#it gives off the energy that i want it too

[swordsandholly]

Cherry Bomb - tattoo parlor anothology

MDNI | poly 141 x fem fat reader | masterlist | cw: oral (reader receiving)

Part Ten: Permission

A/N: We're SO back!

You’ve never been so happy to work an extra day.

Johnny gets the shop to himself on Sundays for walk-ins. Usually, he mans the shop by himself but you need to record the cash income from the convention in the ledger. Sure, you could do that during your usual hours the upcoming Wednesday and catch up on sleep, but you have too much nervous energy coursing through you. If you were home you would just be stewing on your couch the hole day and probably spiral into a panic attack. At least here, with a task and Johnny yapping in your ear, you don’t have to think about the fact that you made out with your boss too much.

Fuck. You really did that. Fuck, fuck, fuck!

You woke up in a cold sweat, fingers brushing over your lips as you tried to decipher if it was real or dreamed. If you really kissed John, if he really held a hand on your lower back as he walked you home, if he really gave you a second, light peck before saying goodnight. The itch of his beard lingers, as well as the warmth where his hands cupped your face. It felt so good. So fucking good.

Then the context settles in. The fact that you kissed your boss makes you want to throw up - not for any dislike of it, just the fact that your job is now in limbo. Hanging in the balance until you can talk to him on Wednesday. At least you can take the next couple days to collect your thoughts - come up with a good apology that will hopefully let you keep your job and some semblance of dignity. Somehow make sense of the fact that you’ve kissed John and Kyle and surely when they find out they’ll think you’re a floosy. Loose and easy and pathetic and gross. You couldn’t quite meet your own eye in the mirror as you tried to get ready for the day.

The current, formerly “Future You” is not very happy with the now Past You. Frankly, you’d like to deck her for leaving you in this state of a permanent heart attack.

“Och, I’m about tae melt.” Johnny mutters, appearing from his room and stretching. His shirt rides up, exposing a thick happy trail that does not help you in your current spiral.

You just hum, gluing your eyes to the physical spreadsheet in front of you as you go through the sales from the convention. Numbers will clear your head. Yeah, nothing less sexy or more distracting than trying to do math with pen, paper and a TI-84 calculator.

“We should go get some ice cream.” Johnny leans over behind you, causing you to jump. Large hands settle on your shoulders as he rests his chin on the top of your head. At least Johnny is always touchy, you don’t have to read into it. You don’t think you could handle reading into it right now.

“Uh, yeah, okay.” You murmur, letting him lead you out of the office and flipping the out for lunch sign. You’ve been so lost in your head the entire day that you can’t fully pull yourself out of it - the same spiral of fears and self-degradation swirling around in your mind. A Cat 5 tornado of your own making. So stupid.

Johnny intertwines your fingers as you make your way down the street. Your hands swing lightly as you walk. Even with the heat, it doesn’t feel like too much. You’re not sure what it is - of you’re just comfortable or if Johnny just has something about him that makes touch feel perfectly natural - but it’s never overwhelming. Even when he’s hanging off you like a leech, it’s just Johnny. He doesn’t make you talk, doesn’t pry into why you’re so spaced out. He probably just thinks you’re tired. You are tired. So tired.

You don’t realize Johnny is saying something until he gently elbows your side. “Huh?”

“What d’ye want?” Johnny asks with a concerned furrow in his brow.

“Oh, uh, I can get my own-“

”My treat.” He shakes his head, batting away the hand pulling your wallet out of your back pocket. You have no choice but to give in to him - there isn’t any point in arguing with Johnny.

“Thanks for suggesting this.” You murmur, as you sit at one of the wooden, outdoor tables in front of the shop a couple blocks down from the tattoo parlor. The tables are covered in the shade of trees and an awning, luckily, keeping the sun from beating down on you. It doesn’t stop your ice cream from melting nearly faster than you can eat it, but you don’t have the heart to complain after Johnny took you out and bought it for you.

“Aye. Seemed like ye needed some cheerin’ up. Never seen ye so sullen.” Johnny comments, casually stuffing a spoonful of ice cream in his mouth. His eyes are sympathetic, though.

“Oh.” You thought you’d been doing alright at hiding it - came into the shop with a jokes and everything this morning. Sometimes it’s easy to forget how much Johnny actually notices between all his volume and energy.

“Gonnae tell me about it?”

“No.”

“Might help.”

You shake your head. “I- I’m- I can’t.”

“Okay.” He smiles gently, giving you a once over. His eyes are so sharp. The others do it too - take your body language in piece by piece. It doesn’t burn like when Johnny does it, though. His gaze is consuming, even when soft.

He seems to let you off the hook, though. It’s impossible to know how much he does or doesn’t know - how much any of them know. It puts you on edge, the inability to ask. After all, to ask is to admit. If you admit to it, you might lose it all. Fuck why did you kiss John? Kyle you can explain away - just a fun little bet. You’re close in age, he’s pretty, you’re together a lot, you get along. Nothing to it - even if it feels like there was. Even if it feels like every time you’re near him you’re going to melt and the air gets too thick and all you want is to pull him to the back room one more time.

John… John you can’t justify like that. He’s your boss. He’s over a decade older than you. Easily. He’s been so good to you but that’s not an excuse - it’s not right. You’re jeopardizing his place in his community. You’re jeopardizing your job. The best job you’ve ever had. The best friends you’ve ever had.

You can feel Johnny glancing at you as you walk, your eyes square on the ground and fists clenched anxiously. The heat outside only makes your head spin faster. Your cheeks feel feverishly hot. The ice cream almost curdles in your gut. Everything is too loud, too hot, too heavy.

You glance up at the clock. The day’s almost over - there probably won’t be more than one or two people that file in at most. You’ve finished with your work, currently just cross hatching on a sticky note in an attempt to calm your frayed nerves. It hasn’t worked. You need a distraction. A real, proper distraction.

“Johnny.” You snap, standing in the door way to his workroom.

“Hm?” He looks up, thick brows raised.

“I want a piercing.”

He cocks his head, taking you in from head to toe. “Aye?”

“If you have time.”

“I’ve always got time fer ye.” He grins.

You almost roll your eyes, but you’re too raw at the edges to really care about his usual flirting. There’s too much weighing on your mind - too much real anxiety knotting itself around your synapses and crushing them in it’s hold. The pain will help. It’ll ground you - sharpen your senses. You can focus on taking care of it for the next couple days between sleeping the days away until Wednesday. Until you can get this shit over with.

The only answer is to quit, right?

That’s your only option.

“What d’ye want?” Johnny asks.

You shrug. “What’d you think?”

He taps his chin, eyes slowly making their way over your body. You wonder if he can see how tense you are - body so locked up your joints ache and your jaw throbs. It’s a wonder your teeth are still there with how much you’ve been grinding them.

“How about a navel?”

“Okay.” You agree too quickly, flopping back on the pairing table. You focus in on a water mark on the ceiling above while Johnny digs through his tool cabinet, laying everything neatly on a small rolling tray.

Johnny stops above you. You don’t even turn your head to look, fists clenching and unclenching.

You’ll have to quit.

That’s your only choice. No reference calls, no contact. Will Simon hate you? Will they all? Will they talk about why you up and left? Will they show up at your apartment to demand an answer? No. You don’t mean that much - only a blip on the timeline of their shop. The corners of your eyes burn.

Johnny’s fingers skate over your soft middle, barely touching as he passes over the button of your jeans. He pauses, glancing down at you. “Bonnie?”

“Yeah?” You reply a little too harshly.

Johnny leans over you, hands on either side of your head, blue eyes burning through your skull. He blocks out the light above. “Yer doin’ this because ye want to, yeah? Not to punish yerself?”

You shrink into the table, hackles raising. It really is so easy to forget that Johnny is an observant bastard. Loud, brash, but he still sees everything. Like how he learned your coffee order by heart without you ever even saying it to him or having it written on the cup. He absorbs things, files it away, keeps it close to his chest and hides it behind his blunt, brash daily manners. You’ll miss him.

“I- yeah, I’m fine.” You wince internally at the shake in your voice.

“Y’know, we all love ye.” Johnny murmurs.

You huff, eyes darting anywhere to get away from his. Laying on the table suddenly feels slightly trapping. You can’t get your gaze fully away from where he stands over you - so close as his thick arms cage you in. “Guess so.”

“An’ there’s nothin’ tae feel guilty or bad about.”

Your eyes snap to his face, wide and worried. Does he know? Was he told? Do you ask? If you ask, you’ll be admitting to it. If you ask, then he will know for sure. If you ask, you might ruin it all. “I don’t-“

“Ye do.” He cuts you off. “An’ ye have permission, even if ye dinnae need it. It’s okay. Ye havennae done anythin’ wrong.”

You stare, mouth opening and closing lamely. Johnny. Straight forward, loud mouth, unsubtle Johnny. Fuck, you love him for it. Doesn’t dance around what he means. Doesn’t avoid what needs to be said - from his end, at least.

“Did- did you talk to-?” You stutter, struggling between needing to know and fear to admit the truth so blatantly. Even if he obviously knows something.

“Not really. Not my business.” Johnny shrugs casually.

Not his business. So they persue separately, you think. That makes sense. Probably. It’s probably wrong to make assumptions about the dynamic, about the implication that they have some sort of free for all. Then again, you don’t really know anything about their interpersonal workings much. They live together, they’re touchy. The dynamic is a mystery to you - only adding to the piles of confusion.

“Yer thinkin’ tae hard about it.” He pokes the furrow between your brows.

Oh. Is that it? You’re overthinking? No, adults talk about these things. You don’t understand the interpersonal workings here at all. Are they together? Do they just do this? Pull girls in and push them around until they get tired? That feels too cruel for them. They’ve taken such good care of you…

“I still… want to talk.” You murmur, cheeks warm.

His face softens, a light smile tugging at his lips. “An’ ye will. Kyle’s been damn near loosin’ it with ye avoiding him.”

“I’m not avoiding him!” You snap far too defensively.

“Sure ye aren’t.” Johnny shrugs, as if to tell you he knows that’s bull. Not his business, though, he said. “Just… donnae be so scared of us, aye? We’ve got yer back.”

Your shoulders drop, sore from being tensed for the entire day. “Okay.”

“Still want tae get peirced?”

You nod, chest far less tight. As though you finally let go of a breath you had been holding the entire day. “Sure, why not.”

Your shoulders slump as Johnny makes his way through the usual song and dance - showing you the freshly cleaned tools and marking the spot for the needle. Somehow the world seems… quieter. As if all the chatter in your mind had been just as deafening to your physical ears. It’s tiring. That same sting behind your eyes that you get after a long night out. Your defenses are down, and your body is finally at rest.

“Ow!” You gasp, lifting your head to meet Johnny’s impish grin with a glare. “A little warning next time!”

“Tha’s what happens when ye donnae listen.” He teases, slipping the jewelry through. “She’s cute.”

You snort. “She better be. Y’know I should tell John on you for improper conduct.”

He cocks an eyebrow. “Aye, ye an’ Price know plenty about improper conduct.”

There’s no malice in the comment, or in the grin he settles on you. For once, you don’t freeze up. Don’t send yourself into a panic spiral over what he knows or thinks or feels. Johnny made himself clear. Instead you land a light smack against his arm and huff in embarrassment.

“Stand f’me.” Johnny murmurs after cleaning the piercing, a heat in his eyes that you can’t quite gauge the source of.

You do as you’re told, slipping off the table. You have to hook a finger into the waistband of your jeans to keep them up, cheeks hot as you realize how much is actually exposed with the fully undone fly. You glance up at a far too pleased Johnny. Didn’t even say a word, the mischievous bastard.

He drops to his knees in front of you. Your brows shoot damn near into the sky. Johnny mumbles something about making sure the piercing is sitting right. You roll with it, knowing he’s probably just saying whatever to get you to keep your pants undone a little longer. Your breath quickens as a large, warm hand flattens itself over your soft belly, unabashedly groping. Not that you mind, really, even if it does make your face so hot it might melt.

Your heart almost breaks out of your rib cage when he places a small kiss next to the piercing. His hand lowers, resting beside yours on the waistband of your jeans.

“May I?” Johnny murmurs, big blue eyes blinking up at you.

You have permission.

You don’t need permission.

You have it, though.

“Yeah.” You gasp, shivering at the cold air on your skin as Johnny pulls your pants halfway down your thighs.

“Pretty, pretty lass.” He murmurs, nipping at the softness of your belly and down to your thigh. “Look at ye.”

“Flatterer.” You scoff, attempting to let the tension melt off your shoulders with the usual snide remarks you slide each others way.

“M’just honest…” Johnny mumbles absently, fingers catching in the hems of your underwear. “Ye always walkin’ around in somethin’ this skintie?”

For a moment, your brows knit in confusion. That is until he pulls back and snaps the string of your thong against your hip. Your face somehow gets even hotter and you grumble out a poor excuse of, “S’laundry day…”

Your hips twitch as he traces between your lips through the cloth. So uncharacteristically slow and methodical for Johnny as he feels you, like he’s trying to memorize it. A shamefully harsh jolt runs up your spine as he presses just slightly into your clit.

“Sensitive little thing.” Johnny grins up at you. You swear the devil has a less delinquent grin.

“It’s been a while.” You shrug, aiming once again for casual and missing by a mile.

His grin only grows, eyes bright and hungry. “Let’s get these off.”

You shimmy your hips a bit to help him get both your underwear and jeans completely down. A wave of shyness overtakes you as it settles in that you’re utterly exposed to Johnny, your friend and coworker, in the middle of your workplace just as the sun has begun to edge down close to the horizon. It’s almost too much, and you almost yank your pants back on with a stammered, fake excuse, but Johnny soothes his hands up your thighs, gaze locked onto your pussy like it’s the only thing that exists and yeah… you want that.

You have permission.

“There she is.” He cups you gently, grinding the heel of his hand against your clit just hard enough to make you gasp.

Before you can say or do anything his hand retracts and Johnny settles you with the most serious look you’ve ever seen from him. It looks wrong, almost, on that face that’s supposed to have a permanent ear to ear grin.

“If ye want tae stop, I need ye tae tell me now.”

“No.” The word leaves you before you can even register the thought - desperate and breathy.

It earns a low chuckle. The only warning you get before Johnny licks a long stripe up between your lips, letting his tongue rest on your clit for just a moment before repeating the motion as though he’s not just eating you out but truly trying to truly get a taste for you. To memorize you as he drinks you in.

“Should let me give you a Christina…” He murmurs, pulling back to look at you.

“Ah, wha-“

“Look so pretty on this fat little cunt.” Johnny gives you a light smack for good measure, grinning at the visible jolt that travels up your spine before diving back in. He hooks a leg over his shoulder, leaving you balancing on your tip toes with your hands flat on the table behind you. It’s precarious and with absolutely no room to escape the attention he’s lavishing on you. It’s almost desperate, the way he moves. The way he devours. A man utterly starved.

“Fuck-“ you gasp as his tongue piercing catches your clit. Rough hands knead at the softness of your thighs and hips, urging you to press into him, to take as much as he’s giving.

“Tha’s it, ride m’face…” Your fingers lock into his mohawk and Johnny’s slurred words become the most pornographic moan you think you’ve ever heard. He practically goes limp - body relaxed and pliant while you grind down onto his tongue.

You tilt your head forward, risking looking down only to meet those big blue eyes staring up at you with all the intensity of the sun. A shaky moan passes your lips and his eyes flutter.

“J-Johnny-” The whine of his name only spurs him on - has him pressing his tongue so deep inside you and drinking you in full.

If he has any complaints about the way your heel digs between his shoulder blades as you unconsciously pull him closer, he doesn’t make it known. His nails rake over your ass, biting and stinging in contrast to everything else. It’s so much. Heat continues to pool at the base of your spine - babbling words, please and moans spill messily from your lips.

Your climax catches you off guard as Johnny sucks harshly at your clit; lighting your body aflame with only his mouth. Every muscle inside you tenses and the sounds you let out can only be described as strangled whines.

You have to yank a little at Johnny’s hair to get him to stop when the overstimulation reaches just the wrong side of too much; he’s well and truly lost in the moment. It fuels your ego to dangerous heights - the idea that this gorgeous man became that intoxicated just from your pussy.

There isn’t even time to say anything before Johnny is standing and connecting his lips with yours. You taste yourself on his tongue, his lips - somehow this is the first time you’ve found that pleasant. With heavy breaths you watch him wipe around his mouth his his palm, only to exaggeratedly lick and clean what’s left off his hand. Fucking sinful.

“Nasty man.” You sigh, too blissed out to be truly critical. Johnny winks and you roll your eyes.

“S’about quittin’ time.” He says, tilting his head to look up at you through thick lashes. “Should get ye home.”

You frown, still trying to come back to earth as you glance down. “Don’t- do you want-?”

He looks you over, your mouth goes dry as his hand drops from your hip to adjust himself. The implications of the outline through his thick denim has your head reeling and your breath quickening. Johnny chuckles at you, surely seeing it written plain across your face. You might as well start drooling and panting like a dog.

He buries his nose into the crook of your neck to nip at your skin. “Another time. Want tae savor ye.”

You shiver, unable to stop the smile that quirks up the corners of your lips. You have permission. You don’t need it, but you have it.

A/N: Sorry if this is a little rough, I'm getting back into the swing of things. It's finally time for things to get fun, tho ;)

Also please give some love to this AMAZING fanart from @eurydicescurse

[bpmiranda]

Teacher/authority figure hugh please please!!

Follow My Lead (Hugh Jackman) nsfw

A/N: teacher!hugh, dancer!reader, virgin!reader, age gap, hugh is in his mid 40s in this one, 20+ f!reader, power imbalance, sir kink, unprotected sex

Landing a role in this particular broadway show was an honor beyond imaginable. You had worked incredibly hard to get to this place in your career and you couldn’t be more overjoyed, or so you thought. Apparently, Hugh Jackman was a co-director of choreography for this show and that meant you and your group would be learning the steps from him. Having been a fan of the X-Men franchise growing up, to say that you were starstruck by him would be an understatement.

