#learning to let myself be happy for the first time in my entire life

[teathattast]

[harunayuuka2060]

MC: Professor Crewel, it seems there's an error in my grade. You've accidentally given me extra credit.

Professor Crewel: No, pup. I didn’t make a mistake. You earned that extra credit.

MC: But I don’t recall doing anything special. I simply followed all of your instructions.

Professor Crewel: You were so absorbed in the task that you didn’t notice your classmates were struggling.

MC: ...

MC: Oh.

Professor Crewel: Anyway, let’s move on from that. How’s life in Diasomnia?

MC: *smiles*

MC: It’s going well. Pé— I mean, Lilia, is always really helpful. And my Da— dorm leader always makes sure I feel at home.

Professor Crewel: That's great to hear, pup.

Professor Crewel: Oh, by the way, I nearly forgot to mention that Vil Schoenheit, the dorm leader of Pomefiore, is looking for a new member to join the Film Studies Club.

Professor Crewel: I’m curious if you’d be interested in joining. I see some potential in you and intend to make the most of it.

MC: ...

MC: May I first seek permission from my dorm leader?

Malleus: *has already prepared a club uniform for them, hoping they will join him in the Gargoyle Research Society*

Malleus: Oh, so you have received an offer...

MC: ...

MC: I can refuse—

Malleus: No. *gives them a reassuring smile*

Malleus: I’m sure you’ve developed your own interests in the world you came from. If this club piques your interest, I’ll support you.

MC: ...

MC: I’m curious about Dada's passion for gargoyles. If you don’t mind, I’d like to learn more about it even if I’m not a member of the club.

Malleus: ...

Malleus: *opens his arms wide and gives them a tight, affectionate hug*

Malleus: Will you wear the shirt too?

MC: *nods*

Malleus: *makes happy, squeaky noises*

Vil: While Professor Crewel might have recommended you, it doesn’t mean I won’t evaluate you myself.

MC: ...

MC: I don’t want to embarrass Professor Crewel, so I will make sure to meet your expectations.

Vil: It seems you believe I can be easily impressed.

MC: ...

MC: It depends.

Vil: ...

*The members of the Film Studies Club, including Vil himself, were thoroughly impressed by MC's exceptional acting and singing skills.*

Vil: ...

Vil: You... Do you have previous experience?

MC: No—

MC: ...

MC: Not in a professional set up.

Vil: ...

Vil: I see. You certainly have the skills for it, but I’m not entirely comfortable with how effortlessly it seemed for you.

MC: Huh?

Vil: I'm not sure if I can work with you.

MC: ...

MC: Does that mean...

Vil: Yes. You won't be part of the club.

MC: ...

Vil: ...

MC: I see. Thank you for your time. *turned around and left after saying that*

Vil: ...

Vil: Was I just imagining it, or did they actually give me a look of respect?

Malleus: I’m sorry to hear that you didn’t get in.

MC: I'm alright, Dada. *smiling*

Malleus: You don’t seem to be affected by it. Why is that?

MC: ...

MC: I was used to people agreeing with everything I said or did, never showing their true feelings or intentions. I felt genuinely pleased when someone was honest with me and wasn’t influenced by my skills or abilities.

Malleus: ...

Malleus: *smiles* I see.

[the-whispers-of-death]

Home Again

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Most gods would be happy that they were back in the paradise realm after previously being banished and stripped of their divinity, but Fallen God!Ghost aches for you.

His nights are spent dreaming about you, the mortal who showed him what love was. He dreamt of sleeping beside you, kissing you, even cooking with you. He dreamt of your beautiful hair, your breathtaking eyes, your jaw-dropping smile. His dreams were filled with memories of your laughter, your smooth and lyrical voice.

Paradise realm is a paradise, sure, but nothing could compare to you. Your beauty outshines the paradise realm's, your presence calms Ghost in a way the paradise realm can never. The air was always lighter when he was around you, the colors of the world always brighter. You are his light, his world, and everything is dull without you.

He spends week after week searching for how to get back to the mortal realm and back to you. His power is potent, he can just teleport himself down to the mortal realm to see you but that doesn't seem like a satisfying answer to him.

Ghost would eventually have to leave you and go back to the paradise realm, forced to be able to only visit you from time to time. He didn't want that, he can't bear the thought of leaving you. Of sleeping in his own bed, alone.

He also couldn't make you a concubine of his, bring you to the paradise realm. It didn't feel right for him to ask you to leave everything you knew behind just so you could spend hours alone in his temple while he worked. You deserve better than that.

So what else was there to do?

It takes Ghost a few days to realize what he must do. What he has to do in order to see you again.

He is standing in God!Price's temple, all of the deities summoned there for the monthly update of what the pantheon has been doing since they last convened. He can barely hear what the others are saying, it being meaningless as his mind finally reaches an answer to his burning question.

"I'm stripping myself of my godhood and powers, permanently," Ghost says, interrupting the conversation.

The entire temple is silenced at once, everyone turning their heads to stare at Ghost in disbelief.

A god deliberately turning himself mortal? That was unheard of. It was absurd to even those deities who loved the mortals so much.

Price frowns, clearly thinking Ghost has gone mad. "Now, Ghost, let's think about this," he says, his words slow and carefully curated. "You can't just abandon your godly duties, you're the God of Warfare. If there's one thing that the mortals do the most, it's engaging in war."

Ghost scoffs. "My duties can easily be done by our Goddess of War," he replies, gesturing with his hand towards said goddess. "I no longer want to be a god."

His words ignite a flurry of murmurs between the other deities, all of them shocked beyond disbelief. They don't understand why he wouldn't want to be a god, especially after centuries of hearing him look down on mortals.

"Is this because of the mortal you met during your banishment, {Name}?" Price asks, peeved now. "I hadn't thrown you down to them for you to fall in love with them, Ghost."

