#damn tagging characters other than the only two i draw feels weird as fuck

[sn0tcl0wn]

wish and the star boy we never got is proof of my long standing theory that disney (and animation as a whole) needs to bring back cute boys. they stopped featuring them as much back when frozen came out to focus more on famalial love and i respect that. however, that was the tail end of an era where animated movies were almost always guaranteed to have one super cute boy. this was the thing that brought audiences in. i swear to god until i was like 18-19 if an animated movie had a cute boy, i and all my friends were there opening night. a movie could look like pure garbage and if a boy was cute we were there. and of course there are other factors like the other character's designs and music if it's a musical, but cool designs didn't go anywhere and i, as well as many people, can overlook a bad musical if the animated dude is pretty (quest for camelot is a movie that exists). like why do you think anime really became so popular amongst preteen/teenage girls? they'll outright tell you, just go in the tags. it's the cute boys. cute boys bring in audiences.

it's not sexism, it's not heteronormativity, it's not "teaching girls all they're good for is marriage" or whatever the fuck people were complaining about ten years ago when disney made the executive decision to step away from having cute boys and by extension started a trend of studios doing that; it's the simple fact that people, especially girls, tend to like cute animated boys. and yeah people like pretty and cute animated girls too but that's kinda the whole point of disney princesses. we don't even need cute boys as love interests, in movies like treasure planet and rise of the guardians there is no romantic subplot for either of the movies' cute boys. it's just cute boys doing cool stuff with other well designed characters.

i feel the overwhelming response of disappointment when the star boy concept art was released is proof that, at the end of the day, animation fans want more cute boys. and i agree. you wanna actually sell that shit to your main demographic of kids, specifically girls, aged 10 and up? cute boys worked every damn time for decades. it only became less prevalent in the 2010s when people decided we for whatever reason didn't need the cute boys and nixed them completely in an attempt to seem progressive and not "reduce" any girl protags to love interests. which is an awful way to refer to writing a love story btw, we need to work on that because that gets said every time this happens and it's weird people can't fathom a strong, independent girl who also has a boyfriend. and yes, yes it's better if she has a girlfriend but there is still a desire to see a cute boy character on screen. the best animated movies from the 90s-2000s all had them and everyone vividly remembers a time where that drawing was their husband or literally them. it's important for some weird reason for cute animated boys to exist and the star boy proves that these movies would do way better with cute boys.

and the "boy" in question doesn't even need to be human or whatever. you think zootopia sold because the trailers actually looked good? what about sing? god no. no matter how much i like those movies, the trailers made them look like trash, but the power of cute boys prevailed even when the "boys" are a fox and a gorilla.

ik this rant is long and it seems pointless but i feel like i cracked the code for why so many animated movies have been sucking harder than ever and it's because for almost two generations we had cute boys to soften the blow of a bad animated movie and now we have more evidence that they're actively making decisions to cause that. i said this about five years ago when i realized the majority of cute animated boys were furries or anime boys and now i see this star boy shit. and i'd been saying how ugly i think the star is for months beforehand too when merch started popping up.

i just feel like they could have avoided fucking themselves so hard if they just let the cute boy exist. i genuinely feel people would at least be more likely to see the movie but most people didn't even bother and the people who did say don't bother. but if a cute boy was there and they used his song as the trailer? we'd wanna know what this little magic man was about. we'd wanna see how things panned out between him and hero girl. and if it ended up being bad we'd all say "yeah but the designs were good" or some shit and disney would get that sweet, sweet centennial money. but that's not what happened because some moron somewhere decided girls don't want to see cute boys in their princess movies and a chain reaction started that won't stop until disney undoes it and gives us a goddamn cute boy. and that's not even a joke. that's my honest to god theory for how to save mainstream animated movies. we saw a glimpse of this with spider-verse. like those movies ate but a big draw for both of them was the fact that there was a cute boy for everyone to crush or project on. we need cute animated boys now more than ever.

[dynyamight]

I've seen a lot of people do it, so if you are up for it~ Ship your moots!

FINALLY. THE AWAITED LIST OF MOOTS IS COMPLETE. sorry this took forever anon!!

now, this is going to be long & i will try not to overexplain my ship pairings. did i take time to think about each paring? yes. but, will they be serious? no. they are dumb & silly.

let the crack pairings begin <3!!

@dekusneakers x BAKUGOU & TODOROKI now you would think? sneakers in a throuple? how come? mmm simple. i couldn’t choose one for her so she gets both. the more the merrier. besides, she deserves love from both sides, kisses on both cheeks. one begrudgingly smooch & one icy kith. as a deku kin, she’s completely satisfied. you’re welcome

@izusun x AIZAWA & ORCA similarly, i can’t have my bestie here with just ONE babe. so, i thought why don’t we get a fatherly figure & a dad bod to give her all the love she needs. so yes, bestie, you two deserves hugs at both sides of you. a twiggy one & a muscly one. the sun needs some shade, & that shade is these men.

@midnightpirates x SUKUNA he’s a mass murderer !! you can’t— oh, but i can. you see, yanna here hates mahito & guess who was the one to fuck up his shit. ah, that’s right, it was sukuna. two mahito an/tis sitting in a tree <3 it’s the perfect match made in hell.

@goth-himbo-dabi x DOCTOR WHO once again, people might wonder: why not dabi? my answer? it’s because my bby here finds the twiggy men attractive. i know, bummer. & you can’t get any twiggy-er than david tennant & matt smith. but which doctor? all of them.

@minisheku x KAMINARI i see you simp for his dunce face. & honestly, who wouldn’t?? also, i originally put sheepku,, but that’s ,, a bit weird. but, here’s the solution. you OWN a sheepku, with kaminari. ah yes, a modern day family unit. & he can entertain you, as well as be a source of electricity for your drawing tablet !! resources !!

@oyavaski x EN you said he was hot literally in your tags earlier in a reblog. so, i am simply gifting you water to quench your thirst. may you two meet in afo, & fall in love in the subconscious of deku’s mind. will deku feel awks? yeah. but like pfft, he’s so whipped for bkg, he’ll forget you two chilling in the corner of his thoughts.

@okworstie x GOJO & WATARI i never have to look up the gojo tag, like ever. because you’re always plastering his face all over my timeline. & yes, this is a good thing. but, the same applies to watari. i have never even seen bakudiez, or whatever it’s called, but apparently he’s aro, & there’s a moth man, & tape hits post limit thursday’s? yeah just keep both, mimi.

@rrandomtthings x AN/TI as one of fellow loyal, amazing bkdks, i think it’s only fitting that you find true love with a bkdk an/ti. create the banti we seek in our community. the enemies to lovers trope is in your blood, written in your deku genes. so, i dedicate the banti movement with this small offering of a ship. may you find diamonds on the minecraft server & build a diamond cabin.

@believeyourgalaxy x ITADORI you two are such cinnamon rolls !!!! super friendly. super kind. super relatable. & together, you guys can pin over megumi. maybe hopefully, sam can help itadori with his low iq brain to finally get together with megumi. because damn, sam can be like “this is my boyfriend, itadori. & this is itadori’s boyfriend, megumi.”

@wrensknight x SHIRAKUMO i didn’t even know it was oboro birthday, until you not only made a public post about to, but made art for him. cloud boy needs that partner to respect & cherish him entirely. & you just treat him so right?? draw him so good?? i hope you can go cloud watching & then later, ride the clouds with him. till death do you guys uh,, you know,,

@b1m0 x MIDORIYA you can't stand when he gets injured, let alone reckless & trying to save the world, when he should literally be saving his own ass. but, that just means you care about him DEEPLY. plus, you both are wholesome people. obviously two cinnamon rolls make a whole bakery !! & who doesn't want a bakery ?? i sure do! wehjw idk why i brought the point here, but just know you two make sense.

@mysterionrising x RENGOKU & VIGILANTE DEKU it’s that enemies to lovers trope once again !! for someone who wrote him off as annoying the first seconds she met him, kenny sure flipped over to the stan side. ever since then, i can only see kenny when i see rengoku. but, you know who else reminds me of kenny. vigilante deku. it’s super fruity that you have an entire bomb playlist for him. so keep him too !!

@kamishima x KIRISHIMA you are the biggest kiri simp i have ever met. you basically ship kiri with anyone who makes him happy. though, you do have a lot of ships, but with kiri it’s different. & so, i was thinking ‘mmm, if bug ships kiri with so many people?? shouldn’t she ship him with HERSELF?’ boom. suddenly both kiri & bug are happy, with a lovely home. my work here is done.

@ckatsudon x LAW LIET did i dig through your blog. why yes. & you know what i found? reblogs & tags dedicated to L. he’s best boy. he’s precious. he deserves a better end. an end with you. mmhmm !! because if we rewrote death note, where you were light, i think L & light could have been canon. & that also would make you happy. & the rest of the entire world

@drfox-kinnie x UNIKITTY i don’t even know the show, let alone who unikitty is exactly. but, you reblogged a banner, confirming your love for unikitty. & so, i am of course doing you a big favor !! she’s bubbly, friendly, & passionate just like you !! & bestie, while i may not know nothing about her, i know you love her. so, maybe you two platonically have a wonderful time, adventuring with the other wholesome characters !! also,, is she big enough to travel on? if so, look i got you a cat car!!

@midorree x MINACHAKO i ship you with another ship. why? because i can. besides, you are like my moot who is genuinely a head leader of the minachako ship on my timeline, & you have steadily been converting me?? but, i also noticed that mina AND uraraka have stolen your heart, & you have yet to fight them for it back. i hope you three can go into a brawl & see who can grab each other’s hands fastest.

@kiribakuxkacchakolover x HATSUME YOU HAVE IT AS YOUR TITLE HEADER. like you are literally having a billboard that calls mei your cutie patootie. &, you ask, & you shall receive. i hope you two can be the dorkiest nerds together, & ramble for eons & eons. i hope i’m invited to the transformer wedding you two will have <,3

@balaroo x MIRUKO like before, you too have your interest out in the open in your title header. but, you see, miruko is a total babe, with confidence & ego & with this stride that makes even the most alpha male quiver. you would be a total wife to miruko’s girlboss energy & that’s why this ship totally works.

@quix-mix x FREDDY FAZBEAR my precious lil young moot, i dug into your blog & noticed you enjoy the fnaf games. & mmm are you perhaps wanting to cuddle a certain demonic teddy bear? well, i approve. he'll fall in love, head over heels, with your art, he might not possess you right away !! might. but, listen, you always do enjoy the villains (; i gotchu !!

@lonely-rabbit x LANCE you said we’re moots & i agree, we are. however, i have noooo idea what even are your preferences. so, i went digging. & it’s such a coincidence that we bonded over our voltron trauma, & yet you still continue to simp over lance. &, like i don’t blame you !!! he’ll always be dumb baby & so all i ask is that you love him, for our sake. & sanity.

[bi-naesala]

A "romantic" bathroom confession

Fandom: Yakuza Rating: G Warnings: / Relationships: Han Joon-gi/Zhao Tianyou Characters: Zhao Tianyou, Han Joon-gi, Kim Yeonsu Additional Tags: Emotional Constipation, Love Confessions Summary:

Sure, he could ask him directly what’s going on, but he has the feeling that, by asking him, they’ll both have to uncover some parts of themselves that Zhao doesn’t think they’ll ever be able to show the other, not when they’ve lived so long without ever showing their cards to anyone. No, he’d better not ask. Who knows if he’d like the answer Han gives him anyway.

(Also on AO3)

It’s been a couple of days since when… well, Zhao doesn’t know exactly what happened, but Han has been acting weird: at first, he was quiet, or at least quieter than usual, then he’s begun doing some small things that can only perplex Zhao.

First things first, the pda. Well, to normal couple standards it isn’t much, but considering that we’re talking about Joon-gi Han, it is: he’s begun hovering over him during every moment of pause, going even as far as brushing their shoulders together or even hold his hand and doing all those romantic gestures that a one-week boyfriend would make in order to impress you, which isn’t something that Han really has to do: he’s already impressive on his own, without the need for any of this.

Not that Zhao doesn’t enjoy being pampered, don’t get him wrong, but this doesn’t mean that this sudden change of behavior doesn’t confuse him.

Is Han planning something? He can’t help but to wonder about that…

Sure, he could ask him directly what’s going on, but he has the feeling that, by asking him, they’ll both have to uncover some parts of themselves that Zhao doesn’t think they’ll ever be able to show the other, not when they’ve lived so long without ever showing their cards to anyone.

No, he’d better not ask. Who knows if he’d like the answer Han gives him anyway.

  When Zhao takes his first step outside Survive, he almost jumps when he notices Han, crouched down in front of a vase, the one usually Ichiban uses to in order to grow vegetables for the barkeeper. That’s not something he was expecting to see. Curious.

“Han-chan, what are you doing there?”

“Oh?” Han turns his head towards him, not having noticed him there at first. “Nothing much. I’m watching them grow.” Them being two plants of lillies, who everyone knows is his favorite.

“Are these the ones Kasuga-kun said he was trying to grow?” he asks then, crouching down beside Han.

“No,” the other replies, not moving his gaze away from the blossoming flowers. “These I planted myself.”

Zhao hums at those words, though his face betrays no emotion.

 What the hell is this?

Now, Zhao doesn’t want to make assumptions, but it’s pretty fucking obvious what Han wants to do with the flowers he’s going to harvest, c’mon!

Why is he doing all this? They’re already together, there’s no need for any of this typical couple bullshit!

 Oh well, if one day Han shows up with a bouquet for him, he’s not going to complain.

After all, thinking about it, there’s a place that needs a bit of… something. Yeah, a nice vase of flowers over the shelf at the entrance would look nice, thinking about it.

  Usually, when they want to have dinner, they’d go to Meng Wu and Zhao would cook something for them, which might seem cheap, but they don’t mind it. Besides, it feels more intimate like this, and it’s also good since they don’t really want to draw attention to themselves and in Meng Wu that’s not going to happen.

This time, however, things are different: Han has insisted upon taking Zhao to dinner and, after a moment of perplexity, Zhao has accepted, because he doesn’t mind change and he’s curious to see where Han’s taking him.

 “Wow…” is all Zhao is able to say once he realizes where Han is taking him, standing in front of the entrance of the place.

Of all things, he wasn’t expecting Le Nouveau Hama. It’s very different from the usual restaurants they go to - they never go anywhere this fancy, even with the others.

He turns towards Han. “You managed to book us a table here?”

“Impressed?” Han replies. He looks very pleased with himself, and for once Zhao can’t really blame him.

No, he can’t blame him at all.

 As soon as they enter, Zhao feels immediately gazes drawn towards them. Maybe they should’ve dressed more accordingly to the place they’ll be eating at, instead of wearing the same kind of clothes they’d wear on the adventure with the others, but heh, who cares.

At least the waiter that greets them does nothing to make them feel like they don’t belong here.

“Good evening gentlemen, did you have a reservation?” he asks them.

“Indeed we do,” Han replies, still looking quite happy with himself.

“Of course. Follow me.”

 Once they get to their table, they sit down and begin to skim through the menu. Ooooh, so many things Zhao would like to try, but the budget…

“Ah, I forgot to mention this to you, but I would like to pay for both of us today.”

Zhao almost reels back at those words, staring at the man sitting in front of him. “Really?”

Han nods. “Yes, I’ve been meaning to do something like this for a while…”

Again, Zhao wonders what Han’s playing at, being all nice and chivalrous like this. First the flowers - which now indeed sit on the shelf like Zhao had planned - and now this; he must have something in mind, mustn’t he?

Eh, what the hell. After all, it works for him.

“Alright. Sounds good to me.”

 Despite the fact that Han’s paying, Zhao still decides not to go too overboard with his order, because he’s not a fucking asshole.

Han doesn’t say anything about it, but Zhao is able to see a shadow of relief in his eyes, and he can’t help but to chuckle at that.

See, that’s what you get when you try to be romantic.

  Zhao has to admit it: the food here is divine.

The tartare is exquisite, and the lobster is too. He would love to have a chat with the chef responsible for these delicacies, and maybe even exchange recipes, but at the moment this isn’t what he’s thinking about.

They’ve both been quite talkative today, and he means both of them, when usually Zhao’s the one running his mouth while Han nods along. It’s like Han’s putting more effort than usual… but this is too much for Zhao.

 “Why are you doing this?”

Han looks at him confused. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean,” Zhao chastises him, then he gestures to all around him. “This. What the hell is this? You think we’re in some kind of romantic comedy where any of this is necessary?”

Han remains silent, prompting Zhao to continue.

“What is it that you’re after, Han-chan? I mean, there’s no need to get into my panties ‘cause you already do that, so what is it?”

Still silence from Han, at least until he abruptly gets up from his seat and begins to walk away.

“Excuse me.”

 Uhm…

“No, wait, Han-chan come back! I didn’t mean--”

Didn’t mean what, exactly, huh? To spit all that shit while Han was just trying to be nice?

It’s always like this with him: people try to get close, only for him to push them away. Old habits die hard, and Zhao has always had to keep himself and others around him in check; he was supposed to be the leader of the Liumang, and you can’t do that if you don’t learn how to shield yourself from potential threats, and sharing a strong bond with someone is the biggest threat of them all.

The problem with Han is that they have gotten incredibly close, so Zhao’s old instincts kick in, but does he want to push him away? Not really. He’s not the leader anymore, he’s nothing, actually. What would the harm be in trying to have something with someone he - even though it’s hard to admit it - cares about?

 Goddamn… he’s ruined everything with his damned own hands, hasn’t he?

No, maybe he can still save it, if only he could manage to get up from this fucking chair.

Where did Han go? Ah, the bathroom. At least he hasn’t left the building, which Zhao supposes is a good sign - or maybe just a not so bad sign.

There’s only one problem: if he follows him, if he manages to get him to hear him out… he’ll have to be honest, and for him there’s nothing scarier than having to be honest about what’s going on inside his head.

Isn’t the same for Han, though? That’s the reason why they get along so well, because they understand that sometimes you just not want to talk about that stuff and that’s fine, and yet he’s going all the way to do all these romantic gestures that have surely cost him a lot of effort, all for his sake.

… Maybe being opening up wouldn’t be so bad now, wouldn’t it?

 He finally manages to get up.

Fuck it. It’s about he and Had have an honest conversation anyway.

  When he gets to the bathroom, he finds Han in front of one of the sinks. He must’ve washed his face because it’s still wet, but he’s doing nothing to dry it, instead he keeps looking in the mirror on the wall, eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

“Han-chan…”

Those words manage to snap Han out of whatever mood he was in, and he turns towards Zhao, looking slightly surprised to see him there. “Uhm, Zhao… You’re here too.”

“No, I’m just a figment of your imagination,” Zhao instinctively replies, before remembering that he’s supposed to be nice this time. He shakes his head. “Sorry, didn’t mean that…”

C’mon, Zhao. Take a nice, deep breath, and fucking talk.

 “Ok, look, Han-chan, I’ve… I’ve been unfair to you. You were doing all these nice things, and I’ve got on the defensive. The truth is that I like you, I like being with you and do crazy shit together and not just that. Even the normal stuff, the domestic shit… I really like that.”

Han looks shocked by what Zhao has just said. Heh, he’s just as shocked, to be quite honest.

“I wasn’t expecting this thing we had to become so important to me. Honestly I thought it would be a nice fling and nothing more, and I bet you thought that too, but we’re both fools and got trapped into our own feelings.”

That earns him a chuckle on Han’s part, and he can’t help but to do the same. Yeah, they are both huge idiots.

“When you started doin’ all this nice stuff I panicked. I knew that sooner or later I’d have to face my feelings, so I began lying to myself, pretending that I didn’t understand why you’d go all the way to do something like this, and for me of all people…”

He scratches his neck. “As you can definitely see, I’m not that good at this kind of stuff…”

“I can see that,” Han replies, a small smile on his face that becomes larger as he goes on. “Such a heartfelt confession deserves a better place than a public bathroom, don’t you think?”

This fucking asshole.

Despite the roasting - which he frankly deserves - Zhao can’t help but to laugh. “See? Just proven my own point.”

“I do appreciate it, though,” Han replies, still smiling, then he turns serious. “I came here to find the right words to say, but it seems that you’ve beaten me to the punch.”

Zhao crosses his arms to his chest, shifting his weight on his other leg. “Well? We’ve got one heartfelt bathroom confession, why not having another?”

Han chuckles, shaking his head. “Sure, why not?”

 “As you correctly guessed, I’m not the sort of guy to whom this kind of things comes easily, but I knew that it would be worth it in the end, but to tell the truth, I was just being a coward.”

Zhao opens his mouth to interject, but Han raises his hand, prompting him to wait for him to explain himself.

“I started doing this because I wanted to tell you how I felt, but was too scared to actually do it, figuring that you’d understand what I meant without me having to actually say the words. I too was afraid of what would happen if I spoke honestly. I didn’t want to feel that exposed…”

“And here we are now,” Zhao can’t help but to say.

Han nods. “And here we are now…”

He hesitates just for a moment before stepping towards Zhao.

“But I can’t hide anymore the fact that I like…” he stops, frowning. “No, not just like. I… I love you.”

Zhao’s first instinct is to ask him why, why would he love someone like him? But at this point they’re both way past that. Sometimes you just love someone without reason, even though admitting it can be very hard. He knows it.

“I… I love you too.”

 He wonders if Han feels as light as he does, having finally admitted it, but he’s not able to ask him because he’s kissing him and, frankly, he doesn’t want to pull away at all, not when Han’s lips taste so sweet.

Unfortunately it doesn’t last as long as both of them would’ve liked, but after all they’ve been missing from their table for who knows how long; someone might get worried and come check on them.

“How about we go back to our meal, and then finish this when we get back?” Zhao proposes.

“Sounds good to me,” Han replies, going to the door and opening it for Zhao. “After you.”

Before, Zhao would’ve gotten irritated at the gesture, but now he just chuckles as he walks out of the bathroom.

“Such a gentleman~”

  The rest of their dinner goes splendidly, now that they’ve both said their pieces.

If they had known that being honest with each other wouldn’t have had disastrous consequences, they might’ve done it earlier, but in the end, they did when they were ready, which is how these things should go, isn’t it?

 It’s still quite a shock that, of all places, they’ve decided to bare their souls inside a restroom, but oh well, so is life.

At least, it’ll make up for a great story to tell, that’s for sure.

[fandomtransmandom]

2020 Wrapped:

Rules: It’s time to love yourselves! Choose your 5-8 (ish) favorite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought into the world in 2020. Tag as many writers/artists/etc. as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome work!

Okay, so as you know, ya boi is verbose af, so apologies, but I could only whittle it down to a top 10 (and one honorable mention.) I like to think my work has improved with time, so the older ones may be a bit rough, but here are my favs from 2020 and why (from most recent to oldest.)  

1.) Southern Comfort-Bill Hader, Teddy Redbones (Doc Now)/OFC

Synopsis: Teddy Redbones viciously despises his political opponent Savannah Harrison...by day. At night, the two tear into each other madly, hiding their secret affair from the world and their feelings from one another.

Why I Love: Honestly when @martymcdie88mph sent me a request that just asked for ‘Teddy Redbones laying down pipe’ I never expected the first fic about him to get the response it did, much less for it to lead to two more requests. It’s provided me with immeasurable laughter and I’m so glad there are others out there down to bone this angry southern dom.

2.) Frozen Dreams-Conan O’Brien/OFC

Synopsis: Receiving bad news while on their Christmas vacation at the height of ‘The Tonight Show’ upset, Conan deals with his grief, assisted by his partner, Molly.

Why I Love: Writing some Conan super angst was so cathartic and beautiful. Thank you @stunninconan for making this request and giving me the opportunity to do so. Just want to cherish our ginger smokeshow and let him know how deeply he’s loved.

3.) Flickering Beauty-Bill Hader, Little Vivvy (Doc Now)/Partners of Multiple Genders

Synopsis: Little Vivvy is away from her family, and her wealth, for the first time in 1970’s New York. As she tries to make it as a dancer, Vivvy undergoes the early stages of her transition and stumbles upon the accepting Ball scene, as well as some struggles of being a trans woman trying to live an authentic life.

Why I Love: I wrote this piece for NaNoWriMo 2020 and I knew going into it I would largely be composing it for myself. Beforehand I considered doing something that might draw in more readers, Reddie perhaps, but I'm so glad I went with my heart because this story is incredibly meaningful to me and I will love Vivvy until the end of my days.

4.) Breathe Me-Bill Hader, Barry/OFC

Synopsis: Barry is back in Cleveland after his discharge, working for Fuches, deeply depressed and feeling hopeless. After running into his childhood friend Annie, he discovers she’s doing sex work and offers to help her financially. But Annie refuses, saying there’s only one way she’ll accept payment from Barry.

Why I Love: One of many ideas I’ve worked on this year with @martymcdie88mph, though arguably our best. I received a lot of positive feedback on this piece that made me feel good about myself, and I simply love the dynamic between these two hurting characters.

5.) Lost and Found-Bill Hader, Reddie

Synopsis: When Richie loses the engagement ring he bought for Eddie, he panics, searching everywhere but finding nothing. Coming across the ring while cleaning, Eddie devises a plan to surprise Richie.

Why I Love: This one was based on a prompt from @halefirewarrior and I just think it’s cute and sweet. And it’s resulted in a dozen or so strangers on the internet telling me to ‘shut the fuck up,’ which is always amusing.

6.) Harmonious Monsters-Bill Hader, Vince Blight/OFC

Synopsis: Sociopathic power couple Vince and Stacy Blight live a hedonistic, extravagant existence based on kinky sex and a mutual disregard for humanity. As their ten year anniversary approaches, Vince reflects on the saga of their relationship.

Why I Love: Pretty sure this one appeals just to me, ha. I had a ball writing it. Getting into the heads of these characters was ridiculously fun and smut-wise it includes some of my favorite things.

7.) In The Midnight Hour-Bill Hader RPF, Priest AU

Synopsis: When Father Bill Hader sees a struggling trans man named Troy attending the weekly free meal offered by the church, he discovers Troy is homeless, offering him a place to stay in the basement. As they get to know one another, Troy tempts Bill and tests his faith in ways he never thought possible.

Why I Love: Writing this one for @phantomofthegallifreyanopera was cathartic for me. As a queer trans man who was trapped in a fundamental Christian community for a time, it felt like sweet vengeance to be able to flex my Biblical Studies degree for the sake of gay p*rn (trust me, it’s completely useless otherwise) and it was fun to see Father Bill teased into sin 😈

8.) Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger-Bill Hader, The Alan (SNL)/OFC

Synopsis: When Lily comes home to find The Alan on her doorstep, she can’t imagine why her friend got her such a silly, extravagant gift. That is, until she discovers the Adult Expansion Pack.

Why I Love: I was nervous about publishing this one and almost didn’t. I truly didn’t think y’all would be on board. But thank fuck everyone in this fandom is kinky as shit and this became one of the fics for which I get praised the most. I loved writing it and I’m so here for cranking out more weird shit all day every day.

9.) If The World Was Ending-Bill Hader, Barry/OFC

Synopsis: Barry knows that tomorrow he is likely to die, the Chechens seeking vengeance for the massacre at the monastery. For his last night, he wants nothing more than to spend it with Valerie. The problem: Valerie and Barry broke up months before when she discovered his true profession. Barry begs Valerie to see him, and for one final time, he finds solace in her arms.

Why I Love: When @erdankely gave me their concept for this request, I was unreasonably excited. So damn cool. And I just sobbed while I wrote it. Such a sl*t for Barry super angst any day of the week. Love this one and I’m pretty proud of how it turned out, actually.

10.) Miles Apart Inside-Bill Hader, Robbie Wheadlan (Doc Now)/OFC

Synopsis: While he’s awaiting trial for murder, Robbie Wheadlan and his lover Abbi reflect on the saga of their relationship.

Why I Love: Not only was this a piece that made me fall hardcore in love with a murderer who was on screen for maybe 15 minutes and has no redeemable attributes, but it strengthened my friendship with @stunninconan and for that I am grateful.

Honorable Mention: Later That Night- Conan O’Brien/OFC

Synopsis: Conan meets author Gwendolyn who comes on his show to promote her book.

Why I Love: This is the first fic I published back in July. I’m sure I would cringe like crazy if I tried to read it now at all the edits it needs, but I’m so, so happy I decided to post it and kept writing and sharing. Without this almost 48k monster about my orange pompadoured beloved and all the kind feedback from everyone, I wouldn’t be where I am today. Thank you all!

And I spend my days doing nothing other than hammering out alphabet p*rn of my own, so I apologize that I don't know who to tag to keep this going because I shamefully never take time to read. But feel free to do your own if you have creations you would like to share!i

[marlahey]

(and I'm feeling like) it was only ever you

a little voice fic pairings/characters: bess/samuel, general ensemble, ella the pupper being loved the most warnings: language, excessive sexual tension episode tags: fills in some of many gaps between 1.08 sea change and 1.09 sing what I can’t say cause I got wine drunk instead of finishing this before the finale as planned. +post-finale rating/warnings: explicit. read: resolved sexual tension aka les sexy times.  lyrical title courtesy of: part of me – by the coast (watch their fanvid set to this song and prepare to cry)  notes: so @brilligbraelig told me there was no fluffy fic in the tag, which– sorry. we’ve been in sad time hours for WEEKS and I blame the writers for never giving bess a moment’s peace. I’ve never really been one for cavity-inducing sweetness, not because I don’t love some pure joy, but as a writer I’m always a little more interested in the messier moments that just enough longing brings. if the question is ‘how many times do bess and samuel need to share a bed?’ the answer is yes.   this is for the samuel and bess protection squad on twitter (join us!) for being the coolest group of people ever throughout this wild ride, and also for @missgoalie75 and her love of colton’s bedroom eyes.  p.s: sometimes I ignore capitalization rules at will because of the vibe. 