“That’s very good, great job, you guys!” Hugh clapped for you and you all beamed happily, you and the girls in your line all turned to each other, giggling and sharing knowing smiles as he walked around and gave everyone a few pointers to work on for tomorrow as they filtered out. Your eyes locked with him and he gave you a charming grin as he placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Y/N, is that right?” He asked you, leaning in close as if this were to be a private conversation. You give him a small nod, clutching your hands nervously close to your abdomen as he leans into your ear. “You moved so wonderfully today, I truly have no notes to give you.” He whispers and your heart skips a beat as your face warms up. “Perhaps this is a bit of an amateur production for you.”

“Oh, I-I don’t know about that.” You laugh lightly, shaking your head as he looks down at you with a small smirk. “I’m so honored to be here and working with you, sir. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

Hugh’s tongue peeks out to moisten his lips and he grins at you. “Care to stay behind and run the main number through, just the two of us? We still haven’t found an understudy for the lead woman.”

Your mouth falls slightly in astonishment and you press a hand over your chest, your heart beating hard in your ribcage. “Sir, I-I don’t know what to say. I’m not sure that I’m qualified, I mean-”

“Say yes.” Hugh whispers, his hand falling off your shoulder and down your arm until he squeezes your hand softly.

A breathless sigh falls out of your lips as you nod, looking up at him with doe eyes as you whisper, “Yes.”

After rehearsal had ended, Hugh insisted that you let him take you out for a quick bite so as to regain energy. “Can’t have you goin’ hungry if we’re going to put in some work.” He teased as you walked together to a casual restaurant around the block from the dance studio. Your face couldn’t seem to reach a temperature below hot as he continued teasing and complimenting you during lunch. It simply could not register that you were having dinner with him. “I’ve never seen someone so in tune with the steps, and not even just for your own choreography. I’ve noticed you counting the steps for the main number during full show runs.” He comments and you simply wave him off.

“Oh, please, I’m sure there are others in the class better than me. I just absolutely adore dancing and the choreography you’ve written is a gorgeous depiction of the story and the feelings of these characters.” Your hand inadvertently touches his as you gush and Hugh smiles at you.

“Well, leave it to you to know about gorgeous.” He says as he takes your hand and kisses your knuckles. Again, your face warms up and you look away shyly. “Shall we get back?” He asks and you nod, almost too eager to spend one on one time with him.

It’s hard work, much harder and far more intimate than the background choreography you usually run. Hugh stands in for the part of the man who is gazing in bewilderment at the female lead before he jumps in to join her. The steps to the dance are quick tempo, fun and light hearted at the start. Hugh spins you around, he lifts you mid jump before you continue down the stage. Then the steps become slower, more intimate as the characters fall in love. Hugh’s hand runs down your back, guiding you around the stage, your eyes locked together while you breathed heavily. The man can’t let her go, he can’t have their dance finish before he confesses his love for her while she tries to fight against the fall, remembering there are other expectations of her than to simply dance, responsibilities much larger that would be cast aside if she fell head first into a romance. The music is dying down as Hugh suddenly stops, his hand still on the small of your back as you get in position for the big kiss which solidifies that the characters have fallen for each other.

There is a moment where you wonder if you’ll actually kiss, but you don’t want to mistakenly cross a boundary. “How was that, sir?” You find yourself asking, breathless from the dance and he glances at your lips. Your arms are trapped between your bodies and you settle your hands on his chest which rises and falls with his own heavy breathing.

His deep green eyes snap back onto yours and he smiles. “You’re a natural.” One of his hands comes up to your cheek and you inhale sharply as he smirks. “You’re really responsive to being led which is great for dancing.” He says, his other hand moves onto your hip and you inhale shakily. “It’s great for other things too.” His tone is heavy with suggestion and you feel your face warm up.

“Sir, I-should we-” You’re cut off by him suddenly kissing you, his lips are domineering and you all to eagerly give into him. One of your hands moves up his chest and over his shoulder as he blindly guides you backstage, your ass hits a table and he’s quick to sit you down on it. Without a thought, he pulls your blouse up and you let him take it off, shivering as he kisses your chest while undoing your bra clasp.

“You want a shot at that big role, sweetheart?” He asks against your breasts as you run your hands along his beard and you distinctly hear the buckle of his belt lightly jangling between you. Your body reacts to his words, your thighs clench around his waist and he chuckles. “It could be yours based on pure talent, but I can make certain it happens.” He whispers and you shake your head.

“I don’t need it,” You breathe out, biting your lip as you quickly lift yourself up so he can tug your leggings and jazz shoes off. “Not as much as I need you, sir.” You confess and he grins.

Hugh kisses you, hard, as he steps back between your legs and you run your hands up his shirt to feel on his toned, hairy chest. “Love how you keep calling me that.” He groans as he removes his t-shirt for you and you smile bashfully. “Such a polite little thing, aren’t you?” He teases as his fingers rub at your clit, prods at your entrance and he groans from how wet you are already. “You want this?”

“Yes, sir.” You sigh as you feel the head of his cock rub between your folds. You hook one arm around his shoulders while caressing his jaw, bringing his lips back to yours as he firmly places his hands onto the table behind you, pushing himself into your tight pussy. A sharp inhale catches his attention and he smirks.

“You a virgin?” He asks curiously and you shyly nod, looking at him with such a submissive gaze he can’t help the twitch in his cock and you whine softly. “Fuck, how’s that possible?” He grunts, pumping slowly and deeply into you, his lips attaching to your neck while you moan in his ear. “You’re so damn gorgeous.”

“Just-uh-waiting for-oh, my god-the right guy.” You whimper, holding tightly onto him as your walls coat him in a sheen of your arousal. It’s embarrassing how eager you are, how wet you get for him, but Hugh is crazy for it. Crazy for you.

“Want me to be that guy, sweetheart?” He asks, his forehead resting against yours, his lips kissing you softly as you nod desperately while your lower belly tenses. “Yeah? Want me to make you cum?”

“Yes, sir, please!” You mewl against his lips and he groans as he presses himself flush to your cervix, one hand squeezing tightly onto your hip, and you suddenly gush all around his cock. It surprises the both of you that you squirt, and Hugh can’t help the breathless gasp that falls from his mouth.

“Shit, baby.” He groans, smiling to himself quite proudly.

“Fuck!” You cry out, breathing heavily as he leans further over you, his hand pressing you into him by your back as you hang onto him and let him fuck himself into your sopping cunt. Hugh growls lowly against your neck as he quickly pulls out and unloads his release onto your thigh, his body jolts and his arms flex from the force. His hand squeezes your other thigh tightly as he milks himself onto you, groaning softly as you caress his shoulders and watch him, all dazed and high on the endorphins that cloud your mind. It’s quite a sight seeing him, the Hugh Jackman, so vulnerable here with you. “Was that-was I good?” You ask, swallowing hard as you steady your breathing. Hugh cups your face in his large hands to kiss you sweetly, making you whimper against his mouth.

“A natural, sweetheart. Is there anything you can’t do?” He teases and you laugh softly, sighing contently as he pulls away from you. “Come home with me?” He asks you as he grabs the towel he had been using during rehearsals to wipe your leg off and you nod, smiling sweetly at him.

“Yes, sir.” You say, earning a chuckle from him.

While writing this one, I realized I enjoy the sir kink a whole lot more than I thought🤭

🏷️: @dontfeedthebigbadwolf @peterparkernotfound @httpsells @evasmlp @ayatotiddies @thatlittlered @seasonofthenerd @littlemisscantloveyouback @scorpiosaintt @simpingfor-wakasa @spencerswh0r3 @thatweirdtheaternerd12 @shybluebirdninja @iamburdened

[r0se1111]

just found your page and you’re so talented! I love me some Stanford Pines.

I’m in the mood for some angst and fluff so how about reader getting courage to confess to Ford, but he rejects reader because he’s scared and reader tries to move on, and Ford ends up regretting rejecting reader and after much convincing, Dipper, Mabel, and Stan help ford win reader back with a grand gesture and they get together?

Thank you so much! S/o to the ppl who get the title reference :P

Too Sweet

Stanford Pines x Reader

You take a deep breath through your nose, feeling the cold air flow to the back of your mouth, down, down, down, until it settles in the warzone that is your fluttering stomach, bolstering your nerves into a full-fledged shaky-handed, sweaty-palmed fit.

The hot cup of coffee jostles in your grip as you stood before the door of the Mystery Shack. You fix an intense stare on it as if you could telepathically keep the warm liquid from spilling. This is it. You chew your bottom lip and climb the stairs to the front door. I'm gonna tell him.

You knock a few times before the door swung open, revealing a familiar brown mop of hair and niche handmade sweater.

"Y/N!" Mabel beams. You swore you saw a little rainbow arch above her head for a second with the amount of joy she put into your name. You smile back warmly.

"Hey kid. Would your Uncle Ford happen to be home?"

A whip of her head and a call of his name down the hall confirmed that the man of the hour was home and decidedly not currently occupied. Soon enough his oh so comfy looking sweater, crooked glasses, and friendly smile were in your view.

"Y/N! What brings you here?"

You give a quick sidelong glance to where Mabel was standing beside the doorframe, watching the two of you with bright eyes and a bitten back smile. As much as you love her, having an audience to what you were about to do wasn't exactly ideal. You take another steadying breath before thrusting the coffee forward.

"This is for you."

Ford blinks and amusement pulls his mouth into a close-lipped but genuine smile. He takes the cup from your hands, fingers brushing yours. His touch was so warm that when you withdrew your own hand, you glanced down to look at where your skin had met, convinced there must be some sort of mark signaling that electric shock he gave you.

"Thank you!" He pries off the lid to blow some of the heat away and smell the deep, earthy aroma. "I'm never one to complain about free coffee, but what's the occasion?"

"Well!" You start a lot louder than you meant to, slapping your palms down onto the sides of your thighs in a fit of nervous energy. Shit. Start over. "Well," You repeat in a quieter tone. "I wanted to see you and ask you if you would possibly be interested in. Well. In a date?"

You try to overlook the squeal you hear from Mabel as you watch Ford's expression. His face goes a little slack with shock, and he tilts his head in an achingly endearing manner in what looks like thoughtful confusion.

"With me!" You clarify. "A date with me."

"Oh."

You wince at the word, then watch in anticipation as Ford does that thing he always does when he feels stuck with a problem. Rolling around the idea in his head as he tries to look at it from every angle. His mouth opened and shut a few times, and every time he opened as if to reply your body tensed. Finally, he seemed to settle on his response.

"Y/N," He spoke in a gentle tone. "I'm really flattered, but I'm not one for relationships. And I-" He paused and his eyes flitted to the top of the doorframe as if he was searching for some script there, some guide to turning down half-assed attempts at confessing long-held feelings. "I value our friendship as it is too much to jeopardize ruining it because of my own...er... situation. Feelings." He clarified with some vague hand motions you'll definitely read too much into at a later time.

You reminded yourself to blink and bit out a polite chuckle, pressing your nails into the palms of your hands and nodding as you forced yourself to keep eye contact with him. "Right! Of course, I understand. I really value our friendship too so this is... this is good probably. Just us staying friends. Good friends."

You could feel the blood rising to color your cheeks, and the embarrassment of rejection arriving to clench at your heart. As Ford furrowed his brows and started to speak again, you abruptly interrupted, unwilling to endure any other placating excuse he could give you. "I should actually get going. Lots of errands to run. But you- you enjoy your coffee!" You wave and back down off the porch. "Bye Mabel!"

As you walk away you can't help the frown from decorating your face, and the weight of disappointment from weighing down your shoulders until they slumped forward. All the slow-kindled courage you had summoned to ask Ford out had escaped your body like helium from a sad balloon, descending to the ground at a meandering, melancholy pace. He has a point though. I'd rather have him as a friend than nothing at all.

Shaking your hair back from where it had dropped into your line of sight, you shove your shoulders back and initiate the grim process familiar to many a rejected lover, the dreaded moving on phase. I can do this. I can do this.

Back at the open front door of the Mystery Shack, Ford stands in gaping wonder at your disappearing form. You wanted to go on a date with him? A weird old man with six fingers and an obsession with fantasy-math-based board games?

"What the heck was that?" Mabel's borderline shriek of horror interrupted his brief bout of self-doubt.

"What... was what?"

"The girl of your dreams asks you on a date and you say no? How am I supposed to be the flower girl at your future wedding if you can't even say yes to one date!"

Ford stutters and stares at the girl before composing himself to reply. "Mabel, this is much more complicated than that. Y/N is a close friend of mine and someone I admire and care about greatly. I can't just go on a date with her. Not when so much could do wrong!"

"All I'm hearing are excuses getting in the way of true love! What could go so wrong?"

What couldn't go wrong, Ford considered the possibilities grimly. "Well, I could scare her off with my immense knowledge of interdimensional travel, or we could be on the date and get attacked by some half-man-half-car-half-horse for all I know, or she could want to hold hands and our hands would fit together weird and she'll realize she's much too good for me and deserves someone else-" He's cut off by the sad look on his niece's face.

"You know you're a good person, right Great Uncle Ford?"

"Um, well, yes. Yes I suppose I try to be."

"And don't you think good people deserve to be happy?"

"I suppose so."

"And go on dates with pretty ladies who are so totally into them?"

Ford smiled crookedly. "I think I know where this is going." Out of fear of the surprisingly stern look on Mabel's face, and out of love for his niece who he never wanted to cause unhappiness for, he sighed. "Yes, they do deserve that."

"Aha! So you admit that you deserve to give dating Y/N a shot?"

The man flusters. "Admitting that doesn't change the fact that I said no. Why would she give me the time of day now?"

The look on Mabel's face looks eerily similar to Stan when he's come up with a new way to scam tourists, a vaguely threatening sort of manically joyous ambition. "Because you've got me, my brother, and your brother to help you come up with the best apology-slash-confession ever!"

A few days into your abstention from thinking about Ford under the threat of tears and self-pity, you hear a knock on the door and open it to reveal none other than his twin brother, Stanley. He had his hands shoved into his pockets as he leans against your doorframe and stretches his leg across to kick at the other side in casual indifference. "Hey kid. You busy?"

"... no?"

"Well I need a favor done for me back at the Shack. Think you could help me out?"

You pause and take him in. Something about this seems fishy. "You want me to help? Don't you have Soos for that?"

"It's his day off."

"What about the kids?"

Stan shrugs and waves his hand dismissively. "The kids are bein' kids. They don't wanna help their poor old Grunkle out. Spoiled, really."

"What about-"

Stan crosses his arms and looks at you pointedly. "Look, I wouldn't have stopped by if I didn't need your help specifically for an undisclosed reason back at the Shack. You coming or not?"

Maybe it'll be good for me to do something. Get me out of my funk. You think. The devil on your shoulder whispers back, but what if you run into Ford? Frowning, you ponder for a bit as Stan drums his fingers on your door obnoxiously. You're a big girl. You can handle it!

You sigh and move past Stan to close the door behind you. "Alright. What's the damage?"

When you make it to the Mystery Shack everything looks pretty normal. You peek around at the generator and inside the gift shop as Stan leads you, searching for whatever he could possibly need your assistance for. Suddenly, two pairs of hands grab your own and tug you around excitedly.

"Y/N! Why don't we all walk into the kitchen together for a totally mundane and normal reason!" Dipper's voice cracks a bit and you narrow your eyes in suspicion. You look over to Mabel for clarification, but are only met with a giggle and the glimmer of the sparkly heart patches on her newest sweater as she ushers you forward.

"You Pines are up to something." You eye Stan, who simply holds his hands in front of him in an act of faux innocence which you might have believed if you didn't know the guy.

Your investigation of this new strange behavior which has gripped the Pines clan is cut short as you are pushed into the kitchen and abruptly stumble to a stop.

"Ford?" Any residual embarrassment you might have felt was overshadowed by the sight in front of you. Ford, standing in the middle of the kitchen holding a mug of hot coffee. In his other hand, he holds what looks to be a handmade poster proclaiming the words "I'm sorry" in glittery gel pen. Little cupids and swirly heart doodles frame the phrase, and you're charmed to notice that Mabel obviously helped make it.

"Y/N." He breathes your name out like he'd been punched in the gut. He stares at you for a beat before shaking himself out of whatever trance he'd been in. "I wanted to say I'm sorry. About the way I acted when you asked me on... a date the other day."

Ah. There's the embarrassment. You flush at his mention of your failed flirting. "Ford, it's really fine. You don't feel the same, you don't need to apologize for that." The words sting your throat a little, but you desperately want him to understand you'd forgive anything for him, just to be with him at all.

"No it's not fine." His voice starts to verge into the passionate tone he gets when explaining his newest discoveries. "I can tell I hurt you, and you don't deserve that. Also..." He clears his throat, suddenly looking a little shy. "I never said I didn't feel the same."

You swear your heart freezes in its quick motions within your chest. "Oh?" Your voice squeaks out as a near whisper.

Ford nods as he continues. "I do... feel the same. For you, that is." He clears his throat and sets the poster to the side before moving forward with his mug of coffee. "I was a fool to try to hide it. I was blinded by my own self-doubt, and worried about things I had no real way of knowing for sure. But I can see now that us being just friends isn't the best solution to my problem."

Holding out the mug, he smiles and your breath gets stuck in your throat. "I would love to go on that date with you, if the offer still stands."

You reach forward to grasp the mug with two hands, fingers overlapping Ford's on the warm ceramic. You hold them there for a moment, his confession enough to embolden you to savor the shimmering feeling of his skin under yours. Slowly, he works his fingers out from under yours, with purposeful and slow movements where he traces your hands and presses them closer to the mug, as if urging you towards the comforting heat.

Once his hands have retreated to gather together in front of his chest, you bring the mug to your lips and sip at the coffee. Of course it's perfect. Of course he knows exactly how I like it. You pull the drink up to your chest, basking in the warmth you feel not just from the drink itself bleeding through your top and into the skin over your heart, but also in the sincerity of the gesture, and the confession that had breached Ford's lips.

You nod and smile, a small, coy thing. "The offer still stands."

