then seemed even more confused. The perpetuality of being a FNG (Fucking New Guy) hasn't waned over the months, apparently. He still very clearly had much left to learn.

"Well, that's what Ghost said." He answered almost meekly after a few seconds, the thick brogue that lilted his words seeming even thicker, trying drastically to avoid any answer that could end up with him scrubbing the bathroom floors with a toothbrush yet again.

Go figure, that sardonic bastard.

He should've expected it. No one else could've thoroughly convinced them that he was ready for the retirement home with a straight face like Ghost.

A sigh escaped his lips as he brought a weathered hand up to his face, running it down until it rested on his bearded chin. Covering his mouth, he stared at the flickering candles that mockingly stood, melting more and more into the cake as their form slowly ebbed away.

Serves them right, those infernal waxy devils didn't deserve to exist in his presence.

He didn't want to think about those numbers existing for quite a few more years - if he was lucky enough to even make it to then.

Blowing out the candles without much fanfare, he plucked them off and placed them to the side. He'd carve them into a 38 later and stuff them under the lieutenants pillow, full of frosting and all.

They're lucky that today he felt nice enough save the gentle lecture about not believing Ghost, no matter how serious he sounded, when it came to things like this later. For now, the pressing matter of getting rid of the cake stood at higher priority.

But before he could pick up a fork and knife, he took up a pen and wrote in his personal agenda.

Note to self: convince everyone that Ghost is 56.

[psink]

Translation of the interview with Kamiya Hiroshi (Kusuo's VA) and Nojima Kenji (Kuusuke's VA)

The TV anime "The Disastrous Life of Saiki K: The Final Chapter" will air as a year-end special program on the TV Tokyo network on (friday) December 28th from 7:35 to 8:30.

The January issue of PASH!, which is now on sale, features an interview with Kamiya Hiroshi-san, the voice actor of Saiki Kusuo, and Nojima Kenji-san, the voice actor of Kuusuke Saiki. We’re releasing a preview ahead of tomorrow’s broadcast. 

Amidst the busy end-of-year, good grief, a world-involving sibling fight…? We spoke to Nojima Kenji-san, who plays the older brother Kuusuke, and Kamiya Hiroshi-san, who plays the younger brother Kusuo, after they had just finished recording about the truth of the matter!

―― Please tell us how you felt when the decision to make the Final Chapter was made. Kamiya: I was very happy. Even if you want to adapt every episode from the original work, it’s not always possible to do so. But with this series, everything fell into place. I think the biggest reason we were able to adapt it all the way to the Final Chapter was because of the fans’ wishes, and for that, I’m incredibly grateful.

Nojima: I had heard that the Final Chapter would be made, but I was wondering about what form it would take, and it turned out to be a two-part year-end special. Could people really sit through an hour of this work?! What kind of focus would they need to watch it? I was a bit worried about that (laughs). But I’m sure that “The Disastrous Life of Saiki K” will deliver dense content that makes you lose track of time again, in the way only it can. 

―― Compared to other anime series, “Saiki” has about 2 or 3 times more dialogue per episode, right?

Kamiya: I had vaguely noticed that, but… Nojima: You didn’t want to know, did you? (laughs)

Kamiya: Certainly, for a 30-minute anime, it takes a lot of time to go over the script. Even when watching the DVD to check it, I thought “Hm? Is something wrong with the machine?”, because it felt like it was playing fast-forward (laughs).

Nojima:  I’ll be honest now, but on the day I first participated in the recording, I actually went into the recording without finishing all the checks.I checked the script at home and then immediately went to the studio. I was calculating in my mind the timing to start reading the script to record whilst still keeping my role preparation fresh. 

But, the amount of lines was beyond my imagination, so I couldn't finish the preparation… This was something that shouldn’t have happened, but honestly, I got through the latter half [of the recording] just with concentration (laughs). But, since I was able to maintain the momentum from the first half, I’m glad I was able to bring out a good sense of raw feelings. Kamiya-san, how was your first recording?

Kamiya: I already can’t remember, but when I re-watch Episode 1 now, I think the pace is still slow. It’s gotten gradually faster since entering season 2. In season 2, Director Sakurai was probably broken as the pacemaker (laughs). Nojima: Ahaha, I see. It's like a live band where the rhythm gradually speeds up, and you keep going without knowing the original pace.

Kamiya: Exactly. 

Nojima: Since you can’t keep up by just listening to the lines as words, you have to listen to the partner’s tone and match it. It might be similar to a music session.