*

bess is tired.

saint c’s is quiet tonight; al shoos her away from the bar with a stern, surprisingly fatherly firmness and hands her a tray of shots. she blinks at him. there aren’t any parties of four left. he points at samuel, prisha, and benny loitering at the back of the club until she finishes. bess doesn’t follow. al sighs. “go have one with your friends on me, okay kid? i swear, watching you stress out sometimes is gonna give me an ulcer before my next birthday.”  bess stammers a thank you and walks off with the alcohol before he can change his mind. she should apologize, she thinks. he’s been nothing but kind to her despite all the ways in which bess is hardly employee of the month right now. she should start an apology tour at the table, where prisha’s head is thrown back with laughter at something benny is saying, his hands outspread. these people are too good to her and she doesn’t deserve it, sometimes.  samuel notices her first (like always it seems), tracking her progress across the room. he tilts his head, a silent okay? and she moves her mouth in an approximation of a smile. his own lips quirk, like he’s trying to smother a laugh. she should be annoyed; she’s just grateful they aren’t fighting anymore— or worse yet, that it’s weird.  they still haven’t talked about that night. samuel seems perfectly content to pretend it never happened, except for the way he touches her with so much more ease than before— like he no longer has to hesitate before he’s pulling her in, taking her hand, squeezing her shoulder or the bend of her elbow in a way that’s more reassuring than bess can really describe.  maybe there’s a song in there somewhere.  “special delivery,” she announces at the approach. “drink fast, before al regrets giving us these.”  “my man, my man,” benny croons. “we love you boss!” he calls, twisting to find al rolling his eyes from behind the register. the shots clink on the tabletop. bess hesitates, just a second, before leaning in to toast prisha. samuel’s eyes meet hers again over the rim of his glass. she tosses her head back before she can overthink any of it. “anyone want another?”  benny and prisha grin; samuel shakes his head. bess does the mental math back to her last meal. one more certainly wouldn’t tip her over, but she’d be a fool not to recognize her own unsettledness. she springs for second shelf tequila; al smacks her hand away from the limes she’d cut herself not two hours ago.  “no reaching over, you know that.” the closing porter pours and dishes lime and salt with disinterested, immaculate practice. bess presses an extra five into his hand and gets a silent tap on the inside of her wrist in thanks. she’s not normally into the whole process of tequila, but benny enjoys it. something silly in bess hopes that the bursting sting of lime will just wash all her chaos away. by the time she’s tilted her head back down a second time, samuel’s eyes are sliding away. her throat is curiously warmer than liquor normally manages. it feels like she’s caught him at something.  “earth to bess!”  “hmm?”  prisha looks amused, damn her. “you up for it?” “up for what?” benny’s smile is equally conspiratory.  “dancing?” her first instinct is god, no. she and prisha haven’t gone dancing in what feels like years— bess still has a fake ID from the one and only time they snuck into a club at 19 years old, skipping the bar entirely for the pulsing beat of the dance floor. but she deserves this, doesn’t she? after everything? everyone’s looking at her now, probably expecting her to say no (samuel’s definitely expecting her to say no), and maybe bess needs another shot after all because, “sure.” tumbles out of her mouth before she can stop it. prisha and benny high five. samuel’s muted surprise is oddly delightful; bess wants to keep pulling it out of him, suddenly. “you coming too?” she asks. it’s not supposed to be a challenge but he raises one eyebrow as though bess had just asked him to duel. “well i’d be lame if I said no now, wouldn’t i?” that settled, bess excuses herself to grab her things from the back room. when she returns, benny is chatting with their night porter as he divides tips. she has to swallow an anxious lump before she can walk over.  “hey.” “hey.” he returns her tentative smile and she hates herself. “ready to go?” “i’m sorry,” bess blurts. “about the other night. i was so awful to you and you were just—” “bess, hey.” benny’s hands land on her shoulders. “don’t worry about it, okay? i know you have a lot going on right now.” “that’s not an excuse,” she insists. “you’re just being a good friend and a great manager and i shouldn’t have bit your head off for...” for not letting me give up. shame locks the words in her throat. how is it that she was the first person to let go of her own dream? bess has to take a deep breath. “i’m just really sorry.” he just looks at her for a long moment.  “if i forgive you,” benny begins gently, “will you forgive yourself?” the question feels like a sucker punch.  “cause i do, bess.” she can’t remember the last time one of her dearest friends was so serious. “i forgive you, and you gotta forgive yourself now cause we got work to do, yeah?” good god, do not cry. “okay.”  “okay.” benny pulls her into a hug, squeezing tight. “we got you girl, alright? i told you, we’re in this together.” those are familiar words. bess lets them wash over her. how had she forgotten? where had she let herself fall that her friends couldn’t pull her back into the light?  “c’mon.” bess accepts her saint c’s envelope with a grateful smile and benny steers her out of the club, his arm around her shoulders. “there’s fun to be had tonight.” “let’s go, bess!”  she lets prisha drag her forward, laughing despite herself and looping her arm through her best friend’s as they head out into the warm night air.  “where the heck are those boys?” prisha asks at the next corner. benny and samuel of course, are following at a more sedated pace to her one track mind. bess catches samuel’s eye and he smiles in that crooked, amused sort of way she hasn’t seen in ages— not since they shot more love, it feels like. relief is such a strange feeling for the moment, but there it is.  * bess isn’t tired anymore. she has no idea when she became such a homebody (though louie’s social worker may thoughts) but her exhaustion from the day seems to disappear the moment the bass finds a home behind her ribs. prisha presses a tiny glass into her hand and bess doesn’t think.  the vodka sears on the way down. it makes her gasp a little, like a livewire shock to the system. bess can only look up to see samuel wave from the bar before benny’s dragging her onto the floor; she loses sight of him in the crush of bodies and the pulse of the music carries her away.  samuel’s still there, some two or three songs later. just before they lock eyes, bess notices something very serious in his expression, something she can’t put into words fast enough, that draws a strange shiver from the base of her spine.  then he smiles, familiar laugh lines and narrowed eyes, and it’s gone.  bess remembers the way he’d so easily coaxed her into a silly dance set to their own music. have things gotten so strange between them that they could never go back there? not if she has anything to say about it. “I’m not drunk enough yet,” he objects, but his fingers close around hers even as he says it and she knows she’s won. samuel follows her so easily back to benny and prisha– like he’d follow her anywhere maybe, if she asked, and then suddenly bess is the one not quite drunk enough—  and then the beat pulls them in again.  it’s silly at first, just like before. at one point samuel and benny do the chicken dance to a hip-hop song and bess thinks she might die with laughter. she presses against prisha, hips and shoulders. her best friend spins her out; bess nearly stumbles but samuel is there, catching her by the elbows, drawing her in with that same teasing smile that had eased her nerves on that warm summer afternoon. she can see the memory of it reflected in his eyes. bess wants to fall into it headfirst. she steps closer just as samuel pulls her in; her hand lands on the back of his neck; his fingertips slip under the hem of her top and brush the shy skin of her hip.  samuel pauses, like a silent question, until bess coaxes his body back into the swaying rhythm with her own. her head feels heady, her body overwarm almost, but bess doesn’t want to stop because there it is again, that serious look— bess wants— “dance, dance, dance is my lung—”  “fuck no!” the moment—or whatever that was—grinds to a halt. samuel laughs so hard that she can feel his shoulders shaking. for several seconds they just look at each other, then over at benny who’s having the time of his life, and then bess is doubling over too.  samuel leans close to be heard over the din. “drink?” his breath brushes her ear and bess tries not to shiver, nodding enthusiastically in a vain attempt to cover for herself. they’ve lost prisha and benny to the worst song ever, so samuel keeps a firm grip on her hand as they snake their way back to the bar.  there must be some kind of special on shots tonight. bess can only stare at a bartender pouring no less than twelve in a perfect row for a huge group of women. one is wearing a tiara and white sash. that trying not to laugh smile tilts samuel’s mouth while they wait their turn. the sardine pack of people presses them together from hip to shoulder but he doesn’t seem to mind. the bar curves around in a skinny oval, drinks being served on either side. as servers slide back and forth, bess notices a guy looking at her from across the way. staring, more like it. the glint in his eyes makes her stomach turn. before bess can glare, turn away, or even shudder, samuel’s arm slides around her. his fingertips trace the curves of her rings on the bartop— affectionate, possessive almost. bess turns her head and samuel winks before leaning forward to touch their foreheads together. “pretend i just told you something hilarious.” his mouth hovering over hers is almost too distracting— his free hand pinches her side to help her along and giggles jump out. bess doesn’t resist when samuel tightens his grip and pulls her closer against him. he presses his mouth to her temple just above her ear. “he’s gone.” bess does shudder now, though for a different reason altogether. “thanks.” samuel just squeezes her once before releasing her. their shots arrive finally, amber liquid glowing strangely in the light.  “still good?” he asks, and bess nods firmly. “still good.” she meets his eyes as she brings the shot to her mouth. samuel is still looking at her when she puts the glass back down. inside her, it seems. “c’mon.” he says. samuel looks almost fond now. bess blinks; a trick of the light? is she that tipsy already? “we’d better go find those two.” she just takes his hand and follows.  * bess is... well. she’s not sober.  benny had waved goodbye from an uber outside the club. they’d made it three quarters of the way to the subway station before ananya had called, quickly devolving into an impassioned conversation and prish too, vanished into a cab and promising to call when she got to her— girlfriend’s? house.  “have fun you two!”  and now: “i’m fine, sam.”  his mouth twitches. “don’t think so, b.”  yikes, she hates that. bess rolls her eyes, pointing at her station stairway. “you’re literally going in the opposite direction. it’s like...” she has to look at their cross streets and do the math. “eight stops. at the most.” samuel nods. “all about figure eights. love an even number. let’s go.”  bess knows she should just let this go and stop being so stubborn. but something in her just can’t be stopped. samuel sighs, dragging her by the elbow across the sidewalk, out of the way of a clearly aggrieved businessman who disappears down the steps.  “bess. just tell me something.” it’s hard to meet his eyes, intent as they are. “would you let prisha take the train home by herself tonight? if you were going... I dunno, home with me?”  her stomach flips, surprising, terrifying, thrillingly pleasant. it’s all the shots.  samuel’s ears go pink under the glow of the streetlight. “you know what i mean.” she’s stubbornly quiet; he ducks his head, refusing to be deterred. “bess.” “ugh, no. of course not!” “because you think she can’t take care of herself?” bess rolls her eyes. “she’s my best friend, you know that. it’s just what you do.” “right.” she hates the way samuel’s looking at her now, the way he had when he’d laid all her fears out bare in the close space of his apartment: so certain and so kind. “so why do you think i’d let you take the train home alone?” for a moment, she can only stare. maybe it’s the alcohol, but samuel has never quite looked so vulnerable. bess doesn’t have the right words (maybe there aren’t any) so she just drags him forward by the shoulders. samuel exhales sharply, a faint laugh in her ear, but he wraps both his arms tight around her— an embrace that somehow feels more intimate than their pretence from hours before. bess endeavours not to think about it too much. “c’mon bestie,” she says when she pulls back. samuel does laugh fully this time, wide enough to show his teeth. bess thinks back to the night of their first gig, the sound of his valerie chasing hers in echoes. it’s a wonder anyone’s more stubborn that she is.  samuel ushers her down the stairs with a sweep of his arm and bess laughs too. *   bess loves her dog. she’d convinced samuel he should probably come in for water, or tea, maybe an advil. ella had poked her head out from bess’ room and when she turns around from her perusal of the fridge, bess finds samuel fully sitting on the floor, ella laying between his legs, stroking her head. “who’s my sweetest girl?” he coos.  her heart something funny inside her chest. samuel looks up, his obvious joy so bright in the dim light of the kitchen and bess is nearly choked with the possibility that she’d nearly pushed him too far away to ever see it again.  “bess,” he says, his cheeks dimpling, “her ears are so soft. like, they’re the softest thing i’ve maybe ever felt in my life?”  wonder of wonders.  she can only nod in emphatic agreement. how many shots have they had?  “you’re lucky,” samuel continues, still making ella’s night by never stopping in his affection. bess’ eyes get stuck on his hands, the motion of his fingertips and the turns of his wrists. “my parents never let us have pets and my building doesn’t allow them either.”  “you know ella would love if you came over and pet her all the time.” she gets that muted surprise again, which melts into something bess isn’t sure how to name.  “would you like that, el? hmm?” he leans down to kiss the top of the dog’s head. “wanna spend more time with uncle samuel?” how is it that her most loyal companion is somehow more intimate with samuel than bess is? and why on earth would she ever have a thought like that? “so,” she says, maybe a bit too high-pitched for her own liking (ella looks up at her and bess wants to glare), “we have water, tea, popsicles, half a bottle of jack.” samuel laughs and shakes his head. “i thought we were sobering up?” bess shrugs. “so, popsicle?” he laughs again and it warms her inexplicably all the way to her toes.  they have water, following ella into bess’ room, toeing out of their shoes when she jumps onto the bed. the dog puts her head on samuel’s lap and stares balefully up at him until he resumes his gentle stroking. bess leans back against her wall. she’s looking at ella and pretending she can’t feel the heat of samuel’s gaze on her face. if she thinks too hard about it, bess remembers wishing she could share a moment like this with someone else. she doesn’t regret anything that lead her here, but something in her is too afraid to meet samuel’s eye, like he’d be able to read the truth of that in her face and that she’d have somehow ruined tonight, this quiet moment of warmth and contentment. she leans her head on his shoulder and he turns his cheek into her hair. when bess finally looks up, samuel’s face is vey close.  is he looking at her mouth? is she leaning?  “are you drunk, bess?” he asks softly. she stops. considers. “yes. you?” samuel’s smile is a little rueful. he nods. “i should go.” bess understands. it’s late. they’re tired and inebriated. he has to go all the way back to his. they almost... and yet she says, “stay.”  he blinks. “what?”  this might be a terrible idea. “stay.” “but—” she rolls her eyes. “what makes you think i’d let you go home alone either?” the surprise is plain now. he looks that almost-vulnerable again. bess is oddly satisfied. “are you sure?” it’s strangely hard to keep his eye even as she points out, “we’re fine, right?” he nods again, a little slower. “and it’s not like we’ve never shared a bed.” when bess finally manages it, samuel’s gaze is very soft. “true.” and just when she thinks he’s going to refuse her still, he says, “okay. thanks.” how do you tell someone out that you just don’t want to be alone out loud?  thankfully samuel doesn’t make her voice it. he just smiles as bess gathers something approximating pyjamas and crosses the room. “sorry i don’t have anything that would fit you,” (he snorts and she’s warmed) “but you know, make yourself comfortable however. come get a toothbrush from under the sink.” and so that’s how they end up side-by-side in the cramped bathroom of her and prisha’s apartment, brushing their teeth. samuel makes faces at her in the mirror and it should be strange, to be t-shirt and shorts/boxers open with him. but he’s seen down into the root of who she is, so isn’t all this less? he’s humming something familiar as she washes her face, catching her surprised reflection.  “it’s yours.” bess casts her mind back. “from–” “that first night, yeah.” she nearly drops her face towel. bess has never shown him that song. samuel shakes his head with a chuckle, a familiar you’re a weirdo. “it would be just like you to play something that gets eight bars stuck in my head for months and never sing it again.” “i...” bess can’t pinpoint a reason besides her own fear, like a karmic penance for one of the most humiliating nights of her life. “i can’t believe you remember.” there’s a truth in his eyes that neither of them are willing to admit they can see.  “wanna work on it?” she asks impulsively, determined now to redraw a better memory, “maybe tomorrow?” samuel’s grin is so wide it’s almost hard to take in all at once. “this mean you’re gonna actually do that open mic?” bess shrugs. she needs to escape this tiny room all of a sudden. “maybe.” he doesn’t push her further and she’s grateful. samuel hesitates at the edge of her bed as bess pulls up the cover.  “oh my god, just get in the bed samuel.” and he does. their knees touch. bess turns out the light but there’s still just enough to see him looking at her. drunkenness has made her warm and sleepy.  “what?” “for the record,” he says, “i know what i think of you.” it feels like they’re teetering on an edge. “cool grandpa?” they laugh so hard that ella jumps from the foot of the bed. samuel looks so fond that bess doesn’t know what to do with herself. “yeah. that’s it.” “night samuel,” she whispers.  “night bess.” * (she wakes up before the sun, tangled up in him.  for once, rather than overthink it, bess just closes her eyes and goes back to sleep.) * bess can’t stop smiling. before she could even look at samuel after getting offstage, benny had lifted her off her feet and proceeded to all but bulldoze everyone in the club to get her in front of jeremy’s record label contact. could he tell that she’d just been kissed within an inch of her life? it feels like it’s written all over her face. bess can barely remember what she said, but his personal contact card is currently burning a whole though her purse. al buys them a round. (she finds ethan lingering in the back. what he says to her is somehow a surprise and not both at once. what she says to him, in the end, feels long overdue.) prisha insists everyone come back to their place to celebrate, and they pile into ubers. louie exalts her as a true artist the entire ride and even phil seems impressed. true to form though, he’s a roledex of weather facts as bess and prisha frantically pull out every candle or flashlight in the apartment; their lights flicker ominiously every so often as the storm beats down their windows. benny puts a playlist together and tries to order pizza. by some miracle, it actually arrives; everyone pools together for a 150% tip. so it feels like ages before bess looks up to find samuel leaning against the alcove of her living room, watching as louie begins a spirited debate on the best numbers in hamilton.  bess nods her head toward the door of her bedroom. she’s expecting him to make a silly face with his eyebrows or hesitate, but samuel’s mouth just curves up on one side, like that’s all he’s allowing himself, and follows. “for the record,” he says as the sounds of the party fade a little behind them, “the answer will always be satisfied. no contest.” god, how had she never seen him before? her bedside lamp is still working. bess fishes out a pale white whale from childhood, one that changes colour as you tap. she grins at samuel, who’s leaning against her closed door and smiling like he’s not even sure what to make of her.  “you’re incredible, you know that?” her face heats, pride and embarrassment both at once. “so are you. i can’t believe we got through that song.” “all you, bess.”  she wants to roll her eyes, but refrains. “the electric was a great idea.” samuel’s eyes drop when he smiles; the familiar humility in it reminds bess of the reason she wanted to talk to him in the first place.  “i know what you did tonight. before you showed up.” he looks up then, a little sharply. samuel’s always had a good poker face but bess can see it still, that guarded look. “what did i do, bess?” saying it out loud makes her feel like she’s in a movie. bess steps forward. “you told ethan to come. for me.” “are you upset?” “no. i just want to understand why.” samuel’s gaze is as steady as it’s ever been. “i just want you to be happy.”  she feels unraveled, somehow.  “then why did you...” even in the poor light, he flushes. “why did you kiss me?” samuel looks at the floor, then back at bess. her heart beats in double time. “he didn’t show, or so I thought. and I didn’t want to...” he laughs lightly, almost at himself. “throw away my shot. I guess I wasn’t really expecting you to—” try to press him into the wall? “to kiss me back, or even what that might mean, but I wanted to show you, or tell you that—” she’s close enough to touch him now. samuel’s hands cup her elbows, very gently, like he needs to ground himself. but he looks bess right in the eye. “even if you didn’t want me, i’d choose you first. every time.”  her heart free-falls.  “bess.” he squeezes a little, catching her eyes. how long have they been standing in this moment of after? “please say something.” “i told him we couldn’t work,” she says in a rush. “and i don’t even know if it was really because you and I—” bess stumbles but samuel hangs on, his grip on her unwavering, “but i think part of me always knew it was just...like, a fantasy? we barely even knew each other and i always hated myself a little for being that girl trying to steal someone else’s partner and i wasn’t dealing with any of my shit until—” samuel just waits. the realization feels too big, but there’s no going back now. “until i met you.” he looks almost stricken. bess lets out a strange, wondrous kind of laugh. she puts her hand on samuel’s chest. she’s the one who needs steadying, now. he draws her closer without looking away from her face, like he’s helpless to it.  bess can’t remember the last time she felt so sure of anything. all those those expressions that always felt hidden in his eyes seem so plain, now: surprise, fear, hope. “i choose you, samuel. though i probably don’t even deserve to.”  she can see his adam’s apple bob as he swallows. samuel’s hand brushes her hair back away from her face, tracking the curve of her ear. just before she’s about to freak out, he asks, “are you drunk, bess?” she nearly laughs. “no. are you drunk, samuel?” he shakes his head. she understands that serious look, now. it’s wanting. he wants her.  samuel goes to pull her the rest of the way in— “bess!”  louie’s voice and a loud knock on the door springs them apart. the lights go out.  “bess, we’re going now. and the lights are out. do you have a source of light in there? are you coming to say goodbye?” samuel lets out a long, low “fuck.” she has to clap her hand over her mouth. his nearly silent laugh ghosts over her skin as he presses his face into the curve of her neck.  (samuel kisses her there, just once, but it’s enough that her knees tremble a little and she can feel the shape of his smile too.)  “i’ll be right out!” bess calls to her brother. his shadow moves away from the door. hysterical giggles shake her shoulders. samuel’s hands slide up to hold her face. “do you wanna—” “come home with me.” she can barely make out his features in the dark (except for the want) but bess’ stomach drops anyway. the irony of no electricity is funny when she feels like sparks might burst from beneath her skin.  “okay.” * bess is deliriously happy. samuel puts down his guitar and barely lets the door close before he’s pressing bess against it with both hands. his palms are heavy and warm on her hipbones; bess wants to rock up against him but there’s a certain thrill in it, how strong he seems.  she has no idea the last time she was kissed like this.  despite how fierce it feels, samuel lets her lead. he doesn’t open his mouth until she does, touches his tongue tentatively against hers at first pass, tugs so gently on her lip with his teeth until she makes a noise like a whimper.  she should tell him maybe, that samuel made her completely forget herself, back in the alcove at saint c’s. but then bess just lets her hands find their way back into his now slightly damp hair. she’ll just relive it instead. she scrapes her nails over his scalp and samuel’s breath comes up short; it returns in something that sounds like a groan, or a snarl, and oh.  bess has to take deep breaths of her own when he pulls back, a wide-eyed glance to her face to make sure she’s alright. she can only nod. samuel’s fingertips squeeze her waist as some of that urgency seems to fade from his eyes. he trails his mouth slowly from her lips to her jaw; she tilts her head instinctively to give him room and samuel finds that same spot on her neck from her own bedroom.  his teeth and tongue press a little harder than before; he gets a gasp for his efforts. her legs feel unsteady again. bess grabs at the open sides of his button-down until samuel shrugs out of it. it drops to their feet. he doesn’t protest when bess pushes him gently, walking backwards across the apartment with his arm tight around her.  he doesn’t let go when his legs meet the edge of his bed. bess would fall into him if not for samuel keeping them upright. he drops to sit, pulling them apart, and finally bess has to take stock of herself. samuel’s face is so open, his smile so wide in a way she’s never seen before.  “still good?” he asks. bess nods.  “still good?” samuel laughs lightly. “i’m great, bess.” he reaches for her hand, his thumb brushing each of her rings in turn. “we can stop whenever you want.” she’s the one standing but bess feels smaller, strangely. instead of replying, bess steps out of her shoes. samuel’s eyes seem to darken as she slides her jacket from her shoulders and lets it pool on the floor. bess leans down and brings one knee to the bed, by his hip, balancing herself with one hand on his shoulder. samuel’s inhale is impossibly loud as he instinctively supports her with a sliding grip up the back of her thigh. bess’ skirt isn’t that short but she’s glad she didn’t trade it for jeans before she left. samuel’s face betrays how pleased he seems by her choice.  once she’s finished effectively straddling him, bess looks down from her perch.  “hi.” samuel’s knuckles stroke up and down her leg. goosebumps ripple and he smiles. “hi.” bess takes his face in both her hands and leans down as samuel tilts his chin up to meet her. she’ll never tire of kissing him. it feels like she can’t get close enough; he must have the same idea because his arms wrap around her back until bess is sitting firmly in his lap, their hips slotted together.  “can i touch you?” samuel asks against her mouth. bess nods, maybe too quickly, but she can’t bring herself to be embarrassed.  guitar callused fingers slide beneath her top. samuel reaches the slim band of her lacy bralette. he pauses, but bess leans into his hand and then he’s tracing the curve of her breast. his thumb brushes a little roughly over her nipple; bess feels an abrupt ache between her legs. “that seems pretty,” samuel murmurs in her ear, like a casual observation. “it’s a matching set,” she replies, trying not to sound too breathless. “for luck.” he pulls back with wide eyes. bess wants to laugh but she’s too busy dealing with this rush of blood to her face. she sits up carefully so they don’t knock heads and reaches for the edges of samuel’s t shirt first; he drags it over his head in one smooth, practiced motion. shit, he’s hot.  he’s staring as bess unfolds herself to stand back on the floor (her legs are still unsteady but he doesn’t need to know that) and goes to pull off her own shirt. samuel’s eyes don’t leave her face until the fabric coming over her head pulls her from view. when bess blinks him back into focus, he’s gone a little slack-jawed. she nods at his jeans and the speed at which samuel divests himself of them has her biting back a giggle. bess’ face feels hot but there’s a frisson of pride that straightens her spine. she’s not even half an arm’s length away from him. samuel touches her stomach, just above the waistband of her skirt. “can I?” bess has to swallow before she can nod. just like before, samuel stares at her face until the last half of her outfit joins the rest of their clothes in a heap. samuel’s eyes trail from her eyes to her feet and back. it takes everything in bess not to fidget. she expects to see heat in his expression but there’s only wonderment and tenderness.  “fuck, you’re so beautiful.” she has no idea what to do with that. samuel tugs her into his lap this time, intent. his kiss is searing. bess rocks into him, just once, just a little. that grip on her thighs returns, tighter. bess can only gasp a laugh into his mouth when samuel stands, holding her up against him, and turns to lower her with a kind of breathtakingly slow care onto his bed.  bess lands on her back, samuel now the one leaning over her. desire coils low in her stomach. he gently shifts her hips so they’re both actually parallel with the long edges of the comforter.  she feels inexplicably, unbearably, fond of him.  then samuel looks away. he exhales, like he’s embarrassed.  bess frowns in concern. “what is it?” samuel shakes his head. “when you look at me like that, I can’t catch my breath.” oh. it feels so strange to be the steadier one. bess reaches for his cheek, drawing samuel’s eyes back to her. “guess you’ll just have to distract me, then.” he laughs, but then as he leans down, samuel’s smile fades and bess remembers. he wants her. she can feel it. his hand slides, pleasantly rough, over her skin, sliding beneath the band of her bralette. bess seizes samuel’s lip in her teeth as he strokes back over her breast. he teases her nipple and the moment bess manages to wriggle out of the garment and tosses it away, samuel’s swapped his hand with his tongue, her other breast now teased by his clever fingers. she gasps again and she can feel him smirking. samuel diverts his mouth’s attention to her other side. bess focuses on her breathing. the storm still lashes against the windows but it feels like nothing compared to the roaring in her blood. bess slides her fingers up the nape of samuel’s neck and a few things happen at once: samuel’s free hand finds the damp junction between her legs; bess pulls his hair a tiny bit harder than intended; his teeth catch her nipple with just enough firmness that bess’ back nearly arches off the bed, along with a keening noise she didn’t even realize she could make. samuel freezes immediately. he looks up and bess has no idea what her face looks like, but all she can say is, “do that again.” he leans back down, his teeth scraping over her other breast; when he tugs, bess does too, so hard that samuel hisses.  “sorry,” she pants, “sorry.” he shakes his head, a firm denial. it might be the dark, the lightning, or the fact that bess is so fucking turned on, but samuel’s expression has veered far past wanting— into hunger. he practically leaps back up to her mouth, a kiss so fierce that their teeth nearly clack together. “your hands,” he says, like it enrages him almost, “in my hair, holy fuck.”  oh was right. “you’re one to talk about hands,” bess retorts. “can you please just–” samuel leans back. “can i please just what?” he looks smug the bastard. it would be like them to bicker in the middle of sex, wouldn’t it? but his tone is so serious when he says, “tell me what you want, bess.” that she has to squeeze her thighs together.  “please touch me.” “where?”  bess is going to kill him. samuel touches her cheek with surprising gentleness, and kisses her there. “here?” he does the same to her neck. “here?” her shoulder. he marks the valley of her breasts, the slope of her navel, the jut of her pelvic bone. “samuel,” bess says. it sounds like a plea but she doesn’t care. she can only reach his shoulder now, the back of his neck. he may have shivered but she can’t tell because she’s too busy trying to keep it together.  he finally finds the elastic of her underwear.  “okay, bess?” this question isn’t a joke. bess makes sure to meet samuel’s eye; the mixture of that desire and care makes her dizzy. “yes. please.” when his fingers have finally slid inside her, bess says “samuel,” at a level of breathlessness she only ever gets when she sings. he touches her with the same care and confidence as he does any of their instruments, until her legs tremble; samuel finds a beat with his tongue against her clit that’s so good bess has to cover her mouth when she comes.  samuel crawls back up the bed towards her. he leaves a kiss on the inside of her knee, and her shoulder, just an inch or two from where he had the first night she’d stayed here. bess feels very safe, suddenly.  “still good?” samuel asks again, a more raw edge to the question this time. bess can only affirm silently as she leans up a little to kiss him. she can taste herself in his mouth, can feel the weight of his arousal against her. bess presses up and samuel groans.  heat pulses again between her legs. “do you want,” bess starts, putting her hands on him, straining against his boxers. samuel’s whole body seems to twitch. he pulls her wrists away though with a bruising kiss.  “i’m just dying to be inside you, if that’s cool.” her stomach flips.  “very cool.” samuel smiles and goes willingly when bess rolls them over. he reaches blindly into a bedside drawer. bess catches sight of a pair of glasses and makes a mental note to ask about them when her mind’s not currently so occupied.  “shit, are these even in date?” samuel squints at the packet in his hand. “god, have i not had sex in this long?” bess can’t help but laugh. they giggle their way through confirming the expiry date, getting rid of samuel’s boxers, and rolling on the condom in the dark. for a moment they just look at each other. bess hasn’t ached like this for anyone in a long time.  “tell me what you want, samuel.” his adam’s apple bobs as he sits up. “c’mere.”  samuel pulls her forward and bess lifts her hips to line them up. he swallows her tiny gasp as she sinks down onto him; it’s been a while for her, too. samuel anchors her with one hand splayed across her back, waiting silently until bess has adjusted to the stretch.  bess rocks down experimentally and he makes an almost strangled noise in the back of his throat. a soft kiss lands on her forehead, a starkly tender inverse to nearly everything that’s happened so far, and maybe even to what they’re about to do. it settles bess and breaks her open both at once.  “okay?” he asks carefully. she nods, wrapping both her arms around his neck. “you’re amazing, you know that?” samuel murmurs over her lips. his own hips swing up towards hers and wow. “bess.” she was right, before. he’s strong.  they get a rhythm going quickly enough, like another harmony that comes so easy. the angle has bess’ clit pressing with beautiful pressure against samuel’s pelvis; she clenches down just as he thrusts up. he curses and it just stokes that flame hotter inside of her. after a certain point bess can’t even speak anymore. she has both her hands in samuel’s hair and he’s latched back onto the curve between her neck and shoulder, teeth and tongue and words like, fuck and tight and good and bess— “samuel i—” he looks up at her face like he wants to commit it to memory.  “bess.” and she’s gone again. * when they’ve caught their breath and tidied up, bess and samuel find themselves side by side in his bathroom, a sweet reflection of that night from weeks ago. she’s glad she thought to bring her toothbrush. samuel keeps staring at her in the mirror.  “what?”  does she have toothpaste on her face? he just shakes his head, the way he does when he laughs to himself.  “nothing. you just look better in my t-shirts than i do.”  bess rolls her eyes but her face feels hot anyway. “weirdo.” it feels good not to have to wonder as they head back to his bed. samuel drags her immediately towards him beneath the covers, his cool hands greedy beneath her borrowed sleepwear as her back curves against his chest. he plants a minty kiss above her shoulder-blade where his shirt’s slipped down. bess shivers and he leaves another on the back of her neck. “sorry,” he murmurs, and bess flips around to look at him.  “for what?” the storm broke finally, and amber light of the street through his windows feels just as safe and warm as it had before. but samuel is the one who seems afraid, now.  “i don’t want to freak you out.” “you’re not freaking me out,” bess insists. “tell me.” samuel hesitates. bess reaches out to touch his face.  “hey. i don’t scare that easy either, you know.” he exhales a faint laugh. it’s so rare to see samuel seem unsure, or fragile. it makes bess feel thrillingly off-centre.  “i don’t think i’ll ever be able to stop wanting you.”  she’s falling.  “and not just—” samuel nods vaguely at their general closeness. “this. i mean all of it. the music, your family, everything. i know it’s probably a bad idea to start things with bandmates or whatever but i just—”  bess doesn’t let him finish. she can only pour all her affection for him into a kiss, taking samuel’s huff of surprise in her mouth even as he reaches for her waist to pull her closer, then on top of him.  when she pulls away he seems a little dazed.  “you make the bad days okay,” bess says firmly and samuel smiles with such near-adoration that she understands it now, that loss of air. “so we’ll figure it out, okay? one day at a time.” samuel nods. “okay.”  and he pulls her back down. * bess wakes up with words in her mind.  samuel’s grip is so tight that at first she doesn’t think he’ll let her go. but bess manages to slide away, picking up his hand gently and lifting his arm. she looks at his sleeping face and kisses his knuckles.  samuel’s lips curve a little and if she looks too hard she could be in love with him already.  she knows where he keeps blank sheet paper in his production area. bess finds a pen and a coffee table book about new york parks; she sits on the edge of the bed to scrawl, humming to herself.  she doesn’t realize he’s up until a familiar press of lips lands on her neck. bess will never stop shivering and samuel will apparently never stop smiling about it.  “hi,” he mumbles. his voice is low and gravely with sleep. bess files that away under the list of things that does something to her. samuel hooks his chin over her shoulder and bess lifts her work to accommodate his arms sliding around her waist. “new idea?” bess nods. “thinking about what you said to me.”  she’s circled can’t catch my breath at the top of the page. samuel goes very still. it feels like it could crush them, the weight of this kind of intimacy. but at least bess doesn’t have to carry it alone. “wanna write with me?”  she turns her head to look at him; samuel’s surprise will never not be thrilling.  “will you let me add a back beat?”  he’s already reaching for his guitar. bess laughs.  “i could maybe be persuaded.” the way his eyebrow lifts makes her stomach jump. “duly noted.” (they do finish the song, eventually.  the morning just gets away from them first.) 