Ford visibly relaxes and you almost giggle at the fact that he'd felt just as nervous and tense as you. "Thank you-I mean- that's great! I know a wonderful cafe downtown where they make the best coffee. Of course, I am of the belief that my recipe is superior, but they are a close second. In fact..."

As you work on downing your own mug, you watch Ford in pure adoring pleasure. Your mirth and affection only grow as you see Stan, Dipper, and Mabel exchanging high-fives from the corner of your eye. Those sneaky Pines.

[thisblogisaboutabook]

Coffee

Azriel x Reader - Angst

Azriel runs into his ex at the market.

I'll meet you for coffee, only for coffee

“Y/N” the timbre of his voice sends a dagger disguised as delicate winged butterflies fluttering through my stomach.

“Azriel”

Amber-hued eyes look down upon me, into the depths of my weary soul and I already know I can’t do this. But I’ll entertain it. I always do.

“How are you, Angel?”

“I’m fine.” I’m always fine. Never lost and weary. Never wondering what I could have done differently, what I could have done to make him love me. No, I’m level-headed and I am perfectly fine.

“Good. How’s the family?”

“They’re good. Claren got into Adriata U on a scholarship. Yours?” His family. The elite inner circle of the Night Court.

“Good. Rhys and Feyre have a son now, Nyx. He’s everything good in this world.”

I smile softly. “Yeah, I heard about the princeling. I can imagine that all of you are wrapped around his finger”

“Yeah.”

So let's not do coffee, let's not even try

We stand there. Those gods damned hazel eyes bore into mine like a screw. He sees everything. He always did. Nobody got me. Gods, nobody gets me, like him.

“Hey,“ Azriel’s soft, deep voice interrupts my thoughts. “Sevenda’s has-“

“No Az.”

He falters. “Y/N-“

It's better we leave it and give it some time

“No, love.” We can’t go there. He knows it. I know it too. We’d done that before. Dinner with the inner circle. I never fit in with them. They were a lovely close knit family and I was a stray… the outlier- even in this supposed “found family” of bastards and outcasts.

Azriel lets out a sigh, those piercing eyes tempting me to give in. To give it another try.

“How about that cabaret on the Sidra? You always loved it there.”

I love the cabaret, the energy, the drinks. Gods, the drinks. The wine would flow and I’d be in Azriel’s strong, welcoming arms in no time. He’d insist on walking me home, ever the gentleman. He’d say he wanted me. I’d know it’s a lie. It’s always a lie. I’m not a graceful overcomer like Gwyn. I’m not demure and kind like Elain. I’m certainly not strong and resilient like Morrigan.

If I didn't love you, it would be fine

I’m just… me.

And he’s just…. Lonely.

“I should go.”

A strong scarred hand grasps my forearm, an inherent dominance that somehow comes off delicate. It’s alluring, the hands you wish would hold you all your life.

“Coffee?” He asks.

We could do that. Coffee doesn’t lead to sex. Wine leads to my clothes on his floor, his deft fingers reverently tracing the arch of my spine.

“Yeah, we could-“

Cause If we do coffee, it's never just coffee

There it is. The hunger. The desire to feel. I see it. I once thought that gaze was a need for me. But it’s a lonely male who can love you like a mate, and then discard you like a mistake.

He’s not mine.

And maybe, if I didn’t love him, we could have done coffee.

“I’ll see you around, Az.”

It's never just coffee

—————————————

Tags:

ACOTAR General - @lilah-asteria @thecollegecowgirl @mochibabycakes @nickishadow139

[mellotunekitty]

Dating Dick Grayson Would Include…

Huge on physical touch. He’s a touchy person 100% especially if you’re dating. You sort of watched the progression of his touchiness with you. When you guys were just friends, he’d give you simple touches like high fives or short hugs. But after you started dating, he was all over you. Hugs, kisses, leaning on you, pulling you against him, holding your hand 24/7. Etc. 

Speaking of touch, I feel like he’s the type to pull away last. He’s never the first to pull away in any relationship, platonic or romantic. If he DOES pull away first, he does not like you. The reason he pulls away last is because he always wants that last moment of contact with you. 

He feels bad for having to go do Nightwing duties and leaving you, so he always tries to come back home with food or a little treat for you. Even if you insist he doesn’t have to, he has an excuse ready. He didn’t have to buy your favorite take out on the way home? It was on the way and he was hungry too. He didn’t have to get you flowers? He figured it’d give the apartment a nice touch of color anyway. 

If, and let’s be honest when, he comes home from patrol/a mission all scratched up and beaten, he will do EVERYTHING IN HIS POWER to hide it from you. He’ll come home just that extra bit later when he knows you’ve fallen asleep, he’ll go to his safehouse or Wayne Manor to clean up first, hell, sometimes Dick won’t come home at all and have you worrying more than if he’d just come home and let you patch him up. 

When he comes home from a mission or from patrol, he’s so desperate to just go to bed with you. It doesn’t matter if it’s noon, it’s naptime. Sometimes he won’t have enough energy to take the Nightwing suit off, so he’ll just… lay on top of you wherever you happen to be sitting. Couch, bed, wherever. 

Times where he has an early/late night patrol or mission, he leaves a note explaining where he is and what’s going on wishing you a good morning/night. If he has enough time before he leaves, he adds little doodles to the note too.

[annievrse]

the sled problem

roronoa zoro x fem!reader —ᡣ𐭩 fic summary: thinking about alabasta where there's no room for matsuge to carry you, so zoro puts you on the sled with chopper (feat. a lot of reader x crew too!). w/c: 1.1k c/w: zoro refers to reader as 'my girl' & 'girlfriend', she/her pronouns, established relationship, reader is shorter than zoro. a/n: thanks everyone for voting! here is bf!zoro.

"My turn!" Luffy exclaims, feet dragging through the sand. You eye him wearily as it seems he used the last of his energy to make it known that he was to take your place on the sled. You wince when he stumbles, the last of the water hanging by a rope around his neck.

"No way, moron," Zoro grunts behind you. "My girl and Chopper only."

Next to Luffy, Usopp lets out a noise of disagreement, his body weight relying on the walking stick in his hand. "Surely she can walk— Ouch!"

Chopper's weak giggle cuts the thick air beside you, and you look to where the sharpshooter lays motionless in the orange sand. Glancing back, you see Zoro's fist lowering back to his side.

"Stop complaining," Nami says, adjusting the scarf on her head. "We'll be there soon."

"You're on the back of a camel," Usopp splutters as he gets to his feet. Matsuge grunts in dismissal, and Nami pretends not to hear her crewmate and turns to face the horizon.

"Let me on!" Luffy attempts to yell, staggering toward the swordsman. "C'mon, Chopper, you're an animal fit for the desert."

The reindeer shakes his head and clasps his arms around your bicep. "No way, you try having a fur coat in his heat."

Usopp giggles, though he eyes the waterskin that hangs against Luffy's chest instead of the medic. "I'll cut it off you if you'd like—"

A collective gasp sounds through the group; this time, you kick your leg out to trip him over, realising too late that he was speaking about the water and not Chopper.

Zoro chokes out a cackle at the thump of his crewmate against the sand. "Atta girl."

Usopp makes no move to get up. He lays there, delirious, until Sanji grips the back of his shirt and tugs him along. "Idiot."

The only sound is the wind and the crunch of shoes in the desert. Sighing, you start to feel bad for the others when you see them struggling to stay upright, so, you shuffle Chopper over so you can get up.

"'Ro," You say, turning to face his back. Zoro stops and looks at you with his brows furrowed. "Here, Luffy—"

The group groans as you stand, dusting the sand from your clothes.

Zoro shakes his head and scoffs. "I'm not pulling that moron. Sit back down."

With pleading eyes, you shove your captain toward the sled, carefully avoiding Chopper. "Just pull him; I'll walk with you for a while."

Zoro grumbles and suddenly jolts the sled, so Luffy slides off. "Oops."

"Please, Ro," You say, touching his forearm. "Just until I get tired."

"Yeah, just until she gets tired," Luffy mumbles, heaving himself onto the sled. "Which will be never."

Zoro glares at you, but the look is too familiar for you to take it harshly. Then, he starts walking again, purposefully making a face of discomfort.

"Thanks, baby," you smile, wiping the sweat from your forehead.

"Aw, baby, that's so cute," Usopp mumbles, his face just inches off the ground thanks to Sanji's grip. "Zoro, baby, my baby—"

Sanji rolls his eyes, drops him, and keeps walking. "Do you ever shut up?"

You glance back at him, but Zoro nudges you with his shoulder. "He'll catch up."

Sighing, you stop and walk back to Usopp. Zoro knows what you'll make him do, but god knows he’ll always do what you tell him.

You try your best to help the sniper to his feet, muttering that he won't have to walk anymore, giving Usopp the energy to run to the sled. So much for feeling bad for him...

"You need to learn to ignore them," Sanji says, plucking the cigarette between his lips. "Let the moss head drag you through the dunes. He clearly wants to."

You look back and slow down to match his steps, smiling at Sanji's attempt at being nice to your boyfriend. "It's the least I can do."

The cook begins to counter your lame argument but stops short when he sees Zoro waiting for you ahead: his captain, the sharpshooter, and the reindeer piled on the wooden sand sled.

"I'm doing all this for you, and you ditch me for the cook."

You can feel Sanji roll his eyes beside you. Laughing, you quicken your steps to catch up to the swordsman.

"Jealous?"

Zoro scoffs and readjusts his grip on the ropes. "Of him? I'd rather die."

There's a sigh behind you, and then Sanji speeds past you, hands clasped before him as he asks Nami if she needs anything.

Zoro knocks your shoulder with his bicep, bringing you back to the man beside you. He's a man of very few words, but you know what he's trying to say. Quit teasing me.

Rolling your eyes, you giggle. "Stop flirting, we're in the desert."

"Seriously?"

You shrug and glance at the boys on the sled, your sweet expression turning to irritation when you see them sitting cross-legged, whispering animatedly while Chopper lies half-delirious from heat stroke. “Seriously?”

“Yeah? I just asked that—“

You stop walking and hit an oblivious Luffy upside the head when he passes. Your captain tumbles onto the sand, Usopp following soon after with expletives falling from his lips.

Huffing, you reclaim your place next to Chopper. "Manipulative idiots."

“You got that right,” Chopper mumbles. You shake your head and watch as the pair stumble back to their feet and start complaining again.

"Why?" Usopp cries. "Zoro control your girlfriend; she's mean."

Zoro laughs deeply, like a warning. "Usopp, I swear to god, if I hear your voice one more time, I won't hesitate to kick your ass."

"Sorry," Usopp mumbles to you. "Sorry, Zoro."

"Damn right," your boyfriend states. "And Luffy?"

Your captain's head raises, face screwed in anticipation of what the swordsman had for him.

"Give her the water."

"But—"

"Now, moron!"

You go to counter Zoro's demand, insisting that it is fine, but Luffy hastily rips the rope from his neck and stretches his rubber arm to drop the waterskin in your lap.

"Thanks, Luffy."

His only response is a whiny grumble.

"Here, Chop," You unscrew the lid and push the bottle towards the reindeer. "Drink."

Chopper lifts his head weakly. "No, that's yours."

Rolling your eyes, you shove it further into his tiny chest. "Zoro won't curse you for drinking it, I promise."

Nodding, Chopper takes the waterskin between his hooves and sips.

"Hey, no fair! Why do she and the reindeer get water, and we don't?"

Zoro stops dead in his tracks and drops the rope to the sled. "Usopp."

A terrified scream echoes through the barren desert, and then Zoro rounds the sled and tackles the sharpshooter to the ground.

Nami groans from the front of the group. "Can't we have a normal trip for once?"

Vivi's soft voice follows. "Doesn't look like it."

"Please! Please, I'm sorry! Zoro, please! I'm not meant for combat!"

"Shut it, asshole," Zoro sighs. "You speak to my girl like that again? See what happens." 

[sayhoneysiren]

Which 48th Law of Power, should you apply to your situation for success?

{Collab with @lavendergoddesstarot}

Pile 1 is on the left side. Pile 2 is on the right side.

Welcome Sirens! This reading is for entertainment purposes only based on the downloads I receive. Do not attack me if the message doesn’t resonate. Keep in mind this is a collective reading, not a individual one. With that being said, enjoy!

Honey $iren🍒

>Join for weekly Tarot Readings here<

⸻⊱༺  🩸 ༻⊰⸻

Pile I

(1st part of your reading here)

When it come to success, you may have the habit of oversharing your ideas with others. Spirit is saying, learn to keep your goals private. You have ideas that are absolutely GOLDEN, but unfortunately, there are bitter and jealous people around you, who want to sink your boat. Your success is a threat to them and when you yap to them about all your ideas, you give them your blueprint to destroy you. The Wheel of Fortune came out for you last, which shows me that when you learn to reserve your ideas or share only fractions of information, luck will be on your side and the wheels will turn in your favor.

~ LAW 24 - PLAY THE PERFECT COURTIER ~

(The numbers 24, 2, 4, or 6. may be significant to you. It could be your birth date number, current age or a significant number to you).

Quote from the book 48 Laws of Power, "The perfect courtier thrives in a world where everything revolves around power and political dexterity. He has mastered the art of indirection; he flatters, yields to superiors, and asserts power over others in the most oblique and graceful manner. Learn to apply the law of courtier-ship and there will be no limit to how far you can rise in the court." - Robert Greene

There's an old saying coming to mind, "Never let anyone see you with your head to the ground." We all have weaknesses and our weaknesses should always be kept to ourselves, until we overcome them. The message for you is to Master you Emotions. Handle your messy business privately. Don’t rant to people about your problems, even if they’re friends. Show a professional, strong face to the world, even when you feel worried. Stay motivated on the end goal, even when you feel defeated.

You may also have difficulties with wanting to prove yourself as worthy or intelligent to others (which causes you to debate, argue, overshare or overextend yourself). Learn to hold back. There's no need to cast your pearls to swine.

ADVICE

Master your emotions. Don't allow insults and threats to pierce you.

Find creative outlets to release your energy into. (If you’re a writer, write to release your thoughts and feelings or to creative stories.)

Learn social protocol, discreetness and etiquette with others.

Trust no one.

Let your actions and results speak louder than the need to prove people wrong or right.

⸻⊱༺  🩸 ༻⊰⸻

Pile II

(1st part of your reading here).

There was something said to you, that made you feel insecure about your self image or your abilities to succeed. You are hanging on to this, and because of this you are not allowing yourself to move forwards and become your greatest. For many of you, it was a person close to you, that you deeply trusted, who hurt you with their words or actions. Here’s what to do. Cry about it, journal about it, meditate on it, THEN LET IT GO. (And if it's better, let them go too).

Your value is never determined by anyone else, it is determined by you. To become your successful self, own all that you are, in body, spirit, emotion and mentality. You are not a mistake. Don’t be fooled by the people who cannot see your value yet.

You are a very grounded and practical person, who holds immense wisdom within'. Your intuitive powers are off the charts! 

These toxic people around you, don't see your power or how your ideas can come into fruition but don't let that stop you from carrying on. You have the ability to manifest like a God or Goddess on Earth and you will be a wealthy person very soon.

LAW 28 - ENTER ACTION WITH BOLDNESS

(The numbers 28, 0, 1, 2, 8, or 10. may be significant to you. It could be your birth date number, current age or a significant number to you).

Quote from the book 48 Laws of Power, "If you are unsure of a course of action, do not attempt it. Your doubts and hesitations will infect your execution. Timidity is dangerous. Better to enter with boldness. Any mistakes you commit through audacity are easily corrected with more audacity. Everyone admirers the bold; no one honors the timid. - Robert Greene

Don't be the victim, be the successor. Push through all negativity until you are successful. Learn to stand up for yourself with boldness and walk your path audaciously. When you speak, speak with firmness and a assured tone. When you have ideas, create and pursue them with confidence. The cards are telling you, that your ideas are brilliant and that they are going to be greatly received by the world (fame is highly likely for you), so don’t feel insecure about yourself. Just trust the process.

ADVICE

Learn not to take criticism personally.

Work on your self value and self esteem.

Work with the Lion totem or the Goddess SEKHMET to be more courageous.

Cut toxic people out of your life.

Create boundaries and stand up for yourself.

Do Solar Plexus practices. Sunbathe. Get an Aura Reading.

[shmpxx]

HIS TRUE COLORS — h.y

⛤ hiori yo x fem! reader

Unlike everyone else you’re not fond of Hiori yo, you have an instinct he has another side of him.

cw. smut. unprotected sex. creampie. sadism. dacryphilia. praising. biting + marking. cervix kissing. nipple play. false innocence. aftercare. masochist! reader. sadist! hiori. +18!

wc: 1.3k

a/n: I’m still here guys, don’t worry!

Something about hiori yo, you ultimately disliked. There was no way he was this “nice” guy that absolutely everyone adored even your friends, you know that theres another side to him that you simply just couldn’t put your finger on it yet. You’re very clear on how you felt about him, you would roll your eyes and scoff when he spoke, when everyone would laugh with him you just sat there with your arms crossed and your brows furrowed.

Hiori had always known your despise against him since the first time you both met, you never tried to be discreet about it. He would say hello to you in the morning of class but you would ignore him, not even a glance at him. You would mutter a curse under your breath when he still gives you a warm smile, you would cringe and everyone would scold you to be nice and to stop acting like a child, he does nothing but show you kindness and you should reciprocate that. Like hell you should.

“I just don’t like him” you couldn’t really explain further more until you know when you find evidence on him and prove to everyone he is not what he seems to be. There was some doubts still you trusted your gut and went with it.

It was a unlucky day for you when the group decided to go for drinks though your friends were unable to bring you home because they were drunk and decided to stay longer, it was your time to leave because your energy was drained, you couldn’t stay any later and typically Hiori was your only ride home. It was heavily raining too but you’d rather get soaked and catch a cold than be alone with Hiori. You wanted to though you wouldn’t bring yourself to do that so you had to suck it up for your sake. Just ignore him.

Somehow you ended up stripped off your clothes completely bare with nothing on with your legs spread open on your matress. Your upper body is covered in bite marks and purple bruises, your lips were swollen from his excessive kissing.