―― In the Final Chapter, the relationship between Kusuo and Kuusuke seems to be a highlight. What do you both think about these brothers?

Nojima: The reason they can fight so much, do terrible things, and act recklessly is probably because, ultimately, they’re brothers. In a different case, it would have ended in a complete fallout, wouldn’t it?

Kamiya: That’s true. After all, what Kuusuke is doing is almost criminal. Nojima: Ahahahaha.

Kamiya: What I found especially dangerous about what Kuusuke did was the story of making the elderly villagers wear powered suits. The way he disguised it as caregiving while completely using them as his own puppets was seriously dangerous. Nojima: It’s surely his own sense of justice. I wonder if it’s an antithesis to how we should handle the aging society going forward (laughs).

―― Kuusuke’s obsession with Kusuo is also quite dangerous, isn’t it?

Nojima: Kuusuke has a very strong desire for approval, wanting to be recognized by Kusuo above all else. Challenging him to fights is, I think, a distorted expression of that. But I believe it is also an expression of his love and his desire to be loved back.

Kamiya: Kusuo probably thinks Kuusuke is a troublesome person, but Kusuo is also at fault. Although Kuusuke is a genius, he worked hard to create the control device for Kusuo to help him control his superpowers, didn’t he? Kusuo should be grateful, but he doesn’t express it. “Thanks, big brother. I can’t live without this” - it would’ve been nice if he could’ve said that, but Kusuo doesn’t understand the feelings of those without [superpowers], so that didn’t happen. There was also the sense of taking it for granted because they're family, but thinking how this resulted in that difficult brotherly relationship is quite sad.

―― That’s deep.

Kamiya: Although Kusuke knows he’ll lose, he keeps challenging Kusuo to fights and enjoys the process, which shows his malicious side. He’s also quite twisted. So they’re both equally to blame. From an outsider’s perspective, their relationship can be summed up with one phrase "they’re just just not honest with each other”.

Nojima: Despite that, there are also times when they rely on each other.

Kamiya: It’s complicated. That’s why even in the Final Chapter their relationship will likely be depicted. 

―― Finally, could you give a message to the readers who are waiting for the broadcast? Nojima: I was worried about how much Kuusuke would appear, but he ended up having a lot more screentime than I had expected, so I was satisfied. I have no doubts that the viewers will enjoy it as well!  Since the story’s pace is fast, please acquire the ability to not blink while watching (laughs), and surely, you will be moved to tears in the end. There are emotional parts, but more than anything, I hope you enjoy it. Thank you for cherishing and enjoying this series for so long!

Kamiya: The TV anime is finally reaching its conclusion. For those who are watching for the first time, it might be difficult, as the story keeps quickly progressing whilst you’re wondering “what is this?”. But there is a scene at the beginning that reviews past episodes and introduces the characters, so I think you’ll understand what this series is about. That said, since it’s a gag anime, I hope you can enjoy it without thinking too much.

As for the highlights for the Final Chapter, Kusuo finally moves [his mouth] and speaks for the first time. You might be wondering “What is this person saying?”, but it’s exactly as it sounds (laughs). Please watch the main story to uncover the truth behind it. I’m sure you’ll be surprised.

[sunflower-lilac42]

𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘆𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗶𝘀 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗴𝗶𝗻𝗴 ; 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘴 ꕤ

➪ summary: late at night, bella gets a call from trevor saying that one of his best friends got traded to Philly. which leaves her to run around target and her apartment to make everything right for him

➪ warnings: jamie's trade

➪ word count: 1.4k

➪ file type: au (and they were roommates) fic

➪ sunny's notes: i cannot believe it took me this long to get this amazing couple back out. i promise to be more active with au's going forward, including the 'rebirth' of ice bound.

au masterlist || nhl masterlist || navigation

“Hey, Trev. What’s up?”

“Bella? I need a favor.”

“Okay… what’s wrong?”

“Jamie just got traded to the Flyers.”

It was like her heart stopped. Sure she hadn’t known Jamie for that long, barely met him more than twice, but being traded was hard no matter if you wanted it or not. However, there was a bright side to this trade, he knew people here, her and Cam, so at least he wouldn’t be completely in the dark, “Oh god.”

“Do you think that he could-”

“Yeah, of course. No need to even ask. Jamie, when are you going to get in?”

She was grabbing her keys from the counter and getting her shoes on as she held her phone between her shoulder and her ear, “I don’t know.”