[aonogifreactions]

Also, I happened to be perusing your tag list for Mephy dearest and noticed you didn’t do before/during/after mating season headcanons for him, so if you’d be so kind when you have time? (And Amaimon too if he hasn’t been done cuz my stupid ass forgot to check him before requesting) thanks in advance~ ;) ❤️

hI HELLo and welcome! it is me! and im actually writing! *applause* i actually dont remember if ive done amaimon before, so i wrote about him too. no regrets. enjoy! :eyes:

Mephisto:

Before:

gets hella irritated by anything, doesn't talk much. is really grumpy, has weird cravings, pretty much feels like he’s pregnant.

is easily flustered, so you better not start a fight with him.

is brutally, and i mean, BRUTALLY honest with you and everyone else.

“Why did you buy me a banana milkshake? I wanted the strawberry one!” *cries on the floor* or *tosses the milkshake on the floor and leaves*

he can get really cold towards you, whether it’s your fault or someone else’s. will say some cryptic shit, might even expose your secrets, use you for his plans, but! he won’t kill ya, don’t worry. unless...?

he informs you a few days prior to his “grumpy days” to not be with him much. Mephy’s literally giving you a warning, and I advise you to listen to him, lmao.

During:

immediately calls you when his “grumpy days” are over, telling you how much he missed you. practically screams into his phone.

this quickly can get steamy, since he’s just.. to be blatant, horny. will start his famous dirty talk, hell, you can even get some dick pics to your collection.

expects you to be available all the time. like you’re taking a bath? poof! you’re in his office, cuz he needs you right there and right now. 

gets uncharacteristically subby and very desperate during his mating season. his pathetic whines to touch him, to let him release all that thick cum.

speaking about cum, he cums a fucking ton. It's thick, kinda white-ish, and S W E E T, I kid you not!

God, don't even mention tail play. He's gonna cream his pants 3 times when you only just try to touch the tip of his tail.

When you're mean, however, pull his tail a little bit or keep rubbing it's tip. He'll moan as loud as he can, with a slight smirk on his face, tongue lolled out.

He does aheago face, no one can convince me otherwise.

Pops out of nowhere, stating: "Darling, I might need your help…", then slowly places your hand on his bulge.

Has no shame. Literally. He wants, and will grope you whenever he can. Especially your chest.

Is willing to use toys on him. He just wants that sweet release, no matter with what way he's going to achieve that.

giving him a blowjob might make him literally explode with confetti.

Feels a HUGE need to mark you, even more than before. You need to stop him though, sometimes he draws blood; during this time he usually gets lost in pleasure and kinda drifts away from reality. Just flick his forehead. Or smack him really hard.

After:

He,,, feels a bit "embarrassed". Every time he's after his mating season, just thinking bout his actions and that desperateness.. really makes him cringe.

Makes it up for you, apologizes for hurting you just in case; however, "you should've known what you signed up for, sweetheart."

is now his usual, annoying self; considers having you as dom from time to time.

Amaimon:

Before:

c l i n g y. all the damn time. will not let you go anywhere without him.

eats 2x more sweets than usual. I feel sorry for your bank account.

gets really talkative??? talks non-stop. this is so out of character he’s surprised himself.

does THE STUPIDEST things while possibly risking his host’s health. Ha, see that tall building? what would happen if you two jumped off of it-

W H I N E S.

During:

you better have health insurance just in case.

wants to fuck you anywhere it’s possible to. even in the air.

goes full-on demon mode, his pupils sharpen, his ears change, as well as the tail. his breathing gets louder as well.

gets a bit more aggressive; pulls you by the hand and literally rips your clothes off. he will fuck you whenever he wants to. you’re his fucktoy and there’s no other way but to accept it.

he snarls! right into your ear! :chill:

his “nails” change into claws that can dig into your skin quite painfully; be sure to remind him when he goes overboard!

despite being a literal killing machine, he doesn’t want to kill you, especially during intercourse. Which means! he actually knows when its a bit too much for you. It’s somewhere.. but it is!

loves pain! and unfortunately, you digging your pretty nails into his back isn’t enough. he’s satisfied when he’s all bloody, with bruises and small wounds (that will heal quickly, so don't worry.)

pulls your hair a lot, especially when you blow him.

marks you with his cum.. everywhere. in your mouth, on your chest, stomach, ass, or his favorite place - your gorgeous face.

will try to breed you. just imagining your tight pussy filled with his cum that’ll make your stomach all pretty and round is driving him crazy. (even though.. he doesn’t really like kids?)

in addition, he loves the sight of your mixed juices dripping out of you. that makes him even more aroused than before.

is capable of eating you out for HOURS. and I literally mean hours! his face gets all messy, your silk on every single part of his face.

After:

acts like nothing happened.

i could just end it here.

might feel a lil bad if he hurt you; this is when he shows that he’s capable of actual lovemaking. this is kinda his apology to you, since he’s awful with words.

[theres-a-goldensky]

26 + 2 Various BL Series Fic Recs

Fandoms included in this fic rec list: Love By Chance, TharnType, Until We Meet Again, My Engineer, 2 Moons, HIStory3: Trapped (plus a bit of bonus Theory of Love and WHY R U?)

I’ve found a handful of good fics for all of these tiny pairings that I am newly obsessed with, and I thought I’d share them with you if you’re also looking for something good to read. Please, if you have recs of your own, point me in the direction of any other good stuff!

As ever, feel free to reblog and check out my other rec lists for the following fandoms:

The Untamed list one and two - various pairings, mostly Wangxian

IT chapter 2 list one and two - Reddie 

Good Omens - Aziraphale/Crowley

Or just head over to my bookmarks on AO3.

(All recs are complete) (I’ve noted pairings, length, and rating, but not any warnings or additional tags.)

** denotes personal favorite

LOVE BY CHANCE / THARNTYPE

1. the count up series by sweetiejelly - Tin/Can - ~34,000 words, explicit - A fix-it fic post-canon where Tin and Can slowly work out their issues with some missteps and learning along the way.

So two weeks later, when Can first does it, Tin doesn't know what to do. For the longest while, he just turns off his phone screen. And then turns it back on.

good night, tin. it's been a while but i promised to say good night. so, good night, sleep well.

Every damn time the text is still there.

In the end, Tin deletes it.

The next morning, Can does it again.

good morning, tin. looks like rain today. don't forget your umbrella.

Tin deletes it.

The texts keep coming.

2. ** LBC Aftermath series by Mara - LBC/TharnType crossover- ~6700 words, mature - Were you too horrified by Techno’s ending in LBC? This author feels your pain and did her part to get some justice for Techno. This fic has zero sympathy for Kengkla, which I deeply appreciated. This will help you work out some of your anger. It features LBC!Techno and the TharnType versions of Tharn and Type. Mind the warnings, since this deals with the serious consequences of Kengkla’s actions.

Kengkla stayed at the house through the morning and Techno was so jumpy he nearly leaped out of his skin every time Kla looked at him or talked to him. Even though Kla had explained what happened and how he wasn’t upset to be dating, Techno still felt weird. He kind of wished he remembered what had happened. A guy should remember how he lost his virginity, right?

Kla grabbed him in a big hug and Techno froze, managing a weak grin when Kla pulled back to smile at him. “I’ve got to go home now. But I’ll call you later. Let me know if you go somewhere.”

“O-okay.” Techno stared as the boy let himself out the front door.

3. 5 + 1 by strokeofluck - Tin/Can- ~3600 words, rated general - This is a sweet story about the times when Pete sees Tin having feelings for Can. 

Pete weighed his options as he glanced back and forth between Tin and Can. Can didn’t seem to be bothered by the whole thing, he even had a shy smile on his face. Or at least, Pete thought it was a shy smile, he had never really seen this kind of expression coming from Can before.

He could let this whole thing go, he supposed, but he didn’t really want to. It was time for him to finally say to Tin: I told you so.

“You were born in Bangkok,” he said, casting a wide net and hoping Can would find himself caught in it.

Can did.

4. That Testified Surprise by Mara - Techno/Tharn/Type - ~7000 words, mature - This is a LBC canon rewrite that stars the TharnType version of all three characters. Type realizes something is not...quite...right with Kengkla and invites Techno to stay with him and Tharn instead of going home drunk.

Pouring Techno into the passenger seat, Type sat down in the driver’s seat and pulled the phone out to check it, entering the passcode. (The passcode was the birthday of Thai national football team captain Siwarak Tedsungnoen, of course. Duh.)

Fuck, it looked like Nic had been either texting or calling every 20 minutes since they got to the bar. What was up there?

Scrolling back through the evening’s texts, Type scowled harder. Loving brother or not, this was fucking creepy. Going back farther, it looked like it was a pattern. Did the kid do anything other than pester his brother about his whereabouts?

THARNTYPE

5. everything he wants by minkit - ~5100 words, explicit - Type accidentally ruins one of Tharn’s shirts and agrees to do whatever Tharn wants to make up for it. Which means it’s porn stretched over the bare bones of a plot, and it’s great. 

Tharn’s hands moved across the bed, slowly, inch by inch and it was frustrating because Type knew they were heading to him, but Tharn took his sweet time. And then they were covering his hands and Tharn’s face was mere centimeters from his and Type could barely breathe. It took everything he had not to lean forward and capture those lips that also belonged to him, but he had a feeling if he tried, Tharn wouldn’t let him. He had that look on his face and Type knew what it meant.

He knew he was in for a long rest of the night.

6. You’ve Got Mail by perthbysaint - ~7800 words, explicit - Type sends Tharn nudes at the most inconvenient times.

A selfie? From Type? Tharn was thanking all of his lucky stars as he happily taps to load the image. The picture loads and Tharn’s phone slips from his suddenly lax grip. Convinced he couldn’t have just seen what he thought he just saw, he picks his phone up hastily and stares very intently at the picture.

It’s a mirror selfie, obviously taken in a changing room, but that thought comes secondary to thighs. Type is holding the camera in front of his face to take the picture, shirt clenched in his other hand and pulled up slightly to show off the shorts. The fucking shorts. He had seen Type in his soccer gear before and yes, Type has most definitely asked for the wrong size and Tharn is more grateful than he’s ever been for anything in his whole life. The shorts are riding up so high they can’t cover more than a few inches of skin, Type’s smooth, powerful thighs on full display. On the inside of his left thigh, there’s a tiny purple mark peeking out from under the bottom of the shorts. Tharn knows exactly what it is because he was the one who left it there just two days ago when he sucked marks into Type’s thighs for a half-hour before he slung Type’s legs over his shoulders and ate him out until Type was sobbing fat tears and begging Tharn to let him come.

7. pet names series by LokelaniRose - ~50,000 words, explicit - A series of post-episode fics that gives us the sex that the show only hinted at, starting with the shower scene.

Tharn prides himself on his self-control. All his passion and intensity is saved for his music, when he’s safely behind a drum kit and can let it all out. He’s never been as irritated by anyone else as he is by Type and all his playground bullying nonsense. Something about the other boy just shakes something loose inside him, rattles at Tharn’s iron discipline until he has to grit his teeth constantly not to just – what? Kiss him? Kill him? Tharn has enough composure (and pride) to put up a front that’s all smiles and wry amusement, but really he regularly skips between one of two daydreams – twisting Type’s head off or fucking him into the ground.

(Tharn is absolutely not going to admit to the third set of daydreams, of curling up around Type when he’s cold or cheering him on at matches or bringing him home to meet Tharn’s father. Nope, no, definitely not.)

2MOONS SERIES

8. ** The universe where we do not commit reckless, unlubricated buttsex by startledoctopus - Forth/Beam - ~8700 words, explicit - This is a great story about Beam giving in and trying to seduce Forth the same way he seduced all of those girls in his past. This Forth is great, and the story retcons their first time to something far more pleasant for Beam.

   "We're heading into a unit on disorders of the spine and I need to review my basic skeletal and muscular anatomy. But it feels stupid to keep studying these weird-looking diagrams and drawings." None of this was, strictly speaking, factual, but an engineering major wouldn't know any different. Beam gathered up all his bravado, walked behind Forth, and began rucking up his shirts as if this were completely normal.

   "What! I..."

   "Shut up, I need to look at a real back so I know what I'll be looking at as a doctor." Forth let him take the shirts off, glancing back at him several times but giving in meekly to Beam's stern look. Forth shuffled the papers some more.

   "All right. Okay, um...Ah!" Beam smirked at Forth's reaction as he ran his thumbs down the nape of his neck.

9. Good Things Come To by sweetiejelly - Ming/Kit - ~4300 words, explicit - Kit gets drunk and reveals more of his feelings for Ming than he probably means to.

"Hmm." Kit closes his eyes and leans his head back on the headrest. "Ming, Ming, Ming. Do you know your name's a kiss? I'm kissing the air everytime I say 'Ming'!" Kit pops his mouth and it pops Ming's mind a bit. "And then I think about kissing you. Why do you make me think about you so damn much? You're so annoying, Ming. No one's ever..." and Kit leans to the side, almost like he's going to conk out or throw up, only to straighten back up. "... made me this crazy."

Oh shit. Ming doesn't know what to do with all of this information. He knew somewhere deep down that Kit likes him. Kit's eyes can't lie. Kit's mouth can't either, the cusses coming out whenever he's keyed up and flustered, and then there are his kisses.

10 + 11. ** how to fail flirt your way into his heart (a guide by Kit) and a little conversation (and a little action please) by sweetiejelly - Ming/Kit - ~30,000 words, explicit in the second part - This story makes a tiny plot divergence. It has Kit put a little more effort into finding out if Ming is really into Yo and then from there, it loosely follows the plot of the show with some key differences. I really enjoyed this.

"Can I have your number?" Kit mentally face-palms. Why? Damn Pha. Damn Beam. Just damn everything, ugh. He has never flirted in his life. Pin asked him out, okay? He doesn't know how to do this. "I'm Kit, Phana's friend," he says, trying to make it less weird.

"I'm Ming. And of course, P'Kit!" Ming flashes him an easy grin and holds out his hand.

Oh right, the phone. Kit shoves it at Ming, nearly hitting him in the chest. Great, he's acing this.

Ming smiles at him, bemused or confused, probably both, and brushes his hand, totally unnecessarily, over the back of Kit's hand as he takes the phone. "In case of emergency, right?" Ming looks up at him from under his lashes and boy, this nong is brazen.

12. ** In Control series by LokelaniRose - Ming/Kit - ~27,000 words, explicit - Kit struggles to tell Ming that he wants something other than the careful, gentle sex they’ve been having. Ming discovers that Kit has some anxiety and panic problems. He also discovers what helps him feel better. [spoilers: these two things are connected.] I love how attentive and caring Ming is throughout this series. The anxious Kit also rings true to the character we saw on the show.

But now that Kit is fretting over things, he might as well fret over this as well. So Ming is great in bed. And let’s be honest, Kit probably isn’t. He hasn’t had a hundred previous partners – okay, tiny exaggeration, but still – and doesn’t know all the fancy moves and techniques and tricks…and just like everything else, in bed Ming is somehow casual and sincere at the same time. He never seems to want anything except what Kit wants, is always happy to do whatever, to take his time making slow, gentle love to Kit. Kit knows that he always comes at least – he secretly really likes it when Ming comes, he’s not quite sure why – but what if there’s more that Kit could be doing, to make it better for him? If Kit was better in bed maybe it would make up for being a shitty boyfriend in other areas, one who can’t be nice in public or talk about his feelings.

UNTIL WE MEET AGAIN

13. another nightmare fic by itsmylifekay - Win/Team - ~2300 words, not rated - Team tries to sleep without Win and it doesn’t go well. 

Team’s room feels suffocating, the air too thick and the space too dark and the covers sticking to his skin with sweat. His breaths are too loud in the quiet, but the quiet itself is deafening. It reminds him of the water. The muted sounds. The frantic pounding of his heart. (The same one he feels now echoed in his chest.)

Flashes of the dream come back to him unbidden.

Everything is too dark, too bright, no way to see what way is up or what way is down. He’s trapped. Can’t get out. Can’t breathe.

14. ** Different With You by blackrose9212 - Win/Team - ~6900 words, teen - It’s open swim week, which means that the swimming club offers free lessons to any of the students who would like to participate. Team doesn’t understand why his teammates hate it so much - until he does. Great jealousy in this one from both sides. 

“Nice to meet you,” the boy gushes. “I hope you don’t mind, but I’d like to join your group. Auntie said there needs to be at least three people, and no one was sitting across from you two. I’ve been paying attention so I already have ideas. Is that okay?” Team watches as he pulls out his books and drops them onto the table, pushing them a little farther out so they’re nearly touching Win’s notebook.

Team shrugs. “Sure, that’s fine. I don’t think Win has been paying attention so I’m glad you have an idea of what’s going on.”

Win hits him lightly at the back of the hand and Film giggles behind his hand. “Oh, no, P’Win looks very smart. I’m sure he’s been listening.” He looks at Win and smiles a little, blushing when Win gives him a smile back.

Team looks between the two of them. Then back at Film, who’s watching Win leaf through his literature textbook like he’s never seen anything so beautiful, and then past Film at the table he left from, where he sees three boys, laughing behind their hands and making cooing faces.

15. seven hundred thirteen by Kiranokira - Win/Team - ~6800 words, mature - Win spends two years abroad in England, and he and Team have to navigate a long distance relationship. It’s very sweet and written very true to life. 

“I kind of hoped you were going to show up at the airport tomorrow morning and chase the plane,” Win says. He kisses Team’s hair, lingering there to memorize the fresh, clear scent.

Team says, “Is it weird that I thought about doing that?” and Win feels him smile against his shoulder.

It’s late, nearly nine thirty, and Win had plans of how to spend tonight that can’t be realized anymore. He wanted to invite Team to dinner with his family. He wanted to play video games with Team and View. He wanted to talk about London with Waan and Team. He wanted to include Team in his family’s warmth in some small way, to make him feel less lonely.

He can’t do any of that now but he still wants to sneak Team upstairs and have him in his arms all night. He wouldn’t, but he wants to. It’s been a month since he moved off campus permanently, and weeks since he was last able to spend a night alone with Team.

16. ** You Can Cry by Kiranokira - Win/Team - ~19,600 words, mature - Win goes missing while on vacation with some friends. Team is left at home trying to handle it. I like the way the author built up to the accident happening. They did a good job creating tension and showing us exactly how Team felt about Win. And spoilers, this story has a happy ending.

“You’re going to fail out of university,” Team tells him. “You’re not really going, are you?”

Win rolls onto his side and perches his cheek on his hand. “What if I say yes?” he asks. “Will you miss me?”

Team’s warning look is more venomous than usual. “Not at all,” Team says, and Win smirks because that isn’t true and they both know it. “You still shouldn’t go. What if you miss the flight back? You’ll fail out and I’ll break up with you for being a dumbass.”

The very recent phenomenon of Team acknowledging that they’re a couple has its usual melting effect on Win’s heart.

2GETHER

17. ** Love Songs on Our Skin series by Kari_Kurofai - Sarawat/Tine - ~15,700 words, explicit - A soulmark AU where Tine is born with the notes to a song that hasn’t yet been written wrapped around his chest. I enjoyed how Tine’s obliviousness in the show carries over to this fic. 

Only Mr. Chic would have a song no one had ever fucking heard of permanently etched on his chest. For fuck's sake .

Still, he waves it off, and he tries not to look too closely at other people's marks. Tries being the key word. He doesn't envy the elegant watercolors of a guitar pick and an open novel he catches sight of on the wrists of some couple's interlinked hands when he's in town. And he certainly doesn't envy the dude he once saw in a coffee shop with the words " I hate you " scrawled across the back of his neck. But yeah, okay, he might be a little jealous of the people who are lucky enough to have something as simple as their soulmate's name on their skin. That definitely isn't fair.

"Why couldn't it at least have been a Scrubb song?" he asks the mirror as he wipes it clear shower-born condensation. The mirror and him are well acquainted with this conversation by now. In fact, the mirror sees the stupid mark more than anyone, so it might as well put up with his equally stupid questions. "It could have been 'Together.' Just think of it, how romantic it would be to meet some cute girl's eyes after bumping into them at a concert, my favorite song playing . . ." He draws a nail over the winding bars of the music on his chest, frowning. "That would be so much easier."

18. Drown Your Sorrows by HyacinthsSoul - 2gether/Theory of Love - Sarawat and Third meet at a bar and bond over being in love with oblivious men.

“No, he’s an angel,” Sarawat says. “Unfortunately he’s a very stupid, very straight angel.”

“Mine’s stupid too,” the other man admits. “But definitely no angel. I’m Third, by the way,” he adds, offering a slender hand to shake.

“Sarawat,” says Sarawat. “Can I buy you another? I think we’re drinking the same thing, although I can’t remember what it’s called.”

20. ** Your Body Is My Instrument by Kari_Kurofai - Sarawat/Tine - ~12,000 words, explicit - This fic does a good job doing what, in this reccer’s humble opinion, the series failed to: showing Tine attracted to Sarawat. There’s great first time sex and some fun sexual tension. Plus, we get to see them switch off, which is extremely rare in BL. And most importantly: hand kink.

It starts innocently enough. Or, well, innocently enough for a guy whose first words to him were, “Keep looking at me like that and I’ll kiss you till you drop.” So, you know. It starts kinda like that.

They’ve been officially dating for a grand sum total of three days and altogether not that much has changed. Except that Sarawat touches him more now. Normally this would be fine, no big deal, right? But Sarawat has magic, evil hands, and apparently all he has to do is glance Tine’s way to deduce the exact right places and ways to touch Tine to drive him up the fucking wall.

And the worst part is it’s almost never the same place or the same way twice, and the only warning Tine ever gets is that sneaky little glint Sarawat gets in his eyes just before he does it, the bastard.

MY ENGINEER

21. Cool Boy(friend) by HyacinthsSoul - Ram/King - ~22,000 words, explicit - So this is technically a WIP, but each chapter feels like a completed fic without a cliffhanger or anything. This is a very sweet, comfortable story about King and Ram getting to know each other as their relationship develops.

In the selfie King sends, he’s holding up a full shot glass while someone’s arm reaches into the frame to hand him another kind of drink, something tall with a straw and a paper umbrella. Ram frowns. Whose arm is that? The person is wearing a red long-sleeved shirt, which doesn’t match what any of their friend group was wearing, and the engineer bar doesn’t offer table service.

Frowning, Ram looks back through the previous photos until he spots a detail he’d overlooked before: a red-shirted man at a neighboring table. He’s visible in the background of two or three pictures taken by Tee, and in each of them he’s staring intently at King.

Not that it’s any of Ram’s business. Not that he cares.

HISTORY3: TRAPPED

22. it’s too late (to turn back now) by stebeee - Tang Yi/Meng Shao Fei - ~7200 words, general audiences - Canon divergence fic where Tang Yi pushes Shao Fei away after he saves Hong Ye in order to try and protect him. Shao Fei reacts to that about as well as you’d expect.

“Tang Yi, what do you mean-“

“I think you’ve fooled around for long enough,” Tang Yi interrupts, his voice cold, nothing like the man who had dabbed at his lips with a cotton bud last night, the man who had smiled at him when he made the cannon joke.

“You’ve disrupted my life, and the life of my family and friends in the past few weeks, Meng Shao Fei. This has gone for long enough,” he continues, unwavering. “I don’t want to have anything more to do with you. Take a good rest here in the hospital, and I’ll get someone to pack up your things back at the house. Jack will deliver it back to your apartment.”

23 + 24. ** just waiting, waiting (on you) and between you and me by stebeee - Tang Yi/Meng Shao Fei - ~16,000 words, general audiences - These are stories about how Shao Fei and the rest of the gang deal over the years when Tang Yi is in jail. Found family fics are my jam, so I loved this.

The thing is, it’s been almost three months of this. 90 days, give or take. 2,160 hours. 129,600 minutes. And more than 7 million seconds of this — not having Tang Yi at his side.

Shao Fei wonders for a moment if he will ever stop seeing Tang Yi in every corner of the house. When he comes down the stairs in the morning, some part of him expects to see Tang Yi standing at the kitchen island with a bright smile, asking him if he wants jam with his toast that morning. Shao Fei sees Tang Yi in that apron he loves, cooking at the stove when he fixes himself dinner, alone in the spacious kitchen. Seeing Tang Yi’s favourite blue bathrobe, Shao Fei can almost see Tang Yi leaving the bathroom, his hair all wet and falling over his eyes.

25. amuse bouche by sarahyyy - Jack/Zhao Zi - ~2400 words, general audiences - This is more of Jack seducing Zhao Zi through food and attention. So basically an extension of the show. Mother hen Jack is the cutest.

“Jack?” Zhao Zi murmurs blearily. “Why are you here?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were sick?” Jack shoots back, herding Zhao Zi back into the house. He checks for Zhao Zi’s temperature with the back of his hand. “Fever?”

“Just the flu for now, I think?” Zhao Zi says.

Jack purses his lips. “Have you had anything to eat?”

“I had some bread earlier?” Zhao Zi says, but he also looks shifty enough that Jack mostly takes it with a grain of salt.

26. Absolutely Nothing Goes Wrong by anon - Jack/Zhao Zi - ~4500 words, teen - This is an AU where Zhao Zi is the son of a rival mob boss, but he’s still, you know HIMSELF. And when his father says he’s useless, he decides to prove him wrong by seducing Tang Yi’s second-in-command. It’s absolutely adorable.

The man pulled him by the arm, resisting Zhao Zi’s attempts to unhook his claws without causing a scene.

“Hey, stop grabbing me!” he shouted, as the other man played deaf.

“While I admit this is a very loud bar, I didn’t think it was quite so easy to mishear what this young man just yelled straight into your ear,” a newcomer who’d witnessed their conflict said lightly as he walked up to them. His words were accompanied by a wide, almost chilling smile. Zhao Zi blinked once and the odd peculiarity of that smile vanished, leaving just a regular smile in its place. He must’ve just been imagining things under the harsh shadows of the dimly lit bar.