“You’re really pretty like this under me, ‘s pretty..” Hiori rubbing his cock between your soft folds, his tip brushing lightly on your clit and your humming sweet sounds instead of moans, you totally wanted to deny that you were enjoying this but you were slightly rolling your hips to feel extra of his cock prodding your clit, you think he can’t tell but he can from the way he smirks the way your body reacts.

First of all how did this even happen? He was being thoughtful to walk you to your door but he couldn’t stop glaring at you. Staring you down like he couldn’t wait for you to unlock your door. He let himself in as soon as you turned your key. His hands already making their way to touch you before you could utter a word. Now you can’t recall the last few moments from the way his dick is slipping between your wet folds.

“I was crushing on you hard when we first met..you hated me and now i get to have you”

“Your such..a weirdo!…hah”

The gaze in his eyes changed from gentle to lust. You thought he would be more on the tender side when he got you on your bed and how awfully wrong you are.

“Take it like a good girl okay?” Your ankles rested on top of his shoulders as he shoved his cock into your tight slit. A satisfied expression spreading across his face when you scream out a cry, tears were coming quick and down your face, your squeezing the blanket underneath you. Your lips quivered by his lengthy cock splitting your tensed cunt.

“It hurts hiori!”

“I know…but it’ll feel good”

He didn’t even give you time to adjust, his hips was already snapping against you. Your not telling him to stop, you’re whimpering and whining, taking his cock like you should he thought. There was pain and pleasure you were feeling at the same time, you couldn’t stop babbling how much it hurts but it felt so good he didn’t lie, him making you feel good and he was seeking pleasure from your tears. His cock rubbing intensely inside you and poking at your cervix.

“Yer such a good girl..ya my good girl aren’t you? R-right?”

“S-stop saying w-weird things..” you say with your last breath.

He lowers himself with his lips hovering over your perked nipple, his hands cup your boob fitting it into his mouth. Swirling his tongue and grazes your bud slightly with his teeth, while pinching your other. You moan like a desperation of help, your hand on his shoulders to push him away it was just too hard, even his hips rocking hard into your pussy.

When he sinks his teeth into your skin of your shoulder, neck, over your tits. Even his lips laps the bite marks he already created, he thought were a masterpiece like you were his little artwork. His hands on your hips were soft though his fingers were digging into them, purposely bruising you, still your pussy was clenching around his cock.

“Ow hiori..” you whimper when he bites a little too hard.

“‘M sorry” he licks over the grooves of his teeth marks on your skin to sooth you. Though he was already going to bite you even harder.

The way he watches you shut your eyes tight by every thrust. Your body taking the relentless treatment from the so-called “nice guy”. Your eyebrows pinched together because his cock keeps reaching deep inside your cunt, rubbing against your sweet spot. How could you let this happen? Let the person you despised most and everyone is fond of stretch your pussy out on your bed, the tears won’t stop prickling your eyes.

“Hiori-“ you hiccup

“Shh, just look at me, ya taking me so well,” throwing both your ankles on his shoulder and he pushes his cock deeper makes you gasp. It was like you loss your own sense of control when your eyes fluttered open, the water in your eyes creating a bit of a blur and it gives him excitement.

“‘S cute, ‘s pretty” you never thought he spewed so many words before because he wasn’t very talkative.

You felt it. You felt it bubbling up in your stomach. There’s was no way he was going to make you cum, you so wanted to though. You wouldn’t say it out loud yet you hope he doesn’t stop. And he doesn’t, his moans become heavier and your cries start to get louder.

“M gonna c-cum inside mkay?..”

“Don’t be stupid!..Ah fuck!”

He cums inside just like he said, his warm load stuffing you so quickly and you’re creaming over his cock so perfectly just like how he imagined. The same longing gaze doesn’t leave your face and your palms cover your eyes as you were embarrassed and your walls are still contracting around his cock.

You sat between his legs in a tub as he washes your back but also pressing soft kisses on your wet skin, humming to himself as you were contemplating everything that just happened. You didn’t know what to feel, you just had sex with a guy you loathe and turns out he was just actually a sadist that was interested in you. What would you tell your friends? What would they think? You can’t, you promised you’d prove them wrong but not like how this ended.

His arms come to wrap around your waist and pull you closer into his wet chest surprisingly broad “what are you thinking about?” He mumbles in your ear making you shiver yet your heart skips. You just couldn’t help it and he could feel you tense and your heart pound against his chest.

“About what a weirdo you are..”

[kumkaniudaku]

Stay A While (2)

Summary: Terry and Treece are feeling the sparks again.

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC

Word Count: 3,659

Part: 2 of ??

Warnings: None. This one's a safe for work slow burn. Enjoy.

Previous

Grocery shopping was Patrice's private pastime. She was the queen of her universe when she walked through aisles every Saturday morning. Every flash bargain and value-sized item bent to her will for a chance at making it to her humble abode and fulfilling its one purpose in life. Employees greeted her like royalty. Customers started conversations like old friends, always giving her the scoop on any sale they'd overheard in their neighborhood Facebook groups. She was happy. She was zen. She was in her element.

"Do you need this?" 

She was a woman dragging around a large man intent on breaking any modicum of concentration she had left.

Patrice stopped and looked over her shoulder at Terry, who held a bag of cotton candy grapes up in the air for her inspection. "No, TJ. Put it down." 

"Why? You like grapes." 

"Because we're getting grapes from the farmer's market. Now, put it back."

Her rebuke was sweet but stern. Having him as a way too familiar roommate was becoming easier as the days passed. But she'd be lying if she said she didn't miss the freedom to go for a walk, watch a movie on the couch, or even enjoy an intimate moment alone in her own house without a man looming somewhere in the very near background. 

He didn't allow her to travel alone, and she never had the energy to protest. 

"You don't have to talk to me like I'm a kid," he grumbled as he put the grapes back in their place.

"Then stop acting like one. I have a list. I know what I need." 

"I know what I need." He exaggerated his mimicry for maximum effect. 

"You see how that was childish?" 

"Whatever." 

Patrice ignored him in favor of browsing packages of beef for the best deal. If she didn't respond, maybe he would get the hint. And, for a few moments, he did. Terry took a break in conversation to scan the immediate area quietly. He noted each patron and their most important details before checking the exit and entry points at the front of the store. They weren't secure enough, but he could manage if the situation required evacuation.

A lack of action soon turned his attention back to Patrice, who still hadn't decided. He gave her a slow once over and smiled at how much focus she put into such a simple choice. Her brow remained furrowed in intense thought, transforming her into the ninth-grade Patrice he met during a chance encounter in the library. Truthfully, he didn't have much of an opinion either way. He just wanted to talk to her every second of the day, even if it meant being annoying. 

"Get that one." 

His sudden interruption startled Patrice out of her zone, adding a final straw to an already exhausted camel's back. Terry grinned in triumph as she closed her eyes for a calming breath. 

"Terry," she spoke, slow and measured to keep the peace. "Take the other half of this list and get out of my face. Don't come back until you find everything. I'll meet you at the register." 

She didn't give him much time to protest before she shoved a carefully torn half of paper into his chest and sent him on his way. He gave her a sarcastic salute, which she waved off without a second look. She needed a moment alone and didn't care if he came back with Fruity O's instead of Fruit Loops if that meant he would be out of her hair for more than 10 minutes. 

Terry found himself slowly meandering around the grocery store with a tiny basket in tow, exhausted by all the options on each aisle. If Patrice hadn't been so meticulous with her lists, he would've given up on the mission and gone back to home base with his tail tucked between his legs. 

After sourcing the perfect pint of Oreo ice cream as an apology for his behavior, Terry found himself drawn to the sound of laughter on the next aisle. Sure enough, Patrice was parked by the frozen vegetables and engaged with a man dressed in the store's colors with his eyes directed far too low to be looking at Patrice's face. 

Terry quickly reached her location, stopping behind Patrice to show her guest the full extent of his scowl. 

Patrice noticed how his once loose body language had gone stiff and sighed. She didn't need to investigate the problem. Only her human pitbull could make a man cower in fear like that. 

"Derrick, this is Terry. Terry, this is Derrick. He usually helps me get stuff to my car." 

"Ah, man. It's a good thing I'm here, right? We don't need you taking too many breaks from stocking. Mornin' rush can get crazy." 

"Terry," Patrice admonished with a harsh whisper and an elbow to his stomach. 

Terry remained steadfast, keeping his eyes on Derrick while taking one step closer. A taunting smile tugged on the right side of his mouth. He waited on any sign of fight from his unspoken adversary. 

Derrick stood in palpable discomfort, sizing up the outcomes if he decided to test his luck. Each mental scenario led him back to some instance of physical harm on his last shift of the week. He had plans for the weekend, none involving a trip to the emergency room.

Patrice stood between a rock and a hardheaded man, praying that the Lord would end her suffering.

"That's what I was about to say," Derrick answered before shifting his attention back to Patrice. "I think I oughta get going. See you around, Ms. Ellis?" 

"Same time next week." 

He nodded in half-hearted agreement and hurried out of dodge, with Terry keeping a watchful eye until he was safely around the corner. 

Patrice groaned with one hand, rubbing tight circles at her temple. "What in the hell was that about?" 

"He wouldn't even look you in the eye. If he can't look you in the eye when he's speaking, he can't protect you, and he doesn't respect you." 

"I'm not looking for his protection. I need this water loaded into my trunk every week when you aren't here!" 

"I'll never not be here. Problem solved."

His declaration was so sure, so matter of fact, that it left Patrice no room for retort. So she resorted to schoolyard antics. 

It was her turn to mock him with an exaggerated, deep voice. "Problem solved. Push the damn cart since you got so much energy." 

He obliged without protest and a proud, self-satisfied grin that Patrice couldn't see while she led the way to the register. An unexpected system error had halted all transactions, leaving them log jammed in a long line of restless customers. 

Together, they stood sharing light banter and running through weekend tasks, resembling any other couple making a store run to strangers observing them from the outside looking in. Former acquaintances, however, had no problem drawing attention to the pair from three spots back in line. 

"I know that ain't who I think it is." Both Patrice's and Terry's eyes darted up to find the source of the loud outburst, only to whisper 'fuck’ in tandem when they spotted Katrina Spivey waving her arms to grab their attention. "Hey, Terry Richmond!" 

Terry pretended to ignore being singled out by turning his back, earning a stifled laugh from Patrice. Katrina, not one to be deterred, used the moment to push past patrons in line until she reached her destination with a host of angry faces in her wake. 

"Well, if it ain't Mr. and Miss Homecoming in the flesh. You two finally stopped kidding around and got married?" 

"No," Terry answered without much explanation, his back still turned. Patrice reluctantly made up his slack. 

"What Terry meant to say was that we're not married. We're not together at all, actually. But he's here to visit me for a while." 

"What a blessing it is to have friends you can lean on when you need a helping hand."

"Amen."

An awkward tension settled into the conversation's lull, compounded by Terry's outright refusal to engage. Patrice was in deep water without a paddle and a co-captain who had already jumped ship.

Katrina wouldn't let the conversation end and take her newfound place in line. She continued to pry.

"Both of y'all look good! How long has it been since we last saw each other, huh? Gotta be since Terry's graduation send-off." 

Patrice feigned interest with a hollow smile. "Yeah, I think that was it. A looong time ago. All grown up now."

"And thank God for it! I remember how sad you looked all night because ol' Terry was moving away. Like a little crying puppy!" 

Katrina's laughter didn't quite reach Terry or Patrice, who bristled at mentioning one of the more contentious nights in their friendship. 

"Everybody's been a little young and dumb, right? Like when you and BJ got caught underneath the bleachers during state championships." 

Checkmate. A little reminder of her indiscretions had turned Katrina's condescending smile into a mean mug that could burn through anyone not equally as stubborn. 

Terry showed his approval with a light nudge against Patrice's arm. That was his girl. Sweet as pie but a tongue coated in venom when backed against the wall. He'd been on the receiving end on one too many occasions. It felt good to be on the winning side this time. 

Three seconds of a Western standoff had culminated in a gift sent via store intercom. 

"Apologies for the stoppage, folks. Our registers are back up and running. Thanks for your patience." 

Terry moved the cart to place items on the conveyor belt while Patrice waited for the conversation to resume.

Recovering from the sharp end of a verbal lashing, Katrina cleared her throat and grabbed hold of her cart in preparation to skip lines. 

"Well, I don't wanna hold y'all too much longer. If y'all don't think you're too good to mingle with us Francis High Hornets anymore, Corey's throwing a little Juneteenth gathering at his daddy's pool hall. This is my personal invite for the both of you."

"We were already invited. Maybe we'll make an appearance." 

"That'd be grand." 

"I bet it would."

Nice nasty smiles passed between the two foes until Katrina was off to harass some other unsuspecting patron. 

Patrice tried to let go of her frustration with an angry huff before turning to catch up with Terry, who was casually moving groceries from the bagging station to the shopping basket. He waited a moment before acknowledging the obvious. 

"You over it now, or do I need to iron a shirt for tonight?" 

"I'm over it," Patrice answered plainly. She calmly handed over payment for the day's groceries and smiled ever so sweetly to bid the cashier farewell. To an outsider, she'd returned to her zen state without much effort. Terry was no outsider and kept a cautious eye on her as they loaded bags into the trunk and got settled in the front seat of her SUV. 

"You sure you're good," he asked as he backed out of their parking space. 

"I'm sure, TJ," she answered with almost too much enthusiasm. Terry started a mental countdown for the other shoe to drop. "I'll iron the shirt. You need to shave." 

--------

The final verdict? A plain white T-shirt. 

An hour of searching, choosing, rejecting, and choosing again led them to a plain, crisp white tee. Patrice said it went better with her yellow wrap dress, which she chose because her girlfriends were all in dresses, and she wanted to match the occasion. It all sounded like made-up bullshit to Terry. Still, he accepted being treated like a Ken Doll because it meant that his Barbie would agree to a two-hour hard stop at the festivities. 

He'd already started his stopwatch when they pulled up on a busy street in front of an even busier hole in the wall.

The smell of fresh grease greeted them upon crossing the threshold from outside into Mister C's Bar and Lounge. Fried fish, French fries, and wings in any flavor you could ask for sat in the service window, waiting for their delivery to any one of the patrons packed from wall to cinderblock wall. Terry inhaled deeply and let his scowl drop for one second to fantasize about a bite of Corey Sr.'s signature catfish and fries basket. 

Next came the familiar mix of sweat and weed near the dancefloor as bodies intertwined to some GloRilla song neither of them recognized. Thick traffic in the center of the room paused Patrice on her path to the pool tables, locking her between Terry and a crowd that wouldn't budge. 

"Excuse me!" she shouted over a swell of crowd reaction to a new song. "I need to get by!" 

No response. Not even a look back as she used a hand to create space between her and a group of men debating nonsense. Before she could try again, Terry used one hand to push her forward and his voice to clear the way. 

"Yo, step out of the way. We need to get through." Direct and to the point. He left no room for misinterpretation, and his baritone's boom left no confusion about who was calling the shots. Patrice watched with her lips slightly parted in awe. 

The first reaction to his demand was the embers of confrontation. Each member of the group sized Terry up, noticing his heavy scowl and size in comparison to their own. Then, they realized that this wasn't a winning game. 

The flashiest of the group nodded, though disdain at the mere suggestion that he was in the way kept his mouth in a tight frown. "Yeah, you good, OG. My fault." 

Another light push propelled Patrice forward as Terry maintained with each man until they had passed. 

Once they were out of the mix and nearing their destination, he advised, "Stay close." Patrice nodded her compliance, shocking Terry into a slight smile in appreciation for her obedience. 

Sparks of electricity shot between them but had no time to turn into a total current before Corey called out to them. 

"Treece! Terry! We over here!" 

Surrounded by familiar faces from Francis Edward's Class of 2010, Corey welcomed them with open arms and his ever-present 100-watt smile. At a slight 5'6", 150 on his best day, he'd always been larger than his frame would suggest. Loud and flamboyant had always been the name of his game, earning him anything he set his sights on.

It didn't take long for the trio and Corey's wife, June, to fall into familiar habits and friendly jabs at one another as they took their seats in a makeshift VIP section by the pool tables. The Three-Headed Monster was their moniker in high school, and they moved like a military force. Terry was the enforcer, while Corey and Patrice served as judge and prosecutor. If you had an issue with one, you had an issue with all three. 

"Your security is lax. Who trained them?" Terry pointed out during a dead spot in conversation. 

Corey followed his eyeline to the two young men standing at the door and back. "My boy at the sheriff's office. What you see?" 

"They look soft. It wouldn't take much to overpower them and get in for some drama. You only have one exit. Somebody breeches this place, and you're on the hook for a tragedy. Plus, the one on the left is scared. He'll be the first to leave if things get hot. Watch him."

"Impressive," June remarked, smiling at Patrice, who subtly playfully waved her off.

"Hm." Corey took a long pull from his cigar, taking in the information before responding." You here for a minute, T? I got some connections over at Liberty if you looking to get back in the swing of things." 

"Contract?" 

"Whatever you need, man. You know I'm good for it."

Terry looked over at Patrice for some indication that she believed in Corey, and she returned with a subtle nod and encouraging smile. June looked between them and then at her husband before clearing her throat. 

"It looks like Kel and his boy are back on the pool table. You know he still owes you a game from when he cheated last week." 

"Hell yeah," Corey agreed as he turned in his seat to get a look at his enemy. "Aye, T, you trynna make $100 real quick?" 

"It's either that or you gotta come dance with me," Patrice challenged. "This rum and pineapple got me feeling a little loose." 

She wasn't lying. A taste of alcohol in her system was starting to make her want to explore parts of the Patrice she thought she left at North Carolina A&T. Every heart-rattling thump of Megan Thee Stallion's latest and greatest had her thinking about reminding everyone in the room that she could move with the best of them. 

Her little grind in her seat made Terry show teeth in a small grin before he stood to his full height and looked down at her. His eyes were hooded and dreamy from some combination of exhaustion and a contact high, reintroducing that spark from before.