His voice sounded distant, physically but emotionally. She frowned and opened her door to leave, “Well you let me know okay, honey? I’ll be there to pick you up.”

“Thank you, Bella.” She heard Jamie’s voice once again, it still sounded distraught and far away. 

“Always. You have a safe flight and Trev?”

“Yeah?”

She halted, not actually knowing what she was going to say, “Uh, am I still on speaker?”

“Yeah.”

“Can you take me off please?”

Trevor did as he was asked, sending his friend an empathic look and holding the phone to his ear, “What’s up?”

“He’ll be okay, you know that right?”

“Yeah, I know.”

There was a silence separating his last words and the next ones, “Please take care of him for me.”

“Of course, I will Trevor.”

“Thank you. Love you.”

“Love you too, Trev. Now go get some sleep, okay?”

He nodded, “Yeah, okay.”

She hung up and started driving to the store to pick up some things for Jamie, knowing how much he would need things that felt familiar to him. She sent a text to Trevor once she got there, asking for his favorite foods, things that he loved, his favorite video game, etc. She was practically running around the store gathering things, probably buying too much in some people’s opinion. 

She wasn’t totally shocked about the price, she knew she had thrown a lot into the cart, but she paid for it anyway. When she arrived home, she changed the sheets in the guest room and stocked up the guest bathroom with more toiletries than a person would need. There was something off about it however, something was missing. She couldn’t tell what it was but when she saw her childhood stuffed animal sitting on her couch she knew she should put it on his bed. It always helped her through tough times, so why couldn’t it help him?

When she realized the time, she headed to the airport in a flurry. She knew she would be there early but thought it would be better to wait outside the terminal for him instead. She pulled up near the curb, waiting for him. His plane had landed about 20 minutes ago, so she just sat on her phone, occasionally glancing up to see if he was still walking out of the airport.

Once she saw him, she jumped out of the car and stood on the other side of it, waiting for him to get close to her. Once he was in arms reach of her, she pulled him into a hug. She could tell he had been crying, his eyes were puffy and red. Her heart broke when she heard him sniffle into her shoulder, “You ready to go home?”

Jamie didn’t process what she said, all he could hear was “ready” and “go”. He nodded, nonetheless, detaching himself from her. She popped the trunk open and he placed his suitcase in there before getting into the passenger seat. She pulled out of the airport and started to drive home, the two of them sitting in silence until the sound of her phone ringing blared through the car’s speakers. The two moved their eyes to the screen to see Trevor calling, “You want me to answer it?”

She looked over at him, “If you want. You don’t have to.”

He shrugged and pressed the answer button, “Bella! Why’d you take so long to answer? Is Jamie there? Is he okay? Did you find him? Did-”

“Calm down, Trevor. I’m here.”

“Oh good. How was your flight?”

Jamie frowned, “It was okay.”

Bella could see the way he was beginning to feel uncomfortable. He was still thinking of the way he had to leave so abruptly, barely getting able to say goodbye to the team, let alone Trevor. She smiled slightly at Trevor’s worry, “Trev?”

“Yeah?”

“We’re just getting back to the apartment, can we call you back later? Maybe after Jamie gets settled in?”

“Oh yeah, sorry. Take care, you guys.”

“You too, Trev.”

She hung up and pulled into the parking lot of her apartment building. She could tell he was still hesitant about this, still distraught with everything that had happened, still upset about the news. She let him sit there, grabbing his luggage from the trunk before walking around to his side of the car, “You read to go up?”

He nodded, fully getting out of the car. The two walked up the stairs, Jamie taking his bag from her so she wouldn't have to. She opened the door and gave him a brief tour, “This is your room. I put some things in there for you if you want them, the bathroom has toiletries if you need them, and yeah. I’ll be in my room if you need me, okay Jamie?”

He gave her a small smile in acknowledgement in which she returned before leaving for her own room. It must’ve been less than five minutes from when she left to when he showed up in the doorway of her room. Bella had barely changed out of her clothes into one of Quinn’s hoodies and a pair of sweats due to having been out in the cold. She was getting ready to watch something on her laptop when she heard the knock.

She looked up with a smile, “What’s up, Jam?”

“Can I lay with you?”

She wasn’t bothered by the question, only scooting over to make room for me. She knew he needed comfort, needed to not be alone, it wasn’t a big deal. He was holding her stuffed animal tightly, it did bring him some sort of comfort, even if it was embarrassing. He sat down next to her and placed the sheets and comforter overtop of his legs, “I’m sorry if this is weird.”