AND +2

Because I’m shameless, I’ll add my own two fics to the end, if you’re interested.

WHY R U?

27. Sorry A Thousand Times - Fighter/Tutor - ~3200 words, explicit - This is a canon divergence for the series finale. I needed more catharsis after the intensity of episode 12.

Tutor narrowed his eyes and clenched his fists at his sides. He took a deep breath. “How many times do I have to tell you to leave me alone before you listen?” he asked. I don’t know how many more times I can bring myself to say it.

“Only once,” Fight said and then added, “if you mean it.”

Tutor crossed his arms over his chest and said, “What makes you think I don’t mean it now?”

The corner of Fight’s mouth turned up and he took a step closer. Tutor stumbled back until he was stopped by his legs hitting the edge of the bed. Fight reached out a hand and gently ran the back of his fingers over the line of Tutor’s jaw.

Until We Meet Again

28. Dream On - Win/Team - 8900 words, explicit - Takes place alongside show canon, so that we see how the bed sharing began and how Win and Team’s relationship developed over that year.

“Do you want to do well tomorrow?” Win asked, throwing one of his legs over both of Team’s.

“Yes,” Team said as he did his best to put some space between them on the tiny mattress.

“Then you need to get some sleep. I’m helping.”

“How is this helping?” Team demanded.

“Would you stop…” Win said, shifting closer every time Team pulled away. “Five minutes, Team. Just be still for five minutes, okay?”

[thethoughtsfromthreeam]

A Work of Art

Pairing: The Mandalorian/ Din Djarin x Reader

Warnings: None

A/N: @mandowhorian posted a prompt that came across my dash and goddamn it, I had to write it.  Why does my brain do this to me when I got another fic to finish?  

Also @amarvelousmandalorian wrote a ditty that gave me the jump I needed.  Won’t ever be as good as some people’s but whatever, I had to get it out on paper, so to speak.

Reminder:  I ain’t ever seen Pedro Pascal in FUCK ALL, I’m just coming up with this as I go along, using imdb.com, wiki, and 84,000 tabs I got open to plan out this shit.  I also write soft versions of his characters so if you’re craving asshole vibes, I ain’t got any but my own to offer.

Tags:  @zeldasayer , @romanticgumchewer, @beskars​ , @coolmaybelateruniverse , @the-feckless-wonder, @lavenderl3mons , @pascalisthepunkest , @mandoandyodito​ , @randomness501 , @fioccodineveautunnale  

---***---

When she heard footsteps coming up the walkway, she rose from her chair to open the door.  She had just finished setting the table up for a meal, wondering if the man coming to her was going to enjoy her baked goods.  At least the house smelled of warm sugar rather than the bitterness of oil paint that usually permeated the space.

“Mandalorian!”  She called, waving at him with a large smile on her face.  She made a small note that his arms were empty of the little green being he had taken under his wing.  “I didn’t think you’d reach me by sundown, the rains have made the forest roads a little treacherous.  Come in, the tea is almost ready!”

He stopped in his tracks, confusion radiating off him and she laughed. She was his bounty and she was inviting him in for tea?  As he began to walk again, his steps were less certain as if he expected her to ambush him.  He kept his hand near his blaster and continued up the stone pathway.  

When he entered, the room seemed to shrink to half its size and for a moment, the Mandalorian felt awkward and unsure.  He mentally berated himself for letting these odd thoughts invade his mind.  She was the damn bounty and who cares if he was practically a bull in a china shop in her home?  She was coming with him and it wouldn’t be hers for much longer.

“Where is the little one?  I hope you haven’t left him on the ship unattended.  I thought you’d have learned not to do that.  No matter, we can make up a basket for you to take back.  I’m sure you hardly have anything homemade in your storehouse.”  She busied herself preparing plates of food and motioned for him to sit as she poured tea into heavy cups made of local wood.  He didn’t move, completely unnerved by her comments.  In the blink of an eye, he drew his blaster and pointed it at her.  She merely smiled and his irritation grew.

“How do you know about the kid?”  He growled at her, the hairs on his neck standing on end.  What the hell was going on?  Nothing about this seemed right to him.

“Exactly how I know about you, Din.  And why you’re here.  Please sit. I know you won’t eat with me around, but we can at least chat a bit.”  When he didn’t move, she looked at him pointedly.  “You sat on this job for four days even though you knew it could be done in twenty minutes.  Sit down.”

She had him there.  He sat down with a large thump and she worried he would break the wooden chair, sending himself sprawling into the stone wall behind him.  She giggled a bit at the image, wondering if he’d knock himself senseless in that helmet of his.  He pointed the blaster at her again.

“Talk, bounty.”

“I am Force sensitive, much like your little one and I know the Empire wishes to use us to regain power in the galaxy.  That’s why you were sent after us.”

“Okay, but that doesn’t tell me how you know me or my name.”  He still sounded hard, but he wasn’t growling at he any longer.  Only a select few knew his name and no one since Mandalore had fallen had spoken it directly to him until Moff Gideon said it on Nevarro.  And now this woman was speaking his name as sure as if they had been paired all their lives.

“I’ve always known you.”  Behind the mask, Din’s jaw dropped and his hold on the blaster wobbled a bit.

“How?”

“The Force.  Come with me.”  When she rose, she skirted the table and laid a hand on his shoulder.  Even through the layers of cloth and beskar, he could feel her warmth.  He angled his helmet to look at her before standing up.  He towered over her, his suit of armor crowding her out.  She turned and walked through a small door and motioned for him to come in.

When entered he stopped and in his state of shock, the blaster fell from his hand.  He was surrounded by. . . himself.  The walls covered in images of his face in different mediums – oil, chalk, crayon, pastels, acrylics, ink, and even embroidery.  No two pictures were the same and he slowly began to walk around the studio, taking it all in.  

He saw his face as a child before it went under the helmet and there in a pencil drawing was his face after a night out with Ran’s crew.  He looked up and saw a small portrait of himself holding the kid with the mudhorn insignia behind them.  All around him his face – his history – was charted on these walls.  Goosebumps broke out on his skin as he turned, seeking answers.

“When was I was ten, the Force began to grant me visions and sight.  By the time I was fourteen, I saw your face for the first time.  I was so in tune with your essence that I begun to draw you, to try and figure out who you were to me.”

“What did you discover?”

“You’re my soulmate.”

“Your what?!”  He barked out a laugh, utterly shocked at her words.  Soulmate?  People really believed that tripe?  He shook his head.

“How else to do you explain any of this?”  He shrugged until she pointed to a picture on the mantle.  He walked over and his breath hitched in his throat.  It was his face on Nevarro, right before he nearly died.  It was a harsh painting, dark with heavy blots of paint.  The image was almost grainy, and he could feel pain radiating from it, but he wasn’t entirely sure if it were his or hers.  He shuttered as he turned away.

“I watched you nearly die, Din.  I felt it in my very core as your life force leaked from you and a part of me was taken with it.”  She walked up to him and raised her hand. She tapped the back of his helmet, right over where the scar was.  “Here. Right here is where my life nearly ended had it not been for a droid.”

There was no way for her to have known what transpired on Nevarro nor where his scar was. And yet, she did and when she touched his helmet, it was as if there was no metal between them.  He could almost feel her soft fingertips along his skin.

“I do not know why the Force thought a Mandalorian would be good for me. But it did.  And I have been haunted for years as you were reckless with Ran.  I watched with pride as you became the most feared bounty hunter in the galaxy.  My heart clenched when you showed what a good man you are Din Djarin when you went back for that little one and saved his life. And I know you have thought about me.”

“What?  I’ve never seen you before in my life and certainly I haven’t felt anything like you’re describing.”  His goosebumps were turning to shivers that he tried to ignore – little fissures of truth coming out of the darkness to shame him.  This was too weird, and he shook his head as if to clear everything.  A simple bounty, that was all this was supposed to be.

“Give me your hand.”  She looked at him and he looked down at her.  When he didn’t move, she asked again.  This time he complied and held it out to her.  She looked at him while removing his glove, exposing his calloused hand to her. She laid her own soft hand on his and closed her eyes.  Din stood rock still as he could feel her in his mind, in his soul.  Her voice sounded in his brain.

“Din.  Remember.” His eyes closed and suddenly a rush of memories came to him.  Gut-wrenching tears as he laid dying.  A smile that rang with laughter that he heard on the wind after receiving his sigil.  A horrified gasp as he shot IG-11.  A small caress filled with warmth as he laid in the Razor Crest while tracking a bounty on Hoth.  A voice telling him to go the other way as he got lost in the jungles of Byss.  A pair of eyes staring at him with love as he renounced Ran’s crew and left.  Even further back to days on Mandalore when a girl made eyes at him that he didn’t return because the specter of a face in his mind told him to wait for her.

He gasped loudly as these broken images formed together into her. His bounty.  She had always been there and yet she hadn’t.  He opened his eyes to watch her staring at him with a calm look on her face.  Those eyes, her voice, that face.  He knew something about her bounty puck photo seemed familiar to him and yet he couldn’t ever place it.  Now he knew why.

“How is it that you see me fully, but I couldn’t see you?”  His voice was quiet, and he curled his hand around hers.  Her smiled returned.

“You’re not Force sensitive to tune into the connection.  But it was there for you, and it showed itself when it could or when your guard was down enough for you to feel.”  She stopped smiling, brows knitting in concern.  “Are you going to turn me in?”

“Hell no.”  She let out a laugh.

“So, you’re just going to go around collecting Force-sensitive beings and protect us all from the Empire, then?”  He stood there and dropped his head back, groaning.  Oh Maker, he was in it now.

“Yeah, sounds like it.”  He pulled his head forward to look at her.  “I don’t know what this is between us, but I need more answers.”

“It’s a lot information, though, Din.  It’ll take some time.”

“Come with me.  We’ll make the time.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”  He knew that despite the helmet that she could see his grin.  He knew because her smile looked just like his.

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #299

“you look so beautiful tonight  /  reminds me how you laid us down and gently smiled before you destroyed my life.”

Ever done any drugs? Besides alcohol, no. How many people have you kissed? Three or four. What’s your favorite show to binge? I could only ever willingly *binge* Meerkat Manor and not get bored after like, two episodes. Do you watch porn? No, it's never appealed to me. What’s one of your fantasies? Being financially stable. :^) Do you have/would you get your nipples pierced? I've lightly considered getting one, but I really doubt I ever will. What’s the most overrated movie? /shrug. Let people like what they like. Tag someone you want to talk to but have been too shy to message. I'd love to get to know my Facebook acquaintance Courtlynn better; I've wanted to for a long time. I think we could be fantastic friends. We'll like each other's stuff regularly and occasionally leave comments, but we don't really talk. Do you like paper books or ebooks better? Paper ones, by a long shot. I just really like the feeling of a book and being able to clearly see how far in you are. I enjoy the smell and sound of turning pages. If you could live in a fictional world, what world would you pick? Probably Wonderland, realistically. I would say Azeroth, but too much world-threatening shit goes on every day lol. If money was no object, what would your wardrobe be like? G O T H Do you still have feelings for any of your exes? Yep. Do you drink? Very, very rarely. Almost exclusively during celebrations or on the once in a blue moon occasion we go to a sit-down restaurant. Do you read erotica? No. It would make me super uncomfortable. What color was the last candle you lit? I don't remember at all. Do you own a treadmill? No, but I want one. Have you ever signed up for a gym membership? Well, not exactly me. Mom and Nicole both had memberships to Planet Fitness, and I was able to come as a guest. It was just cheaper that way. What color was the last fish you had? That I owned or ate? Either way, idr. Is there a garbage can in your room? What color is it? No. If you play The Sims, do you download custom clothes, hair, etc? I don't play it. Does your animal sleep with you? Roman does, yes. He legitimately spoons with me lmao. Sometimes he'll move to the bottom of the bed, other times he'll sleep through most of the night there. Have you ever had to wear a hairnet? Yes. What is your favorite song to play on Guitar Hero or Rock Band? "Hotel California" by The Eagles on expert is so much fun and just feels good. The ending solo is just great. When you drink chocolate milk do you just buy the jug of it or the syrup that you can put into the milk? Almost always just the chocolate syrup. Do you own a robe? What color is it? No. What’s the worst abuse you have done to your phone? I know I've thrown it across the room once. Well, not my current phone, but a really old one. How did you meet your first love? High school. Well, you could maybe say Facebook. He sent me a friend request and I literally only accepted it because I thought it was another Jason. We talked via messenger some and then we ran into each other at school, and tbh I kinda knew I was fucked from there lmao. Have you ever worn the opposite sex’s underwear? I don't believe so, no. Have you ever kissed in a pool? Yeah. Are there any hobbies you have that you don’t perform in front of others? I absolutely cannot write in front of others, and I HATE drawing when people are watching. What do you do when you simply don’t know what to do? Odds are I'll probably be scraping the bottom of the barrel to find something in WoW that sounds even remotely fun, or I'll browse Facebook. How did you find out about your current favorite band? He's one of my mom's favorite singers/bands, so I grew up with some of his music, and when I was getting into rock and metal, I decided to go through her music case and listen to some of it. Ozzy's Black Rain album set the adoration into motion. Where are you most likely to go when you need clothing? The Internet or Wal-Mart, depending on what kind of clothes I need. When was the last time you tried to do something yet failed? I should have an answer for this very quickly... yet I'm unsure. I don't think anything *major* has happened in a while. Oh, this is a tiny thing, but I did look really hard for the pencil sharpener so my niece could finish coloring her drawing, but I couldn't find the damn thing for anything. Do you think your life is comprised more of success or failure? Lots and lots of failure. What’s one personality trait that’s not strong in you? Uhhh outgoing, ig. Are you a difficult individual to get to know? Considering I hide a lot about myself to try and be accepted, yes. When was the last time you opened up to someone and about what? Literally yesterday to my mom about this unreasonably massive fear I've had lately that she doesn't have much longer in her. I'm terrified she's going to get COVID or her cancer just comes back faster than we hope. To whom do you feel the most important? My mom. Is there something you want but might not ever have? Many things. What’s something you’re working to obtain? Mental stability. Do you tend to enjoy your dreams? No, considering they're usually violent and rarely just psychotic nightmares. Are there any projects or goals you’ve recently abandoned? Hm. What in life serves to keep you going? The hope it'll get better, and I'll reach a point of actually being happy and content with my life. What was the last good news you received? Nicole's trip to Maryland to bring back a baby was successful (if that sounds weird, she's a child social worker). He has a heart condition where if his heartbeat or something like that was irregular, she'd have driven all the way up there for nothing; the baby wouldn't have been able to take the ride. Are you more inclined to appreciate sweet or savory foods? Sweet. Are romantic relationships important to you at this point in your life? I mean I'd like to be in one, but I highly doubt it'd be successful, just given where I am in life. I'd be signing up for heartbreak. Who was the last person to apologize to you for something they did? I don't know. Probably Mom for something minor, like just bumping into me or something. Are you wearing a necklace, and if so, who got it for you? No. What’s the most embarrassing thing you’ve done lately? Lately? Uh. I don't know, but I can guarantee to you it wasn't long ago at all, considering breathing embarrasses me, pretty much. Do you ‘think out loud’? Sometimes. Do you take gummy vitamins? No. How do you know the majority of the people you know? Former schools. Hell, or maybe various online locations. I just might have more online friends and acquaintances than in-person. Is there a random object you own that has a huge personal significance? I've talked about my pebble from my partial hospitalization program enough. Can you play electric guitar? I used to be able to play a little bit; I took guitar lessons for a short while in high school. Best I could do was the intro to "Crazy Train," but I'd still occasionally mess up. Are you one of those people who chew two pieces of gum, not one? Usually. Do you believe in ghosts/supernatural occurrences? Yes. Without the aid of mascara, do you have long eyelashes? Yeah. Is there a kind of music you listen to that helps you release your anger? Yes, usually songs that are also angry. How does it make you feel looking at pics with your ex and someone else? The only case this has ever happened was with Jason and his gf after me. There are no words to describe the fucking hatred I felt. I haven't seen pictures of him with an s/o in a long time, and I absolutely never plan on seeking them out ever again. What song are you listening to right now? "Rest In Pieces" by Saliva. If you’re not in college, why? I couldn't handle the stress anymore. Just couldn't. Do you own a studded belt from Hot Topic? I have a good number of old ones from high school, actually. I wore them all the time. I could never fit into them now. Favorite fictional character? Um, Darkiplier, duh. Most recent thing you are looking forward to? I think it's finally set in stone that I'm getting my tattoo redone soon. Thanks to my laptop saying "ha fuck you," it's not as soon as I originally planned since I had to pay to fix it, but Mom seems fine with helping me pay for my birthday. Not a guarantee that it'll happen on that date of course, given scheduling, but yeah. It should fucking finally be happening. How many stairs can you climb before you wanna pass out? This is too embarrassing to even answer lmao. Have you ever kissed someone with braces? No. Would you ever consider adoption? I don't want kids, and even if I did, I probably wouldn't. I feel like I'd personally need the "wow this is a part of me (and/or my s/o)" connection. Do you ever go hunting/fishing? I would never go hunting, and the only occasion in which I'd fish again is if Dad asked me. I don't like the idea of fishing for fun anymore, but that's like... always been our bonding experience, and I wouldn't tell him no. Do you know anyone who plays guitar? Knew. What are you currently sitting/laying on? My bed. Who are your godparents? I don't think I have any. Do you have any friends who are famous? I have two friends who are parts of bands, but idk how successful they are. I don't think either are like, huge. Nova Mortis if you're into heavy metal and I think Toukan does rap? When was the last time you stayed at a hotel? Hm. I have no idea. What side of a heart do you draw first? Uhhhh I think the left? What is your mom saved as in your phone? "Mama Bear." Do you want your tongue pierced? I had snake eyes for a while, but I took them out because I kept chipping my teeth. I miss that piercing, it was so cute, but it wasn't worth ruining my teeth. Ever made out in a pool? It's possible very briefly, idr. Do you like to have long hair or short hair? SHORT. SHORT. SHORT. Do you change your phone background a lot? Not really. Would you get back with your last ex if you could? Yeah. Have you ever been strip searched? No. Has the person you like ever seen you in your pajamas? Yes. What is your least favorite type of chocolate? White chocolate is way too sweet. Did anyone see your last kiss? It was at an airport, so probably. Do you want a boyfriend or girlfriend? I mean, I do, but I don't really know how smart it would be right now. Is there anyone you wish you could fix things with? A few. Who IMed you on Facebook last? My friend Girt. Were you kinda scared of the goths in high school? Hell naw man, I looked up to them lmao. What size is your mattress? (single,twin,double,queen,king) Queen. Do you like spaghetti? Hell yeah. It was my favorite food as a kid. What about lasagna? No; I don't like the cheese at all. Have you ever been stung by anything? What was it? Mosquitoes of course, as well as a bee once. Maybe other things, idk. Have you ever worn contacts? (even just to try them out) Yes, but I changed to glasses because I had too much trouble putting them in and taking them out. Have you ever had any suspicious moles removed? No. Have you ever been screened for STDs? No. Did you have your tonsils taken out? No. Did you have your appendix taken out? No. Do you have any collector’s glasses or cups or mugs? What is a "collector's" glass or mug? Were you your parents’ first born? No; I'm the middle child. Do you have a child? Is the father still with you? No. Were you born perfectly healthy or with some (or a lot) of health issues? I was born healthy. Good 'ole days. Did you ever catch any bugs or insects with your friends as a kid? Ohhhh yes, my neighbor and I loved doing that. My favorite was catching fireflies with my sisters, though. Would you prefer to travel around the world by yourself or with a friend? With a friend. I'd get lonely. Do you know anybody who has been diagnosed with cancer? A whole lot, sadly... I'm despising that disease more and more every day that goes by. I know far too many people who have it or have died at its hands. Have you ever had to take care of an intoxicated person? No. Do you and your boyfriend/girlfriend fight a lot? N/A. Do not stay in a relationship where fighting is common. Would you ever share a site password with a family member or partner? I mean sure, depending on the site and person, and the reason they (may) need it. Has anyone ever told you they couldn't trust you? Hm... I actually don't think so? Who in your family has the prettiest eyes? Idk, I don't see enough of my extended family to know. What is an odd food item you would like to try, or have tried? I'm sure there's something I'd like to try, but nothing I think about with consistency, really... Most "odd" food I find unappealing anyway. When/if you drive, do you go the speedlimit? When I did, I certainly always tried to, but I was bad at maintaining a stable speed. I went up and down too much. Are you an aggressive driver? Or more passive-aggressive? I was dangerously passive at driving. Describe a hairstyle you had as a little kid? Well, I had long hair with bangs. What routine of yours would you most hate to break? Probably stopping getting a soda first thing in the morning... That is like so deeply ingrained into my day and is a motivator to get up in the first place. I want to change this to where I'm not allowed to grab one until I've had a full cup of water, but yeah, that hasn't happened yet. Has jealousy ever ruined one of your friendships/relationships? Honestly? I think it's possible that Jason totally split on me because of it. We were in this very unstable "friends" position after the breakup and hung out very briefly and awkwardly twice (which I'm pretty sure he didn't want), and I think one of our last attempts at conversation was who a girl he was talking to via Messenger was. No, before any assumptions are made, I didn't snoop. He showed me something on his phone and I just inevitably saw the little Facebook chat icon of a girl I didn't recognize. I don't even remember his answer. I just know it wasn't too long later I was blocked and everything. What is one restaurant you would NOT recommend? I personally am not a Chili's fan. What was your last conversation about? Mom and I were just talking about what a mush the cat is, haha. Who is your favorite person to debate or discuss with? Yo fuck debates, I got mad anxiety over that kind of stuff. Are you more likely to praise or insult yourself? Why? Insult. I don't even believe myself when I try praising, so it's not worth the effort. I have a billion and two reasons. Do you enjoy cloudy days? Why or why not? Honestly, not very much anymore. I've found that it actually does affect my mood. I like some cloud coverage, though. Would it bother you to be forgotten after death? Yes, even though when you think about it, most of us will be. I want to do stomething so badly; not even particularly something major, but just contribute to things and causes that matter and slowly change the world for the better. It's especially likely I will be forgotten though at some point because I don't want kids, so my blood isn't carrying on. Do you tend to prefer healthy or unhealthy snacks? Ugh, unhealthy. Has anyone ever asked you for diet advice? I think so, back when I started recovery and lost like 60 lbs fast as fuck. I wasn't even dieting though, just... came off awful meds. What age is your youngest aunt? Ummmm I have no clue. Do you like bowling? Yeah, it's fun, but I'm not good at it. Do you like roasting marshmallows on a bonfire? Totally. Do you prefer sweet or sour fruits? Sweet. How're your dancing skills? Rusted to the point of just not functional anymore lmao. What brand of batteries do you usually get? I don't pay attention to the kind Mom gets. Are any of your friends pregnant or have kids? A lot of my FB friends have kids. At least two are pregnant, but I only consider myself remotely close to one. I'm beyond worried about how she's going to be as a mom. Where's the strangest place a fast food restaurant was located? I've certainly seen some questionable placement in busy areas, but none that are super odd. Do you stay up all night on New Years Eve/Day or go to bed after 12am? I don't care nowadays; I just stay up until I'm tired like every other night.

[cryptidshuffle]

the less we say about it the better - chp 1

ao3

Rating: Teen Fandom: Half-Life VR But The AI Is Self Aware Relationships: Tommy Coolatta & Gordon Freeman, Tommy Coolatta/Gordon Freeman (pre relationship) Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Temporary Character Death(its benrey dont worry hes ok), meta about deaths and respawns, arguing about the rules of uno, gay pining, Mutual Pining, fellas is it gay to comfort ur friend who u love and are both boys?, also fair warning it'll eventually be a poly ship with benrey, Autistic Character, Autistic Tommy, ADHD Gordon, everyone is gay and trans, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

Summary: “after everything we’ve been through we deserve a few mental break downs.” they are trying to recover after black mesa, but recovery is hard. especially when one of you is still dead

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

They had been out of Black Mesa for a few weeks now. It was difficult trying to acclimate to life after the incident, but they were all making it work.

The science team had gotten together for some sort of game night, something cathartic about being around others who share the same trauma. Anyways, snacks and Uno was just as chaotic as one would imagine with this group of chucklefucks, with competitive tensions high on the last round of the night.

“You can’t stack the draw 4 cards, Gordon,” Bubby argued, smacking Gordon’s hand just as he placed the card.

“Says who?”

“It’s literally against the fucking rules of the game,” Bubby said back.

Tommy agreed with, “It is in the official rules, Mr. Freeman, they- Mattel confirmed it on Twitter.”

“But that’s dumb!” Gordon argued back, “I’ve always played where you can stack those, why change that now?"

Bubby retorted, “Well maybe you’ve always been playing wrong, huh? Ever thought about that, smartass?”

Dr. Coomer chimed in with, “Well on the official page for Uno (card game) on Wikipedia, the free online encyclopedia that anyone can edit, it states that

The following official house rules are suggested in the Uno rulebook, to alter the game:

Progressive Uno: If a draw card is played, and the following player has the same card, they can play that card and "stack" the penalty, which adds to the current penalty and passes it to the following player.[4](Although a +4 cannot be stacked on a +2, or vice versa.)[6] This house rule is so commonly used that there was widespread Twitter surprise in 2019 when Mattel stated that stacking was not part of the standard rules of Uno.[6]”

“Well, there you have it,” Gordon exclaims, interrupting Coomer’s Wikipedia infodump, “Just because it’s a house rule doesn’t mean it’s not a legitimate way of playing."

“What if I don’t want to play with that rule, that’s fuckin stupid,” Bubby grumbles.

“Jesus ok, I'll play a different card, happy?” Gordon says dejectedly, taking back his controversial draw 4 card for a more innocuous one. “It’s your turn anyways.”

Bubby throws down his last card onto the pile. “I win fuckers!!!! Ahahahahaha!"

“You wouldn’t have won if you let me stack the fucking cards,” Gordon said as he threw his losing card pile onto the coffee table.

“Don’t fret Gordon! Bubby is just extremely good at card games,” Dr. Coomer replied.

“You're forgetting I’m a goddamn genius, that extends to my sick-ass Uno skills,” Bubby bragged.

Gordon chuckled, watching the two older scientists get up to leave, and watching Tommy remain, quietly cleaning up the uno deck into neat piles to place in its box.

“Well gentlemen, it’s been fun, though I think it’s time Bubby and I better get going!” Dr. Coomer said.

“No problem, don’t want you two to be late for your old man early-bird breakfast at Golden Corral tomorrow!” Gordon teased.

“Shut the fuck- I’ll kick your ass,” said Bubby.

“Hello Gord- Actually our old man breakfast is not until Saturday! It’s the one day a week I let loose and unhinge my jaws at the buffet like a Burmese Python!” said Dr. Coomer as Bubby grabs his coat and keys.

“That sounds absolutely horrifying,” Gordon laughs.

“It really is,” says Bubby. “Well, see you later asshole,” Bubby says, herding himself and Coomer out the front door.

“See you guys later,” Gordon says.

“Goodbye, Gordon! Goodbye, Tommy,” Coomer also says, before they leave Gordon’s apartment.

Tommy had yet to get up to leave, he stayed sitting in his seat staring into space, and fiddling with the Uno card deck.

“Hey Tommy, you alright man?” he asked gently. At the mention of his name, he was shaken a bit out of his stupor.

“Y-yeah I'm fine Mr. Freeman, why do you ask?”

“I mean you were kinda just staring into space for a bit, and you didn’t say anything when Bubby and Coomer left.”

“Oh shit. Sorry about that, I’ll get out of your hair,” Tommy said, starting to move to leave.

Gordon placed a hand on Tommy’s shoulder. “Hey, if something’s bothering you, just know I’m here if you wanna talk about it,” Gordon comforted.

Tommy blushed slightly at the contact and nodded.

“Thank you. I-uh… I’ve just been thinking about things that happened back in Black Mesa and, you know,” he pauses to think for a bit, and sighs, “honestly I’ve been thinking a lot about Benrey.”

Just at the mention of him, Gordon felt his stomach drop with the weight of too many emotions.

“Yeah...I uh… I understand,” he responds with a sad sigh, “anything in particular you’re thinking about him?”

“I don’t know just kind of- Earlier I started thinking about how much he would enjoy game night. And then I started to miss him and realize that- that he’s not here. I feel guilty about killing him and upset at what he did. He was still my friend and I just- I want to know why he did what he did. I just want to understand,” Tommy said.

Gordon looked away as he thought about his own emotions regarding Benrey. He was undeniably angry with him, for getting him ambushed by the bootboys, for getting his arm cut off, frustrated with the constant taunting. Yet… he also felt guilty for some reason and he couldn’t quite place why. Gordon really didn’t want to feel guilty.

“Yeah…” Gordon sighed, “I'll be honest I do feel guilty about it too. I don’t know why because I feel like it should be justified since he did try to kill us. But there were times when him pestering me about my arm felt like… like sincere questioning? I still… I don’t know.”

“Yeah… I think-” Tommy cut himself off, staring at a fixed point in his vision, trying to decide whether or not to bring this up.

“I don’t think Benrey understood how human mortality worked.”

Well, that wasn’t what Gordon expected. “What do you mean?”

“Well, he was from Xen, Mr. Freeman, he wasn’t human. It was different for him. You remember he did die several times, but he came back eventually. He had to wait for his form to regenerate.”

“Wait-” this time Gordon cut Tommy off, “Oh shit, that wasn’t a joke?  For some reason I just assumed his talking about respawns and shit was part of his Epic Gamer bit?”

“I mean it was a little but I think… there’s probably a reason Benrey attached himself to video games so much, yeah? He can see himself in the structure. Like, uh- something he can relate to.” Tommy says. “It doesn’t excuse what- what he did, but I feel like knowing why things happened makes- makes them more understandable.”

Gordon leaned back on the couch blown away by the revelation. In hindsight it wasn’t that surprising but it took him a few seconds to come to terms with the reality.

“Yeah, when you put it that way, I guess it does make a lot of sense. Wait though, I swear to god all of you have died at least once, but you guys aren’t from Xen?” Gordon said, now confused about the seeming metanarrative of the mortality of his friends.