"Don't go too far. I'll be back with your money in a little bit." 

Patrice's tongue felt too heavy to respond coherently past a punch-drunk nod. June watched her watch him make his way down the platform and into the crowd until both men were out of earshot. 

She whistled and shook her head. "That's a good-looking man, ain't he?" 

"Who? Corey? He alright. He's like a slightly more attractive Taye Diggs." 

"First off, ouch," June laughed. "Second, I was talking about Terry. He was cute in high school, but I'll be damned if that second puberty didn't take him to a whole 'nother level." 

"Don't tell him that. His head is big enough."

"You know you wrong for that." If the music weren't so loud, everyone in the building would've heard the pair guffawing over Patrice's petty insult. 

Once they contained themselves, June took a sip from her margarita and shifted in her seat to get closer to Patrice.

"He likes you still." Five plain words shook Patrice internally as she struggled to maintain a poker face. June continued. "I see the way he looks for your approval and damn near trips on himself to fulfill your every whim. You're all he talks about when he and Corey get on the phone." 

"They talk?" 

"From time to time. I think he needs a man's opinion sometimes, you know?" 

Patrice wrestled with the influx of information as June continued. 

"That man is mean as a snake. Always has been and always will be. But, you bring something out of him. Even if you can't always see it." 

"If that were the case, things would've been different for us back then." 

June shrugged. "Maybe. Or maybe you're right where you're supposed to be. I know I can't make you do what you don't wanna do, but if what I say means anything, focus on today. Thirty-two-year-old Terry is so much more prepared to love you than eighteen-year-old Terry was." 

Punctuating her advice, June tapped Patrice's leg twice before taking a step away to refill their tray of food. 

Focus on today.

The words replayed in her mind repeatedly; even after their two hours were up, Terry had returned $100 richer, and they were back on the road to their quiet slice of the world. 

They rode together in content quiet, letting the Quiet Storm host talk while Terry tapped his fingers on the steering wheel in time with the music. 

Randomly, he would glance in her direction, assuming she had lost the sleep battle to her old friend Bacardi. When he reached over to adjust the air vent on her side of the car, he was surprised when she mumbled a low "thank you." 

"My bad. I thought you were sleeping." 

"No. My head is swimming, though. Don't let me drink that much anymore." she laughed. 

He chuckled along with her but didn't agree to keep her from letting her hair down occasionally. In his eyes, seeing her relaxed and carefree was a gift to the world. 

The opening notes of Tevin Campbell's "I'm Ready" swirled around them, sounding like a secret message to Patrice as she focused on streetlights to keep the contents of her dinner inside her stomach. 

"Hey," she whispered before she could catch herself. Terry acknowledged her with a glance. "Do you think you're still scared?" 

"Of what?" 

"Of whatever kept you away for so long?"

He thought for a moment, wanting to make sure he was clear with his word. "No. I was never afraid of you. I was afraid of bringing you along for a ride I might not survive. That's not a threat anymore. So, no, I'm not scared anymore."

You know I'm ready

To love you

Forever 

Patrice reached across the center console until she reached Terry's hand to interlock her fingers with his. He gave her an appreciative squeeze without taking his eyes off the road. 

"I-I don't think I'm scared anymore either."

Her heart raced wildly behind her ribs, and Patrice was that if Terry pressed his wrist close enough to hers, he could feel her pulse accelerate. He didn't mind either way. Sweaty palms and trembling fingers would never be enough for him to let her go. Not again. 

As if she'd break if he moved too fast, Terry brought her hand to his lips slowly. One kiss. Another. Two more. And a final one for good measure. 

When he'd had his fill of her skin, he pressed the spot up against his cheek. He needed to feel and absorb her until they were one body. 

But, for tonight at least, this was enough.

TAGS: @planetblaque @wvsspoppin @thatone-girly @oniccah @avoidthings @slutsareteacherstoo @eilujion @amyhennessyhouse

[aurumalatus]

𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞 [𝟏]

pairing. kinich x fem!reader

word count. 1.5k

genre/warnings. childhood friends to lovers, slow burn, fluff and angst, drabble collection, mentions of abuse/alcoholism

summary.

in which kinich learns the value of all things: lives, friendship, and, of course, you. or, in which kinich realizes that you are the only priceless thing in this world.

author's note. first meetings and a slight introduction to our characters! i imagine each drabble will have a pretty varying length, so this one is a bit on the shorter side! either way, i hope you enjoy :) interaction is highly appreciated!

↢ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 | 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ↣

𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗙𝗜𝗥𝗦𝗧 𝗣𝗥𝗢𝗠𝗜𝗦𝗘

Kinich meets you in the spring.

The air is warm and balmy that day, with a breeze that brushes by the skin with pleasant coolness. His mother likes to take him to the market with her on days like these, probably for his own good. She tells him he’s a bit unsociable for his age, not that he disagrees—he just doesn’t see any point in changing. He does just fine spending his days at home, exploring the land around his house.

This kind of weather brings everyone outside, which leaves the market bustling—sellers scream their prices and show off their wares, and buyers haggle until their wallets are empty. He walks around with his mother for a bit, one hand gripping her skirt, and she offers him bits of candy and other treats. He rejects them all; really, he doesn’t want for much.

Still, he’s a more independent child, so eventually his mother leaves him to explore the various market stands while she goes around buying the more “boring” items. She probably hopes that he’ll make a friend or two, but he never does—most of the children don’t play in this area. They prefer to play with the Yumkasauri near the outskirts of the tribe.

Either way, he does end up looking around for a bit. Yanta, an elderly woman that sells fruit, gives him some berries to try, and he leaves with his tongue sweetened. He peers at some of the climbing gear, too, with astronomical prices that he would never be able to afford—at least not while his father gambles every Mora away. As the time passes, the crowd starts to get a bit stifling, so Kinich wanders away in search of a quieter place.

He settles for one of the walkways outside of the market, letting his legs dangle over the edge so he can look down at the river. There’s Yumkasauri whelps playing below, bumping each other into the water and screeching with joy. 

Laughter echoes from somewhere nearby—the sound of children, children like him. He tucks his knees to his chest. He has no need for friends, not when there is still so much to learn about the land. He thinks of his mother and the fresh welts on her skin. When he’s older, when he’s more capable, when he knows more, he can help her. Maybe one day they’ll be able to leave this place, or maybe just that man.

A burst of wind slips by—it carries the scent of flora, fuzzy yellow ones that make his eyes water and the purpling blooms that his mother loves. The recognition makes his head turn, just in time to see you run past him, a clump of flowers falling from your grip. You don’t seem to notice, and they fall uselessly to the wooden walkway, inches away from Kinich’s pinky. 

He eyes the flowers curiously—the petals are so bright, yet dainty and thin. Then, he looks toward your rapidly disappearing figure.

And really, he doesn’t know why he cares. He should go find his mom and go home. His father will be there soon anyway, and that’s a whole different beast to contend with; he doesn’t have the time or energy to be concerned with you. 

So he doesn’t really understand himself when he grabs the flowers, pushes himself to his feet, and jogs until your back is within his reach. Another step, and then his fingers wrap around your wrist just as you yelp in surprise. 

The first thought he has when you turn to face him is that you’re quite pretty, and that you look to be his age—he shakes it away just as fast. Instead, he nods toward the bundle of flowers sitting in your arms.

“You dropped some,” he mumbles, opening his palm to you. It reveals a pile of crushed petals and snapped stems, and his face reddens in embarrassment. He hadn’t thought to be so careful in his rush to chase you. When he looks up, your lips are barely parted in surprise, and he awkwardly tugs at his collar.

“Ah, I’m sorry.”

He’s not good at this, he realizes instantly. Years of sticking to his own have left his social skills lacking, and he grasps blindly for something to say. Instead, you’re the first to break the silence—you laugh, a bell-like sound that he finds a bit cute.

“Wow, I must’ve been going pretty fast,” you say, head tilted. “Sorry about that! My momma used to say I run like the wind!”

Kinich tries not to get stuck on the ‘used to’ in your words, but fails—he wonders if you’re alone. It must be difficult, he’s sure, but there are some nights when the stench of alcohol grows too strong and the screams grow too loud where he wonders if it might be preferable. He’s thinking too long, and the silence grows awkward, so he forces himself to speak.

“What are the flowers for?”

It’s your turn to be embarrassed now, an awkward giggle escaping your lips as you shift your weight between your feet. 

“I was thinking about making flower crowns for the other kids in the tribe. They don’t really like playing with me lately, maybe ‘cause I’m alone, so I wanted to do something so we could all be friends again.”

Kinich doesn’t really get it—what would be the point of playing with someone who doesn’t like you? Something about the situation tells him it wouldn’t be the right thing to say, though, so he merely nods. You seem genuine, and while he may be socially inept at times, he’s not mean-spirited. Quietly, however, he notes that the stems of the flowers you have are too long—you’d have trouble making flower crowns with these. 

“Have you ever made crowns before?” he asks, doubtful. 

“Nope,” you answer honestly, “is it that obvious?”

Living at the foot of the mountain meant he had become much more familiar with the nature surrounding the tribe. His mother had been teaching him a few things lately, particularly related to farming and weaving. A flower crown would be simple work, certainly. 

He frowns. He shouldn’t do this, but you’re looking at him so expectantly.

“I could show you how—”

“Kinich!”

His mother appears just then, cheeks reddened and hair sticking wildly to her forehead. Various bags hang from her arms, evidence of her shopping, but she casts them aside in favor of grabbing at his wrist. 

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you! I thought you got lost, or even kidnapped! What were you thinking? You’re not usually like this!”

You vaguely think that the two look quite alike; he has her eyes, save for the purpling bruise that sits just underneath her left one. You’ve had similar ones from banging your knees on things, but none in a place so front-facing.

Kinich hangs his head, stepping away from you quickly. “I’m sorry, Mom.”

Shame radiates from his form in waves, so potent you can practically feel it yourself. You grab his other wrist out of instinct, and he raises his eyes to you in surprise.

“I’m sorry too, ma’am,” you say. The woman looks shocked, gaze flitting to where your hand joins with his. “I was clumsy and took up too much of his time. It’s my fault if he was late.”

Kinich’s heart flips, and he’s unsure why—maybe because he’s never had anyone defend him like this, maybe because he’s never had anyone defend him at all. His mother looks just as flabbergasted as he does, only returning to her senses when she notices the setting sun. She sighs, addressing her son again.

“Your father will be home soon,” she says, retrieving her bags, and Kinich visibly stiffens. “We should go.”

Gentle, he twists his wrist from your grip, quietly following his mother as she starts to leave. There’s a similar sadness to the hunch of their backs, as if they’re dreading returning home—you wonder if you’re imagining it. Kinich, you remember his mother calling him. You like the sound of it.

“Kinich!” 

He turns at the call of his name, so unfamiliar from your lips. You’re smiling brightly, holding up two of the flowers you’d picked.

“Next time, teach me how to make a flower crown, okay?”

/

His mother doesn’t speak as they make the walk home. He lets the wind fill the silence, whistling through the trees and carrying him with its lulling sound. It’s one of the few pleasures he finds nowadays when he retreats outside, skin purpling with fresh bruises.

They inch the front door open, tentative and wincing, half-expecting his father to burst out in a drunken rage—they’re only met with silence. Relieved, Kinich’s mother sets about putting away the groceries, and Kinich collapses into bed, letting his eyes fall shut as the sun dims outside. He tries to savor the last few minutes he has, distantly praying that his father might come home sober today. 

He thinks of the market, and then he thinks of the flowers. He thinks about the flowers, and then he thinks about them some more—a little longer than is natural for him.

Just as he slips into sleep, Kinich realizes that he never asked for your name.

[inkspiredwriting]

Playground Pandemonium

Five Hargreeves x reader

A/N: I imagine that five would be a great dad. But I also think that he is insecure and is sometimes afraid of becoming just like Reginald. What do you think?

Warnings: None

It was a rare sunny Saturday afternoon, and Five Hargreeves had finally found a day to spend entirely with his wife Y/n and their four-year-old daughter Maddie. They decided to make the most of it by visiting the local playground. Y/n, ever the planner, packed a picnic basket full of Maddie’s favorite snacks, while Five’s contribution was ensuring they arrived early enough to grab the best spot.

As they walked hand in hand through the park, Five scanned the area. “I haven’t been to a playground since, well, ever,” he admitted.

Y/n laughed, squeezing his hand. “You missed out on a quintessential part of childhood, Five. But don’t worry, Maddie will show you the ropes.”

Maddie, bouncing ahead of them with an infectious energy, turned around and called, “Come on, Daddy! You’re gonna love the swings!”

Maddie made a beeline for the swings, and Five found himself being roped into pushing her. “Higher, Daddy! Higher!” she shrieked with delight.

Five, slightly uncertain but determined not to disappoint, gave her a solid push. Maddie soared into the air, laughing gleefully.

“Careful, Five,” Y/n warned, settling on a nearby bench with a watchful eye. “We don’t want her launching into space.”

Five smirked, “I’ve seen worse launches.” He gave Maddie another push, but this time, his mind wandered to a particularly explosive time-travel incident.

Distracted, he pushed a bit too hard. Maddie shrieked—not in delight, but in mild terror—as she swung higher than intended. “Whoa! Okay, not that high!”

Y/n stifled a laugh as Five, looking mortified, rushed to catch the swing on its way back. “Sorry, kiddo,” he said, steadying her. “Daddy’s still learning the basics.”

Maddie giggled, her fear quickly forgotten. “It’s okay, Daddy. Just don’t push me into the future!”

After the swing incident, Maddie led them to the sandbox, where she promptly began constructing an elaborate sandcastle. Five and Y/n joined in, Five more reluctantly.

“Why does this remind me of building fortifications during the apocalypse?” Five muttered as he helped shape a sand wall.

Y/n chuckled. “Probably because you’re overthinking it. Just have fun!”

Maddie, her tongue poking out in concentration, sculpted a turret. “Look, Daddy! A tower!”

Five nodded, actually impressed. “Nice work, Maddie. It’s almost as secure as some of the bunkers I’ve seen.”

Y/n rolled her eyes playfully. “Maybe we can skip the part where it gets blown up by time-traveling assassins.”

As they worked, a group of kids approached, drawn by the impressive sandcastle. One boy, clearly the sandbox bully, sneered at their work. “That’s a silly castle,” he said, kicking sand at the base.

Five bristled, ready to give the kid a stern talking-to, but Y/n put a calming hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay, Five. Let Maddie handle it.”

Maddie stood up, glaring at the boy. “My Daddy can travel through time and fight bad guys. What can your daddy do?”

The boy, taken aback, mumbled something about his dad being a lawyer and scampered off. Five chuckled, giving Maddie a high five. “That’s my girl.”

Y/n called them over to the picnic blanket for snacks. As they sat down, Maddie’s excitement was palpable. “Can I have a juice box, Mommy?”

Y/n handed Maddie a juice box and gave Five a sandwich. “Try not to eat it too quickly,” she teased. “We don’t have a lot of supplies here.”

Five took a bite, nodding appreciatively. “Better than cockroaches.”

Just as they were settling in, a squirrel darted towards the picnic blanket, clearly eyeing their food. Maddie squealed, and Five immediately went into protective mode.

“Back off, rodent!” Five growled, standing up to chase the squirrel away.

The squirrel, unperturbed, grabbed a stray cookie and scampered up a tree. Five glared after it, shaking his fist. “This isn’t over!”

Y/n laughed, pulling him back down to the blanket. “I think we’ll survive without one cookie.”

Maddie, giggling, took a sip of her juice box. “Daddy, you’re so funny when you’re mad.”

Five sat down with a huff, brushing off the dirt. “I’m glad someone thinks so.”

The playground centerpiece was a tall slide, and Maddie insisted that her parents try it with her. Five eyed the slide warily. “Are you sure about this? I mean, what if—”

“No ‘what ifs,’ Five,” Y/n interrupted, grabbing his hand. “It’ll be fun!”

They climbed the ladder, Maddie leading the way. At the top, Five hesitated. “This is higher than it looks.”

Y/n, already halfway down the slide with Maddie, called back, “Don’t chicken out now!”

With a resigned sigh, Five sat at the top of the slide. “Here goes nothing.” He pushed off, the slide’s angle steeper than expected. As he hurtled down, his typically composed expression twisted into one of surprise.

He shot off the end of the slide, landing in an undignified heap on the ground. Maddie burst into laughter, running over to help him up. “That was awesome, Daddy!”

Y/n, laughing so hard she had tears in her eyes, helped him stand. “See? Fun!”

Five dusted himself off, trying to maintain some dignity. “Maybe for you.”

As the sun began to set, the Hargreeves family packed up their picnic and headed home. Maddie, tired from her day of adventure, held each of her parents’ hands, swinging between them.

“That was the best day ever!” she declared, beaming up at them.

Five, despite his usual stoicism, smiled down at her. “I’m glad you had fun, Maddie.”

Y/n leaned her head on Five’s shoulder as they walked. “You know, for someone who’s never been to a playground, you did pretty well.”

Five chuckled. “Well, I had a good teacher.”

As they reached their car, Maddie climbed into her seat, already half-asleep. Five and Y/n shared a look, both of them tired but happy.

“Same time next week?” Five asked, a twinkle in his eye.

Y/n laughed, kissing his cheek. “Absolutely. As long as you promise not to get into a fight with any more squirrels.”

Five grinned. “No promises.”

As the Hargreeves family drove home, the playground behind them, they couldn't help but smile. It was the perfect blend of laughter, love, and just a bit of Hargreeves-style mayhem.