"No, you did it so I could learn the importance of mortals and I have," Ghost cuts in, his power flaring up as his anger spikes. This isn't up for debate. "I'm doing this no matter what any of you say, I was doing a courteous thing by giving you all a heads-up."

Price shifts in the seat of his throne, itching to get up and slap some sense into Ghost. "Enough of this, Ghost. You don't even know if they will take you if you're not a god. Perhaps that was the only reason they fell in love with you in the first place."

Ghost snarls in rage at the accusation and assassination of your character. "Even if that's the case, which I doubt it is, it is my choice. I'd rather spend the rest of my mortal life heartbroken if they turn me away than spend eternity aching for them," he says defiantly.

Immense power fills the temple, all of it Ghost's as he pools it all in his veins. Stripping himself of his godhood and powers is excruciating, the pain almost enough to stop him, but he keeps pressing on with the action.

It was worth it, for you.

"Someone stop him!" Price bellows at the other deities, but it's too late.

Just as God!Soap reaches for Ghost to try and stop him, Ghost's godhood and powers are stripped from him, his last act of being a god is to send his mortal form where it needs to be: at your doorstep.

His second fall seems euphoric, a laugh bubbling up in his chest as he falls through the clouds and lands on your front porch just like he had done months ago.

He looks to the side just as you open your front door, a smile gracing his lips at the sight of you. The weight on his chest is lifted, everything falling into place once more.

"Ghost?" You ask, surprised. You had thought you would never see him again. "Did... Did you get your godhood taken away again?"

Ghost stands with your help, his skin thrumming at the sensation of your hands on him again. "I took it away myself," he murmurs, breathless as he stares in your beautiful eyes.

Your face twists into confusion, which makes sense since he had been itching to be a god again the first time he fell. "Why?"

"For you, love. I couldn't bear to live eternity without you," Ghost says, secretly nervous that you won't take him now that he's not a god. "I love you, {Name}."

"I love you too," you reply, making him relax. You step closer, happy that this isn't a dream. "I don't care that you're not a god anymore, I only ever wanted you."

"You will always have me, for as long as you will have me."

Ghost steps closer as well, reaching up to gently cradle your face between his hands. He can't wait for you to lean in as well, though you do so as he gently presses his lips against yours.

The kiss can only be described as heavenly, all of the noises of city life fading away until there was only the sound of you two kissing. It's so gentle and slow, Ghost savoring what it's like to kiss you. He pours every ounce of love into the kiss, needing you to be filled with his love.

It feels like you are kissing for hours before you both pull away for air. Your soft pants fill the air between you two, you smiling at him.

"Come on," you say, gently grabbing his hand and intertwining your fingers together. "Let's go inside and have dinner together."

Ghost nods and follows you inside the house that truly feels like home now. He lets you lead him into the kitchen, not even complaining about having to cook with you.

He had been a fallen god when he had first met you but now, he was neither fallen nor a god. He was just Ghost. A man you loved.

Reblogs are welcomed & appreciated! Asks are open, feel free to pop in and talk or request something! (SFW requests only, please and thank you)

[lovecla]

IF YOU LOVE ME, LET ME KNOW | jack hughes.

chapter ten:

➴ warnings: none :)

➴ word count: 1k

➴ author’s note: and finally, the last chapter of IYLM,LMK. this one’s a bit shorter but i wrote a longer epilogue for you guys :) i’ve been writing stories since i was ten years old but this is the first time i finish the entire thing and actually like it. don’t know how to thank each and every one of you for reading what i write and for appreciating it as much as i do. but thank you.

sophiamontenegro

liked by billboard, arianagrande, tyla and 3,802,901 others.

sophiamontenegro make me yours is officially, well, yours now!!!!

every time i release something i feel extremely lucky and grateful, no matter what. today, i’m more than happy to share this part of me with you all. we’ve been working on this album for a whole year now and it’s insane how much things can change in such a short amount of time.

i’ve learned a lot about myself during this whole process and it’s crazy yet so rewarding. this album is a message to everyone i love and to young sophia, specially.

hope u enjoy!!!!! 💙

View all 30,910 comments

morgan.grace Soph, i can’t tell you how PROUD i am. I’ve known you for almost six years now, and i pray every. Single. Day. That we have the rest of our lives together. I love you so much! Happy horny album day! 💙

sophiamontenegro @morgan.grace i love u

lovssoph I LOVE YOU SO MUCH

ilovehockey12 Jack can u fight lol

ellievlasic woaaaaaaah

njdevils sophia MONTENEGRO 💜

_quinnhughes Congrats Soph!

sophiamontenegro @_quinnhughes thanks quinny!

lhughes_06 @_quinnhughes @sophiamontenegro Y’all coming for dinner tonight ?

_quinnhughes @lhughes_06 You could’ve just texted

soph_wh0r3 I’m so in love with this album, horny sophia is my favorite sophia

user11939 thats that me espresso indeed

jackhughes I wonder who inspired you to write these songs

crazy4hockey @.jackhughes crazy shit to say tbh

— ♡

IN the beginning of January, you started writing your sixth album. Well, you started writing it officially, with the help of your songwriters and producers, because truthfully, you’d been writing it since you and Jack started seeing each other— just some random lines here and there in your Notes app on your phone, that quickly turned into songs.

Months passed and life got extremely busy. People seemed to be very interested in your relationship with Jack, in a weird, almost comical way. Several social media managers have already contacted your team to ask for your participation in YouTube videos, interviews and TikToks, but you refused most of them.

You didn’t mind about talking about Jack or spending time with him in studios, but you knew it wasn’t his cup of tea— even if he never said anything— so you just tried to separate your love life from your career.

The New Jersey Devils failed to make the Stanley Cup Playoffs, and Jack was really upset about it, just like Luke, Nico and the rest of the team, because despite what happened back in November, they all worked really hard.