She shook her head, “It’s not. Trust me, you’re not the first person to ask.”

That made Jamie’s stomach twist into an unfamiliar feeling but he shrugged it off, not wanting to pay too much attention to it. She pulled up Disney and looked at him, “What do you want to watch?”

He just shrugged, “Well, I was going to watch Tangled because it’s my comfort movie.” 

He nodded, totally fine with watching the movie. It was a quarter of the way into the movie when Jamie broke out into sobs. Bella looked confused as to what set him off but wasted no time in wrapping her arms around him, letting him cry. 

“Everything is changing, Bella. Why does it have to be me?”

She frowned, unsure of how to answer that so she stayed silent. He let out more mumbles and cries before being able to calm himself down, apologizing profusely to her for the way he acted, “Hey, you just got traded, Jamie. I’m not going to say I know how you feel because I don’t. I can only imagine what you’re going through, but it’s not going to be bad forever. There are some great guys on the team and you know Cam and you know me, you’re going to get through this okay?” 

He nodded once more, a small smile forming. She let him settle his head back onto her shoulder before playing the movie and before she knew it, he was fast asleep.

[thefirst3chapters]

Thinking about the car accident aftermath in "Teach Me Tonight" again:

Luke is understandably all over the place in the episode where Jess is sent to town. He's simultaneously buying Frosted Flakes and explaining to a skeptical Lorelai that all Jess needs is someone to "give him a little space" and "treat him like a man." Luke resists Lorelai's overreactive but not entirely unreasonable questions and advice until he responds to Jess's defiance and declaration of not wanting help by pushing him off the bridge. Then, he goes right to Lorelai as he panics about not being cut out to raise a kid (he's made a big mentality shift here!) because of having "no patience for jam hands." She reminds him that Jess isn't a toddler, but this situation is going to take work.

Fast forward to "Teach Me Tonight." The first two things Rory tells Lorelai over the phone in reference to the accident are "I need you to be calm" and "I'm alright." Rory has already buried her own reaction and is trying to put Lorelai at ease as much as she can; for not the first or the last time, she has to be the more mature person in their relationship. Lorelai demands that Rory have extra tests that the doctor didn't recommend, and then she leaves Rory at the hospital to hunt Jess down. It isn't Lorelai's intent to make Rory carry both their emotions by herself, but that's what ends up happening even though Lorelai is extensively focused Rory's physical injury. It says a lot about how Lorelai and Rory function as each other's peers and as each other's parents. The only person who will offer advice that matches the injury Rory actually has, listen to how she feels about the accident, and validate her perspective is Luke.

When Luke finds Jess hunched over on the bridge, Jess doesn't say anything about his own safety or ask Luke to stay calm. He just says, "I made sure she was okay." This is of course reflective of how much Jess cares about Rory and how devastated he is about her getting hurt, but it also strongly suggests that it doesn't even occur to Jess that his own well-being would matter to Luke. One could understand why Jess might've thought that way; Luke is openly, sometimes extremely, protective of Rory and continues to be when Rory is years older than Jess is here. He confronts both Dean and Logan unprompted on Rory's behalf. He wants to intervene when Rory decides to leave Yale and maintains a warm relationship with her even though he avoided addressing Jess's school/work situation directly until he kicked him out and later yelled at him for returning for his car. We know what's in Luke's heart here, though, because he just explained it to Lorelai at the cost of their relationship. He won't rest until he knows both kids are okay.

Luke could've in this moment screamed at Jess for being reckless with Rory, damaging property, smoking, and throwing a wrench in his friendship with Lorelai. He could've demanded that Jess be a man and stick around to repair the damage and face the wrath they both know is impending. He doesn't do any of those things, though. He sees how anguished Jess is and realizes now that he shouldn't have to be a man quite yet. Luke offers the precious comfort of immediately believing that Jess took care of Rory with "I know you did," and that's that. Of all the choices Luke could've made here, he chooses a quiet sort of mercy, so there they are in calming silence with their matching postures and green jackets and emotional repression in the same place where Luke shoved Jess into the water months earlier. Yes, there's an argument to be made that Jess going back wasn't the right way to handle this, but at the same time that choice has incredible compassion behind it.

The variety of parent/child relationships on this show is just so fascinating; it's a snapshot of families living in the same time and in the same place, and no two dynamics or perspectives on how a child should be raised are the same. These relationships are all deeply flawed and are sources of immense harm at times, but they're grounded in so much love.