[hwnglx]

disclaimer; the way this was worded can make it confusing, but these are behaviors or traits in other people the members could potentially feel turned on, and turned off by. enjoy 💌

bts' turn on's and turn off's

based on tarot. i do not know these idols personally. energies are always changing. what i say is NOT straight fact. pls take it with a grain of salt!

jin

turn on's

fair-minded and balanced

pleasant, gentle, peaceful and patient -> doesn't get angry or riled up easily

understanding of people's needs and okay with adjusting themselves accordingly

gives him the space and alone-time he needs

introspective, wise and intelligent (asks and ponders on the deeper questions in life)

reflects back on their actions and behavior -> is self aware enough to admit when they messed up

has valuable advice to give (it's kind of a pattern, he's definitely drawn to attractive brains and mindsets)

is open-minded and ready for new experiences -> not closed off and hesistant or scared of everything

would like to go on fun trips and activities with him

okay with more of a slow-burn but consistent and stable relationship -> doesn't rush to proceed quickly (like someone who's alright with getting to know each other slowly, maybe even start as his best friend first)

turn off's

overly emotional and dramatic (he'd feel overwhelmed and eventually drained)

but also too cold and severely detached (someone who has no sympathy for the people around them)

acts cowardly and avoids facing the consequences of their own actions

uselessly mean and cruel with their words

too proud and self-centered -> puts themselves and their own needs above others

full of selfish greed and doesn't know how to appreciate and be grateful for what they already have

clings to him and gets too possessive or controlling

too focused on superficial values (like money, fame, reputation, material possessions, etc..)

never satisfied with themselves nor the people around them -> keeps nagging, complaining and just spreading unpleasant energy

feels attacked quickly, takes everything personally and gets defensive right away

suga

turn on's

has a strong and transformative effect on the people around them (powerful presence, lingers in your mind)

knows what it's like to struggle and has gained inner strength from the experience (i.e. he thinks it's impressive to hear stories about how someone overcame a seemingly hopeless situation and learned from it in hindsight)

therefore has a good understanding of life and a lot of wisdom (keeps intriguing him with their mindset, words, thoughts, etc.)

deep and complex personalities

i keep hearing “dark”, i can see him liking when people are dressed in black, have darker hair, tattoos, etc.

doesn't insert themselves in unnecessary drama or conflicts and doesn't engage in childish gossip

has a good eye for detail and is quietly observant -> remembers the minor things about others (i.e. he'd love if his partner overheard him talking about a specific gift he wants and secretly bought it for him)

generous and giving to their loved ones (gifts really are the way to his heart)

very clever, quick-witted -> challenges him mentally

turn off's

doesn't have their priorities straight

delusional and overly unrealistic

too childish and emotionally immature

stuck in the past -> holds endless grudges and keeps bringing up old incidents

too naive and optimistic all the time -> doesn't wanna acknowledge reality for what it is, actively avoids negativity and runs away from their problems

takes unnecessary risks, is too wild and untamed (like a loose cannon type of free spirit he can't keep track of)

too simple-minded -> doesn't comprehend or care about the deeper things in life

he's likely to just not vibe with overly protected and overly privileged people who've never had to go through any hardship in their life

cares too much about being liked by everyone and gets obsessed over what people think

doesn't know how to assert themselves and actively avoids confrontation

j-hope

turn on's

very talented or skilled at something (especially in an artistic field)

humble, grounded and always eager to expand their knowledge and improve their craft

self-aware -> can recognize and admit to their mistakes

but doesn't linger and dwell on them too much -> knows how to grow and learn from their failures

chooses their battles wisely -> doesn't engage in unnecessary conflict and arguments (peacemakers who don't like fighting)

soft- and kindhearted (someone with pure intentions)

has a strong sense of responsibility and duty

carries a lot of inner strength and resilience

knows how to take care of themselves and decorate their own garden -> doesn't always need to rely on people to do the hard work for them

doesn't beat around the bush too much and expresses themselves in a clear manner

tbh, i keep getting that he's just very into self-development. he feels drawn to people who are always set on becoming the best version of themselves and would love to be on their side for that journey

turn off's

overly selfish and greedy for material things -> doesn't enjoy sharing or taking other people's needs into consideration (like if someone turned out to be hoarding money secretly he'd get the ick majorly)

gets overly controlling or possessive of him

behaves like a stubborn know-it-all and refuses to listen to his side of the story

too secretive and closed off from him -> keeps confusing him and sending mixed signals

puts on too much of a mysterious and hard-to-get act

too negative, pessimistic and dark

doesn't tell him about their thoughts or feelings leaving him wondering and worrying

deceptive (like someone who tries to cover up their mistakes and isn't upfront and genuine in the things they do, only does it for the show)

refuses to change, even if deep down they know they would need to (i.e. because it negatively impacts their connection)

bottom of deck was the two of cups. i kept getting this very forgiving and accepting energy from him, where it doesn't seem like he has these extremely specific expectations. he's okay with his partner not being perfect, because as long as he genuinely loves them, he's willing to work on their downfalls together. very sweet energy. (probably my favorite out of bts)

namjoon

turn on's

has a lot discipline, drive and willpower

knows how to keep their focus on their goals and doesn't allow anyone to stand in their way -> very determined and ambitious

courageous and willing to take on tasks others avoid (like the person who steps up first to do the hard work no one else wants to do)

capable of enduring and withstanding life's trials in a strong manner

likes to be a source of support and guidance for the people around them

uses their resources or platform for a higher good (i.e. someone who donates money to the less fortunate or helps out the homeless, likes doing volunteer work)

knows how to be grateful, as well as appreciate and count their blessings

capable of creating deep, meaningful and emotionally intimate connections to people

loves deeply and intensely

possessive and protective over what belongs to them (can see this applying to not only material goods, but also the people they're close to -> someone who looks after their territory)

turn off's

overly delusional and unrealistic

has their head in the clouds and rose-colored glasses on all the time

doesn't know what they want in life and struggles to make clear decisions -> keeps leading people on

refuses to admit their faults and doesn't learn from their mistakes -> keeps themselves stuck and self-sabotages

too lazy to work for their own success and sucks up to people in the spotlight in order to benefit from them (don't hate me but i can see him feeling turned off by privileged chaebols or nepo babys who didn't really work for their own success)

has no control over their emotions or rage -> explodes or lashes out on people

lets their frustration out on the people around them

unreliable and doesn't stick to their words -> says one thing but ends up doing another

acts irresponsibly and recklessly

doesn't know how to take life seriously and cracks jokes at inappropriate times

tactless and ill-mannered (like he'd feel the ick if someone laughed inappropriately during the discussion of a serious matter)

he had so much to say for the turn off's. he definitely gives me this vibe of having very high standards. i can sense this balance of tough love and thoughtful empathy in him, which definitely makes him an impressive and commendable leader. it's kinda like he was made for the role, really.

jimin

turn on's

intelligent, articulate and eloquent speakers -> always finds the right thing to say in the right moment

capable of being logical and objective when the situation calls for it

level-headed and swift at making decisions (he's someone who can struggle with this a lot, which is why he can feel drawn to a person who's more decisive and clear in their thought-process than him)

isn't afraid to argue and knows how to confidently hold their ground in a strong but diplomatic manner, without crossing lines

however self-aware enough to know when it's time to step back and admit they're wrong

loyal, committed and dedicated to everything they do

seeks peace and quietness (he enjoys intimate and relaxing alone-time with the person on his side, and wants them to feel like a break from all the stress)

has an inspiring, uplifting and encouraging effect on the people around them

capable of understanding his emotional needs and attuning their behavior, actions and words to them (he can need a little bit of sugarcoating sometimes)

has a profound capacity of connecting to people on a deep and emotional level

turn off's

acts like they're entitled to have a say in his life and allows themselves to command him around

too traditional, conservative and narrow-minded -> judgemental towards people different to them

childish and emotionally immature (example: throws a fit and acts like an offended child once told about their wrongdoing without acknowledging their mistakes. most members seem to not like that in a person)

lack of integrity and weak moral compass

doesn't care about adjusting their actions to the situation and struggles understanding their need to do so

tactless and impolite (especially verbally)

lacks empathy and compassion for their loved ones -> too emotionally detached and cold in relationships

gets a kick out of hurting and offending others

taehyung

turn on's

has an intriguing and mysterious aura to them -> awakens his curiosity and makes him want to get to know them closer

is more closed off and private about their life matters (a person who just gives off this impression that no one actually knows them)

can give off a cold aura but is much more passionate and enthusiastic about their personal endeavors than what meets the eye (also doesn't feel the need to rub their success or achievements into people's faces)

has depth and complexity to their personality -> knows how to talk about deeper and serious subjects in life

but can also have fun, be playful and whimsical at times

he loves duality

someone who's usually mature, grounded and disciplined but also carries this inner child-like excitement about life

trustworthy, dependable and responsible

dedicated and committed to him

capable of maintaining a good work-life balance

turn off's

too lazy and doesn't hold themselves to any sort of standards (like they don't care about improving themselves in any way out of comfort)

too deadbeat, boring, uptight and serious all the time

has an outdated and overly conservative attitude

stuck in their own beliefs and condemning towards views different to their own

not appreciative and very “meh” about the important people in their lives -> doesn't care to put in any effort into their relationships

too self-centered and only focused on their own desires

clouded and blinded by their emotions all the time -> lacks decisiveness

too emotionally needy and whiny

thinks they're superior him to him or entitled to tell him what to do -> acts controlling

jungkook

turn on's

he loooves a chase and having to work for their attention -> inaccessibility can intrigue and attract him (i.e. if a group of people showed interest in him, the one who doesn't would stand out and catch his attention more)

has strong values and convictions -> isn't afraid to uphold their principles and defend themselves or their loved ones when the situation calls for it

intelligent, eloquent and articulate speaker -> good with words (he likes beautiful and melodic voices too, would love to just sit and listen to his s/o talk for hours)

has clear objectives and goals in life -> knows exactly what they want and how to get it (will make it clear to him as well, isn't a simping yes-man who just adapts themselves to him all the time)

knows their worth and doesn't give in to people quickly

successful but humble about their achievements

loyal and committed to the people they love

stands behind their words and keeps their promises

polite and well-mannered

brings a sense of stability and comfort to the people around them (like a person who's this dependable and reliable pillar for their loved ones)

has a good balance of more “masculine” and “feminine” energy -> someone who can be dominant, powerful and assertive but also nurturing, loving and soft

he likes playful push and pull (like giving in for a kiss and stopping just timely enough to leave him wanting more)

turn off's

too competitive, egocentric and greedy -> doesn't know how to give in or grant others their rightful spotlight

ill-mannered, discourteous and tactless -> isn't capable of reading the room and acts impulsively without consideration for the people around them

impolite and offensive with the way they speak

constantly negative and pessimistic -> always finds something to complain about and ruins the mood

lets out their frustrations on the people around them

acts superior to others with nothing to back it up with (basically an inflated ego)

sucks up to him, puts on a fake act just to impress him (like a simp who just plays mr/ms perfect for him, he isn't easily fooled and can see through someone pretending to be something they're not)

too secretive and mysterious -> unsettles him, makes him question their motives (someone who keeps making him feel like they're hiding something and have an ulterior motive or hidden agenda)

doesn't commit to what they say -> leads him on, says they'll do one thing but end up doing another

i kinda struggled explaining this but i got the ace of wands plus the world. basically means a spark of passion, a new beginning, but putting an end to it before it could develop further -> he wants someone who's in it for the longterm and not just a one-time thing.

jk essentially just needs to feel the sincerity behind someone's intentions and actions. he doesn't trust people easily anymore and gets suspicious. he can easily feel turned off by people who are obviously just sucking up to him or making him feel like they want to be with him for the wrong reasons.

obviously, he wouldn't wanna be with a person who only sees him as someone they can benefit from. he's used to people simping for him (it's giving “been there done that, don't want that anymore”), so he can feel drawn to people who don't really care; since that'd mean they're more likely to overlook his status, fame, etc. and look at him as a person, rather than an idol, fantasy or an opportunity for their own good.

[ch-4-eri]

Hi, I hope you had a good day

Can you write DI Jill x reader smut (age gap plz) that would contain SCISSORING (I'm tired of strapons I love pussies)

(Death island Jill is my favorite if she wont be in my bed on 14th February im gonna quit it)

Love your work!

I LOVE THIS REQUEST THANK YOU SOO MUCH!!

Jill X fem! Reader.

Warnings: mentions of trauma, slight angst, sad Jill, post death island Jill, scissoring, cursing. Smut, porn with plot, vanilla sex lowkey, Jill is much much older and reader is of legal age.

Word count: 1.7k

Guys I can fix her, I swear.

Your mom’s best friend had an almost near death experience at her job, which is almost every mission.

Jill Valentine has been your mom’s best friend for at least a good decade now, they both met at a support group and the friendship took off, surely a trauma bond lasts a lifetime.

As you both picked up the woman from the airport as she decided to unwind and forget about the horrible island she was talking about, in so little detail— knowing Jill for that long, she’s a woman of mystery, doesn’t say much but does say enough for you to grasp the full picture that lacks detail.

You were in the backseat as your mom drove— Jill staring outside the window with her beat up clothes, you’ve no idea if she liked ripped clothes or she’s just too busy to buy new clothes— either way, she was perfect, she smells nice and takes good care of herself, her almost greying hair perfectly trimmed and tucked behind her ear, she cuts her hair like a mother— not that she has kids, or even wants any.. which is fair.

Your eyes were taking in every detail about her, the way she was sitting, her hands calloused and placed atop her thighs as your mother was making conversation, dragging words out of her… barely so.

She turned to look at your mother which caused you to catch a glimpse at her nose, her blue eyes shining as the aging lines around her eyes were more prominent than last time you’ve seen, and before her visit to that island.

Jill felt eyes on her as she caught you staring, turning those to the backseat, giving you a half assed smile adults give to children and looking away, surely you’re no kid— but to Jill? It kind of doesn’t matter.

Deep down you’d take any kind of attention from her.

You always kicked yourself for thinking of that woman that way, Jill seems like the untouchable kind of woman— anyone’s lucky to even talk to her. you’ve no idea why she gives off that sort of energy… maybe because your mother is her only persistent friend outside of her job ones, and even so she barely talks, you’re curious, you wanna know more, and it grows to an attraction or even an obsession on your behalf.

Each time your mother brings her up, you’re tense, the hair on the back of your neck stands and your heart races, not even in fear, Jill was never threatening around you or your mother despite the training and whatever she’s capable of, and you know exactly what she can get away with.

But she’s a good person, and a good friend, and your mother loves her… so do you, except it’s a different kind of love, or maybe lust, a mere curiosity about the woman with decent intentions and morals, seeing it in her eyes as your mother insults a bad driver on the road and Jill just shushes her, she’s perfect, looks innocent even.

And you know she’s not, not even close.

You tossed and turned next to your mother in bed that night as you gave your room to Jill so she can rest on a bed instead of sleeping on the floor or the couch like she usually argues to do so.

And the thought of her sleeping on your bed is driving you crazy, your bed will smell like her, have her fucking perfect face on your pillows.

The overwhelming feeling made you sit up, not even in the mood to sleep at this point as your mind circled around the same thing, you wanted her.

To talk? Let her open up to you? Oh god she’s asleep on your bed.

And it’s like your legs had a mind of their own, you slowly got out of your mom’s bedroom, and closed the door— letting out a breath so heavy you felt your lungs shake.

Your room was right there, the door closed as Jill was right behind it, on your damned bed.

Your shaky hand was placed on the doorknob as you twisted the handle, allowing yourself to be creepy just this once as the desperation was eating you alive, making you feel smaller.

What if she gets mad? You never saw Jill angry, she’s incapable of being disrespectful like that, she’s too perfect, no matter how much she argues she isn’t.

You saw her awake and staring up at the ceiling, her gaze falling on you, and again; Jill would never be angry with you.

“Hi, sorry.. I just wanted something.” You lied, closing the door behind you.

“No worries.” Jill spoke up, the sound of her voice sending chills down your spine, you needed a fucking grip. “You alright?” You ask, not caring about the act of needing something from your bedroom at this point, what you wanted was her, to talk— to fuck— god anything.

“Just thinking.” Jill responds after a moment of silence, knowing she’s trying not to open up like usual, maintaining her secrets but still keeping a firm honesty— no matter how much it lacked, but you were so done with that, you wanted her to talk, say more, cry it out, anything.

You sat on the edge of the bed and faced her and she looked even more beautiful like this, wearing a gray tank top that barely covers anything, your eyes trying their hardest not to slip up, keeping them on hers instead.

“You can talk to me, you know?” You start, maybe just maybe this would get her to talk, it’s late and Jill looked vulnerable, worn out even. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Goddamn it, it was too close.

“Why not?” You found yourself arguing, were you that desperate? Perhaps, you absolutely were. Jill raised an eyebrow at your persistence, straightening back as she tilted her head. “Because, I don’t want to.” Jill replied, her tone firm like she needs you to stop arguing back if that’s what you were trying to do.

You gulped, you wanted to argue, wanted to tell her off, wanted to let her know she’s got you, that you were right here; anything.

“You should go to bed.” Jill ordered, her tone as firm as a moment ago, making you narrow your eyes in challenge.

“I don’t wanna go to bed, I know you wanna talk and I’m not leaving until you do.” You said, not sure what the hell’s gotten into you, and now Jill was starting to look pissed, a sight you haven’t seen before, maybe part of you was relieved you provoked her, maybe she’d say something, do anything.

She doesn’t say anything for now, you know she’s thinking something over in that head of hers, wishing you had a clue what the fuck it was. “Come here.” Jill gestured at you to come closer. Her fingers pointing at the bed, opening the blanket, her long legs exposed to your hungry eyes as you gulped.

“I said come here.” Jill repeats, her voice louder now, like she’s holding back yelling at you in the middle of the night. You obliged, unsure how you did so— all you could think about were her legs.

You came closer to her, crawling on the bed in front of her, watching the way her eyes studied you, her lips parted with anticipation as she grabbed your waist and brought you closer forcefully, feeling how strong her grip was, making you bite on your lip.

“Why are you suddenly so curious about it?” Jill asked, her fingers splaying themselves on your hip, keeping you close in such a strong grip and that’s just one hand.

“What do you want me to tell you?” Jill whispered, her other hand coming up to part your knees for her, gripping your thigh as she picked you up and brought you into her lap, like you weigh nothing. “That I’m so fucking tired; I’m so fucking sick of everything?” She whispered into your ear, her tone strained like she’s holding back the tears and the despair she’s felt for so so long.