Time passed after that, and it was summer again, one year since you and Jack started seeing each other. Sometimes, sitting on the bench at his and Quinn’s summer house, you ask yourself if things weren’t moving too fast. In less than a year, your life changed in ways you never even imagined before and you didn’t know if it was scary or not.

But whenever you thought of Jack, you remembered his thick, beautiful lashes, blond hair decorating his arms and legs, blue eyes that brought the ocean to you, smile that brightened the world.

You remembered how he took care of you, how he’d listen to your songs and recommend them to people, how he’d go to your concerts whenever he had the chance, and how he was often seen wearing your merch around town whenever the two of you weren’t together. How he’d watch you perform and congratulate you every time. How he’d spontaneously post pictures of you on his Instagram account, and how he’d reply to some of your fans' comments.

You had been right all along; Jack is your forever. He’s it for you.

You feel the sweet, cold breeze hit your face and you smile, watching as Jack, Quinn and Luke played with each other inside the lake, while Hischier talked with Ellen and Jim.

“Can you believe this is our life?” You asked, quietly.

“Actually, yeah, I can,” Grace replied beside you, laughing. “The only crazy thing about this is us falling in love with hockey players. Didn’t see that coming.”

“Right,” you nodded. “I can't imagine myself with anyone else though. That’s bad,” you joked.

“I don't know if it is that bad,” she shrugged. “Jack loves you a lot. That man can’t stop staring at you even when you’re ten feet away from him.”

You laughed, turning your head back in Jack’s direction, finding those blue eyes you loved so much immediately, who was now running towards you, with his body drenched.

“No, Jack, stay away!” You yelled, getting up quickly and running away from him.

“Soph!”

You started laughing, which made you lose your pace, making it easier for Jack to wrap his wet, cold arms around your body, wetting your white dress.

“Jack, stop, you’re making me wet!”

“That’s what she said,” he whispered in your ear, picking you up and making you wrap your legs around his waist. “Hi, Soph.” He smiled.

You gave in and kissed his lips, smiling softly as he kissed you back.

“Hi, Jack Hughes.”

He put you down and turned you around, wrapping his hands around your waist and resting his chin on your head. “I think this is the happiest I’ve ever been.”

That surprised you, and you felt yourself smiling even wider. “Not when you joined the Devils? Not when I won a VMA? Not when I gave you a blowjob just this morning—”

“Okay, okay,” he laughed, kissing your cheek. “Those are all super happy moments but right now, here with you, baby… I’ll never be this happy again.”

A few years later, you’d look back at that moment and think, oh, Jack, baby, that’s just the beginning. Because he would say the same thing years later, when he kissed you at the altar, or when he held your daughter for the first time.

“I get what you mean,” you snuggled closer, ignoring the wet clothes. “I’ve been happy before. I am happy. But this… this is different.”

“Yeah,” he whispered. “So different.”

“Will I ruin the moment if I say I need to go pee?” You bit your lip.

Jack laughed out loud and picked you up again. “I love you, Sophia Montenegro.”

“I love you more, Jack Hughes,”

“Well,” he kissed your cheek. “I think that’s up for debate.”

“Well. Maybe.”

— ♡

jackhughes

liked by _quinnhughes, nhl, dawson1417 and 210,912 others.

jackhughes lucky fella. @sophiamontenegro

View all 1,992 comments

morgan.grace saurrrr cuteeeee I love you guys

user0092383 ADOPT ME PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE

j86wife imma start doing cocaine…

gia_william i wanted to hate on them so bad but they lowkey fire asf :/

keylaasher soph when u hug him, remember you’re hugging my whole world… 💔

nicohischier ❤️

njdevilsmemes Ain’t no way he can handle all of that

trevorzegras @njdevilsmemes he can’t.

jackhughes @.trevorzegras fuck off

| EPILOGUE |

[ramp-it-up]

All I Want

Paring: Mob Boss! Steve Rogers x Reader

Word count: 3.4 K

Summary: Steve has left you alone for a week with no explanation. Will you let him back into your life?

Warnings: 18+ As always, MINORS DNI, SMUT, Lil bit of ANGST. A lot of FLUFF Not Beta’d. All mistakes my own. A slap on the face, organized crime, implied violent retaliation, Bucky’s arm injury implied, Steve simping for reader, reader watching porn, sloppy toppy, gagging, swallowing, coached masturbation, oral (m/f receiving) fingering, nipple play, p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it up!) breeding kink, size kink, violence (due to mob world).

A/N: This is a bonus for  #DJ’sAllIWant4KChristmas and based on this ask and any other requests for a part 2 to Try a Little Tenderness. Here it is babes, I hope you like it as much as the first part. Happy New Year! 🍾

I no longer operate a taglist. Follow @rampitupandread to be notified when I post.

I Do NOT consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

Sam came, and he watched as you paced in your closed store the first day after the dust up at DUMBO. He told you minimal information, just that Bucky was alive and that he was going to stay there per Steve’s ‘request’ until he asked him to leave.

“I’m opening my store today.”

“No. You are not.”

Sam was usually nice, with that beautiful smile on display whenever he picked up Steve’s gifts. But now, he was steadfast.

You were hot. Not only at Steve for not telling you the whole story, but at everyone.

You couldn’t just sit around all day. You walked up to Sam and stood toe to toe.

“Take off that expensive jacket.”

You had an apron with the store logo in your hand.

Hours later, Sam took a break from helping you do store inventory to take a call. You kept working as he stepped into the back room. Then, you walked back to listen.

You peeked around your corner to see Sam letting out a sigh of relief.

“Good. At least that’s progress? He squeezed your hand?”

He paused.

“I know he has a long way to go, but you know Buck’s a fighter.”