“Yeah, but those were weird Black Mesa things, Mr. Freeman,” Tommy said, not elaborating any more than that.

Gordon waited a beat for Tommy to explain more but he said all he needed to.

“I will ask you more about that later, but I do not have the energy to unpack all that right now,” Gordon said with a gentle laugh.

“Wait, getting back on topic real quick, why couldn’t Benrey just... respawn now? Did we really get him that good?”

Tommy looked incredibly sad when Gordon said this, and he regretted it immediately.  ‘Damn it Gordon, Tommy’s clearly upset about Benrey, you don’t gotta be an insensitive dick.’

“Well Mr. Freeman, that’s kinda why I’ve been thinking about him,” Tommy said, “I’m not sure. It shouldn’t have taken him this long to respawn. Depending on the amount of damage it takes longer but… It’s been a while and what if- What if he is back but he is mad at all of us and that’s why we haven’t seen him? Or what if it is taking a really long time because we hurt him a whole lot. Or what if we…”

Tommy got quiet for a few seconds, the silence in the room was deafening. For an instance Gordon felt as if making a sound would shatter the air like glass.

Tommy finally said with a whisper, voice thick with choking back tears, “What if we killed him for good? And I don’t- I never see him again?”

It honestly broke Gordon’s heart how distraught Tommy was. Pushing his own complicated Benrey feelings aside, he was gonna focus on Tommy here and now.

“…Tommy, is it ok if I hug you, man?” Gordon couldn’t think of the best way to comfort the other man with words, but physical comfort he could do.

Tommy looked a little surprised at this ask but nodded. Gordon leaned in to hug the other scientist and Tommy collapsed in his embrace, completely breaking down.

Gordon just sat there and held him as Tommy sobbed into his shoulder, trying to comfort the crying man by rubbing circles into his back.

Gordon’s brain processed the things Tommy had said. Was Benrey really gone? Why did he feel guilty about the idea of having killed Benrey, he was fine with the concept during the final boss fight on Xen but now… the thought made him feel… sad? Regretful? Even his seemingly rational justifications didn’t seem as clear at the moment, only thinking of his fonder memories with Benrey.

‘Fuck this,’ he thought as he felt his own tears well up, ‘this isn’t about me, I need to focus on being there for Tommy,’ pushing his own feelings to the back of his mind to be dealt with later.

Tommy eventually calmed down enough where his sobs turned into sniffles, and he started to pull away from the hug.

“S – sorry for having a – a breakdown on your- on your couch Mr. Freeman,” Tommy said, the post-crying mental fog making his stuttering more noticeable. Tommy didn’t really have the effort in him to care.

“Don’t worry about it, man, after everything we’ve been through we deserve a few mental breakdowns,” Gordon joked trying to lighten the mood.

“Oh, that was nothing, Mr. Freeman, in terms of mental breakdowns that was as mild as a first-grade pizza party in the eye of a hurricane,” Tommy compared in a way that made little sense to Gordon, yet ridiculous enough to cause the man to burst out laughing.

“Alright I’ll take your word for it,” Gordon said, still laughing.

“I’m serious Mr. Freeman, once you have a meltdown so intense that you accidentally teleport yourself to an inter-dimensional void, the rest is a cake walk at the school fair,” Tommy said.

“Waitwaitwait- teleport?” he leaned back to look at him in surprise, “Since when could you fuckin teleport!” Gordon asked caught off guard.

“You know, learned some things from my Dad,” Tommy said, again failing to further explain himself.

“…Well alright. Yeah that tracks.”

Gordon was quiet for a moment before responding with, “You know, Tommy, I want you to know I’m here for you if you need anyone to talk to. You were there for me when I was at my lowest in Black Mesa, and I wanna be that friend to you if you need it,” he said giving the other scientists hand a comforting squeeze.

Tommy smiled, “Thank you, that means a lot Mr. Freeman.”

“You know you can call me Gordon, you don’t have to be so formal all the time Dr. Coolatta,” he teased.

Tommy blushed, ‘dammit why did he have to be so cute?’

“Wow Mr. Fr – Gordon are you really gonna make fun of my doctorate that I worked very hard for,” Tommy teased back, still a bit sniffly from crying.

“Dude, I cannot imagine you in college for some reason, what was your doctorate even in” asked Gordon, semi-jokingly, but still a bit serious.

Tommy laughed a bit, wiping the remaining tears away with the back of his hand. “Bio-chemical engineering. Creating Sunkist was for my thesis project.” Normally Tommy would be more then willing to infodump about the topic but he found his energy to be draining fast.

“What the fuck, that’s cooler than mine was. Us nerds in the Theoretical Physics department didn’t do any crazy shit like that,” Gordon said.

“Bold of you to assume I was a nerd, G-Gordon. I was the craziest guy in the frat house,” Tommy said.

Gordon’s memory vaguely recalls Tommy’s insistence that he “do something crazy” when drinking Darnold’s Potion of Grow Gun Arm.

“You know what, yeah, surprisingly I can see that image vividly in my head,” Gordon said. “Real talk though…” he said changing the subject and putting his hand on Tommy’s shoulder, “Are you- uh, ok? Like feeling better?”

Tommy was quiet for a second, eyes flickering down to look at his fidgeting hands in his lap, before replying with, “I’m ok. N-not great, I don’t think, but I will be.”

Gordon nodded. “Tommy, if there’s one nugget of wisdom that I have to share, it’s that healing takes time, things usually turn out to be ok in the end. No matter what’s going on with Benrey…it'll be alright, I’m sure.” Gordon patted his shoulder for emphasis, “not the best advice out there but it’s the best I can come up with straight off the dome. And I don’t wanna seem like I didn’t try to help you out."

Tommy laughed gently, “Thank you Mr. Fr- uh, thank you Gordon. You did help. Even if- if your advice was a bit cheesy.”

“Whatever man, you can’t blame me for trying,” Gordon laughed, playfully shoving Tommy where his hand had previously rested on the other man’s shoulder. Tommy laughed in return. He only noticed the warmth of Gordon’s touch once it was gone.

Tommy absentmindedly noticed the time on the wall clock in Gordon’s apartment. Jesus, 11:30? When did it get so late? The older scientist really hoped he wasn’t overstaying his welcome; While he would love to just stay here and joke around, he had already bothered Mr. Freeman enough and was already exhausted.

“I- I’m probably gonna head back home now, I didn’t realize how late it was,” Tommy said, standing up from his spot next to Gordon.

Gordon nodded. He had the passing thought of offering for Tommy to stay but… maybe that was a step too far. ‘Tommy probably wants his space,’ Gordon rationalized to himself.

He nodded, “Alright, don’t let me keep you,” he said, getting up as well to help Tommy gather his belongings. Which, to be honest Tommy didn’t bring much but some snacks for the group, but Gordon just needed an excuse to do anything.

Gordon walked Tommy to the front door of his apartment, like the good host he was, opening the door for him.

“Thanks for coming over Tommy,” he said.

Tommy nodded. “Thank- thank you again for letting me talk about Benrey, I know it was kinda rough there at the end, but if you ever need to talk about anything… I'm here for you as well.”

Gordon smiled, “Thank you Tommy, I'll keep that in mind.”

Tommy smiled in return, “Have a good night G-Gordon,” he said turning to head to his car.

“Goodnight Tommy.” Gordon turns to head back inside, but before he does, he can’t resist one more jab.

“Thought you could teleport?” he calls out teasingly.

Tommy flips him off, which causes Gordon to laugh harder. “Gives me a headache,” Tommy called back, trying and failing keep a straight face.

Gordon laughs as he waves a final goodbye, turning back inside and closing the door after Tommy waves as well. His thoughts race as he gets ready for bed, trying to ignore his fluttering heartbeat as he lays down for the night.

Tommy shuffles his thoughts in his head as he drives home. The emotional rollercoaster of his already draining social interaction meter from the science team, his Benrey guilt, and his small crush on Gordon was just too much for one day. His hands clench and unclench the steering wheel, looking forward to collapsing in bed for the night, hoping his dad won’t notice he'd been crying.

Somewhere, in an interdimensional void far away from this reality, someone begins to shift awake.

[mateasha]

rendevous 18.6y

summary: chikage shows up at the front door of MANKAI after disappearing from the face of the Earth for 3 years. itaru is not happy.   fandom: a3 pairing: chikage x itaru word count: 3335 tags:  original characters for the sake of plot, friends to strangers to lovers, angst, fluff, flashbacks, mentions of death, bad attempts at action, bad attempts at comedy 

chapter 5: thoughts

Itaru wished he did not hurry up.

He wishes that he also did not say yes to his damn boss...

I mean, he guesses he did do it voluntarily, if you can call an impulsive decision fueled by some unseen force something that he did voluntarily. His boss would say otherwise. 

But something about this room is only a little empty, even if it’s filled to the brim with people— and by brim, he means the table is full and there are two extra people (Chikage and Itaru) presenting their dumb pitch about this and that, imports and such, and the sorts. There are only so many ways you can say “Hey! Give us shit and we’ll give you shit and maybe just a little money! Who knows!” but Chikage seems to have found all of them, including the most long winded speech, just to make it look like he’s smart.

Which he is, Itaru isn’t saying he’s necessarily dumb. He is smart.

But even if Chikage had him say that whole spiel about “never knowing unless you try” (which, corny as hell by the way) it would still work out in the end for Itaru, maybe even gaining more respect. Maybe he’ll ask Chikage after the meeting.

Well, if Chikage decides that he likes him today. 

The room is abnormally silent, devoid of any other voice, as the Japanese translator sits there, staring at the man whose English is paced and worded like a damn poem, in awe. Itaru doesn’t expect any less from the hacker, whose stats are basically so high that no one can compare. Except a specific stat that basically everyone knows, but Itaru tries not to think about it. But his voice really does project across the entire room, drawing attention to him, which isn’t very uncharacteristic for him, because he’s heard this before. His voice with a certain cadence to it, hitting every point, and maybe throwing in a couple company buzzwords in there, just to sound a little bit smarter. What the fuck is “synergy?”

He looks slowly around the room, making sure no one is staring at him— which no, there isn’t anyone, thank God, as he takes a look at the surroundings for the 10th time, at the same concrete walls painted with the brightest shade of white and the glass barrier separating them from the main office, covered in layers of white blinds, and the presentation glowing from the flatscreen TV put up in the middle of the room. (which he wishes he could have, but Sakyo still won’t let him put up anything, which makes sense because Itaru definitely could not be trusted with a drill for the life of him.)

The carpet is a bit scratchy underneath his feet, as he slightly grinds his shoe sole into it, the friction of which can slightly be heard across the room, but surprisingly, no one has called it out, maybe out of politeness, or maybe because of Chikage’s still loud, and booming voice across the room. Chikage decided to take the most part of the work back at the hotel room, and Itaru really took the easy part, but it’s fine. Chikage wanted the hard part anyway. It just means that maybe he won’t get the best benefit out of it, which would be perfectly fine. He just came here for the merit. It would look good on his resume too. If he ever decides to get a new job-- which, after this, he should start planning. Once he uses all his vacation days. 

But he doesn’t understand why some eyes are drifting over to him, when Chikage is interesting enough with his injection of larger English words, again, to the amazement of the translator, who wasn’t expecting this. But it does make him look worse to the board of people who heard him slightly stutter when he stumbled across a couple words, but it wasn’t that bad. Right? He tries to affirm himself for a bit, but he knows that it could’ve been better-- then again, a lot of things could’ve been better about his presentation. He wasn’t the most prepared, and maybe that would cost him the deal, which is why he doesn’t understand how and why he was so laid back about everything that was going down with the work, which he decides to blame on Chikage. Rightfully so, as he had occupied his thoughts far too much and put him in some emotional dilemma, if that’s what you could call it, when he keeps sending the most mixed emotions towards Itaru.

There is a time and place to be thinking about these things although, now not being the place, but he still thinks about it anyways, 

“Any questions?” Chikage asks this for the final time, finally wrapping up the presentation that felt like it lasted for a lifetime, which it probably did. Probably. Itaru decides to tune out the rest as Chikage accepts a couple questions, and answers some that go without asking-- which is to be expected from someone who does enough and maybe just a little bit more.

“I actually have a question.”

“Ah, what is it?” Chikage smiles at the old man, the smile seemingly genuine to others, but not to Itaru.

“No, for your partner. I’m not completely clear on the outline of this… plan.” He turns his head to Itaru. “Could you go over the third slide, please?” 

“I… Well… Uhm… Can I say this in Japanese?” Itaru can feel himself tensing up even more. Was I not descriptive enough, I don’t know what I could even go over? “Well, depends what part you’re confused about.” Good non-answer. Could buy you time, he thinks to himself.

The interpreter says the words in English, the man nodding in confirmation. He says some English to the interpreter, and the interpreter parrots it back. “Well, why should we use your company as a means to get our products to Japan? Is there a market in Japan for these things?”

Itaru freezes.

“Well, there is, just look at the slide before that, there’s definitely a market for this stuff, just look at those graphs. Very high.“ Itaru is panicking which Chikage takes notice of as Itaru fidgets a bit with his hands, trying to structure a damn sentence, which he can’t seem to do after that damn question. 

“Well, what my partner is trying to say is that there is a market for this stuff, and currently, as a testing area, we are sure we, as a company, have the best idea on how to release this product, as we believe, and are sure that these specific areas of Japan are in need of these things.”

“Hmm… I see. We will continue this meeting tomorrow. Thank you for your time.” He bows as he gets up, the rest following in suit.

They both speak in unison. “Thank you for your time.” They bow as each exits, Chikage walking over to the briefcase, closing the laptop and packing up the papers into the folders in a very methodical and neat way.

As each one of them gets up and walks to the door, Chikage heads to the middle of the large table, closing the laptop, unplugging the USB and packing everything up into his bag, Itaru following closely behind as the last person leaves. Something about it is intimate though, as if the room got smaller with just the two of them, but still with the same white concrete walls, surrounding them, with the same office lights coating the room in fluorescent light that washes out the little to no color found in the room.

“Sorry.” Itaru blurts out with no thought.

Chikage looks behind him, like Itaru is the weirdest person alive for that singular moment. “Sorry for what?”

“I fucked up.”

“Chigasaki, it wasn’t that bad. You could be better prepared for that, of course, but you tried to deal with it. It’s more effort than I’ve seen you put in before.”

Itaru isn’t insulted, even when most people would have been. He knows he put more effort into this than usual. “Exactly. This was really avoidable. And basic too.”

“And? It already happened, Itaru. No point in dwelling on it.”

“...I guess you’re right.”

Chikage finishes packing everything up quickly. “I know I’m right. Not to say I’m all knowing, but I know this much. It was a good effort. Everything can’t be perfect.” He walks to the door and opens it, standing there for a bit, and looking at Itaru. “Come on. Let’s go back to the hotel. I’m tired.”

Itaru looks at Chikage for a bit, stopping to stare, and his face filled with a hint of confusion. “Okay. Thanks.” Itaru walks out, Chikage following behind, picking up the pace to match the walking speed of Itaru and walk beside him across this oddly large office hallway, complete with simple office decorations and furnishings, passing by a couple filled meeting rooms and empty ones with the lights off, and the sun shining in. He looks at Chikage, who, for some reason, is focused on walking forward, which is kind of weird, but he doesn’t mind. It gives him time to think. 

Chikage was nice to him for some reason today, again, despite how he treated him last night, which was… odd. But maybe he was just having a bad day. He’s had his bad days, and come off cranky. He “hmmm”s in his head, a bit skeptical, as he knows Chikage is never one to let his emotions take over for a bit. That’s just who he is. Or maybe he let his guard down? If anything, he’s just completely confused as they turn the corner and see a more open space with an elevator, which is when Itaru decides to stop looking.

Chikage, surprisingly, did not notice the fact that Itaru’s bright red pink eyes were practically glaring into his soul. Just staring in front of him, deep in thought. He presses the button and waits for a bit till the doors of the elevator open, and 2 people come out, and they both enter simultaneously. Itaru presses the 1st floor button, and clasps his hands together near his waist as waits.

“How have you been feeling?” Itaru breaks the silence to start just a bit of small talk to test the waters. Chikage doesn’t respond, seemingly just staring at the closed elevator doors as they descend to the 2nd floor, seemingly not stopping, or feeling longer than usual. “About the presentation… do you think we’ll get the deal?”

He still doesn’t respond, which puts an end to whatever he was planning to say after. The elevator doors open andr they both walk out, and head to the car.

It’s still quiet between them, with maybe even a static, oppressive air surrounding them, stopping him from talking, and just in general preventing even the simplest conversation between them. He gets into the car in the parking garage quickly, Chikage taking his sweet time to start the car.

It’s quiet in the car till Itaru breaks the silence. “How long will it take to get there?” Still no response. Itaru looks intensely through the front window for some reason, when he doesn’t even need to be paying attention, and his phone is literally just in his pocket, but for some reason he’s rendered completely immobile by the fact Chikage isn’t responding when he shouldn’t be. It’s Chikage. Chikage probably doesn’t care. Definitely does not care. It just doesn’t make sense for him to not even respond with a “hey I’m focused on driving.” Because for some reason, he’s not talking again, or even saying that he needs to shut up because he’s focused on driving, which is also a valid response to him, as he completely understands.

But he doesn’t and he stops thinking about this as soon as Chikage pulls up to the front of the hotel, handing his keys over to the valet out front, and showing them their hotel card, the low murmurs of thank yous vibing across the two, and walking in swiftly, and into the elevator again, out, and into the hotel room.

He slides the card into the slot and opens the handle for Chikage, who walks in briskly, and with a sense of urgency, as he looks at his phone again with a sigh. Itaru goes to the wardrobe to grab clothes to rest in for now until he eventually goes out to get food, because he wants to try the fancier pizzas here. But until Itaru needs something is it quiet. “Hey, can you pass me the remote?” No response, like usual, where now it makes no sense, because he’s just searching things up on his open laptop next to the desk. “Are you gonna talk to me?”

“Why would I talk to you? We’re here on business. We’re just working together. It isn’t business. So I don’t care.” He starts to type slightly more quickly, a change so subtle that even he doesn’t notice, the pounding of the keys getting harder and harder.

“Dude, what the fuck?” Itaru sits up in the bed, looking at Chikage, biting the inside of his mouth so hard that it feels like he might draw blood, the taste of iron coating his tongue. “Listen. I don’t fucking want you to treat me like we’re long time friends if you’re gonna say we’re ‘only here for business.’ You can’t have it both ways, Chikage. Make up your damn mind.”

No response. The silence is deafening.

“I just… want to know.” For some reason he’s on the verge of crying which is stupid, and he shouldn’t be crying, but despite him feeling  it becomes more than a struggle to get the rest out. “I just want to know if we can actually be friends. I don’t want you to give me false hope. I don’t want you to flick some switch in your brain that says that you’re allowed to be nice to me, and then you turn it off so quick as if it never happened.” 

No response. It’s ear piercing now; like if you dropped a speck of dust on the ground you would even be able to hear that, as Itaru gets more and more red, and Chikage’s face stays the same. 

“Okay. I got it.” He gets out of bed quickly. “I understand.” He stomps off to the shower, taking clothes with him and some lotion to the bathroom. “I’m taking a shower.” He deadpans, and practically slams the door of the hotel bathroom.

Chikage sighs. 

God, he feels like shit. 

Does he? 

Maybe he doesn’t know himself, but all he knows is that there’s some odd pit in his stomach that probably just hints quite a bit at him feeling like shit. It’s fine. It’s not like he hasn’t been through this before. All he has to do is push through it. It is odd. Considering all the shit he’s done, he doesn’t think he should be feeling bad. He means, he’s killed people, no remorse, just straight up dead, and that was fine. He can hear Itaru in the bathroom seemingly slamming shit on the counter, and dropping the soap with an “ugh.”

The feeling scrapes at his nerves, stretching him thin and fragile, as if he was just an elastic fabric that, of course, is still intact, but is transparent, being stretched far too much. The walls of the hotel feel both confining to him, and a bit too loud. He doesn’t think that loud is the correct word choice, but he thinks that too. But here he is, still typing away at his laptop; nothing coherent of course, but at least it’s something. Not really. It barely distracted him. He runs his hands through his hair, sighing again, and looking out the window that gives him an overview of most of the city, the cars running through the street like little bugs, but the moonlight can barely break through the raucous light of the city. He can still see it though, so he gets up to stretch, even though he doesn’t feel as if it’s necessary. He walks over to the window, looking up at the moon, and then looking down at his feet.

He takes a seat on the bed, for no reason, looking around a bit, before getting up and walking slowly to his chair, some document still wide open on his screen, and the shower somehow still going-- probably in preparation for tomorrow. He still acknowledges that skin care is important somehow, even when Azami isn’t there to drill it into their heads. It’s been three years. He doesn’t know why he’s so surprised. He shouldn’t be so surprised. Things change. He’s more than well aware of that. But somehow, he still feels stagnant, even with everything. The world has reached a standstill, but that doesn’t matter to him. He doesn’t need to change anymore. Not since… he skips right over that thought, but he knows that he shouldn’t, because it should bear no weight anymore. Seems like everyone else has gotten over it.

Hisoka.

It’s hard to talk about still, for him, and maybe for others. Who knows, when they can visit Hisoka’s grave. He guesses it gives people more closure. But the more he thinks about Itaru and Hisoka, the more he wants to care for him. He means, just being the slightest bit related to him puts people in danger. Maybe he shouldn’t have forced Itaru on this trip. Well, he didn’t. Itaru said “yes” for some unbeknownst reason that confuses him still to this day.

Hisoka.

But even then, the thought still comes to his mind. It felt nice. Felt nice to genuinely care for someone, after leaving them for so long, to protect them and still be able to have them, and be able to hold them after so long. Maybe it’s the situation. Chikage doesn’t want to hurt Itaru. That sentence makes him almost keel over, but he acts normal as the faucet is turned, and the sound of running water suddenly stops, and he can hear the shower curtain, as if every single environmental sound is turned up to max volume.

Hisoka.

He’s dead. That’s the end of that. He’s dead, and he shouldn’t care, and he should have learnt his lesson, because anything-- almost anything would be better than him being here, right now. He should have said no. He should have said no to the mission, and he should have said no to his boss, but he didn’t and now he’s paying the price. Filled with emotional turmoil and hurt. Thinking back, maybe he was just unlucky. Or maybe it was fated. It was fated for them to meet again after being away for so long, so why, why would some higher power put them together. It’s as if the big man upstairs wants him to suffer-- even if he doesn’t exactly believe in them.

Hisoka.

The thought tires him out, and he finally notices that he’s stopped writing things on this report, which he tries to start again, but he doesn’t even know where to gather himself after… after that. He’s still thinking though, which makes himself throw back his head in anger? Disappointment? Whatever. Whatever emotion it is, he could honestly care less. He’s stressed and he doesn’t want to be here anymore. He’s tired. He’s so tired. It’s taken a long time to find that out.

Hi--

He doesn’t even finish the thought this time. He stops thinking. He doesn’t know how, but he’s completely stopped all brain processes that go on. This is better. It feels calm. His vision feels like it’s cleared up, and he can start typing whatever he was typing in this document for some reason. Itaru walks out of the bathroom, completely clothed, and looking a bit fresh.

“I’m going to sleep.”

No response.

chapter 1 / chapter 2 / chapter 3 / chapter 4 / chapter 5 / chapter 6

[angelicmichael]

Imminient Annihilation Sounds so Dope, Chapter Seven

Michael Langdon x reader

Summary: Reader confesses to Mallory that she met Michael and they go have a night out, execpt they run into a certain someone ;)

Words: 6.1k+

Warnings; Mentions of alcohol poisoning, and someone gets VERY drunk (not saying who cause I don’t wanna spoil it). For the sake of the fic pretend that all characters including the reader are of legal drinking age: please and thank you lol

A/N: Sorry for not updating this in so long 😶 I will be back to add a ‘read more’ line and add it to my master list in a couple days. Idk why all my chapters and fics are so fucking long I’m sorry 😂 this chapter was originally even longer but I cut it down believe it or not. I feel like the chapter is the ‘peak’ moment for the tension between Michael and Reader for sure. The tension and the dynamic between them is just so fun to write honestly haha. Reblog or like this if you enjoyed ♥️ also if u wanna be on the tag list let me know!! ALSOO this is readers POV and takes place about a day after the last chapter!

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter

You felt tense. That was the best way to describe how you felt but it also wasn’t. You felt a constant swirling storm inside of you since you met Michael. That storm made you feel different flavors and elements of being anxious and angry but being tense was the most prominent emotion of them all.

You made the difficult choice to lay low about your new powers, but that only seemed the make the crazed whirlwind of emotions you felt even worse.

You knew you were making the best decision by not telling the coven, it would only breed more chaos and make everything more complicated if you did decide to come clean about your powers. You hated to admit it but lying to Cordelia was too fucking easy.

Telling little white lies to Cordelia was easy anyway, however, pretending that you only had two powers everyday was not so easy. You could feel your new powers growing and itching to be used. It was almost like you had all of this pent up energy inside of you but no outlet. It seemed to burn at your fingertips and the fact that you couldn’t be your true authentic self in front of your sisters was slowly killing you and sending you into some kind of depression. You weren’t sure what was worse, going insane or letting the depression slowly eat away at you.

However hiding your new powers from your best friend was what was really proving to be the most difficult of all. You were normally a open book with Mallory, she knew everything that there was to know about you.. execpt for this. She didn’t know that you were now supposed to be the next supreme, and she certainly didn’t know that your powers were so strong that you were even stronger than the actual antichrist himself. And it was killing you not to tell her, and it was showing.

You had been drawing back and becoming reserved around Mallory over the past couple days, and it would be naive to say she didn’t notice. You knew she noticed but you two were just avoiding the topic.

Today was starting out as another typical morning for you. You and Mallory both got up, got dressed and were prepping to go downstairs to have another boring, dull day. Even though you had been distancing yourself from her you still waited to walk downstairs with her, and make small talk atleast. You atleast owed her that much.

You watched Mallory come out of the bathroom that was connected to your room, and shut the door. You stood up and approached your bedroom door; getting ready to leave but you felt a small hand touch your shoulder instead and stop you.

“(y/n), wait”.

You turned around and met Mallory’s sad honey colored eyes. It wasn’t just her eyes that seemed sad though, you could even hear it her voice. Something was wrong.

“Can we talk”?

She asked and you immeaditly nodded as you two both sat down on her bed. You couldn’t help but remember how last time you two sat on her bed to talk it was to discuss how you found out Micheal was your soulmate.. it seemed like only bad news was revealed on this bed.

“Yeah of course”.

You replied and took a deep breath and continued to keep talking instead of letting her talk.

“But it’s not fair to you Mallory that you have to be the one to initiate this conversation.. I.. Ive been hiding something”.

You spoke softly as you bit your lip. You could feel a pit in your stomach start to form as you did not want to continue to have this conversation with her but you knew you had too. You really shouldn’t have been keeping this information from her for so long in the first place. You noticed Mallory started to sit up a bit straighter as her eyebrows furrowed slightly in confusion. Her mouth opened like she was about to start talking when you cut her off once again.

“I hurt Madison”.

Your words came out shakily, and you made sure to utter them out as a whisper so that none of your sisters could hear. The only thing you really became conscious of was your breathing and your heart beating in your chest. Everything else in the world seemed completely silent and irrelevant. It was as if the world had paused for a couple of seconds until Mallory chose to speak again.

“Madison? How? Why-“

She looked awfully confused as she spoke, and the words seemed to come out quickly. As if she thought the faster she spoke the faster you would give her an answer.

“I didn’t mean too but Micheal wasn’t there at all at first, it was Madison and it was my only option - she would’ve killed me”.

“So it was self defense”?

Mallory asked, the confused expression she wore ealier melted away and now was replaced with a much more stoic and cold look. However, it still held a touch of softness. She had to know deep down that you wouldn’t do something like this unless it was absolutely necessary.. right?

“Yes! I would never hurt her otherwise and you should know that! I wouldn’t hurt a fly”.

You replied and this was when Mallory gave you a small smile and rubbed your shoulder gently with her hand.

“I know (y/n) it’s just I don’t want you to get in trouble. Maybe we should tell Cordelia”?

Mallory offered as she drew her hand back from you.

“There’s no way I could tell Cordelia, Mallory. You know that this whole situation would just stress her out even more than she already is. I feel like she already thinks that I can’t pull the whole ‘seduce Michael’ scheme off. This would just add fuel to the fire, you know”?

You asked her, biting your lip in frustration.

“No, your right. I’m sorry, I just- this whole thing is so complicated. It would just be nice to have a easy solution to all of this”.

Mallory replied with a giggle and a small smile. She looked at you and looked at the floor as if she was deep in thought, and when you got a look in her eyes - you saw a glimmer of adventure and playfulness in her eyes. It was the same glimmer that was in her eyes when you first met her - it was what drew you to her initially. Mallory turned her head back up to look at you and this time she was grinning.

“So your telling me that your powers are stronger than Madison’s? Because you look unscathed”.

She continued and you took a deep breath.

“I- yeah. That’s another thing.. I think seeing Micheal for the first time set something off inside of me because I have these crazy powers, Mallory. I- I stopped Michael from hurting me. I dont know exactly how but I did. Each day my powers seem to be growing and I don’t want to burden anyone else with this information so.. I just feel helpless”.

You ranted. You felt incredibly guilty as you spoke, you knew you were implying that you would be the next supreme but that’s not what you wanted. You didn’t want to be supreme. You didn’t want to take that away from Mallory, your best friend.

“I know your meant to be the next supreme and I would never want to take that away from you-“

You continued to talk but Mallory hugged you and before you realized it you stopped talking. You sat there on the bed speechless. You looked at the patch of sunlight that was in the room since the light was turned off and the curtains were drawn. You supposed noticing this ray of sun was a sign - a sign that things would finally get better and that Mallory would drag you out of this weird funk you’ve found yourself in the past couple days. Then Mallory started to speak,

“Don’t ever think that your taking something away from me. I never really wanted to be supreme anyway I mean, that’s a lot of responsibility and.. I don’t know (y/n) but maybe your not supreme. If your powers are really growing at the rate you said they were then wouldn’t Cordelia’s powers be dying out? And Cordelia’s powers haven’t been affected that I’ve noticed”.