“What do you want to hear?” Jill asked, her voice choked with tears. She wanted to cry but she refused to, her leg moving around your hip. Bringing you closer, her mouth placed near your neck. “I want you talk to me about it, maybe I could help—“

“You can’t help me doll.” Jill whispered, her breathing fanning your neck, her hands placed on your waist. “Nobody could.” She adds, positioning your middle on top of hers. Her hips slowly moving against yours, desperate for any kind of friction. “Jill—“ you gasped, catching a hold of her shoulders as you were both bumping against each other.

“Please doll just let me do this.” Jill begged, her hands gripping your hips hard as her clothed pussy was sliding up into yours, the fabric so wet as it bumped against her clit and made her bite into her lip, trying not to scream at the pent up feelings and frustrations, your eyes were glued to pussy, you wanted a taste, to feel her throb in your mouth, your pussy cumming at the friction as Jill moaned, her hands moving your hips with her full strength with both your panties soaked, Jill’s fingers moved in between you two and rubbed at both your clits, her breathing strained as she lifts her fingers up and shoves them into your mouth.

Seeking pleasure from the way you suck on her fingers, her other hand bringing your lower back closer as she chased her high, you had no idea your legs could do that, it was not a common position but it felt fucking amazing with your mouth full of Jill’s fingers and her pretty pussy fucking into your own, “come on— cum inside of me baby.” She urged, bringing your hip closer, pushing your pussy into hers. “Need you to cum inside of me.” Jill pants, too focused on her pretty eyes, mesmerised by her entire being, your noises were soft whimpers and whines as she got wetter at the sound of them.

“Jill—“ you called her name, your muscles spasming as you let out a choked gasp, your cum mixing with Jill’s as you both orgasmed at the same time, your foreheads pressed together and you both panted at the feeling, holding Jill’s shoulders while hers held your hips.

“I better not hear you ask anything else about me,” Jill requests, lifting your hips to get you off of her.

“You know enough doll, now trust me and get some sleep.” She says, slipping out of bed to get you cleaned up before you’d sleep. Leaving you dumbfounded and flustered.

[taelophone]

Kitchen Fire

Joost Klein x Reader! TWs: RPF, tooth rotting fluff like omgggg W/C: 2207 A/N: I loved writing this sm thank you to the requester ily <33

Every full 365 days, the spotlight shines on one individual for their special day. Granted, many individuals around the world at once, but still. And today was all about you!

Joost was all about making sure you felt special and loved every single day, but he pushed sooooo much harder on your birthday. And today he decided he wanted to do something special for you!

“Good morning pineapple….” He started, giggling like a child as he shook you gently up out your sleep.

“…Looking very good very niiiice…” you chuckled back, barely even halfway awake. “Good morning, my dear..!” You smiled, rubbing the leftover sleep from your eyes as you went to sit up.

“How did you get in?” You smiled, knowing damn well you locked your door.

“Don’t worry about that, schatje, it’s your birthday!” He beamed, giving you no time to process before he sweeped you up, carrying and spinning you bridal style around your room.

“HAPPY BIRTHHHDAY TO YOU!” He sang, eagerly tossing you around as you giggled at his surprising amount of energy at 7 in the morning.

“Thank you, thank you!” You giggled, letting him pepper your face with tiny kisses.

“Go get ready, I booked a little spa day for you in like…an hour.” He smiled, placing you gently on your feet.

“Oh, okay then! Let me go get dressed.” You nodded, darting off to the bathroom to get ready for the day.

You knew that Joost probably went through a lot of labor to book your schedule up, considering he hates phone calls. But he still did it for you!

But what you didn’t know, was that the moment you were out the door, Joost was gonna completely takeover and decorate your house. He had big plans.

He laid down on the couch, his stomach pressed flat against the cushions as his long legs kicked up in the air while he waited for you to leave.

“You sure you don’t wanna go? I can pay-“

“Stop right there,” he murmured, raising a palm. “You’re not paying for anything. Much less a spa day for me.” He smiled.

“I have a lot of things to do at my computer, so I’ll be here when you get back and we can order some food.” He lied, watching you closely as you hobbled over to him and pecked his cheek.

“Okay…” you sighed, smiling at him lovingly. “I love you!! Bye!” You squeaked, closing the door behind you with an eager squeal.

He snickered at your joy, equally just as happy that you were happy. He waited about 10 minutes to make sure you were really gone before he got to work. 

He didn’t go too heavy on the decorations, as he didn’t want the cleanup to be horror for you two later. He hung up cute pink and white heart streamers, pink ribbons, and a massive paper sign that read ‘Happy Birthday’ with a collage of Joost’s many doodles.

He smiled, proud of his work before scurrying off to the kitchen, phone in hand. He scrolled through Pinterest, leaning back against the counter as he bit his bottom lip.

Joost had never been a cook, much less a baker, but he really really wanted to try for you.

Cakes with bows, Victoria cakes, sponge cakes, upside down cakes, fuck it, cake cake. He grew a little pale, the vast amount of cakes suddenly clueing him in on how little of a cakewalk making a cake would be.

He swallowed his anxiety before settling on a nice, simple raspberry jam Victoria cake. It looked easy, so he went straight for it.

He tossed the ingredients for cake in one big bowl, mixing them all together at once. The counter was riddled with flour, eggshells, and powdered sugar. It seemed as though no matter how much Joost mixed the batter, it never seemed to come to.

It was clumpy, but somehow still thick and…almost gelatinous. When he brushed against the counter, he could see the strange mixture jiggle and jitter. He cringed, staring down into the bowl as he fought back giggles.

He sighed, pulling out the circular baking pan and lined it with waxy parchment paper. He stared at the oven with genuine confusion, examining the little settings and knobs carefully before turning it up to the max, and tossing it on the top rack.

He wasn’t sure how long to keep the cake in, so he set a timer for an hour just to be safe. 

While he waited for the cake to finish, he cleaned the kitchen and did the dishes before plucking the raspberry preserves from your pantry.

He sat down next to the oven, welcoming its warmth as he occupied himself with his phone while he waited for you to come home.

Somewhere along the wait, the gentle warmth from the oven lulled his senses to comfort, threatening his eyes with a long nap.

And before he knew it, he was asleep.

You on the other hand, had been enjoying your entire day to the fullest. After your much needed spa day, you did some shopping at a cozy and pink stationary store you had been eyeing for a while. You even got a free pack of pens and a small plush keychain in honor of your special day!

You went store to store, milking absolutely every birthday deal to its death until around 6:30.

You made your way back home with over 200 notifications and achey arms from all your bags as you eagerly pranced through the front door.

“Jooost! I’m- oooh!” You rang, immediately admiring the decorations that hung from the walls. The afternoon sun beamed rose gold rays of sunshine through the windows, casting a gorgeous light over the shiny ribbons and bows as you walked through the house.

You tried to take in the scenery around you, but you could hear shuffling in the kitchen and smell smoke.

“Joost? You okay?” You cooed, setting your bags down on the floor and making your to the kitchen.

He stood by the counter, his hat bunched up in his hand as he stared at the brick literal molten charcoal on the counter. 

He turned around, holding the pan with two layers of oven mitts. “I tried to make you a cake, but…I can’t cook.” He smiled sheepishly, a light pink dusting the apples of his cheeks.

You giggled, watching as what was revealed to be a cake struggle to not explode in his hands. “It’s alright, love, thank you. We can make a cake together.”  You giggled, taking off your bracelets and the pretty little silver ring Joost had gotten for you awhile ago.

“Alright, what did you wanna make baby?” You asked, setting out the ingredients again, along with two bowls.

He rested his chin on your shoulder, watching as you set up the materials. “Victoria cake…” he hummed, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Ohhh, ok, ok.” You nodded, adding the softened butter and sugar to one bowl. “Ok, so you cream the butter and sugar first. You can’t just mix everything together at once. It’d work if it was a box cake though!” You explained, adding a pinch of salt to the now off-white and fluffy butter.

“Then you mix in the eggs after you beat them.” You nodded, cracking 3 eggs in the other bowl and mixing them together until they were well incorporated. You poured the eggs in with the butter little by little, mixing it together with a spatula.

“Do you want me to get you a whisk?” Joost asked, staring at the bowl in wonder. The dough wasn’t even finished, and it looked so much better than his did.

You shook your head, humming a small “nah.” You finished adding the rest of the eggs, fully stirring them into the fluffed butter. “When you use a whisk, it makes the butter and eggs separate. And that’s not what we want.”

Joost nodded, staring over your shoulder with childlike wonder and curiosity. “I didn’t know you could bake..?” He murmured, watching as you sifted the flour and baking powder into the bowl.

“Eh, I used to watch my mom in the kitchen.” You shrugged, giggling at the fond memory. “I would stare at her for a little while…I probably looked a lil crazy.”

“But it taught me a lot, so.” You shrugged, folding in the dry ingredients and smiling. “All done! Can you put this into two of the little circle baking sheets for me, please?” You beamed, handing him the bowl of light and fluffy dough.

“Yes, thank you.” He smiled, eagerly plopping half the dough into a baking pan before retrieving its twin from the cupboard and repeating the same process.

“It’s so fluffy…” he murmured, spreading out the dough evenly with the spatula. “Can I eat this?” He asked, waving the spatula around.

You stared at him with a raised brow, fighting the smirk that threatened to mark your face. “Sure, Joost. Why not.” You giggled.

While he ate the remnants of the cake batter, you sat the cakes in the hot oven and set a timer for 30 minutes. “I feel a little lazy, so I’m gonna do a really quick whipped cream for the cake.” You shrugged, unearthing the heavy cream from the back of the fridge.

“Babe can you hand me the hand mixer?” You asked, not knowing Joost had been standing half a centimeter behind you the whole time.

“Of course.” He murmured as the spatula hanging halfway out his mouth. He whisked around the kitchen momentarily before returning to your side, the little black mixer in his hand.

“Thank you!” You cooed, propping the mixer up securely on top of a random can of coconut cream. You gently placed the bowl under the whisk, poured the heavy cream and sugar into the bowl before turning the mixer on.

“Did you just DIY a stand mixer…?” Joost asked, genuine curiosity laced in his tone as he watched the heavy cream whip itself.

“I told you, I’m lazy.” You giggled. “It’s my birthday, I’m allowed to do this.” You nodded, walking out the kitchen and plopping down on the couch.

He hummed, staring at the makeshift stand mixer for a moment before joining you in the living room.

A few beats of silence passed by as you sat together, scrolling on your phones and enjoying each other’s presence before you spoke up.

“Wanna get changed with m-“

“Yes.”

You giggled, making your way back into your room to change into some comfy clothes as Joost followed behind you just as eagerly.

You emerged a while later, fresh faced and giddy after having done your night-time routine. You adjusted the pink strap on your hello kitty pajama pants, glancing at Joost’s matching pair as he felt the fluffy fabric underneath the palms of his hands.

“The cakes should be ready now!” You smiled, slinking into the kitchen and bending at the waist to stare into the glass door of the oven.

“…Yep. Think so!” You cheered quietly, slowly opening the oven and basking in its gusty breath of heat.

The smell of warm vanilla and confectionery goodness wafted through the air, filling your house with cozy comfort.

Joost stood closely behind you, watching as you took the cakes out of the oven and sat them onto some parchment paper.

“Alright, just put the raspberry jam on this first layer and like…spread it around.” You nodded, stopping the mixer to see perfectly stiff and fluffy whipped cream.

Joost nodded, slapping the sweet, sugary goodness down onto the first cake and doing his absolute best to spread it around evenly.

Once he was finished, he giggled eagerly before shaking your shoulder and pointing to the cake.

“It was harder than I thought, it was very sticky.” He murmured, watching you as closely as humanly possible while you gently added the whipped cream on top of the raspberry preserves.

“Baking is so deceiving!” You giggled, placing the top layer on the cake once the bottom layer was all done.

“Alright, I’ll let you place the berries and stuff on top for me.” You nodded, handing him the little carton of raspberries and blueberries.

And he took that job so seriously.

You watched him delicately place each and every berry in one specific place, rotating each fruit until it looked amazing. He was so engrossed in decorating the top that you weren’t even sure you could hear him breathe through the deafening silence. 

When he was done, he pushed the cake over to you and smiled.

“Ta-daaa!” He whispered, chuckling under his breath as he leaned his hip against the counter. “I made it for you!”

“Sure you did, Joost. All you.” You chuckled, rolling your eyes.

“Now you have to make a wish.” He murmured, taking out an I heart Joost Klein lighter from his back pocket, lighting in a safe distance away from your face.

“So conceited. Who has a light of themselves?” You chastised, but giggled nonetheless.

“Because everybody loves Joost.” He nodded, watching as you closed your eyes and blew out the flame of his little lighter.

“Happy birthday. I love you.”

“I love you too!”

[5five5five5five5five5five]

Grace / the nannies / pogo somehow managing to get Reginald to rent out a children's museum for the evening just once when the kids are like 5-6 (maybe for their birthday). They needed something to get all their energy out.

Five and Viktor in a big plastic fake tree reading books and then going to the fake supermarket, where Luther and Allison are playing house and forced Ben to be their kid. Ben wants to go to the theater where Klaus has put on a one kid retelling of the ugly duckling with no audience.

Baby Diego is either clinging to grace for dear life and not knowing what to do........or has made it his mission to sneak around and throw something at each sibling without getting caught. Five and Viktor are the hardest targets bc they have cooped themselves up in the tree.

Diego also sneaking off because he wants to play in the water zone but the adults told him not to. He comes back sopping wet but very happy. An adult has to get him changed.

Klaus comes out of the theater costume zone dressed to the nines and proclaims himself mayor of hargreeves-ville. No one listens. Five will be the only one to call him mayor for the rest of the evening. But not respect said title.

Luther ends up playing in the"boring" science kid zone for a while well Allison and Ben join Klaus in the theater.

Diego ends up in the tree but he very dangerously climbed up on it. He's stuck. No one notices till Klaus screams, causing everyone to try and get him down.

Five and Viktor end up in the theater. Viktor plays with the instruments well five becomes a butthole director to everyone. Klaus isn't having fun anymore and runs to the supermarket.

Most of them end up in the fake supermarket and have a big group play, assigning jobs and trying to actually get along. It goes as well as u would think. Klaus can't stop beep scanning things and annoying everyone with it. Five ends up enjoying fake arguing like a Karen too much and it genuinely starts to get on Allison's nerves along with the beeping. "I heard a rumor everyone was quiet!!" Then dead silence. Allison feels bad but let's it stay for a few seconds longer before "I heard a rumor that you guys could talk again~" she gives five a weak smile, hoping he doesn't explode. five gives her the biggest scowl and maybe even some tears. I think five HATES being rumored. Ends up running away from the whole thing.

Viktor has a bit too much fun going "should I get this one....ooor this one" it's two of the same toy steaks. He asks five witch one then ben. Both say the left. He gets the right.

Ben is the "manager" and is hating his existence. He ends up enjoying stocking the shelves and ignoring everything around him. Probably took a audio book cassette player from the reading tree and has been blocking everything out. Also him using his tentacles to sort things.

Luther was still in the science zone and bumps into a very upset five. ever the number 1 caring bro , Luther tries his best to comfort him. They end up away from everyone to play in a big fake rocket ship. Viktor eventually joins, holding a shopping bag with his lone toy steak in it.

Diego and Klaus end up doing arts and crafts and get covered in glitter.

They all end the day covered in glitter, wet, probably covered in stickers and marker. They need to be sneaked into the house so hargreeves doesn't see and quick to the baths (the security got it and the nannies and pogo got a ear full later) they were clean as a whistle by the time dinner rolls around.

They never have an outing like that again and barely remember it.

[katerinaaqu]

Ismarus! Ismarus!

Another random inspiration I dedicate to my friend @artsofmetamoor Title inspired by the cry of Alexander the Great's army when they ellegedly telled "Thalatta! Thalatta!" ("Sea! Sea!") out of delight to reach the sea while here it is spoken in a different manner altogether

Odysseus was feeling his stomach unsettled and that was not normal for a man like him who as used at the movements of the ship. The storm was very severe after they left Troy. Perhaps, though, it wasn’t the storm itself that made him feel seasick but rather the timing of it and the conditions that brought the storm to their way.

“The storm happened right after the departure from Troy…divided us. Gods, this godsforsaken war! Blasted war!”

He remembered he prayed to Athena for forgiveness on the events that occurred at Troy. His brain was still turning like the top making his already turning stomach even more unsettled than it should be. All the scenarios, all the “what if”s and “what if not”s were roaming around his mind like the voices in the nightmares he was getting!

“I should have said something!” he thought for a billionth time to himself, “That girl was innocent! Blasted Achilles! Blasted Neoptolemus! Blasted war! I should have said something in the council! I should have stopped them! Agamemnon tried! Why not I? Why not I?”

For some reason he was numb; the massacre of Troy had taken all life out of him. Upon the news of the interpretation given by Calchas that the spirit of Achilles demanded his own tribute, Odysseus couldn’t react. He couldn’t say a single word of objection to the council. He had found no reason or energy to oppose anymore… He remembered Polyxena, the way her eyes became glassy with death as Neoptolemous pierced a knife through her tender heart. He remembered he had to hold her down. He realized all he could do was to plead for them to give her a painless death! Hecuba went mad in sorrow in his arms…he still remembered her screams! He still remembered the cries of Astyanax as he fell off the walls…he remembered the accusations of Andromache at Troy! His stomach turned again and this time he couldn’t keep it in. He leaned to the edge of the ship to throw up whatever contents he had left in his stomach (which wasn’t much, he noticed. He barely had some acid in there for they hadn’t eaten anything for days because of the storm!). He felt Polites’s arms to his shoulders.

“You okay?”

“Yeah…” Odysseus lied mopping his mouth with his hand, “It is this blasted storm! And we haven’t eaten anything for days. That is not good for seasickness…”

His lie came easily to his lips. Many of his men also suffered after all so it wasn’t completely unbelievable. Polites nodded as well so that would be enough for now (even though he knew Polites had heard him moan in his sleep many times over as nightmares plundered his mind ever since the sacking of Troy or the events that followed it). He looked around and inspected the sad condition of his companions. The storm had blown off several of their provisions too and the rich gifts from Troy, or some of them at least. They probably also lost a couple of slaves in the sea. At least he noticed all his 12 ships were together so their fleet wasn’t divided from their own, even if he lost sight of all the other fleets of the Greek army.