“…Yes. Steve. I’m trying, but you know she’s stubborn…She’s okay. She’s a pistol, and she’s working me to death. She’s pissed at you though. At all of us. Yeah… I don’t think I can protect you from that. I’ll tell her it will be a while…”

You went back to your spreadsheet feeling some kind of way. Steve had time to call Sam, but not you. Okay.

Sam stepped out of the back room.

“Bucky’s alive. He was very badly injured, his left arm is…”

Sam paused, looking at you warily.

You looked back at him relieved, yet anxious at the same time.

“Let’s just say that he has a long road.”

You nodded and swallowed.

“What about Steve?”

You hated yourself for asking Sam. You should have been talking to Steve. But you couldn’t help it.

“He’s fine. Just has some… work to do right now.”

Your stomach dropped and you lifted your chin.

“What Steve does with his time has nothing to do with me, Sam. I don’t own him and he certainly does not own me.”

You were ready to fight.

“It’s not like we’re in a relationship. Steve’s fine, Bucky’s alive. So you can go now.”

You looked him in the eye so that he could get the message.

Sam shook his head.

“That’s not gonna happen Y/N.”

You glared at him.

“Tell your Boss that I’m sending you back.”

Sam advanced upon you, but you knew he wouldn’t hurt you.

“Learn this, Y/N. Steve’s not my Boss. He’s my friend, and just like Bucky, he’s my partner. I'm doing him a favor making sure you’re alright. That’s what friends do. You can’t send me back.”

You two stared at each other. This must be what it was like to have a brother.

“You know you’re very annoying.”

“Same, lady.”

You fought the urge to laugh and wanted to stick your tongue out at him.

“Get back to work. We have the entire stockroom to count.”

Sam shook his head and obliged.

Six days later, on Christmas Eve, the bell rang, signaling someone opening the door. You turned with a smile to greet the customer to see Steve standing there.

It was liked the wind was knocked out of you.

Steve stood there, staring at you, looking very tired, but with those same sparkling blue eyes. And he had the nerve to smile at you.

“Can I have the usual?”

He was a sight for sore eyes. You’d spent the week worried and frustrated, in addition to mad as hell. But he looked so damn good.

You walked over to Steve, and gazed up at him as he beamed down on you. You did the only thing you could think to do.

You slapped him.

“How dare you!”

Sam, who was in his apron behind the register, audibly gasped, because it didn’t end well with the last woman who slapped Steve. She’d ended up climbing out of a dumpster where Steve had unceremoniously placed her.

You looked over at Sam.

“Here is your friend, Sam. Talk to him. Because I certainly won’t.”

Steve’s heart was beating a mile a minute as he rubbed his face. That fire pent up inside you signaled a need for release. He watched you hungrily as you left, then turned back to Sam.

You stormed upstairs toward your apartment, hearing the beginnings of thier conversation.

“I thought we agreed to keep the store closed, Sam.”

“Well, the store’s owner might have a little to say to that. Have you ever tried to get her to do something she didn’t want to do?…”

You went upstairs, straight to the kitchen, reaching for your liquor cabinet. It was only noon, but you needed a drink.

You heard the door open behind you and did not turn around. You heard his steps into the kitchen, but you were immovable.

“Pour me one?”

You reached for a glass and slammed it down on the counter next to you, then poured some Uncle Nearest into it. You still didn’t look at him, but you shivered as he stepped behind you, nearly touching you to reach around for the glass, but only sharing his body heat.

“I deserve your anger, Ambrosia, But at the beginning, I genuinely thought that you knew who I was. I mean….”

You spun around, eyes full of fire, facing down Steve’s desire for you. And there was something else in his eyes. But you launched in nevertheless.

“At no time over dinner, or while you were sweet talking me into bed, did you mention that you were the head of an international crime organization. And then you put my business in danger. And apparently my life???”

Steve sighed and scrubbed his face.

“I know you’re angry, Baby, but you gotta listen to me.”

You closed your mouth and crossed your arms.

Steve’s face softened. At least you weren’t running away.

“I said at the beginning I thought you knew who I was. But then I realized that you didn’t know me as Steve Rogers the big bad dude, I was just that one customer who was sweet on you and sent gifts. And that made me fall for you even more.”

When he said ‘fall for you,’ your eyes went to his.

“Yeah, I said it.”

“Steve…”

You were trying to remain upset, but he was so sincere. Your resolve was weakening.

“Fall for me? You haven’t spoken to me in a week, Steve. You called Sam every day but…”

“I had work to do. Bucky was injured and he was touch and go. And I had to take care of… I had to take care of some things.”

He looked at you and slowed down.

“You had work to do? So did I. But you told me to close my store. You couldn’t have taken a few minutes to call, to text? I figured I didn’t mean as much to you as I thought.” 

You looked down at your dirty chucks, and at Steve’s Ferragamos.

Steve moved closer and tilted your head up by your chin. The electricity from his fingers was almost too much.

“No, Ambrosia.”

Steve’s eyes were wild now, and desperate. He wanted you to understand so badly, but he knew it would seem outlandish.

“You mean so much more. I fell for you because there were no expectations. I kept buying you gifts and you kept sending them back. And I thought you didn’t want me. But then when I asked you on a date and you accepted, I realized that…”

“…That all I want is you.”

You looked up at him and bit your lip. Steve could hardly contain himself.

“I can listen to you, Steve. And I would have listened if you called.”

Steve leaned down and kissed your lips softly. He groaned when you yielded to him, opening your mouth and peeking out your little tongue. He wanted to ravage you, but first, you had to understand.

“You’ve got to know. You’ve got to know that you change me Ambrosia. With you I am a different man. I couldn’t call you because you make me weak.”

Steve kissed your frown and started talking again.

“With you, weak is a good thing. I am gentle, I am kind. I am patient.”