By the time she was finished talking, Mallory stopped hugging you and was looking at you dead in the eyes. The patch of sunlight seemed to hit her and highlighted her dark brown eyes, making them look golden and honey brown. They were beautiful. She was beautiful.

But now was not the time to ogle at Mallory’s beauty; you knew she had a point. Cordelia was constantly teaching and preforming her powers, it would be obvious if her powers started to deplete.

“Yeah but what would that even mean? Would that mean I’m like some other entity like Micheal is? I mean, damn maybe I’m not even a witch at all”.

You were thinking outloud at this point. You crossed your arms gently as you started to get deep in thought. What the fuck would that even mean if you weren’t a witch? How many entities were there that even had ‘magical’ powers? And how would that even really make sense anyway? Your powers really only advanced so rapidly once you met Michael, before that you were just like any other witch. If you really were a entity or something, wouldn’t your powers manifested immeaditly? Plus, you think you would’ve noticed if you really were a demon or some shit.

“Well don’t jump to conclusions I mean, if you really want to know if your a witch you should talk to Cordelia. She would know. Taking the seven wonders wouldn’t be a horrible idea either”.

“Yeah.. maybe after this whole ordeal with Micheal is over though”.

It was nearly as if a lightbulb was turned on in Mallory, she suddenly lit up when you mentioned Micheals name and her mouth even dropped open slightly.

“I totally forgot about Micheal! What happened with Micheal when you met him? How did he not hurt you”?

She questioned and you licked your lips before you continued.

“Take a guess”.

You said with a smirk. It was as if she read your mind because she seemed to know immeaditly what you were talking about. She knew that you were implying that your powers were stronger than Michaels.

“No way! We need to tell Cordelia”!

Mallory’s face continued to light up but you simply shook your head.

“I cant, Mallory. I really can’t”.

You replied softly, trying to stifle a laugh. It made you happy to know that Mallory didn’t reject you or the idea that you might possibly be supreme. However the idea that you perhaps weren’t even fucking human at all overwhelmed you - to say the very least. For now, you were trying to ignore that little detail though.

“Well if your stronger than Micheal than there’s no reason to stay cooped up then, is there”?

“But the coven and Cordelia still need to think that nothing changed. They don’t even know that I met Micheal-“

“We’re going out tonight whether you like it or not. It’s a Friday, and no one will notice if we sneak out.. we deserve a nice night out stress free”.

She replied and you couldn’t help but agree to it. She had a point, it felt purely stupid now to hide away in Robichaux’s when you really had nothing to fear.. even if Micheal did show up, you were stronger than him.. when it came to him hurting you though. Who knows if you would be able to stop his powers if he tried to hurt someone else, like god forbid, Mallory. The odds of Micheal actually showing up tonight in Lousiana were slim to none though. Most likely the fucker was cooped up in his crazy expensive penthouse back in L.A.

But after all you deserved to have a nice night out. You deserved this.

~

It wasn’t hard to find a house party to go to on a Friday night in Lousiana.. it was nearly laughable at how easy it truly was. It was getting close to midnight and you and Mallory had just arrived, parking the black SUV about a block away from the party you two planned on ‘crashing’.

The house was huge, and college students decorated the yard and flooded the house - making the once spacious area seem cramped and tiny as you walked through the yard and then into the house with Mallory. Mallory led the way as she held your hand as to not get lost as you two had to push through people to find drinks.

It was difficult to be completely certain but with the limited decor you noticed on the walls, the house seemed to be a frat house which explained why all the boys looked like jocks and why all the females seemed to be dressed in minimal clothing. You and Mallory both sported black dresses, hers was long and flowy and fell to about her knees while your dress hugged your body a lot more and ended mid thigh.

You two looked like you belonged here, like you were a part of the party scene but you really weren’t. This was the first time you and Mallory had ever been to be a place like this... from what you heard - this seemed to be more of Madison’s scene. You know she frequently visited frat houses - probably even this one atleast once.

Thinking about Madison put a bad taste in your mouth - it made you incredibly sad. The image of how Madison’s body looked when you threw her against the wall played in your mind but you were quickly brought out of your thoughts when Mallory handed you a cup. You took a sniff of it and sure enough, whatever the substance was DEFINITELY had alcohol in it. You tried not to think to hard about what the substance exactly was before you completly chugged it. Mallory merely gawked at you.

“Your gonna get sick if you keep drinking that fast”!

Mallory yelled at you, you could barely hear her through the blasting music and all of the people talking. You simply giggled at her before replying.

“I’ll be right back”!

You yelled as you turned around, on a mission to find where the rest of the booze was. Of course you didn’t see where Mallory got your booze from in the first place, and it was fucking impossible to see where the kitchen was when you were literally shoulder to shoulder with strangers from how packed this house was.

You swear you could already feel the effects of the alcohol because you knew normally you would be gagging at the smell the house reeked of. It could be best described as pure sweat and maybe unwashed underwear?

You were pleasantly surprised to find that when you next opened your mouth, it was words that came out and not vomit. You didn’t even look to see who was next to you when you spoke; there were so many people in this god damn house - someone was bound to hear you. You had wandered off from Mallory as well, you couldn’t see her anymore but you really weren’t worried at the moment.

“Excuse me, do you know where there keeping the alcohol”?

You tapped the person who was next to you on the shoulder lightly.

The person had their back turned to you and as soon as you actually had time to look at them - you felt as if you had been stabbed square in the chest with fear.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

The person you tapped wore a full black outfit with hands crossed behind their back, and their fingers were adorned with several expensive looking rings. Their hair was a curly, beautiful, golden blonde that seemed to rest around their head like a nest or halo of some sort. You just knew that all of these features seemed to hauntingly familiar to you. Too familiar.

Your mouth fell open as you tried to back up but you ended up stepping on someone’s foot, you were trapped. This time, if it really was him, you didn’t have the luxury of running away like you did on the previous meeting. You didn’t know if it was worse to be alone with him or to be stuck with him in a room full of people. Hopefully you were just over reacting and this was just a doppelgänger at best.

The person (who you were hoping wasn’t Micheal) finally sauntered around to face you, you couldn’t help but continue to gawk at them with your mouth wide open. You knew if you continued to keep your mouth open you would surely attract flies so you managed to close your mouth.

You realized this person was wearing a light black cape with two golden claspes on each side with a golden chain running between the two claspes. You couldn’t help but briefly think how expensive those claspes probably were - fuck. All it took was for you to look up and meet his icy blue eyes. Fuck, those eyes. Once you pulled yourself out of the trance his eyes seemed to put you in, you then realized who you were staring at... oh no.

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck fuck!!

“I don’t, I was actually just looking for the drinks myself. Care to search with me”?

You stood there as he spoke, completly fucking baffled. You forgot you had even talked to him at all ealier, but he sure didn’t seem surprised to see you. Weird. It was almost as if he knew you were going to be here, but how was that even possible? He wore a smug smirk on his face while your thoughts started to race at one hundred miles per hour.

You tried to make it look less apparent that you were so shocked; it looked like he was getting off on the fact that you looked caught off guard. You didn’t know too much about him but you knew he had a thing for control and manipulation; and you weren’t about to let Langdon control you anymore than he already had.

“Wait.. What? What the fuck are you even doing here”?

You asked and threw your hands up in the air in frustration. The sheer hatred and anger you held in your voice got the attention of a few people who stood close to you but they quickly lost interest.. thank god.

You went to this party with the intention of finally letting go of fear and being able to be free and yet you ran into the person that you were dreading would be there. You felt incredibly angry that he took this night away from you, a night where you could just let go and have fun but now that was fucking gone.

It was odd how he wasn’t scared to confront you when he knew you were stronger than he is. It’s as if he got off on having control over you and your life, and even how you felt.. And you were so fucking over it. It was so fucking sick.

“I could easily ask you the same, couldn’t I”?

Micheal responded. Instead of yelling to talk to you, you noticed that he kept moving in closer and closer to talk to you and you were still trapped. You could feel your palms starting to itch with inticipation, waiting for the right moment to use your powers to attack - if it came to that but that was the absolute last resort. You were surrounded by way too many people to just use your powers freely like in the abandoned house you two had met in previously.

“You don’t own me Micheal. I’m sick of feeling like you control me, I feel like I’m not even in charge of my own emotions or actions anymore. And now when I finally try to have a night to forget about you, you fucking show up. So let me ask you again, what are you fucking doing here”?

You hissed. You kept your voice a little low, still yelling but not quite at the volume that would catch other people’s attention. You made sure to look right into Micheals eyes as you spoke, you wanted to show him you weren’t scared. There was no reason to cower from him anymore.

Micheal smirked as he glanced over his shoulder, as if he was making sure no one was picking up on your conversation. There was so many fucking people here, it was really hard to tell if any of them were purposely listening in or not. And even if they were listening, it probably just sounded like you two were exes that happened to run into eachother at a party.

“I’m here for the same reason you are. To forget about all of the bullshit that’s happened within this past week. So, C’Mon lets go take shots”.

Micheal said and actually grabbed your hand. Your mouth dropped once again as soon as he touched you, your not sure if it was from pure surprise or disgust.. maybe both? Your first instinct was to take back your hand and you tried to - you really did but the fucker seemed to have cat like reflexes and he caught your hand before you could yank it away too far.

You thought the first time you would touch your soulmate you feel sparks or fireworks and maybe even butterflies but when Micheal touched you, and was even leading you through the crowd now - you felt nothing of the sort.

You felt regret, nausea, and if anything it felt like you had almost been electrocuted when he touched you. And not in a good way.

He was moving through the crowd pretty damn fast, and he wasn’t really holding your hand - more so grabbing onto your wrist as if you were a kid who was about to be punished. You tried to slide your wrist out of his grip but he wouldn’t fucking let go, and it was really starting to hurt. You stumbled behind him and he continued lugging you through the crowd and to the kitchen; where there was definetly still a crowd but it was more dispersed and there was actually room to breathe. It was a little bit quieter here too, the music a little bit distant and the crowd was more sparse. It wasn’t nessacary to scream here to talk but you chose to anyway for your next sentence because you wanted to make sure he fucking heard you.

“Micheal let go”!

You yelled, you still couldn’t work your wrist free so you took your other hand to pry Micheals hand free off of you.

You noticed people were staring at you two - you didn’t look to see but you could feel their eyes on you. Micheal must’ve sensed that you two were getting attention because he finally let go of your fucking wrist. Ow. He might’ve let go because you were also digging your nails into his skin as well.

You rubbed your wrist which was now red as you frowned deeply. Even though your wrist was really just irritated and not actually injured; you still chose to put your other hand over your wrist and heal it. It’s not like anyone would notice, you doubted even Michael noticed what you were doing. However, What you really wanted to do was to continue to yell at Micheal but you knew you couldn’t do that now, espically since you just got people to stop staring. You cleared your throat.

“What the hell is this all about Micheal? Are you out of your mind”?

You hissed, glaring daggers at him as you spoke. You hurt Madison, why was he not furious with you? It made no fucking sense. And he wanted to take shots with you?? What??

You don’t know what exactly you were so mad about honestly, because this point it was fucking everything. You don’t know if it was the fact that he was trying to pretend everything was okay when it obviously fucking wasn’t, or the fact he was expecting you to just forget all of the bad blood that was between you too? Who knew at this point.

You waited for him to talk but instead he moved toward the counter to pour shots, you assumed since he was so hellbent on you two drinking together. You wouldn’t be surprised if he poisoned your drink honestly but something about Michael today seemed desperate, and sad. He really seemed like he was trying to get on your good side; maybe you were just reading him wrong but you felt like you could trust him tonight.

Michael didn’t even bother to turn around to reply to you; he kept his focus on the alcohol and not even making eye contact as he spoke.

“I told you, I’m done fighting”.

He said. He nearly slammed the alcohol bottle down onto the counter and he turned to look at you as he kept speaking. He first handed you your shot which happened to be clear in a tiny red plastic cup. You stared at the fluid in the cup suspiciously, and then you looked back up at Michael. You figured you would watch him drink his shot first before you had yours.

“The more I try to distance myself from you, the more I just end up getting fucking nowhere so I’m done trying to run away from you. Whenever I try to push you away someone ends up getting hurt, so It’s not worth it.. bottoms up”.

Micheal took his shot and downed it within seconds and slammed it back down on the counter. You noticed he was already reaching for the bottle to fill up his glass again. You continued to keep holding onto your cup absentmindedly as you watched Michael pour himself another glass. You couldn’t help but to notice how whenever he spoke tonight there seemed to be a desperation in his voice, it was as if he had given up. It almost made you feel bad for him.. almost.

You had to remind yourself who he was, and what his ultimate goals were. The only reason he was sad and angsty tonight was because he couldn’t manipulate you or use his powers against you, it wasn’t because he cared or felt any kind of empathy for you. It stung and hurt for you to acknowledge that but you knew you couldn’t let his charm cloud your judgement.

You already had a drink ealier but you figured this tiny shot wouldn’t hurt, being tipsy around Micheal couldn’t be TOO risky.. After all Michael seemed to be pretty cozy with drinking around you. You downed your shot and pull your small plastic cup back onto the table; assuming Micheal would fill it for you since he was still holding the bottle of alcohol.

You were about to speak but instead you heard someone else speak up and talk to Micheal instead.

“Why are you even taking shots? You might as well just drink the whole bottle at this point”.

It was an all too familiar voice, you whipped your head around and you saw Mallory. You exhaled and grinned, you were never happier to see another human being in your fucking life.

It’s not like you were alone with Micheal, you were surrounded by people but you felt alone. Micheal could do whatever he wanted to you here because you couldn’t use your powers. You felt isolated and alone but now with Mallory here? You were getting the fuck out. Nothing could stop you now.

You were surprised Mallory made such a snide remark to the damn antichrist of all people.. I mean she knew who he was.. right?

Micheal at first smirked, and then he full on laughed - it was like he was trying to hold it in at first. He was defintly feeling the alcohol you could only assume. You’d never seen him laugh before... you couldn’t decipher whether it was a true laugh or a sarcastic one from being challenged.

“Your right. I guess I will”.

Micheal announced, he placed his shot glass on the table and even slid it across. Your not sure if it slid naturally or if he used a bit of his magic - a quick glance around told you that no one seemed to notice or care execpt you.

He started to chug the bottle which happened to be a pretty big fucking bottle of Absolute Vodka. You watched his throat as his Adam’s apple continued to bob as he swallowed.. and swallowed and swallowed. You and Mallory’s mouth both dropped open, you didn’t know what the fuck to do. You both looked at eachother in shock as you watched the amount of liquid in the bottle start to grow smaller and smaller.

He was defintly going to get sick at this rate, and be drunk off his fucking ass. Yes, you hated him and wanted him dead but not like this. Choking on his own vomit and dying drunk and alone would be a fucking awful death; even for the antichrist. And lucky for him you actually gave a shit about people and their feelings.

You knew Cordelia’s ideal end game would be to have Micheal dead as soon as possible but if you could help it Micheal wasn’t going to die tonight. You would rather it be a quick and painless death if he had to die; dying by being drunk would not quick and painless. And on the other hand, Mallory didn’t even know this was Micheal yet. You assumed she probably thought this was just some guy you stumbled across - which wasn’t a totally wrong assumption. You brought your attention back to the man in front of you; who was still fucking drinking, the bottle was nearly empty.

“Hey! Stop”!

You hissed at Micheal. You gripped the end of the bottle and yanked it away from him - he had a damn good grip didn’t he?

The bottle was at least three quarters empty, fuck. You noticed Mallory gave you a weird look when you yelled at Micheal but you only did so cause you didn’t want to randomly name drop him, you figured they could have a (semi) proper introduction.

You still held onto the bottle as you shifted glances between Mallory and Micheal. You pointed at each of them with the bottle you held as you said their names.

“Mallory, this is Micheal. Micheal, this is Mallory”.

Mallory, who was staring at you before, instantly snapped her head toward Michael as her eyes grew wide. It was as if she was trying to convince herself that what you had just said wasn’t true. She looked completly panicked, in fact you could nearly feel the anxiety radiating off of her like how you would feel the heat rising off of a hot stove.

“This is Micheal”?!

Mallory asked in a panicked whisper. You merely nodded quickly. Micheal on the other hand looked purely amused, and swayed in place dangerously. If he wasn’t drunk before, he definitely was now. you had no doubt in your mind that he was reading and taking in all her thoughts right now, if he wasn’t too drunk to use his powers anyway. You weren’t drunk, maybe just a little tipsy at most but you could still feel the strength of your powers swirling inside you. Being intoxicated definitely had no effect on the strength of your powers - that was good to know. Michaels blue eyes flickered from watching Mallory to meeting your gaze.

You knew no one else execpt maybe Mallory was staring at you but you felt under the spotlight under Micheals gaze, almost like how a bug would feel right before being squashed. You started to sweat and shift uncomfterably in place. You felt even more uncomfterable as he spoke.

“Is this your new normal now? Do you always keep a posey of witches around you wherever you go? How about you just introduce me to rest”.

Micheal mused, you nearly screeched when he said the word ‘witches’ outloud. Even though he looked obviously drunk, his words came out smoother than silk - not stumbling on his words once. You found it odd Michael didn’t even bother addressing Mallory, not even respecting her enough to look her in the eyes. You assumed he knew she was a witch from reading her thoughts, or maybe he could just sense it. This seemed to piss you off any more of that was even possible. He could at least pretend to be civil.

“Micheal, What is your problem? Im not scared of you”.

You snarled, you stepped closer to him, just a foot away from his face as you stared him in the eyes. Even though you felt insanely nervous doing this, you knew Micheal couldn’t hurt you. You just needed to show him that you were in control for once. Not him.

You felt Mallory’s soft hand on your bicep, very gently pulling your arm back. You knew she was scared that you or Michael would start fighting.

“(y/n), we need to go”.

You heard her say. Micheal still had a smug smile on his lips and you wanted nothing more than to wipe it clean off.

You backed off though, you took a couple steps back and turned to Mallory; your back now to Michael. As you spoke, you felt Micheal tug on the bottom of the bottle you still held - trying to take it back - but you gently tugged it back. He was already drunk out of his mind, no fucking way he was having more.

“I can’t leave him like this, he’s going to get himself killed”.

You explained to Mallory, frowning. It’s not like you wanted to spend tonight babysitting Micheal but you couldn’t trust him to be by himself.. even if he was acting like a asshole and purposefully trying to piss you off. You could tell Mallory was about to protest by the look on her face but you spoke instead.

“Don’t worry about me I’ll be fine. Go home, I’m gonna stay with him”.

“There’s no way I’m going to let you do that, what if he hurts you”?!

“I’m not worried, I’m stronger than him. Plus he’s drunk, the only one he’s in danger of hurting right now is himself”.

You said with a giggle. Mallory quickly took a couple steps toward you and bear hugged you. You hugged her back and you could barely make out the words,

“Be careful. I’m gonna head back”.

You gave Mallory a somber smile as you watched her melt back into the sea of people as she left the kitchen. You turned your attention back to the drunk bafoon you had the pleasure of babysitting tonight.

You caught him dancing embarrassingly bad and trying to lip sync to whatever hip hop song was playing.. you could only laugh as you walked over to him.

After pick pocketing his phone from his back pocket of his jeans, you quickly got you two a Uber to wherever the hell Michael was staying this time.

You could only hope it was another nice penthouse like how his one in L.A. was.

While holding his phone; you didn’t mean to snoop or go through anything execpt the Uber app (which you downloaded) but.. a message notification popped up.

A quick glance at Michael told you that he wasn’t paying attention, the dumbass was too drunk to even notice you took his phone in the first place.

You looked over back at his phone and first noticed the message was from Madison, and then you noticed what the message even was.. a photo. It looked to be a photo of.. oh my god.

Was that Madison? Was that a fucking nude? Your mouth opened and your shut his screen off, you immeaditly handed his phone back over to him which he reluctantly took with a confused puppy look.

By how Michael was talking ealier you thought that maybe he wanted to make mends but if he still had this kind of relationship with Madison, what did it even mean? What did any of this mean? You saw first hand though how in love he was with her. He wasn’t just going to break up with her, you should’ve known that.

You shook your head, atleast you knew you had a lot to think about tonight.

Taglist: @mindlesschicca @mina672 @guiltyfiend @michaellangdonstanaccount @9layerdevilsfoodcake

[angstyaches]

A1, B2, B5 for Rin!! She’s my favourite out of all your OC’s!!!

(same anon):  I was the anon who asked for Rin. I’m fine with either Charlie or Shayne as the caretaker

A1: “Are you okay? You look pale”

B2: “You should sit down before you fall over”

B5: “Is the room spinning or is that just me?”

Anon, thank you for choosing these lovely lines for my lovely girl! The requests I’ve been getting for Rin have really helped me flesh out her character and her story. Sorry it took a while for this one; I tried to include a bit of Rin’s friendship with Katie without taking away too much from the Sick.

CW: toxic friendship, bullying (?), conflict, fainting, blacking out, anaemia (mention/implication), illness/deficiency

Rin panted as she began to sprint, despite knowing all too well that Katie, who was up to bat, hadn’t hit the ball far enough for Rin to make it to home base. Rin had once seen Katie hit the ball into a ditch so some of the more adventurous boys in the class had to climb through briars and nettles to get it back. And now, she was incapable of getting it a yard behind the catcher before dropping the bat and running to first? She had to have done it on purpose, so Rin would never make it to home.

Katie had been trying to pull all kinds of crap since Rin had made an effort to care less whenever Katie or the other girls said anything sly about how loudly she spoke sometimes, about how much time and effort she must put into her hair, about how close she’d gotten to those boys recently, about how she must have switched to a push-up bra lately because didn’t her boobs look so much bigger these days?

Rin cursed under her breath and slowed her pace as a guy on the opposite team carried the ball to home base and tagged it.

She spun around breathlessly. Her eyes took a second to focus, but she just about made out Katie reaching second base and coming to a stop. She was staring at Rin, the ghost of a smile crossing her face.

Rin should have gone straight over to sit down with the other players on the batting team who’d been sent out, but instead she stormed across the pitch, weaving between the fielding players and watching that smile drop from Katie’s face.

Hadn’t she always known it would come to an end like this? Hadn’t she known there was a reason she’d kept her true self from Katie throughout ten years of friendship, for fear of the mockery and ridicule that would pursue?

“What are you doing?” Katie demanded as Rin came to a stop in front of her. “You’re out.”

That, right there – the aggressive explanation, the assumption that Rin was only still there because her head was so high in the clouds that she didn’t know how the game worked – was what really boiled Rin’s blood these days.

“Yeah, I know that,” she yelled. Her chest heaved and ached with the effort of catching her breath. “I’m out because you only hit the damn ball two inches from home.”

“What?” Katie scoffed, glancing at the fielding girl hovering by second base. “You think I did that maliciously? Not everyone’s out to get you, Corinne. Now go sit down, before you embarrass both of us like you bloody always do.”

“I don’t get embarrassed, K,” Rin laughed, indicating towards the few fielding team members who had already turned around to see what was going on with them. “I think what you mean is that I’m always bloody embarrassing you.”

“Hey!” came a yell from the side-line. Miss Malloy was waving her arms, shooing Rin towards home base. “Johnson, get off the field, now!”

“Rin?” Katie asked, frowning and peering at Rin’s face. “Are you okay? You look pale. I’ve tried telling you to go get checked for anaemia -”

“I’m always pale, I’m just pale,” Rin said, her mouth going dry. “Stop trying to make me think I have all these things that are wrong with me, K. It won’t work anymore, alright?”

“Johnson!” yelled Miss Malloy. “Last warning, or it’s a demerit!”

Katie folded her arms, her face neutral as Rin tried to give her one last glare. She felt like she was going to burst into tears as she turned around, the grass swaying a bit. God, she felt awful, like something had whacked her over the head. A deep-set ache was settling in low in her stomach, but that didn’t explain the fact that from the knees down, her legs seemed to have turned into sandbags.

She made it over to the other players on her team. Shayne was among them, though he’d left a considerable space between the other members and himself before sitting down in the grass.

“What was all that?” he asked, scratching awkwardly at the back of his head as Rin walked up to him.

“It was nothing, alright? God, I hate this game,” she said breathlessly. She suddenly felt like she wanted to go to sleep.

“It’s just P.E. Who cares?” Shayne told her with a shrug. “You should try not giving a shit.”

“Oh, like you?” Rin snapped, spots dancing in her vision. “And how many calories have you burned today exactly?”

“The hell is that supposed to mean?” he asked, with an edge of genuine hurt.

“Oh - oh, my god.” Rin immediately pressed her hands to her face. Her head was throbbing so hard she could barely think. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, babe, I – I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I – I feel really weird.”

Rin leaned her hands against her knees. She could physically feel her heart skipping beats against her ribs, stalling the pulse in her neck. She should not have been this exhausted from the amount of running she’d done.

“Uh, Rin?” Shayne asked. “You should sit down before you fall over.”

Rin whimpered and sat down in the grass, drawing her knees up to meet with her elbows and cradling her face in her hands.

“Shayne?” Rin’s limbs felt like lead, and she was very glad she’d taken his advice and sat down. She hid her face behind her knees to try to stop the dizziness, but she felt like she was being pulled by a tide. “Babe, is – is the room spinning or is that just me?”

“Well, we’re outside, for starters.” Shayne shifted closer, putting a hand on Rin’s shoulder. “Rin, can you look at me, please?”

Rin tilted her head to look at him, still holding it up with her hands and her knees. She felt like she’d swallowed a paperweight as she saw him frown and blink in concern.

“What?” she whispered weakly. “Do I look... anaemic?”

“Well, I was gonna say you look like a vampire.”

“I’m always pale –”

Shayne shook his head. “Nah, not like this. Shit, you look like you’re gonna pass out.”

“Mm–” Rin felt something like a tearless sob get stuck in her throat. “Mmhmm.”

Shayne was quiet for a second, still holding her shoulder. “I don’t like this, Rin, I’m – I’m gonna go get Miss Malloy. Want me to find someone to sit with you?”

“No,” she whined. The ache in her belly grew heavier, seeping into her lower back. Her head swayed to the side. No, there was nobody in their P.E. group she’d have wanted to come and sit with her like this. She’d have liked Charlie, but he was in a different class group. A few weeks ago, she might have asked for Katie, but the thought made her feel nauseous now. She hoped Katie came nowhere near her while she was like this. “Shayne, don’t - don’t go.”

“Fuck, Rin, I don’t know what else –” he said. His voice sounded shaky and muffled for a second. “– to do, okay? Here.”

Rin peeked out from under her hands. Shayne had pulled off his P.E. jumper, even though it was December and too cold to be out in just a polo shirt. He’d rolled the jumper up and placed it on the grass.

Rin frowned and let herself slump gently to the side. She rested her cheek on Shayne’s jumper and then tucked her chin towards her chest. The grass was cold, but the makeshift pillow was warm, and it was so much better being horizontal than vertical. Blissful, even.

She was vaguely aware of Shayne saying something, but her ears rang and her head spun and everything – the tickling sensation of the grass against her ankles, the slight breeze on her face, the distant thwack of ball hitting bat – was too much for her senses. All she wanted was to sleep, but even that seemed like too much effort, so before Shayne could come back with the teacher, she let herself simply black out.

[natsunoomoi]

Holy crap. So like with the previous post I was thinking about Fushigi Yuugi again and kind of checking up on what was up with Byakko Senki cuz I haven’t checked on it in awhile and it looks like it’s on hiatus right now and she’s working more on Arata Kangatari, which is cool cuz I thought she finished that, but I guess not and she just took a break to like finish Genbu and do Byakko or something.

But also I was scrolling through her Twitter to find that she is really into this Chinese movie “Legend of Luo Xiaohei” and so I was checking that out cuz so ironic that Japanese mangaka that got her big break writing manga about an ancient China setting is interested in a Chinese movie. So just looking through her Twitter thread and apparently she found out about Luo Xiaohei from watching a CM while watching Modao Zushi. LMAO It’s amazing, but this situation just feels like an ouroboros eating itself because I have a high suspicion that her work on Fushigi Yuugi imported into China back in the 90s was probably a huge influence on Chinese creators and artists to write their own stories about their culture and helped to popularize the xianxia and wuxia novel movements in more modern times. On top of that MXTX said she was inspired by a D. Gray-man fanfic and while she mentioned that title specifically, I think in the periphery Fushigi Yuugi itself and more recently Arata were probably an influence too. Growing up a number of my Chinese friends also said they got into anime overall because of Fushigi Yuugi because it was an anime and work from Japan about their culture and arguably done pretty damn well. 

In terms of the danmei movement as well, I’m pretty sure Fushigi Yuugi was included in what started the movement as the movement was influenced by Japanese BL that came in via Taiwan, and the beginning of Fushigi Yuugi had the whole thing between Nuriko and Hotohori even though that kind of went nowhere, Nuriko dies to everyone’s depression (I have several friends who refuse to watch the rest of the series after Nuriko dies because it’s not the same), and that whole ship goes off a weird deep end with Hotohori marrying a woman that looks like Nuriko. Also, the exact reasons for Nuriko being in the harem and all that. There was a whole lot of shipping in the 90s from Fushigi Yuugi and it was one of the first series that had a male cast that was almost entirely ikemen and I think the actual first reverse harem. A number of shows probably simultaneously popularized the female gaze in mainstream anime, but Fushigi Yuugi was definitely one of them. Like literally one or two years before there was a lot of manly men and guy’s guys kind of anime characters, but beautiful ikemen, no, not really. In 2021, there are some things about the series that are a bit problematic, but it’s influence on the world is pretty significant. It was one of the first shows I’d seen that had any kind of reference to homosexuality or transgender in it and although it’s not necessarily portrayed well, the fact that it was there and that Nuriko was such a beloved character it started a conversation and helped us to get to a time where the topics she represents can be more discussed. I’m actually not even sure what pronouns would be appropriate for Nuriko because of her reasons for what she did and in Japanese the pronoun problem is actually really easy to get around because you just don’t have a subject or speaking in 3rd person is totally normal. But still, without her the minds of thousands or even millions of fans around the world would not have been opened as early to LGBT topics. Her existence, even problematic as it might be, allowed people to consider and love a character of a different sexual orientation or gender identity than their own and just open their minds to just not being a homophobic, biphobic (cuz relationship with Miaka?), or transphobic piece of shit.