“The gods are angry! Gods please…please have mercy on me! I just…wanted to go home… I didn’t know… I didn’t want any of this to happen!”

He was lying to himself and he knew it. He was ready to pay the price. Truly he never expected how high it would be but deep down he knew that just his ploy with the horse was bound to cause some anger to the gods. He just hoped that Athena, who blessed his wits with inspiration, would somehow be by his side. However after the slaughter and the human sacrifice, he couldn’t hear her voice anymore. What was worse, the winds divided them and the southern wind brought the severe storm that pushed them towards the north instead of the Aegean islands as they originally planned, so that they could travel south. And the storm had caused not only damage to the ships, but also made them lose plenty of provisions. It was obvious that they were out for some failure or some sort of a misadventure because of those.

“Blasted Troy!” he thought again, “You stole 10 of my best years! You stole my son from me, my wife and my home and now you pushed me to the edge! You made me a criminal to the eyes of my goddess! Blasted Troy I hope your ashes will never revive again! May you and your holy walls never raise their heads again like it happened after Heracles!”

“Now where the hell are we?” he wondered out loud, shading his eyes with his hand to see afar

“I do not recognize these waters…” Eurylochus said apprehensively, joining them, “I see no land around”

“But I do, look!” Odysseus pointed out

Eurylochus squinted his eyes to see (Odysseus feared that he was becoming a bit near-sighted with age. He was actually surprised his own eyes remained sharp as always). Indeed there was a land formation coming up from before them.

“You’re right!” Eurylochus said excited, “Finally we get some land to stop! Inspect the damages”

Odysseus leaned against the hull in deep thought.

“Last night the skies were dark. I couldn’t use the stars for guidance but the last time we were in Troy we had southern wind. It didn’t seem to change drastically so we should be heading north”

“You think of the island of Tenedos?” Polites asked

“No, this seems longer coastline than that. From where I am standing, looks like the mainland.”

“Hold on, are you telling me we are heading to Thrace?” Eurylochus suddenly seemed worried

“Most likely” Odysseus agreed gloomily

“Dammit!” Eurylochus mumbled, “We are heading towards enemy land again, then?”

“Perhaps. Not all Thracian tribes sided with the Trojans at the war but, truth to be told, they did support the Amazon raid. They didn’t have a reason to stand against them”

“So, in short, we’re screwed?”

“Perhaps…” Odysseus mumbled again feeling nauseous once more, “Perhaps not”

“Either way, we have no choice” Polites stated the obvious; “We need to stop to land. Our provisions are not enough to support us till the islands the way we are and we will need to inspect the hulls and ropes”

“Yeah…” Odysseus agreed, “Elpenor, jump on the craw’s nest! Your younger eyes will be useful now! Tell me what you see!”

Elpenor immediately obeyed, climbing to the mast from the ropes. He might have been the youngest but also he did have some good geography knowledge. Odysseus appreciated that. He looked towards the horizon and soon enough he could detect taller walls around a city, no doubt, surrounded with mountains. He didn’t need to have knowledge to know what it was.

“ISMARUS!” He announced on top of his lungs, “ISMARUS!”

“Shit!” Eurylochus mumbled banging the hull of the ship

Odysseus had to agree. They didn’t know much on Ismarus apart from its strategic importance for the Thracians. However he also knew that the people in it were called Cicones, the tribe of people that was spread across Thrace but called Ismarus some sort of capital city for them. He also knew they didn’t like to share their wealth with outsiders and they had no reason to like the Greeks. Quite frankly, they preferred to guarantee a safe passage to the Amazons for Troy rather than sheltering the Greeks on their way there. Once more he gagged, for some reason, causing Polites to try and support him at the sudden move but this time it was certain there was nothing in his stomach to come out so he just sighed to collect himself.

“Damn…” he mumbled more to himself than anybody else, mopping some sweat off his forehead with his hand

“Do you need some wine?”

“No, thanks Polites. I am fine. This is just a….reminder. No worries”

The land of Thrace came in sight and so did the walls of Ismarus. Odysseus could see from afar that the walls were consisted on a rough stone base and clay and wooden upper parts. He rubbed his beard in thought. He could see the smokes of the chimneys too. He couldn’t see much from inside the city itself but he noticed some clay outlines of the houses and some hay roofs like an average coastline city. It was nothing like the strong structure of Troy that was for sure. The city was built almost directly on the beach, making the position really strategic for someone who wanted to connect themselves with the sea, however the back was protected from the winds by the rough Thracian mountains. In theory it was cutting the line of escape from the people who wanted to flee from an upcoming catastrophe of their city. He gasped at his thoughts.

“What in the blasted hells of Tartarus am I thinking?! We just got out of a slaughter of a city and all I can think of is what we can use if we need to raid this place! What’s wrong with me!?”

The war was still in his system, he knew. Sacker of Cities, that’s how they called him back in Troy. Apparently he was thinking like one all the time now. Apparently his men were reading his thoughts or they were having a similar train themselves for Polites came close to him, leaning his large body next to him to the ledge.

“What do you think, Odysseus? Shall we raid this city?”

Odysseus scoffed and forced a smirk to his face.

“You just got out of war, Polites and you already fear you are losing your touch?”

“I’m just saying” Polites shrugged

“Polites is right up to one point, Odysseus” Eurylochus agreed, “The Cicones have no reason to offer us anything and they are half-barbarians. Maybe they do not know the customs of hospitality”

“Don’t they worship Apollo as their patron god?” Odysseus pointed out

“Irrelevant” Eurylochus pointed out, “They didn’t help us at the war now did they? They guaranteed passage to the enemy”

“I mean, who wouldn’t be afraid of the Amazons, Eurylochus?”

Odysseus stretched himself, breathing in the air.

“Either way we need to stop and inspect the damages. I say we send an embassy and ask for Xenia before we do something.”

“They won’t give it”

“Irrelevant. We need to go by the traditions that separate us from the barbarians, Eurylochus. If they push us too hard, we will make this place burn!”

The words came to his mouth much easier than what he thought they would. Sacker of Cities then…what people in Troy chanted about him was true after all.

“Should we announce our presence then?” Eurylochus snickered

“Oh, I am sure they know we are here. They saw us coming from a mile away! Our crimson sails are not exactly a discreet sight and they have a clear view at the sea!”

As if on the cue there was a shine or sheen of metal coming from the wall. A watchman had moved. Odysseus knew they knew they were here. So far so good, he thought, we shall tie to the bay, go about our business like nothing happens and ask for a share. If that doesn’t happen then damned this city be! They indeed beached their ships and climbed down to inspect. To their good luck most of the parts of the ship were intact. Just a few repairs to the ropes and all would be done; all would be as good as new.

“Gear up, just in case” suddenly Odysseus ordered, “We have company”

A neighing horse was what got their attention, when they managed to catch a glimpse of a man riding like the wind towards the city. Great…Odysseus thought, the meeting would happen sooner than expected. He caught a glimpse of Eurylochus reaching for his hunting bow. He stopped him with his strong hand upon the wood.

“Easy there, Eurylochus!” he said strictly, “Hold your blood lust for now and wait for it. We are being announced”

“But…we are helpless!”

“We are over 500 men experienced in war with our equipment intact. We must not act like headless chicken. But prepare yourselves just in case. Shooting the man now, will bring warriors at our steps, not ambassadors”

Apparently he was right for after a few hours, while he and his men were eating some dried fruit and bread they had with them, they heard the horses once more but this time they were more than one. Odysseus eyed them and placed the helm over his brow. He nodded to Polites and Eurylochus to come closer and to one or two captains from the other ships. They approached the riders on foot. Odysseus noticed their colorful clothing and their tattooed bodies. His resolve that they would actually give them hospitality was not determined in the first place but now he was almost certain they wouldn’t.

“Hello there!” he greeted the entourage, “I hope I am speaking to an embassy of peace. We are travelers and we seek shelter”

The man on the horse didn’t come down. He only barked some words in his dialect, which Odysseus didn’t recognize to its totality.

“Look…given that we do not speak your language and I can possibly recognize one or two words here and there, I suggest you to bring us an interpreter if we are to talk openly here”

He didn’t know if that was what his tone was doing; maybe he was coming off as more aggressive as he wanted to, the man on the horse spat at his feet. Odysseus looked up at him.

“Great…” he mumbled ironically, “This negotiation will not get us far. I seek passage for myself and my men. In the name of Zeus and Xenia. We bring gifts to exchange. We desire only provisions and hospitality”

“I will give you gifts!” said the man in his heavy Thracian accent

“Ah, marvelous. So you DO speak our language” Odysseus said mockingly again, “We are making progress”

“Your banner I recognize!” the man said again in his broken Common Greek, “You raid Troy, that did you!”

Oh shit… Odysseus thought. Our reputation precedes us. The man seemed furious.

“Outsiders have no place here. More Greeks who raided Troy!”

Odysseus’s eyes darkened. It was as if just the mere mention of Troy was bringing all his blood to his head; making his pulse practically hammering inside his eardrum.

“I understand you despise us and our nation, that much is as apparent as the sun above, my dear friend. I wouldn’t make such preposterous offer unless it was of outmost importance and a matter of survival for me and my men. You protect your city and I protect them. Our interests should be aligned instead of colliding”

Odysseus realized that war was inside him. He knew the man was not fluent in Greek so he felt like using every official or long word he knew, hoping to confuse him, impress him or piss him off even further. He didn’t know which. Apparently happened the latter for the man spat at his feet once more, glaring daggers at them.

“You and your kin go!” the Cicones ambassador roared, “We give no shelter to traitors here!”

“Careful, my dear man” Odysseus now replied feeling his patience running short, “Zeus punishes those who disobey his law! And you speak to those who, as you said, stepped their feet into the holy castle of Troy! Your little town will not be that difficult to take, that much I guarantee you!”

“Leave this place!” the man replied

He stirred his horses and trotted away. Odysseus remained silent for a second. Yes, the insult was great to take, even if he deep down knew indeed they had no reason to like them in the first place.

“Captain” Eurylochus spoke again, “Shall we gather up the captains and negotiate our next move?”

A tiny essence of smirk played to the corner of his lips. He wasn’t sure if it was some weird eagerness and battle fever or whether it was just himself being sarcastic at his own attachment to that. Either way his eyes followed the trotting entourage of Thracians going back to their city.

“Sure…why not?” he heard himself whisper.

*

“The city doesn’t seem overly protected” one of the captains pointed out, “That could indicate protection from the inside. I am not sure if I would risk a confrontation at the walls”

“I double that” another one said watching at the rough sketch of the area they drew upon the sand, “Maybe we can lure them out at the field”

“Haven’t you seen them?” Eurylochus pointed out, “They don’t use carriages or chariots. They fight directly from the horses! Odysseus’s chariot was damaged into the storm but even if it was ready now it will be hard for it to navigate at the plain”

“Odysseus, how many people do you estimate the city to have?” one of the captains asked

“Hard to tell” the king of Ithaca admitted, “The city seems well-built but not too big. Worst case scenario it would be of around 4000 people”

“The odds would still be 4-1” Eurylochus pointed out, “We are not enough for it. The odds are not bad but they are not very good either”

“Indeed which is why I hope the most optimistic estimation is the correct one. Let’s say around 2000 people”

“But, Odysseus you count in women and children?” Polites asked

“Yeah that’s right. If we say they are around 2000 in there then logically half should be women and children”

“That leaves is around 1000 men and possibly a portion of them are warriors”

“That makes the odds 2-1” Eurylochus spoke again, “Sounds much better for us”

“Yes…if they remain within the walls…”

“We must send a scout team just in case, to see the weaknesses around it”

“Guys!” Polites now came in, “We are talking as if we shall begin the attack already!”

“Do you see another option, Polites?”

Odysseus hummed in thought.

“Well…in theory we could avoid the bloodshed if we took the course across the mainland or till we meet the islands…”

He made a move with his hand as if saying “maybe”

“How many provisions do we have?”

“Maybe for one week?” Polites suggested, “And that would be if we reduced our food to the minimum and hunted”

“In a Cicones forest?” Odysseus commented, “Right…”

“Perhaps fishing then?”

“That could work but it is not sustainable on the long run” Odysseus thought out loud, “We have also the slaves, the men and the horses to feed. In theory we could make it to another port before our provisions ran out but…”

“What guarantee do we have that we won’t run in the same problem?” Eurylochus pointed out

“Exactly. And besides…” once more that almost automatic smirk played to the edge of his lips, “The refusal of hospitality when someone makes plead to the gods has consequences. They know it! There is plenty of food there for sharing and we have things to return their hospitality with but…”

He hit his fist on the ground.

“Yes, I believe we must charge as soon as possible while the sword is flaming hot!”

“What are you planning?” Eurylochus asked again, “Surround the city?”

“It could work but we will run out of provisions before they do and we are cut off from the rest of the world here. I will not risk it all in a siege”

“And I refuse to spend another day waiting for cities to fall! I’ve had enough! Gods refuse to help us. We need to do something of the situation we got ourselves through. Our men are too many to feed. I cannot risk another open sea passage!”

He caught himself making excuses about it to himself; as if trying to justify the actions that he was already planning but in the end of the day perhaps it was true after all; he was the Sacker of Cities; a man of war. Perhaps that was what was left of him after the massacre…after all the atrocities he had to indoctrinate or perform in the holy city of Ilium. Athena was by his side back then; other gods were as well. He knew it was wrong what happened and yet the gods were with them. He didn’t understand why now…why now they refused to hear his prayers or rather he didn’t want to accept that the whole ploy would turn against the entire fleet and not just against him! He was afraid and worried; what if that indeed befell upon his family? What if the sin he prayed so much to Athena to protect his family from was to be fulfilled? What if Athena didn’t heed his desperate plea at Troy? Because Achilles wanted a concubine and because Calchas couldn’t keep his mouth shut!

“Agamemnon! Gods, Agamemnon now I understand you! This man predicted not a single good thing for us in his entire life! He made us both monsters who sacrifice virgins to the void! Cursed his name! Cursed his legacy!”

Polites smirked, unaware of the turmoil in his soul.

“That’s right! We have Odysseus with us! He took Troy in one night! I am sure this will be child’s play for him!”

“Why, thanks for the faith, Polites…” Odysseus said ironically, “I hope I will live up to your expectations!”

“You already have a plan?” Erilochus now pitched in, flabbergasted

“Perhaps…” Odysseus murmured thoughtfully, rubbing his beard, “I might have something but we need to organize ourselves quick”

“Yes sir!”

“And we kill no women and children!” Odysseus said, his eyes suddenly darkening

“Polyxena…Astyanax…Hecuba… No! No more women and children! Penelope… My sweet Telemachus…Ma… No, no more women and children!”

“Yes sir” the others agreed

“No rapes, no violations! Am I clear?”

“Yes, sir”

“As for the city…”

He stopped. His eyes were bottomless. His heartbeat was steady. The nausea of guilt had passed; suddenly giving his gut the weird sensation of the bloodlust he felt in battle when fighting for his life. However now it felt different.

“…Burn it down!”

“Yes! Let it burn! This and all the allies of Troy! Cursed city! If only it was never founded by the immortals! If only it never rose again from the hands of mighty Heracles! Yes, let them burn! All of them!”

“Yes sir!”

Odysseus filled a cup of wine. He took half a sip and raised it up.

“And let the blood of their men be upon their hands! So it was written, let it be done!”

He poured the rest down to the sand. The red liquid was almost immediately absorbed in the golden sand of the unfriendly land. It only left a red stain behind.

Like the blood that was shed in war.

~*~*~*~

Cicones were tribes of Thrace and Thracians were known for their great skill in riding horses among others. The exact location of Ismarus is not known although it is connected to some landscapes in Thrace.

So arguably one of the most controversial to the modern eye action that Odysseus did after he left from Troy was the conquest of the city of Cicones Ismarus. I am surprised I do not see more people talk about it!

In the Odyssey, Odysseus doesn't specify the reasonings behind the attack but it is left to be assumed that it was for piracy; so that they would plunder provisions for the safe passage. I tried to see how that would befall so I started the story with the general outline and then try to figure out how they would go.

Odysseus referring to the contempt and to Adromache or even to some events, it is a wink to my story Guilt Part2 The momet of madness of Hecuba are based on sources such as the tragedy Hecuba and other roman sources but also a wink to a fic that I had in mind for the far future, kinda like a light spoiler.

Like before as I mentioned to my gift story to @dionysism once more got inspired by the same composer Kostas Kapnisis for this one. Specifically for the scene where the Cicones spy runs to warn the city, I was inspired by the piece "Ξεσηκωμός" ("Rise Up"):

Language or dialect barrier between Thracians and Odysseus was just another thing I thought I could add to make the story more believable. Also Odysseus being kinda an ass as well even if he is suffering deep down.

Usually I do depict his positive traits and sneak in his negative (for example in my story about their escape from Polyphemus). So now we have also a bit more negative traits with sneaking in some positive as well.

The Cicones being a potential ally of Troy or at least assisting them is purely my invention here in an essence that Thrace and places like Themyscyra (if that is among the Skythians) are close to each other geographically and potentially culturally too at some cases.

Odysseus mentions "more than 500 men" because undoubtedly they did suffer losses at Troy. Just the bare minimum they could (probably around 10% of them or around 80 men)

Part 2 might be coming back soon.

Sorry if I forget anyone.

A small mention to amazing people that honored me with comments, feedback or reblogs before:

@simugeuge @loco-bird @smokey07 @adrift-in-thyme @marieisnothere12 @dilutedh2so4 @freetyphoonglitter @tunguszka20 @ilov3b00kss0much @fangirlofallthefanthings @cr4zy-cycl0n3 @superkooku @shafeeyaart @hermesmoly @insomniphic @blueflipflops @venomspecs @theyugiohfanartistwritersblog