Steve looked into your eyes. 

“I am in love.”

You gasped. 

“Steve…”

“You gotta listen. When I left, all I could think about, besides Bucky, was you. Your smile, your wit, your laugh, your body. How it felt to make love to you. To be inside you. To make you cum. Do you remember, do you remember how it felt?”

You smiled and nodded, playing with the St. Christopher’s medal around his neck.

“Look at me. Do you remember? Use your words.”

You clenched at his command. And you obeyed.

“Yes, Steve. I remember. I was sore for three days.”

Your admission and the new huskiness in your voice made him pull you closer and you could feel the pulsing in his pants. You also felt his heart beating in his chest.

“Fuck, Ambrosia. You make me wanna ruin you again.”

The way you looked at him indicated that you wanted the same. Steve felt his knees almost give out. He chuckled.

“See? You make me weak in the knees. Thoughts of you make me soft. And for what I had to do, I couldn’t be. D’you understand?”

You tried to think rationally. You knew what he was saying without saying it. He had to do horrible things. You watched the news this past week. You knew what Steve was responsible for. But you didn’t care. Bucky was always nothing but kind to you. And he was Steve’s best friend.

You thought about what you would have done in this situation. You looked back up at Steve.

“I understand.”

You bit your lip again.

“And I am still standing here with you because it is too late for me to tell you to leave. I endured Sam sleeping on my couch for a week and protecting me because I love you too, Steve. I think I have been in love with you for months now. And then, last week...”

Your hands moved to slip his jacket off his shoulders, kneading them and feeling the tension there. Steve’s eyes sought yours again.

“You love me too?”

“Yes, are you tired?”

“Exhausted, but… You want me to stay?”

“Yes…”

Your hand was on the outside of Steve’s pants, grasping his hardness and making him groan, knowing that he was leaking in his underwear. His hands moved up your sides and lifted you up to sit on the counter.

He dove into your neck, inhaling your scent and giving you gentle kisses that made you arch your back and your breasts into his chests. Then, he started sucking hickeys into you as his hands came up to knead and grasp you, and to tease your nipples with his thumbs.

“All week I’ve gone to bed and woken up rock hard to visions of you. Didn’t wanna jack off. I need you Ambrosia. Need to see you cum again. Need to bury myself deep inside you. Need for you to hug me in all the ways. Need to see your beautiful body. Need to sleep with you in my arms. I’m tired. Tired of being without you.”

You nuzzled his ear, knowing that the only important thing right now was his need. And yours.

“Sounds like you need me to suck your dick.” 

You felt bold because he wasn’t looking at you.

The man literally growled in your ear and then picked you up, still wrapped around him like a vine, and carried you to your bedroom. He sat you down on your bed and looked down on you as you looked up at him.

“What did you say?”

Steve made sure to hold your head up so you could look him in the eye. Your eyes watered as you licked your lips and took a deep breath.

“I said, I want to suck your dick.”

“That’s… what I thought you said.”

Steve continued to hold your head by your chin, and stuck his thumb in your mouth as he undid his pants. You squirmed as you got wet at the sound of his belt clanging on the floor and sucked his thumb like it was going out of style.

Steve could hardly catch his breath for anticipation and his eyes rolled to the back of his head. He looked down at you as he pumped his massively hard cock in your face.

“I want to be very, very rough with you, but I’m not going to hurt you, Baby. You want this?”

Steve moved himself to within an inch of your lips.

“Please…” 

You made to move closer, but he held you fast. You almost felt his dick jump when you saw it. You squirmed again.

“Can you take it?”

You managed to extend your tongue and collect the drops of precum on his tip, making Steve shiver as his blazing eyes looked down on you.

“Fuck my face…”

“Holy!”

Steve grabbed both sides of your head as you opened wide and accepted him into your mouth.

“That hot little mouth, holy shit, Ambrosia. How do you…”

You concentrated and allowed him to push past your tonsils to your throat, then suckled him as he pulled out, tracing your tongue along the vein on the underside of his cock. You ran your hands up his sides, tracing his v cut and abs upward under his shirt. Steve scrambled to take it off, and then pulled you off of him to take your shirt off.

“Where did you learn that?”

Steve raised his eyebrow as you grabbed for him again. He tried to be gentle, but you wouldn’t allow it, as you bottomed out again.

This time when you pulled off, gasping you said one word, “Porn,” and then started slurping sloppily again.

Steve stood there, head thrown back as you took his hips and went to town.

“Thank goodness for technology.”

You hummed your agreement, and then went for the gold.

“Ho-ho-holyyyyy. I’m gonna, fuckkkk Ambrosia, I’m gonna…”

You started gagging louder and finally, Steve took your head in order to use your mouth for his pleasure.

“It’s gonna be a lot… “

Steve was looking down on you with lust and you basked in it.

“You gonna swallow?”

You nodded eagerly, as Steve bared his teeth with an effort to hold back. You played with his balls, and he couldn’t anymore.

“Swallow like a good… fucking… girl…”

With those three thrusts, Steve sent a torrent of spend past your lips. You gulped it down and Steve thought he’d died and gone to heaven. He fell to his knees and you hugged him, assenting to his kiss so that he could taste himself on you.

“Thank you for that. Now I can think straight.”

He moved to push you back on the bed. 

“So, my sweet Ambrosia has been watching porn, huh?”

“I missed you Steve. Missed your cock.”

Steve shook his head.

“I’m sorry, Baby. I’m so sorry.”

Steve was now taking off your shoes, pants, and panites. He kissed your thighs and spread your legs with his hands. He was looking deep into your intimate parts. 

“My little sweet flower. Still so beautiful. But now she’s so sloppy.”

Those blue eyes looked at you, and your cheeks warmed.

“What happened?”

That deep voice.