Then also Genbu Kaiden and Uruki’s powers. Yeah.... I mean, also kind of with the earlier discussion, the idea of dual cultivation I don’t recall even being brought up much before in most media, but such ideas were also banned and repressed in China at a certain point. Documentation shows it was more of an ancient practice that suddenly became known about again. The book I was talking about that has it more explicitly written is banned in China has its only original surviving copy in the Japanese National Library as it was one of the books brought to Japan by scholars escaping persecution in China and bringing with them books to escape one of the many episodes of mass book burning. According to my Chinese lit professor who had us read an English translation of that book as a part of our curriculum anyway. Supposedly the translator of said book had to go to Japan to read the original in order to write the translation. There’s apparently a number of ancient Chinese texts like that because book burnings were a thing at different points in Chinese history, so if you are a scholar of Chinese lit if you want a complete picture of your field for some texts you do actually have to come to Japan to do your research. But yeah, that power mentioned in that very book Watase-sensei gave to Soi, and also the story of Fushigi Yuugi takes place in that very library that contains that ancient copy of a banned and would have been lost to the world book. If you’re asking why a “dirty” book would be something a scholar would grab to save, ancient lit scholars do regard it as a rather well-written piece of literature even though the content of it is basically taboo.

But also the Fushigi Yuugi Suzaku Ibun game is a hot mess when it comes to this same issue because if you romance Nuriko you can save her from death and my friend Hikari said she wasn’t sure if she was happy about fucking with the universe like that. (I’m not either.) Nuriko’s death was such a huge impact on the story and everything. Also, notably, most of the Suzaku Shichiseishi died, but Nuriko had the LONGEST tribute. Like Chiriko and Mitsukake’s was like a tag on of a few minutes. Hotohori’s was too even, but it was addressed more in the later manga chapters the publisher pressured her to write and in the OVA series afterward.

Also, like Fushigi Yuugi other than the Neverending Story was one of the original sucked into a book holy shit how do I survive stories. Idk if SVSSS is influenced by it in that way, but it’s fair to draw the parallels because of the similar theme. It’s just canonically Taiitsu Shinjin is not behind the the system in the book and in a number of ways Shen Yuan is more competent than Miaka. Miaka gets a lot of shit though and when I re-watched FY a second time I actually found the gripes people generally have about it make up only a small part of the series. People just talk it up so much that it seems like a huge thing when it’s not. Plus the technical canon is only the original TV series because that’s where Watase wanted to end the story and that is an emotional rollercoaster that makes you cry so good. But like there’s some other kinds of parallels as well like how toward the end and like the last two episodes you hate Nakago up until the exact moment you find out why he’s an absolute asshole, and characters straight up criticizing him about how he’s an asshole the whole damn series just gives the same kind of feels that SY gave criticizing the original throughout SVSSS. Can’t say for sure, but Fushigi Yuugi has a lot of clout in a general sense.

But yeah, Watase-sensei said that she was really surprised by the animation quality of Chinese animation these days and she thought Japanese anime was going down in comparison. Same, yo. Same. But still, her work was probably a huge contributor to the movement that allowed MDZS to exist because her art is damn beautiful, Chinese influenced, and she had one of the first works in Asia to like bring the subject of LGBT issues into the mainstream after years of oppression from mostly Western influence because in pre-modern Asia no one gave a shit before and there’s a significant amount of classical novels that address some form of LGBT issues at least in Japanese lit and like even academic documentation that notes Confucius saying that doing it with a guy was better than with a woman. And the author of the work that probably was very influential to BL back in the 90s watches MDZS. She noted that there wasn’t any in the actual anime, which is true, but I think she helped that series to exist and she watches the anime so it’s kind of exciting.

I hope it influences her to go finish Byakko, but OMG I want her to finish Arata too because I like Arata. I should try to find time to read more of it because the anime is too short and the wiki descriptions of what’s happening are so damn confusing and incomplete.

[angelicspaceprince]

Take Me To Church

Author: Ama

Title: Take Me To Church

Pairing: Zhuk/Reader

Character/s: Zhuk

Word Count: 6, 437 words

Warnings: Smut (18+ only please), cockwarming, tentacles, Priest Kink, sex in a church, Demon Priest, hypnosis, aphrodisiac, stomach bulge, double and triple penetration, sex on an altar

Prompt: You were just trying to keep to yourself and avoid the rain when no one seemed to want to help you after you are left stranded in the middle of nowhere. The thing that lives in this abandoned church seems to have other ideas.

Notes: I set out to destroy myself and managed to take some people down with me. It was.....fun. Many hours of work and putting it off, its finally done. Also. There is a part two in the works so if you want to be tagged in it....send me an ask. Translations for long pieces of Russian is at the bottom of the post in order of appearance. Enjoy.

Buy Me a Coffee

Take Me To Church

You hadn’t meant to get lost at this time of night. It was dark, it was raining, and you were just done with today. Your car broke down in the middle of nowhere, you walked for hours, getting lost and finally finding your way to a near-abandoned town and, once you found someone to actually help you, every door was slammed in your face. Rain turned into a storm, a downpour, and you just wanted somewhere to hide until the rain passed. You saw a rundown looking church when you first walked into the town, and that was only a block away. Perhaps there would do? As far as you knew, churches were open to all in need, and you were in need of not getting sick before finding a phone to call for a mechanic.

You shuffle in and move to sit on one of the pews. It was empty, cold, made of grey stone that seemed to be crumbling in places with stained glass windows, some broken and covered with increasingly dampening cardboard whilst others stayed intact. You weren’t fussy. It’ll do for now. You are dripping with the rainwater, the only sound in the entire church is your laboured breath from running and the drip, drip of water running down your hair and onto the floor. You think for a minute - is it really a good idea to be staying in these wet, cold clothes? You look around, no one else is in the church that you know of. Perhaps you should just slide your coat off.

The desire to at least see how wet your clothes were under your coat proves to be too great as you carefully slide it off and lay it beside you. Your clothes are plastered to your body, saturated from the intense weather. You sigh loudly in defeat, you just couldn’t win today.

The sound of the door opening and closing loudly followed by the gruff voice of the bar patron stirs you from your self-pitying thoughts. Fuck, you said you were going to leave and wait by your car. You couldn’t bear the idea of getting into another argument with the man. You look around for somewhere to hide, eyes flickering to the confessional. Maybe? It was certainly the closest.

You dash in, leaving your jacket behind, and close the door behind you, moving to sit on the surprisingly comfortable seat. You weren’t an expert in these sorts of things, but you thought these to be always uncomfortable and wooden, but this was almost like a cushion that went from the bottom of the seat all the way up above your head. Even if it was lumpy, it was more comfortable than the pews out there.

It was dark, and the only thing you could hear was your laboured breath and the steps of someone investigating the church. You swear he is nearby, you hold your breath and try to keep yourself silent when what you think is him brushes past the confessional.

A low, rumbling voice shocks you as he greets the bar patron, asking if he is well. You can’t quite make out the conversation, except for the newer voice reassuring the man that everything is okay, he has it sorted, and he can go home now. There is a bit more back and forth that slowly fades as the new man leads the bar patron away. You let out a small sigh of relief, sagging back slightly. Now you just have to wait for him to leave before you can get out of here. You don’t feel safe here, you need to get back to your car, weather be damned! You’d rather battle out a horrid respiratory infection than be in some weird cult sacrifice to the village’s local god, or whatever Stephen King-esque thing this town seemed to be into.

You wait quietly, trying to quiet your loud, uneven breaths as your adrenaline slowly starts to wane. Seconds before you go to leave, you feel it. Something cold, slimy, slippery curls its way around your foot. Before you even have a chance to jump or scream, the confessional screen opens, causing you to jolt and the thing to unhook from your ankle. You look down and see nothing. Perhaps it was just your mind playing tricks on you. But you still have a problem. The priest now knows you’re here. How were you going to explain that you were hiding from someone like a child, simply because you didn’t want to interact with them?

“Do you have anything you wish to confess?” He finally asks, his heavily accented voice giving you a small shock, having grown tired of the silence that stretches between the two of you.

You wince. “Well, actually, uh-” You trail off, and you can almost feel the amusement rolling off of him in waves.

“Or were you just hiding from Mr MacNamara?” His voice is kind, but also bemused. Even then, it’s calming and draws you in. Just something about it, something tinged within it makes you think there is something he is hiding. You shake it off, what would a priest have to hide?

“Yeah.” You say quietly, guiltily. “I’m sorry si- Father, I’ll go.” It wasn’t really polite or religiously sensitive to hide in what you believed to be a sacred place, at least to the priest.

Your hand barely leaves your side, however, when he speaks. “Never mind the reason you originally came here, my child. You are here now, there must be something you need to get off your chest. Why else would you run and hide into a church and then a confessional, unless you have a guilty conscience or something you need to speak about.” He offers softly, his voice drawing you closer and closer to him as you feel your body relax into the soft booth. You jolt. No. You shouldn’t be here. You are making a mockery of his religion, at least, you feel like you are.

“I’m not Catholic. Or religious.” You state bluntly.

“My confessional is open to all who need to clear their heart and mind.” He doesn’t sound like he’s insisting, rather that he’s just patient. Waiting for you to finally crumble and agree to confess to something. You might as well. Just to let him leave you alone.

“Where do you want me to start?” You sigh dramatically, leaning back and getting comfortable. If he wanted a confession, you were going to waste his time a little.

“Perhaps the one that is weighing you down the most.” He instructs, amusement seeping in his accented voice. What was it? Russian?

You shrug. “Lusted over a married man, that’s a pretty big sin I suppose. Would you consider it a major sin, Father?” You start with the one you are sure he will question the most and then have you move on and leave. The idea of making the priest squirm amuses you, and you’re almost tempted to state that you lusted over a man of God to see what he’d say. Alas, you decide against it. He stays silent for a second.

“Did you tempt him?”

“God yeah.” You try not to act proud. “Worked too. That’s adultery, isn’t it? Or at least, tempting someone into adultery.”

“Did you enjoy it?” He sounds slightly conflicted. Good.

You can feel your body begin to melt and relax into the pew, shifting slightly as you start to grow warm, starting from your ankles, almost like a blanket has been placed over your feet. “Mhm.” Is all you can get out. “It was. Good. We didn’t regret it. It happened a few times, but. Neither of us regretted it.”

“Did the wife know?” You shrug.

“Dunno. Don’t care, to be honest.” Silence begins to tick over you as you wait for your dismissal. But it doesn’t come.

“Anything else you wish to confess before I give you your penance?” His voice is still soft, inviting. You go to groan as he speaks again. “You’re here, you might as well use this time wisely.”

Wisely. Yeah right. Your jaw clicks, taking the challenge as you start to ‘confess’ your many sins. Missing mass, as you’ve never been to mass since after your confirmation, using contraception as every good girl does, being envious of others, having bouts of extreme anger, the times you had sex with another girl, both taking the Lord’s name in vain and being blasphemous, your slightly excessive masturbation habit, every lie you could think of, how you left religion behind a long time ago, your impressive pornography collection. Every little thing becomes pettier and pettier as you try to get him to shut you up and leave, but instead, he just keeps asking question after question, digging deeper as if trying to figure out what to add to your penance. You even stooped so low to start telling him about the time you stole chocolate from your local supermarket when you were a toddler, and every pen, eraser, piece of candy, anything from anyone as a child, be it malicious or by accident. Your eyes look firmly in the space in front of you, a dark nothingness - didn’t they have candles or something to light up this incredibly dark room? -, but better than to see his face and how schooled it must be. That would frustrate you even more. He didn’t get annoyed, or frustrated, or anything. Eventually, however, he decided he didn’t want to play your game anymore. “Y/N, look at me.”

You are so busy with your revenge that you don’t feel your body slowly growing warmer and warmer, relaxing into the soft back of the confessional seat, voice growing softer as your eyes start to close. That one command to look at him has your eyes snapping open as you turn to look him in the eye.

They were glowing.

Wait a minute.

You didn’t tell him your name.

But that’s not the thing that’s concerning you now, your eyes beginning to bulge out of your head when you take in the sight before you.

Bright amber eyes encourage you to relax for him, obey him, trust in him, which didn’t concern you at this moment. No, what concerned you were the mass amount of tentacles that seemed to be coming out of his back, covering his back wall and crawling your way into your small cubicle. You see him smirk faintly at your realisation. “Relax, Y/N. Do not worry about them, malen'kiy. Focus on my voice instead.” He instructs quietly, and it almost works. Were it not for the cold jab in your gut when you realise. Something was moving over you.

You look down and let out a loud gasp of air, your body in so much shock a scream couldn’t form. Every inch of your part of the confessional was crawling with tentacles. They filled the walls, the floor and, to your horror, was the cushion between you and the hard, uncomfortable wood of the confessional chair. “I-”

“Shhh, malyshka, don’t stress yourself. They won’t harm you.” He sounds bemused as you start to squirm, finding your movement restricted. You struggle, and something seems to squeeze you until you stop.

Oh.

Oh fuck.

Like a long, black snake, one of the tentacles had slowly wound its way up your legs, waist, hips and was slowly beginning to climb its way up to your torso and shoulders. “Dorogoy, relax.” He reminds you gently, voice inviting, warm. You relax as you feel the tentacle coil around you another time, slowly, gently.

Nope. Nope, nope, nope, nope, nope, nope. That was enough for you. You grab the doorframe, ignoring the tentacles now moving to hold you there, and you use it as leverage to pull yourself up and out of his grasp, slime from the one grasping onto you giving you enough leeway to climb out and into the cold of the stone church, tugging back on your hands until they are freed as you land on your back, scurrying back against the rough floor. You are freezing again and, when you look down, you realise that you had been worked out of your clothes, leaving you in just your bra and panties. You move to stand and rush towards the still slightly cracked open door when the other side of the confessional opens, tentacles that were once climbing out of the door you just lept from moving back into the shadows. Your blood turns to ice as you freeze in place as his loud footsteps echo through the room.

He’s huge.

Tall, dressed in the usual black slacks and shirt with the clerical collar that you’d expect all priests to wear, he was intimidating. The scar over one of his still bright and bemused amber eyes doing nothing to settle you as what seemed like countless, black, dripping, slimy tentacles came out from behind him, all constantly moving. You swallow, unable to move or think as you look at him. He couldn’t be human, a demon perhaps? But you thought no demon could ever set foot in a church?

“Ne boysya, ne begi, moy rebenok.” He speaks softly as the tentacles start to climb the floor directly towards your feet.

It was enough to break the spell. You stand up and bolt in the opposite direction, away from the door. Surely there was a back exit? You dash and, somehow, escape every grab attempt he makes at you as he calmly, slowly, follows you. He knows this church like the back of his hand, and he knows there is no escape for you. You trip over nothing, landing flat on the floor as something twists its way up your ankle and calf. Hot adrenaline kicks in and you kick back wildly until you are free and able to make another mad dash towards the back of the church.

Nothing.

Not a door, not even a window. A set of rickety-looking stairs. You look behind you and see his shadow slowly come into the doorway, his tentacles climbing the walls, ceiling, floor, slowly. As if searching for you. Another hot pump of adrenaline hits your body as you instantly run up the stairs, yelping when one gives way under your feet. You hear his chuckle, low and dark as he stands at the bottom of the stairwell, just staring up at you as you pull yourself up to the top stair. “Don’t hurt yourself, Y/N, ya predpochitayu, chtoby moi blyuda ostavalis' tselymi i nevredimymi, poka ya ne poluchu ikh v svoi ruki.” He purrs as his ever-moving appendages stop for a split second before rushing directly towards you.

You can’t help the scream that leaves your lips as you rush past the open door and slam it shut behind you, his loud laugh echoing into the room around you as you see the black, oozy tendrils, smaller than the main tentacles but still just as scary somehow, slowly make their way under the gaps of the door, slowly covering and dissolving the wood with their goo. Fuck. You need to keep running.

Up on the upper floor, there really wasn’t anything. A little nest of coats and blankets, obviously a makeshift bed, and a broken-down organ. You look over the edge as the door starts to shake, already on awful foundations, it won’t take long for it to break down. If you could just get downstairs and hide until he went searching for you, then you can make a run for the door. Your eyes scan what you had around you, knowing that if you jumped you’d probably break your neck on impact. Then you see it. A ladder. It looks old with the wood rotting, but it will suit your needs for now.

You rush over and start climbing down the ladder quickly, hitting the ground underneath the mezzanine just in time to hear the door break. Shit. No way you could make a run for the door now, even then beforehand your chances were slim. You remain well hidden from him as you plaster your back against the wall so as he looks over the church, not an inch of you or your shadow can be seen. He takes in a deep breath through his nose as you look for a hiding spot.

“I can smell your fear, zakuska.” He purrs. “It smells delicious.” You swallow as you continue to search before realising. The altar.

You lift the piece of fabric that reaches all the way to the ground and bite back a cry of success. There is a gap there big enough for you to hide. You smuggle your way in, unseen by the demon as you curl up and try to quieten and control your breathing.

His feet land heavily on the stone floor seconds later as he apparently grows tired of your game and jumps from the upper floor. You jolt when you realise he’s landed on the other side of the altar. Just stay quiet, and wait until he’s gone. Then you can run. Your stomach feels sick with nerves as you wait and listen to the demon’s footsteps as they fill the church. You don’t realise it yet, but he is pacing around the altar, smelling your scent and knowing exactly where you are hiding.

His low chuckle sounds even more ominous as it echoes around the empty church. “You can't hide from me now, roza. I grew up in this church, I know every inch of its cold walls, every shadow, every crack, every stone. Give up now, and I may just go easy on you.” He warns. You stay still. There is no way you are giving in to him, not now. Not ever. You’ll hide until you get the opportunity to run. “No? Alright then. Just remember, little one, you chose your fate.” He sounds tired as he says this and, before you know it, the cloth is pulled back and everything on it clatters to the ground and he is right there in front of you, sharp teeth gleaming as he stares at you. “Hello there roza. It appears that I’ve caught you.” He teases. Before you can even get a chance to move, you are dragged out into the air, warm vines sliding their way around your body and hoisting you into the air as they move to support your legs, arms, torso. Even one is so considerate to support your head. Higher and higher you go, them tightening as you struggle as if to keep you steady. “I wouldn’t continue that if I were you, Y/N.” He warns. “It wouldn’t be a pleasant landing if you do.” The threat is crystal clear. You fall, he won’t be catching you.

You go deadly still and try to bite back a sob. He caught you and now he has you. Suspended in the air in just your underwear, nowhere to go. Nowhere to hide. You were his.

You don’t even register the tentacle pressing against your lips until it’s made its way into your mouth, tasting salty yet strangely sweet as it pushes into your mouth and down your throat, causing you to choke slightly. It pulls back to just before where you started to gag and tear up and slowly starts to pump a thick, almost syrupy liquid, causing you to gulp out of fear of drowning in the air. For a hot second, the idea of biting down to hurt him crosses your mind, but his threat rings again in your ear. You could faintly hear the splat of you falling to your death if you did something wrong in the back of your mind. So, you continue to drink whatever it was filling your system, not noticing how your once tense muscles start to relax into the hold of the black, leaking appendages or how your face is becoming flushed, eyes glazed, body slowly beginning to warm despite the cool air. All you can feel is the throb between your legs and just how empty you feel. You whine, the sound quiet with your mouth stretched open as you start to suck, hips beginning to buck against nothing. You need to be full, you need something inside of you. You start to claw at your little clothing, even that’s too much of a barrier. You need to be full, to be touched, to be fucked. You can feel the demon’s amusement under you as he slowly starts to help, tendrils moving to tug down at your panties as others unhook and slide off your bra, leaving you bare as you continue to ride against nothing. You are already wet down to your knees, slick just dripping from your already sopping wet sex just from being given a little dose of….whatever it was he was feeding you.

You don’t even realise you’ve been lowered onto the altar until the cold marble was pressed against your skin, two large, cool hands tugging your knees apart so amber eyes could look down over you. His hair is a dark green mixed with magenta whereas before, you swore it was just green or black with a trick of the light changing its colour. What did that mean?

It didn’t matter now, all that mattered was being full. You whine pitifully as you jerk your hips up, coaxing him to at least slide a finger into you to relieve the pressure. He snickers at your desperate attempts for help before one of the thinner tentacles moves to press against your entrance, entering maybe an inch before withdrawing teasingly before finally, it pushes in slowly, confidently, until it’s pressing against your cervix. You clench around him, moaning softly as he stares down at you, the rims of his eyes slowly turning a matching magenta colour. Was he staring down at you hungrily or adoringly? Fuck it, you don’t care at this moment.

You grind up at him, babbling nonsense from your still full mouth as you try to beg for more. He tuts, taking pity on you as the tentacle inside of you begins to expand, slowly filling and stretching you out as you shudder around him. You felt so full, it felt perfect. All you needed. You rotate your hips, encouraging him to move, goddamnit, letting out a small whine as you feel him slowly pull out only to thrust back in, the movement bouncing you up the altar slightly. Fuck. You are sure nothing has ever felt so good in your entire life. It’s not long before the tentacle down your throat and the one in your pussy start to move in tandem, you being helpless to do anything but just suck and clench and cling on for dear life as you feel yourself go higher and higher, right to the very brink. Like waves crashing against a cliff, so does your orgasm in that moment, wave after wave hitting you as you cry out around the appendage in your mouth, clenching around the one inside of you as you jolt up as white-hot pleasure washes over you again and again.

Your hips twitch lazily as you feel the heat that bubbled over slowly return to its previously itching warmth. That couldn’t be the end of it, right? Surely not. You need more. More, more, more, more.

“Oh, malen'kaya zakuska,” his growl sends shivers up your spine as you feel his nails dig into your skin, leaving large crescent-shaped welts in their wake, “this is far from over.”

You whine as you start to feel the feelers inside of you start to move again, this time more roughly if at all possible. It wasn’t enough, why did you feel so empty? It’s not until you feel something small probe at your ass that you realise what you were missing. Yes.

The tendril pushes in slightly, just the tip slipping inside of you before a small gush of something hot, wet and sticky floods you. Then, slowly, almost gently, it starts to fill you, just enough that you’ll feel completely full once it’s finished. Slowly, it starts to grow and expand, thickening as it stretches you out, sating the heat inside your belly as well as making it erupt into an inferno as your blood boils, eyes rolling back as your ass joins in the brutal fucking. You barely have the energy to move, using what little energy you have left to babble out the words ‘please’ and ‘Father’ over and over, muffled with your mouth full, your arms and legs laying limp, dangling off the altar as your toes curl every time he hits a spot deep inside of you that causes electricity to course through your veins, each time a loud grunt falls from your lips, echoing in the room. You can hear his deep laugh and feel his amusement roll off of him in waves as he continues to fuck you nice and deep, everything moving almost inhumanely fast, your brain barely able to keep up.

Your body still sensitive from your last orgasm, it doesn’t take long for another to wash over you, more powerful than the last, your entire body shaking as you feel your slick slowly slide down your thighs and the ornate table under you before audibly dripping onto the floor right next to the priest’s feet. Your body tenses, it feels like you have been set on fire as your body is engulfed once again in a white-hot blaze as a hoarse scream leaves your throat, hands curling into fists before your body slowly relaxes again, feeling boneless and like you’re made of jelly, you try to catch your breath.

It still wasn’t enough.

The Father’s hands move from your hips to beside your face, caging you in against him, the look in his eyes positively feral as he takes in your fucked out frame, glazed eyes and mindless, dopey smile. He purrs as the tentacle inside your cunt slowly slips out, his grin widening when you protest weakly. “Shh, malen'kiy, I’m not through with you yet.” He growls lowly. You feel the head of his cock brush between your folds, collecting your slick as he prepares himself. He feels huge, like nothing you’ve ever had inside of you before. If you weren’t so high on endorphins and whatever he had pumped into you, you’d be frightened. But now? You crave it.

Your hips tilt upwards slightly for a bare second before slamming back against the stone of the altar. A clear invitation. Fuck me.

Slowly, he pushes inside of you, the mass of tentacles from his back beginning to slide up the sides of the altar and over your body as he does so. It feels like an eternity before he bottoms out, feeling stretched to the absolute limit, as you cry out loudly. Finally. It feels right. You feel absolutely perfect with him inside of you, the Goldilocks Zone, not too big, not too small. Just right. You could finally settle.

Unfortunately, the priest has other plans. It feels like he is waiting for you to adjust, but you feel a smaller, thinner tendril slowly wrap around his cock as he sits inside of you, slowly making it become almost ribbed in texture. At the same time, you feel something else slide into your mouth, another tentacle of the same size as the one currently occupying your throat, twirling with its twin as it does so and yet another, albeit smaller, one probe at your ass, slowly sliding into you without hesitation, ready to join in the fun. You can feel two slowly trail up your stomach and twist around your breasts once, twice, enough to squeeze them roughly as the tips open up to cover over your nipples and start sucking away gently. Finally, one more tendril, smaller than all the rest, moves to flick at your clit, causing your head to slam back as it causes a near painful jolt through your system. The priest chuckles, his hand moving to rub at the back of your head tenderly, making sure you haven’t hurt yourself before it returns to its previous position. “Ready, roza?” He asks softly, eyes watching yours for any notion of approval for him to continue.

You nod, slightly confused by his sudden gentle demeanour. His wicked smile returns, his hips rolling against yours as he groans lowly as he takes in just out tight and warm you are, in comparison to his cool body. “Fuck, malyshka, you take me so well.” He growls as you moan around the appendages stretching out your throat, the tendril around his cock dragging against your walls deliciously. Slowly, but surely, every growth out of his back moves in tandem, the ones in your ass withdrawing when his cock enters you and pushing deep inside you when he pulls out, leaving just the tip inside. Your tits being squeezed and sucked at every time the tentacles in your throat pulls back, only to relax when they advance forward again. The small one on your clit, however, never lets up. Each little flick causes you to buck up as you just try to hold on for the ride, eyes never leaving the priest’s in front of you as he stares down at you possessively, little growls leaving him every so often.

Eventually, every thrust up into you causes loud noises to leave your body, barely able to keep up you just accept what is given to you as your body tenses, ready to be taken over that abyss once more. Your mouth goes slack, drool pooling in your mouth before slowly dripping out, leaving your checks wet in its wake. Something about the sight of you amuses the Father as he laughs his low, rumbly laugh as he looks down at you. “I think I’ll keep you. Kak ugoshcheniye. My own little toy to chase down and play with and fuck. What do you think about that, moya milaya malen'kaya blyad'?” When you don’t answer with words but with a pleading whine, his grin grows to an almost unnatural size, white teeth glinting in the faint light the candles around you provide. “Oh, how could I ever give such a pretty little thing like you up?” He purrs, his face moving down to press small kisses against your neck as you turn your head to the side, baring it openly for him. Something about that he apparently approved of, as suddenly his teeth are pressing down into your skin, a barely audible ‘mine’ vibrating against your skin before he slowly starts to suck, marking you. “Oh, I am definitely going to keep you, little Y/N.” He purrs happily, his thrusts becoming harsher and faster by the second.

It takes a few more flicks of your clit, and you definitely had been right on the brink since your last orgasm, before your entire body almost seizes as the near painful experience of you coming and coming and coming around him begins. A barely-there cry rips from your throat, you only just able to piece together the Father’s loud grunt before he’s spilling inside of you, on you, marking you. You were his. In every way possible.

You don’t so much as come down from your high as slam into darkness for a few seconds as your body twitches as the sensation of overstimulation begins to wrack through you. You are barely able to piece together the sensation of everything slowly pulling out of you and being collected into the priest’s arms, a warmed, too big coat wrapped around as he starts to walk towards the front door slowly. Your ears barely hear his voice, now soft and caring, as he talks to you in a gentle, loving tone. “-ika. Settle now, I've got you.”

You faintly recognise getting into a warmed car and it taking off before you start to fidget and whine loudly. “Empty.” You complain. After what felt like hours of being, if anything, too full to quickly being completely empty? No, no you needed something inside of you.

The priest tries to shush you before a small chuckle falls from his lips when he realises all attempts will end in vain. He carefully repositions you, sliding you down his rehardened cock with ease as it becomes your time to purr, resting your head against the crook of his neck as his hands move to rub your back and sides. “Rest now, moya lyubov'.” He instructs. And it’s an easy command to obey as you fall asleep, sitting in his lap with his cock inside of you as you are driven home.

You wake up to the sensation of someone rubbing some form of oil against your skin, the sound of a heavily accented voice murmuring small praises to you as you slowly regain awareness. You hiss at the feeling of coldness between your thighs, an ice pack having been pressed up against your pussy in order to help with the inevitable swelling that was going to occur after the beating it had been given. Your eyes flutter open and instantly make contact with the concerned amber ones of Zhuk’s. “Hey.” You say, voice a little hoarse from sleep, overuse and the throat fucking it endured.

“Hello, roza.” He says with a small smile, leaning over to grab the glass of water for you as you sit up slightly in order to sip at it. You fall back to the bed with a small grunt when your arms give out.

“Thank you.” You say, your lips quirked up into a small grin.

Several months ago, the two of you had found an abandoned town a few hours away from the manor, including a crumbly, old, haunted-looking church and a very grouchy man who lived in a house on the outskirts of town, the only resident who was determined to stay there until he died. Two weeks later, after you, Bajo and Cia ended up getting a little too into the alcohol, as Zhuk carried your ass to bed, getting everything ready for the inevitable hangover in the morning, you told him about a fantasy you had since pretty much the onset of puberty.

“I want to get fucked in a church.” You stated bluntly, his lips twitching as he tries to hold back the amused look in his face. “I blame Catholic school. I spent too much time in Mass. I wanted there to be a demon priest who could fuck me brainless.” You declared. “With tentacles.” You added as an afterthought, turning to look at your husband with wide eyes. “Snuggles?”