“You know, Steve…”

“You like sucking my cock, yeah?”

“Yes, I do. Been dreaming of it.”

Steve grunted. His cock coming back to life at your words.

“You been touching yourself?”

“I have, but nothing compares to you. Didn’t know if I would see you again. Was thinking of getting a toy.”

Steve looked angry for a second.

“Never doubt, as long as I have breath in my body. You will see me again.” 

His eyes flicked down your body, reminding you of possession.

“Show me how you touched yourself. I wanna watch. Will you let me watch you cum?”

You squirmed at the request.

“Ssteeevvveeee!”

“Don’t be shy. Look. I’ll join you.” 

Steve leaned up on his elbow and started stroking his dick, making you wetter than you already were.

You bit your lip and slid your hands from your tits down your sides, one moving back up to play with your nipple, and the other finding your clit. You licked your lips as your fingers played in your slippery slit and lubricated your button. The sound was pornographic as your movements indicated how wet you were.

You watched as Steve opened his mouth and moved his hand faster.

“Put your fingers inside, baby. Pretend they’re mine.”

You shivered as you obeyed and your thumb tuned your body to a marvelous frequency with Steve watching. It was so erotic. You started to cum when Steve started moaning. 

“How pretty. Y’look so pretty getting off. Pretty little fingers in that gorgeous hole. My sweet Ambrosia…”

He was descending toward your center, breath hot on your cunt.  He inhaled deeply, taking in the essence of you.

“Let me be your toy…”

And his lips wrapped around your vibrating clitoris, sliding it between his lips quickly at first, causing you to jump, then, when his strong hands held your thighs open, he suckled it completely into his mouth and used his tongue to try and suck the life out of you.

You screamed and Steve slipped a finger inside your tight hole, thrusting gently at first, and then  adding another finger and becoming more insistent in the quest for your orgasm.

You came very quickly, knees around his head before he pried them off and then held you open. Steve blew on your cunt to extend the sensations, and thrummed your clit while you begged him to stop. The quivers were extended as he came up and sucked your nipples, and pulling his hair only spurred him on longer.

When you finally, finally came down, your hoarse voice complained to, 

“All my stars and heavens, Steve!”

“How can you be so fucking cute and so damn sexy at the same time. My dream girl.”

Steve kissed your forehead as you grabbed his cock and started pumping.

“Gimme.”

Steve tried to frown at you.

“So demanding.”

“Steve please.”

“You want this dick?”

Your breathy “Yes!” almost made him almost cum in your hand. 

“You. Are going to be the death of me.”

Steve held your thighs in your hands and pushed them up beside you.

His stiff cock seemed to know the way home as he positioned himself at your entrance. He slid the thick head inside you as you keened as you knew his shaft was almost as thick.

“You okay, Baby?”

“Hnnngh.. Oh Steve…give me more…”

Steve almost exploded at your face and the way you were squeezing him.

“Okay.. I don’t really wanna… hurt…”

“Hurt me pleaseeeee.”

“Shiiiitttttttt.”

Steve slid into your very wet canal and stayed there as you wrapped all of your limbs around him as you got used to his girth again.

“I-I-I can’t… I’m gonna cum… inside… I can’t… you’re gripping me so… so so tight…”

“Mmmmmmghhh! Give me!”

And Steve started moving, slowly at first, and as you urged him on, faster and deeper.

“I had plans for how I was gonna… fuck…”

“Oh my god… Steve, I’m…”

“I wanted to go nice and slow… ohhhhhh…”

When he felt you quiver around him was when he started cumming.

“Fuck! It’s too soon… oh my god you feel so good…”

Steve buried his face into your neck, huffing and puffing as his cum spurted out of him and into your warm goodness. You felt every splash of his hot ejection inside you and briefly considered the consequences.

So did Steve.

“Oh shit, I came inside you.”

Steve looked pretty pleased with himself. You had to laugh.

“I can’t with you, Steve.”

“I believe you just did.”

You both chuckled as he kissed you and collapsed on the bed.

Steve pulled you close.

“Sam is probably down there dealing with customers…still got bills to pay. The lights, the mortgage…”

You were dumping the last thoughts out of your head as you were falling asleep.

“Not the mortgage anymore. Valkyrie bought it from Wells Fargo…”

Steve sighed and kissed you on the forehead, exhaustion finally catching up with him.

“Oh, ” You replied as you snuggled closer to him. 

And both of you fell into the warm embrace of deep sleep for an afternoon nap.

READ Part three I WONDER

If you liked it, please reblog!

[flight0fthenavigat0r]

A Goodbye to The Bad Batch

I don’t even know what to say first. Because this is goodbye, but it is also everything but. But I suppose I should start at the beginning.

Just a couple of years ago I found my love for Star Wars. My entire life, as far back as I can remember, my dad has tried to get me into the fandom. Now, he’s not a fan the exact same way some of us are, he’d only watched the saga and the Mandalorian, funnily enough I was the one to introduce him to The Clone Wars and beyond, but it’s been a joy in his life for a very long time. I was never interested in it when I was little, but then I got a little older and Star Wars started to capture my interest.

One random weekend, I believe in 2021 or 2022, I decided that I was going to watch all nine saga movies in those forty-eight hours, and then start on my goal to watch every show and the additional movies.

This is, without a shred of doubt, one of the greatest decisions I have ever made, and one that I will never regret. I would not be the person I am had I not given Star Wars a chance.

It would sound ridiculous to anyone anywhere else, but this has become such a safe place for me that I know I can be honest.

Everyone finds that one thing that makes them happy like nothing else. A person, a hobby, a place, a fandom. Mine is the galaxy far, far away that lets me escape from my life whenever I need to.

The Star Wars fandom has its faults, and there is so much hatred.