He obliged, placing the asprin and water bottle on your bedside table before sliding into bed behind you, pulling you into his arms as you snuggled up. “What brought this confession on, moya zhena?” He asked, hand moving instantly to play with your hair as you wrap your arms around his chest.

You hummed. “The town we passed when you made the wrong turn.” You yawned, struggling to finish your sentence. “Brought it back to life because the church there looked hella haunted. Like a demon should live there.”

Zhuk went to ask more questions, but your gentle snores made it apparent that anything asked wasn’t going to be answered.

After that, plans were made. Zhuk was all too happy to fulfil your little fantasy, even going so far to offer to hypnotise you in order to make it feel more real and less like a scene. Everything was planned down to a T, with him promising to create a cheat so if you really were in distress and wished for the scene to end, the hypnosis would break and you could safeword out.

And it worked brilliantly.

Zhuk smiles as he looks down at you softly, hand moving to brush your hair back as he constantly scans your body for more bruises, more scratches, more cuts. Anything that needed attending to, and to make sure that he didn’t hurt you too badly. “Anything for you, kotenok.” He says, voice quiet as he slowly picks you up and pulls you into his arms and lap. “You did so well, took everything I had to give and were so beautiful whilst doing it.” He presses a gentle kiss to your lips. “Do you feel alright, little one?” He asks concern still very much apparent in his voice. You nod a little jerkily.

“Just tired.” You say with a fucked out grin. You feel incredible, and you wanted to ride this high for as long as possible. “Hold me?”

“Of course.”

A few seconds tick by as he moves to lay down on the bed, you in his lap as his fingers trace loose patterns on your skin. A thought was hammering his head and it was refusing to move on.

“Roza….” he starts hesitantly, knowing that under the hypnosis he gave you, anything you said had a basis of truth in it, “was I the married man you lusted over?”

You snort a small noise as your eyes flicker up to look at him, your body beginning to slowly relax as it prepares for sleep. “Duh.” You say, amusement sparkling in your eyes.

That does not help the confusion clouding Zhuk’s mind. “I married you, moya zhena.” He reminds as if you could have forgotten.

You nod as if to agree with his statement, secretly enjoying the baffled look on his face as he tries to follow your logic. “I know. I still lusted and lust over you though.” You say, grinning up at him.

His confusion leaks into amusement, a fond look taking over his face. “Y/N, I don’t think it counts if you are married to the person.” He corrects you gently, hands moving from tracing patterns on your skin to rest on your waist.

You shrug. “You never know. Could work like that. Who’s to say?” You tease him, voice playful before you yawn against his chest.

He shakes his head, moving down to press a gentle kiss against your forehead. “Go to sleep, moya lyubov'.”

Even if the fatigue wasn’t seeping into your bones, you wouldn’t be able to help but obey as you slowly fall into a peaceful slumber in your husband’s arms.

Translations (In Order):

Don't be scared, don't run, my child.

I prefer my meals to remain unharmed until I get my hands on them.

As a treat. 

-my lovely little fucktoy?

[solynaceawrites]

Promise Me Forever [9]

Fandom: Devil May Cry Characters: Dante, Lirael Thorne (OC) Tags: Slow Burn, Romance, Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe, First Time, Friends to Lovers Chapters: 9/14 co-written by @lickitysplitfic​ Summary: An old, long-forgotten promise between gods comes back to haunt Dante when it deposits an unfamiliar woman on his door. Claiming to be the descendant of Ler, she says that they’re meant to fulfill the oath made by Sparda centuries ago, and all he can do is watch as she turns his life upside down. Yet when her parents come knocking, demanding the oath be fulfilled, he’s forced to choose: return to the bachelor ways he loved so much, or give in to the emotions brewing between him.

»»————-　⚜　————-««

Dante frowns at his reflection, adjusting the collar of his shirt as he tries to tug the tie a bit looser. He can't even remember the last time he wore a get-up like this . . . Hell, he might never have worn a suit and everything. He leans in to examine his face, clean of any stubble and pizza sauce, before straightening up so he can smooth his palms down the jacket.

"Hmm," he says to himself. His hair hangs in its typical messy-but-totally-intentional strands, and he wonders if he should gel them back or something. But then he'd look like Vergil, and Dante snorts, wondering what he would think of all this—of course, if Vergil was around, he'd be the one about to marry Lir.

"Whatcha laughing at?" Nero asks from the bed, where he is bent over tying his shoes.

"Nothin'." Nero snorts, but doesn't press, and for that, at least, Dante's grateful. Today is going to be enough of a pain without dredging up the kid's trauma—not to mention his own—and any reprieve, however slight, is more than welcome.

He eyes the decanter of whiskey set on the dresser. Lir had sent it up with Nero when the kid arrived, alone with her hopes that he would enjoy it, but he hasn't been able to bring himself to touch the stuff. The last meeting with her family had been disaster enough without alcohol involved; he'd hate to hear their bitchin' if he showed up with liquor on his breath.

"Right." Nero stands, running a hand through his hair, which is far shorter than it was when he and Dante met. "You ready?"

"I don't know," Dante admits. He turns and puts his arms out, glancing down before frowning at Nero. "How do I look?"

Nero laughs and shakes his head. "You want my honest answer?"

"Sure."

"Like you're about to piss yourself," he chuckles. "But grooms are supposed to be, right?"

Dante makes a face. "No? I don't know."

Nero shrugs. "I don't know, you look like a guy who hunts demons and had to put on a suit. So I'd say, you look like yourself."

Dante sighs. "Let's just get this over with."

"That's the spirit," Nero teases, followed by another laugh.

He starts towards the door, still fussing with the tie at his throat, only to be stopped by Nero. Frowning, he tilts his head, and the kid shrugs and reaches up to fix the mess he'd made of the knot. "There," he mutters, stepping back and studying him with a squint. "Least now you look like you know what you're doing."

". . . Thanks," Dante mutters.

Nero nods and moves to open the door, holding it open until Dante has stepped through. Then they descend the stairs towards the main floor, from where the sounds of laughter and excited chatter echo. That makes him feel worse, somehow: so much on Lir's shoulders, forcing her here to marry a jackass with nothing much going on for him, and those people are having fun?

By the time they get to the bottom, Nero is looking at him funny again. "You okay, man?" he asks. "Never seen you that color before."

Dante nods, and they head over to where Morrison is waving at them. The shop has been transformed into a party area, chairs lined up in rows before the little foyer in front of the door, where the two of them will say their vows. He spies Lir's parents trying to get his attention, but Dante ducks down and makes a beeline for Morrison. "Thanks for doing this," he mutters when they reach him. "Can we get started?"

"Just waiting on the bride," he chuckles. "You doing okay? You look pretty pale."

"He's nervous as fuck, that's why," Nero offers.

"Lir's family is here, can you cool it with the swears?" Dante hisses. He nods over to the two dozen or so people who occupy most of the space, chatting excitedly and sending sideways glances towards Lady and Trish. They are the only ones sitting on the groom's side, and Dante grits his teeth to see that neither of them are dressed like normal people.

Lady is in the same all-white ensemble she'd worn in Fortuna, while Trish's black corset is drawing more than a few scornful looks, but neither of them seem to care much. At least they aren't all over one another. He has no idea if the conservative values of Lir's family extends to personal relationships and has no desire to find out. He levels an unimpressed stare their way, one that Lady returns with a poisonously sweet smile. 'Don't faint,' she mouths, and he turns back to Morrison with a growl.

"Where's Lir?" he asks lowly.

"Upstairs with Kyrie," Nero answers. "I think a couple of women who might have been her sisters went, too. Something about prepping her for tonight, whatever that means."

"Oh, God," he groans. Dante wipes his brow with the back of his hand, then on his pants. Lir's parents have finally started over, and he considers hitting the fire alarm as he watches them approach.

Her father puts his hand out, which Dante takes weakly. "Very exciting!" Augustus says, nodding to the others. "Are we just about ready?"

"About time, too," Lorenna huffs. "Can't put this off forever." She narrows her eyes at Nero, looking him up and down, frowning when she spies his right arm, partially hidden by his coat. "Who is this?"

"Nero," Dante replies quickly, cutting off whatever profanity was, judging by how sharply Nero scowls, about to come out of his mouth. "He's a business associate. Runs the Fortuna branch of the Devil May Cry."

"Oh!" Lorenna perks up a bit. "Were you familiar with the Order, perhaps?"

Dante watches Nero visibly swallow his anger, and his voice is stiff when he says, "Yeah. I knew 'em."

"Interesting business that was," she says. "You must know a lot about Sparda, being familiar with the Order."

Nero shrugs. "Some I guess? Who knows if he was even real though, right?"

Internally, Dante winces. That was the entirely wrong thing to have said, and he realizes then that he should have warned Nero about how devoted these people are to Sparda as a mythical protector of humanity. Before things can devolve further, Kyrie appears at the bottom of the stairs and hurries over to Morrison.

"She's ready," she announces.

Augustus drags his wife away, who looks as though she has more to say, and Nero snorts. "These people are weird," he says before kissing Kyrie's cheek and watching as she goes to sit next to Lady.

"Yeah," Dante answers. Music starts from somewhere, and Nero frowns at him, grabbing his elbow and positioning him the other way. 

"Stand here," Nero snorts. He looks over Dante's shoulder and nods. "She's coming down the steps, don't you want to look?"

Dante blinks. His palms are damp, the small of his back clammy, and he's nervous, more so than he's ever been before. Makes sense, he supposes; like Nero said, grooms are supposed to be, right? Yet he feels like his body weighs tons as he turns, the world swimming around him in slow motion, and the sight of Lir nearly sends him running.

She's fucking gorgeous, and she's making a terrible mistake.

The dress she wears is the one he knows she's spent weeks carefully sewing, and it fits her like a damn glove, hugging her chest and hips before flaring into a train at her thighs, and her neck and shoulders are left bare. Dainty lace gloves cover her hands, clutching a bouquet of white and red roses, and, while he can't see much of her face due to the veil covering it, he already knows that she's going to be stunning. She already is, every single day, in jeans or a ball gown. Christ, his eyes are burning, and next to him Nero mutters, "You can cry. Most guys do."

"I'm not crying," he hisses, smiling at Lir when she reaches him.

Lir beams up at him through the veil, and holds out her hand to him, which he takes eagerly. "This is exciting, isn't it?" she whispers.

Dante nods, feeling his nerves start to settle as she grins.

"You look very handsome," she murmurs.

He swallows thickly. "Yeah. You look . . . Uh. Well. I've never seen anythin' prettier."

»»————-　⚜　————-««

Dante wrinkles his nose as he knocks back a sip of champagne. The taste is a bit weird, definitely preferring beer, or whiskey. But champagne was needed for the toasts, Lir had insisted, so he sighs as another one of her relatives or sisters or friends or whoever this seemingly endless parade of people are gets up to give them another lecture about Sparda and Ler disguised as a toast.

"You okay?" Lir whispers, patting his arm.

"Right as rain," he answers, returning her smile. She sits on his right, their table actually his desk, covered with a long linen cloth.

He feels a nudge on the shoulder. "How much longer is this?" Nero hisses in his ear. "I'm starving and these people are starting to freak me out."

Lir gives him a sheepish, almost embarrassed smile. "I'm sorry, Nero. It should be over soon. They're just waiting for . . . for the sun to go down."

Dante frowns, glancing towards the windows. The sky outside is taking on the burning hues of evening, and the sun is barely touching the roofs of the buildings across the street. "Sunset? Why sunset?"

"Well, it's . . ."

She closes her mouth as a woman with Augustus' dark hair and Lorenna's shrewd eyes approaches. There's a band on her finger with a large diamond set in the center, but that doesn't stop her from eyeing him in a way that feels far too intimate. "Lirael," the woman coos. "Aren't you going to introduce us?"

"You know who he is, Irene." It's the first time he's ever seen something akin to dislike settle on Lir's features, and he wracks his brain at the inkling of familiarity the name brings. "Dante, this is my older sister, third daughter of Augustus and Lorenna, 59th in the line of Ler."

She sticks out her hand, which Dante takes. "Nice to meet you?" he says uncomfortably.

"Mm-hm." She looks around, holding onto his hand so he can't pull away. "This is your place? Not much to it. You'd think the son of Sparda would have something . . ." Her voice trails off as she slowly drags her eyes up and down him. "Bigger," she finishes.

Behind him, Nero makes an odd sort of noise somewhere between a cough and a laugh, and Lir's brow pinches. "Irene," she says, warily.

Irene releases him with a smile and lifts the flute of champagne in her other hand. "A toast to the newly wed couple. May your union be satisfying too all, your joining full of delight."

"Thanks," Dante says, putting his arm around Lir for good measure. "Same to you," he continues, nodding towards the rock on her hand. 

"Oh, this? It's nothing," she laughs. Then her eyes flicker over to Nero. "Another son of Sparda?"

Nero makes a face. "Hell no, I ain't a Sparda. And I'm taken, lady."

"My mistake." She smiles at Lir again, taking a thoughtful sip of her champagne before saying, "Interesting ceremony you have here. Our sister was married on the beach, but an office building is nice too, I suppose. And pizza? You are living well."

"Dante likes it," Lir hisses.

"Does he?" One perfectly shaped brow arches. "Well, then I suppose it's alright. Though I must say, sister, I'm very surprised to see how well you've adjusted. What was it you said when you were chosen? That you'd rather die?"

Dante goes cold. She never told me that. But Lir is already lifting her chin. "That was before I knew him."

"I see." Irene taps the rim of her glass against her lips thoughtfully. "Did you know," she says to Dante, "that the only reason Lir was sent was that my engagement was announced two weeks before we learned of your existence?"

"Sounds like you had a lot of reasons to celebrate," he replies. His voice sounds steady, despite how numb his lips feel. Is she still miserable with this?

"Just think," Irene says, as if he hadn't spoken, "it could be the two of us sitting here right now." She laughs and takes another drink from her glass. "That would be interesting, wouldn't it? We wouldn't be eating pizza at a wedding, that's certain."

"Hey, back off." Nero steps up, his voice angry , putting out his left hand as if to keep her away. "Why don't you go find your table and leave them alone?"

She gives a simpering sort of smile before turning on her heel, her hips swaying more than Dante thinks is natural as she saunters back over to her parents. "I'm sorry," Lir murmurs. "She's . . . She wasn't happy to be passed over. I thought that wound would have healed by now, but . . ."

"It's fine." Dante sips his champagne and wrinkles his nose. Too sweet. "Believe me, I understand sibling rivalry just fine."

The speeches finally over, food is served, which seems to settle everyone. Dante is amazed at the dishes served, a combination of pasta dishes that does include pizza. He eats his fill as Lir discreetly points out who everyone is among their guests, keeping one eye on the table that sits his friends, hoping they don't get too rowdy. He notes how Lir seems to be getting fidgety, and after the caterers take the food away, she seems to be stiff as a board.

Dante spots some of Lir's family getting ready to swarm, so he leans over and murmurs, "Is it, uh . . . time?"

She jumps, but then nods. Dante frowns to see the bit of pinching in the corner of her eyes, but Lir tries to visibly relax. "Yeah. We’re going to need to go upstairs."

"Sounds good." Dante stands, putting his hands up and calling for attention. If Lir is this nervous, it's up to him to take charge, he decides. Least he can do after all this mess. 

Everyone stops talking and looks at him in surprise, and he ignores the whoop that comes from Trish. Lir whispers his name in the silence, but Dante's mind is made up. "Everyone, uh, I guess it's time for me and Lir to do the thing we need to do. So make sure to leave me some pizza, and don't drive if you get too trashed."

The expressions of their guests ranges from surprise to delight, but their stunned reaction to him is made worth it when he hears the little laugh that escapes Lir before she smothers it, and he offers her his hand. She takes it with a smile before addressing the crowd. "Thank you all for being here. I know the road has been . . . strange, but I'm happy, and proud, to be where I am. To be by his side."

He doesn't quite know what to make of that or the knots it sends his stomach into, so he merely nods, moving to rest his palm against the small of her back and guiding her to the stairs. Whispers erupt behind them, easy enough to ignore given his own inner turmoil. Dante is actually looking forward to this, and that makes him feel guilty, which only confuses him. Lir, at least, seems steady, climbing to the second floor with an easy grace.

Dante follows her into his bedroom, and he lets out a surprised noise when they get inside. It's the cleanest he's ever seen it, a completely new bedding set on the bed, fresh flowers placed around on the furniture. He looks around with a smile as he shuts the door, putting his hands on his hips as he takes it all in. "This place looks great," he says. "Did you do this?"

"Some of it." Lir moves to the window to open in a bit, and he watches as she takes a deep breath when the curtain sways a bit. She glances over her shoulder, but when their eyes meet she quickly turns away. "Can you help me with this veil?" she asks. "There's like a million pins in it."

"Sure," he murmurs, shrugging off his jacket as he walks over. Dante tosses it onto the chair in the corner, cleaned off of the pile of dirty clothes and even a new pillow fluffed on the seat, and steps up to Lir as she turns away from him. He frowns for a moment but then finds the first hairpin, pulling it out and tossing it on the top of the bureau. Carefully he works until he takes out a couple dozen and is able to work the comb attached free from her hair.

Lir sighs deeply, reaching up to help him. "My scalp thanks you," she chuckles, tossing the veil to join his jacket on the chair.

On impulse he slides his hands in her hair, giving her scalp a gentle massage, and Dante grins when she gives a little groan. "That's nice, thank you," Lir sighs.

"Mm-hm." The scent of her shampoo wafts gently every time his fingers brush through her hair. It's sweet, light, like the strawberries he loves so much, and he wonders if she'd chosen a new one just for him or if he never noticed it before. "I'd say you've earned it."

"Earned it?" He can hear the confusion, and it's cute enough to make him laugh.

Resting his hands on her shoulders, he carefully presses his thumbs against the nape of her neck. "Yeah. You had to put up with me an' Nero an' all of your family for the entire day. Keep it up, and I'll think you're going for sainthood."

Lir doesn't respond right away, her head dropping as he massages her skin. Then she turns and looks up at him with a shy smile. "You did pretty good too," she says. Then she licks her lips, a little gesture that sends a jolt through him, and she reaches up to undo his tie. "Let's, uh . . . let's get you comfortable, okay?"

"Right." His voice cracks, so he clears his throat and tries again. "Right. Okay. Think you're a bit more, uh . . . I mean, the dress seems . . ."

Her fingers brush his throat as she carefully undoes the knot and pulls the fabric from beneath his collar. "I'm okay," she replies quietly. "It's not the worst thing I've ever worn." Before he can ask what was, she sets to work on the buttons of his shirt; Dante can feel her hands trembling, and he covers them with his own when she reaches the third. 

"Take it easy," he murmurs. "It's just us."

Lir glances up, her cheeks turning a bit pink. "I'm just so scared I'm going to screw this up," she whispers.

Dante can't help but chuckle at that. "Don't worry, I got that covered I think." He pulls her hands away and finishes the buttons on his shirt. "I can do this. Do you need help with your dress?"

She shakes her head, watching him for a moment as he takes off his shirt before glancing away. Lir turns a bit as she reaches back to pull her zipper, and the two undress silently. Dante doesn't take his eyes from her as he takes off his belt and pulls off his shoes, breathing deeply when she lets her dress slide to the floor, leaving her in a white slip, the satin clinging to her body. He is nervous as hell but seeing Lir just as unsure has given him a weird boost of confidence, and before he removes the rest of his clothes, he reaches out and grabs her wrist. "Come here," he murmurs, tugging her gently.

Lir blinks up at him, and Dante leans in, smiling as her eyes widen when he gets closer. Slowly he wraps his arms around her, his skin warming when her palms go to his arms and gently settle against him. "We can do this," Dante says.

She exhales slowly with a nod. "Yes." Her gaze drops to his mouth, and a flush stains her cheeks as she looks away. "I know I don't . . . I mean, it might not be proper or correct, but . . . may I kiss you?"

His mind flashes to her underneath him on the couch, her thighs cradling his body, and he swallows thickly. "If that's what you want."

Like then, her hands cup his face, her thumbs smoothing carefully over his cheeks, and his heart is pounding in his chest as she goes up onto her toes to press her lips to his. It's the same tentative brush she had used the first time, like she's afraid to ask for more, that she's doing something wrong, and he holds her firmly, forcing himself to be patient. If he moves too quickly, he could scare her again, like he had when he'd torn the couch trying to keep himself under control.

His hands fist into the slip, but he holds back, letting her lead the kiss. Lir presses her lips to him twice, three times, and then Dante follows the tilt of her mouth, returning her slow kiss with soft pressure. After several moments she starts to grow bolder, and he feels her tongue flicker against his lips; they curve into a smile as he opens for her, Lir sighing into his mouth.

She hesitates again, and Dante tugs on her lower lip before moving down her jaw and to her throat. He shivers at the little catch in her breath as he leaves a trail of kisses down her neck. "You know I have . . . some things I can do . . ." she whispers.

"You do?" Dante nibbles on her shoulder, kissing along the strap of her slip.

"Yes, I was . . . I was taught how to . . ." He presses his lips under her earlobe, cutting her off as she sucks in another breath. Her fingers dig into the muscle of his arms as she tilts her head, exposing more skin to his kiss. "I'm supposed to be making you feel good," she whimpers.

"Mm, think that's supposed to go both ways," he murmurs, more than half-distracted by the softness of her throat. "Ain't fun if only one of us feels good."

"Fun?" she mumbles. She strokes him lightly, sending a shiver up his spine, and he groans and teases her pulse carefully with his teeth. "Oh," Lir breathes, the sound erotic and sweet and making him twitch. "Oh, do that again, please."

Dante complies eagerly. He kisses her neck, teasing her with his tongue as his arm slides around her waist, holding her tightly against him. The other hand moves to her hip, and slowly he walks her backwards towards the bed. "Is it okay if I touch you?" he whispers.

"Y-yes," she stutters.

He drags his palm down her thigh, and then grabs the fabric, pulling it up until he can feel her skin. They hit the edge of the bed, and Lir sits, pulling Dante down on top of her as she slides back to the center of the bed. Their eyes connect as he strokes her thigh, and she moves her touch up his arms and back down his chest, carefully tracing the outlines of his muscles.

"I wasn't lyin' earlier," he says, quietly, and her hands pause on his stomach. "I've never seen anyone prettier than you. Don't think I ever will."

He strokes the crease of her thigh as her gaze softens. Then Lir grabs his arms and tugs. "Sit up on the pillows," she says, quickly scrambling back.

Dante smiles and crawls up on the bed, flopping over with his back propped on the frilly pillows at the head of the bed. "This good?"

"Perfect." He grins as Lir straddles his lap, and then his eyes almost fall out of his head when she pulls the slip off over her head. Underneath is a lace set that is barely more than a triangle between her legs and over her breasts, and Lir reaches back to undo the bra, taking it off and tossing it onto the floor.

She settles back to sit on his hips, and Dante swallows as he takes her in. Her hands press on his stomach to steady herself, and as his gaze hovers around her chest, her nipples soft and pink against creamy skin, his own body starts to rapidly stiffen. Her kiss had already gotten his blood pumping, but his heartbeat is at full speed ahead with Lir now perched nearly naked on top of him, her hair falling over one shoulder as she chews her lip nervously.

Dante clears his throat as she shifts a bit, certain she can feel his erection inside his pants and now pressed against her backside. "I guess I should . . ." she murmurs, her fingers tracing down his stomach and towards the little trail of hair just visible above the waistband of his dress pants.

Still gathering his wits, or what little of them he's ever had, he doesn't realize what she's intending to do until the button is unfastened and the zipper eased down, and, even then, it doesn't really click until her her hand eases beneath the fabric and her touch grazes the base of his cock. Both of them freeze, and what he thinks is alarm flickers briefly across her features. "Oh," she says, then again: "Oh. You're bigger than . . ."

Lir trails off, her cheeks scarlet now, and there's another of those strange boosts to his ego, though it's dulled a bit by concern. She havin' second thoughts? "You okay?"

"Huh? Oh! Yes." She gives her head a little shake. "I'm sorry, I only. I mean, they told us—told me about the anatomy and used props to demonstrate how things could be done, but nothing was . . . as large as you are."

Dante's burst of pride is quickly dampened as she starts to stroke him, her hand exploring his length, but her expression one of confusion. "This isn't . . ." Her voice trails off, and now it's his turn to frown as she yanks down the fabric, his cock springing free as she examines him closely.

"Uh, easy there," he chuckles nervously.

But Lir only stares at him, expression deep in thought. Carefully she wraps her hand around him, and Dante bites back a groan as she slowly drags her fist up and down his length. It's pretty much the most erotic thing he's ever seen—only, really—and her beautiful face and perfect body and delicate hand now jerking him almost experimentally have him gripping the blanket beneath him tightly. Her other hand strokes his pelvis, the touch of her fingertips almost featherlight and in stark contrast to the firm grip she uses to pump up and down his length that is now aching and throbbing.

"Lir," he grunts. She stops, peering up at him from beneath her lashes, and he tries to think of a polite way to tell her that it she wants to have sex she better get a move on because he's not sure he can last with her doing that. But the words won't come, and he curses as her brows furrow.

"Was I doing it wrong?"

"What? No!" He pushes himself up onto his elbows. "Christ, no. Just, uh . . . Seems unfair that you're getting to touch me but I can't touch you."

"Oh!" She giggles, a slight blush creeping over her features. "Sorry, I was distracted."

Her smile is lovely as she leans over him, her free hand pressed to his shoulder as the other continues stroking him. Lir gazes at him sweetly, her long lashes making her look almost sultry, and the mix of innocence and sexiness makes his heart skip a beat. Dante reaches up to feel her thighs, and then slides his hands over her until he carefully covers her breasts. He can feel her nipples grow hard against his palm, and he gives her flesh a gentle squeeze, swallowing a groan at how soft she feels and how small she seems in his large hands.

She bites her lip, and he leans up to kiss the plump flesh, sucking on it softly while he cups her breasts and uses his thumbs to rub small circles over her nipples. The little noise she lets out as she arches into his touch has him panting, rocking up into her hand; nothing could have ever prepared him for the sensation of her body against his, of her skin brushing his. He feels almost drunk, and he releases one hand to drag it down her stomach, groping over her waist and hip just to feel her tremble.

Lir is still stroking him, her hand feeling like a slice of heaven, her skin so soft as it drags up and down his length. Occasionally she pauses to rub her thumb on the tip or tease the head, and Dante groans. He would love nothing more than to take hold of himself and hurry up the end his body is craving, but her touch is so sweet and sexy that he wouldn't stop her for anything. 

She moves closer, his erection now pressed against her thigh, and Dante pulls her down to kiss her eagerly. Lips and tongues slide together as his hands roam her body, and then he tilts her back so he can place a kiss to her breast, using his tongue to roll around her waiting nipple. Lir gives a little gasp that sends a shot of pleasure right through his dick, and he pulls her nipple in his mouth, wanting more. Her hands move into his hair, his cock straining for friction where it presses to her thigh, and when she lifts her hips slightly to press her chest closer to him, he feels the lace drag against the head of his cock, nearly driving him crazy.

"Dante," she murmurs, her nails scratching lightly over his scalp, and it's damn near over right then. Then she asks, shyly, "Should I . . . finish undressing?" and he goes lightheaded at just the thought of it.

"Yeah, yeah," he huffs. "You got me so worked up, angel . . ."

Lir presses a quick kiss to his lips and climbs off, and Dante stares as she stands next to the bed and shimmies out of her panties. When she turns he quickly pulls the rest of his clothes off, grabbing the base of his cock and giving it a squeeze as he closes his eyes and breathes in deeply. Keep it together. Keep it together!

Warm silk wraps around him, and with a groan he peeks an eye open. Lir is spreading lube along his length, coating him well before she straddles his hips. 

She holds his shoulders and rocks her hips, and Dante hits his head back against the pillows. He watches with widening eyes as she grips his length, and then angles it between her legs. Lir grabs onto his chest for leverage as the head of him parts her folds, and Dante wonders what to do, if he should help, when the first couple of inches enter her body, and his cock is wrapped in the most delicious tight heat he could ever have imagined.

He digs his fingers into the quilt, a faint ping of remorse making itself known when the fabric starts to rip. But it's easy enough to ignore that when the alternatives are either losing control or hurting her or both, and he does his damndest to keep himself still while she works. His thoughts jumble together the more of him she takes: christ she's so small is it gonna fit is she okay oh fuck oh fuck fuck fuck.

"Dante . . ." she whines, bringing him back from his own overwhelming thoughts. "Dante, I can't . . ."

He sits up, wrapping his arms around her waist, and kisses her. Lir freezes in his hold, her hands on his shoulders, and Dante kisses her as passionately as he knows how, ignoring the insistent throbbing of his cock. He rubs her back in slow circles until after a minute, she begins to relax, sinking further onto him.

"Lir," he groans, pressing his face to her neck. She starts to rock her hips, easing him in and out of her body, but still far from taking him completely inside her own; but it doesn't matter, the movements still erotic and incredible, her sex squeezing him tightly. He remembers the spot below her ear that had her trembling earlier, so he lavishes her skin with his teeth and tongue, letting Lir work at a pace that is comfortable for her but nearly torturous for him.

He's so caught up in keeping her comfortable that he doesn't realize how dangerously close he's getting until his sac starts to tighten, and he pulls from her skin with a stuttered groan, grabbing at her hips even as ecstasy starts to overflow. She lets out a startled noise as his seed fills her in pulses that mimic his hammering heart, going still with her hands braced on his shoulders, her nails biting into his skin with her surprise.

Dante can't take it anymore and he thrusts upwards, another pulsing wave of pure bliss wracking his body, the friction silky as he slowly rocks up and down. He falls back on the pillows as he catches his breath, staring at the ceiling as it finally begins to fade, Lir a comfortable weight on his lap.

Sleep is already tugging at him when she carefully climbs off of him, and he tugs her down next to him with a yawn that makes his jaw crack. Belatedly, he realizes that she probably hadn't gotten off—not that he'd noticed—but her hand is drawing lazy, soothing circles on his chest that only serve to lull him deeper into slumber, and his last bit of awareness is focused on the soft brush of her lips over his shoulder.