But more than anything, there is love like no love I have ever experienced before. The love between fans and our love for these movies and shows is something I never expected to have in my life. But somehow, for some reason, it has all found a permanent place in my heart, and I couldn’t be happier.

At this time, the first season of The Bad Batch had just been released. I was branching out, watching The Clone Wars and then jumping to The Book of Boba Fett, though I’m not sure why I chose to watch everything in such a completely random order.

But then I started The Bad Batch.

I had no idea what Crosshair, Tech, Wrecker, Hunter, Echo, and Omega would come to mean to me.

I have dealt with a lot in the last few years. Nothing compared to others, but depression finds a way to wedge into your life. I love to be alone, but I don’t like to be lonely, and I have managed to isolate myself to a point of misery.

I found more comfort in The Bad Batch than anything else in my life, and I will never forget the joy The Bad Batch brought me in these last few years.

I began to write when I found Star Wars, and I was inspired to do so by The Bad Batch. Before, I had never felt so compelled by any one piece of media to add my own part of it to the world, until this. Writing has become another escape, one that gives me an outlet to continue the stories of characters left behind.

What I already knew has been reaffirmed, the lessons I have learned remain with me, and will even after this is over.

That it’s okay to feel afraid, because everyone does, and to make mistakes, provided you learn from them.

That feeling out of place for one reason or another does not make you unworthy of love, and having limitations with affection isn’t something you need to apologize for.

That being goofy, having fun, finding joy in the dark places, is just as vital a part of life as anything else, if not what we need more than anything.

That taking time for yourself, to make sure you don’t fall apart, even while taking care of others, is important.

That our worst moments can be one of two things, what consumes us, or what we grow from.

That being a young woman is not a detriment to your worth, intelligence, talent, or any other aspect of life, but is in fact what makes you strongest.

That what makes us unique and our faults are a part of who we are, but they do not define us, and we are so much more than the ideas people have of us.

My only regret is not making friends when I had the chance. I’m bad at that, opening up and putting myself out there, and I shy away from talking to new people because it makes me uncomfortable. But I wish I had been able to put that aside before it was too late and found people who love The Bad Batch the way I do to continue talking to, even after the show ends.

But to all the people who have supported me and who I have supported, thank you for being part of my Bad Batch experience.

It's very difficult to believe that this is it.

Though The Bad Batch has not been around long, it feels like it has, because as long as I have been watching Star Wars, The Bad Batch has been in its active run, and I’m so grateful I got to be here when it was.

I know that even when the credits roll for the final time, when the greater fandom forgets the show that they never really understood the way we have, I’ll be here, and hopefully, so will all of you. I think that the family brought together by The Bad Batch will endure, even if we go quiet for a while.

We’ll stick around, for the day the Batch comes back. Because I know they will.

Thank you Clone Force 99, the Bad Batch fandom, Dee Bradley Baker, Michelle Ang, the Kiners, and everybody who played a part in telling this story.

The impact The Bad Batch has had on my life has been profound, and I wouldn’t give it up for anything. It’s been a wild ride, and I have enjoyed every second of it. It has been a privilege to be a part of this piece in the ever growing history that makes up Star Wars.

Goodbye, Bad Batch. Until next time.

“Change takes getting used to. You’ll see. Just give it time.”

[nachosncheezies]

In defense of late-canon x files (including the revivals)

I was thinking about this poll after I commented on it, and I kinda want to be brave and say more.

Short answer to the poll's question before I go any further: If you're a new fan and a sensitive sort who thinks you'll struggle with your blorbos Really Going Through It and you really need a happy ending, I suggest you stop at the end of season 8. Do not pass go, do not look at spoilers. Disregard this post entirely, close the internet, and go look at something that makes you happy. (Also fuck every part of society that characterizes sensitivity as inherently weak and bad and some kind of personal failing, you are valid.)

That said, "quality" as a concept is entirely subjective, and the question of whether or not there's a decline in quality for any story is wholly subjective, too. In the case of x files? I'm not convinced there is a decline. I am going to be upfront that I haven't yet watched past season 8, though I am almost completely spoiled on events after that - and the reason I haven't watched yet is not because of how I know events are going to unfold, but simply because I don't want it to end!!! Ohh, the tension between "I CAN'T WAIT!!!" and "Nooo don't be over D:"

When I first came to txf fandom on tumblr and gradually became spoiled about what happens in late canon though, I was often left uncomfortable and tbh kinda queasy about it. As I said in my comment on the poll, the hate for especially the revival and IWTB, or to a lesser extent even seasons 8 & 9, is very well documented. But! There are other takes to be found here on tumblr if you figure out where to look, and my feelings have changed!

The thing is, I have yet to find myself in any fandom where there isn't a vocal subset of fans who dislike the story after a certain point. I am not joking when I say that no one hates the things they love as passionately as sci-fi and fantasy fans. In my experience, it often hinges on the extent to which a viewer has strong notions on where they would like the characters to end up. In particular with series where shipping is a dominant component for the bulk of a fandom, I have almost universally found that there comes some turning point in the story where "let them be happy you cowards" is the dominant view, and things that compromise the attainment of a degree of romantic stability and/or domesticity are, to many fans, annoying at best and despicable at worst. But! As one tagset on the linked poll said:

and I think for any fandom, that last tag especially is so so so important. (I think that's harder for people watching a weekly series live, bc you have so much time to analyze and speculate and dream before the next breadcrumb drops, but I digress.)

So why am I saying this and how do I apply it to x files? Well, I eventually found that there are also a subset of fans who find redeeming things right up to the very end and actually quite like the whole thing! The things that I had seen people rage and ventpost so much about honestly never quite sounded to me as "out of character" or "untrue to the story" etc as those same ventposts made them sound. And I've discovered I'm not the only one who felt that way. Do I love that the spooky squad had to go through all of those things? No, those poor guys D: Life is hard and they have been through so much trauma. But do those events and their choices make sense to me in light of everything that came before? Yes! And I honestly can't wait to see them fight to overcome those things, breaking, healing, always learning, always growing, always getting better.

So if you're wondering "where does it go wrong"... well, I'm a completionist, as many people who've answered that post are, but also my personal opinion is that I don't think it does go wrong. If you're new and interested in exploring why I've gone from "vaguely queasy" to "excited" about the whole thing, or want to maybe balance out the impressions you're getting about the later seasons before deciding whether or not you want to see the whole thing, I'll put a few blog names in the comments.

Final admission: even once I started feeling a little more confident in the possibility that "actually ok maybe I'm not crazy, maybe this all kind of is in character and does make sense", there was one big plot point that I was NOT looking forward to and I thought I would never be comfortable about. In hindsight, I think my discomfort came from the negative responses being SO seemingly universal that I hadn't stopped to let myself truly consider other possible interpretations on that point. (I mean my initial instinct when I first read about it was, why are we mad about this?? CSM is literally the most unreliable narrator in history???? it's obviously fake news?????? this must be either a fever dream someone's having or it's a misdirection ploy against whatever shadowy forces might still be lurking?????????????? but for whatever reason I guess I had halfway written that off.) Happily, just last month there's a new post-s11 novel out, and although reviews for the book as a whole are mixed, it seems to have laid the groundwork for resolving that plot issue in a way I think most fans would be broadly happy with. If you're interested in being spoiled about that and seeing how, I recommend searching #perihelion on @agent-troi who liveblogged reading it with receipts, scroll back chronological-style to the first post on the subject and see how it unfolded. (And never forget that Dana Katherine Scully is the queen of denial as a coping mechanism lol)

Everyone's mileage will vary. Each person can feel however they want! But for anyone new, I wanted you to know that the very many ventposts you might be seeing are not all there is to this show or its fandom. Some of us love it despite - or even because of - all the things that went "wrong". I think we just don't talk about it as much.

[elixirfromthestars]

WELCOME TO MY CAFE! ˖°.₊˚☕⊹♡

I miss interacting with fellow writers and readers, so I decided to host my own little writing challenge ♡ Between juggling grad school prep and an internship, I wanted to do something to keep me connected to this lovely community, so welcome everyone to my cozy little cafe :) 

The writing challenge starts today and closes on September 29th (National Coffee Day). I will be reading + reblogging every fic. The masterlist will be posted at the end. (if you see this anytime later or can’t make the deadline do not fret, if anything below inspires you, you are welcome to write and tag me and I will add your submission to the masterlist♡)

Below are the rules, prompts, and guidelines ♡

who you can write for: all marvel characters are welcome / any fictional sebastian stan or chris evans characters are welcome too (any characters they’ve portrayed based on real life people will not be accepted though!!) (please keep it to x reader fics only!!)

some general guidelines: Below I’ve provided a number of different prompts and songs for inspiration ♡ Anyone can use them and mix and match however you’d like!! If you use any please let me know somewhere in the post! If none of them below inspire you, to stay within theme please include either a cafe or coffee somewhere in the fic :) 18+ fics are welcome, just please add warnings! Any length of fics are welcome, but if it’s over 500 words please add the “keep reading” option. If you write something as part of a bigger series please write your submission as a standalone ♡

˖°.₊˚☕⊹♡ This is a sweet and cozy little cafe, but of course, there is always a possibility of rain. If anything below inspires an angsty fic, then by all means go ahead and write it! Your submission does not have to include fluff! 

what is not accepted: no dark fics, anything involving minors, incest, rape, noncon/dubcon 

how to enter: please tag me and use #elixirscafe when you post ♡ i’ll leave a like to let you know I saw it and reblog it once I read it :) if i haven’t responded to your post send me an inbox or dm please and thank you! 

Happy writing! My inbox is always open for any questions or comments!! ♡  

What table are you sitting at? 

♡ Coffeeshop AU 

♡ Soulmate AU 

♡ Bakery AU 

♡ Regency Era AU 

♡ Western AU

♡ Neighbor AU 

♡ Pen Pal AU

♡ Small Town AU 

♡ Royal AU

♡ College AU

Would you like a sweet treat?

🍩 ༄ؘ “No, I’m not letting you go. It’s too early to get out of bed.” 

🍰 ༄ؘ Saying I love you for the first time.

🍪 ༄ؘ “ Would it be alright if I borrowed your sweater? It smells like you.” 

🍫 ༄ؘ  “ You...you learned how to cook my favorite meal?”

🧁 ༄ؘ “ I’m not going to get sick, you baby. Just let me hold you.” 

🥧 ༄ؘ  “ What else do I need when I have my whole world in my arms?”

🍮 ༄ؘ “ I’m only doing it because you’re cute.” 

🥯 ༄ؘ “ Could you hold my hand?” 

🥞 ༄ؘ “ I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice.” 

🍞 ༄ؘ “ I like hearing your heart beating when I put my head on your chest.” 

🍯  ༄ؘ “ Why don’t you tell me what I can do to make your day better?” 

🥐 ༄ؘ “ I’ve tried to forbid myself from falling in love, but now I can’t help it.”

Do you like the music in the cafe? Which song should I play next?

˖°.₊˚☕⊹♡ Feel free to use the lyrics below, the entire feel of the song, or any other lyrics in the song! The playlist is below in case you want to go through and listen to the songs while you write ♡

Apple Cider “ And I don’t even like you that much. Wait, I do, fuck. Call me at midnight. Let’s give this a try.” Beabadoobee

Apple Juice “ Don’t let goodbyes come too easy. Love me, just let me know that you need me.” Jessie Reyez

Apple Pie “I found you under an April sky, and you feel like city life, apple pie baked just right. Home is wherever you are tonight.” Lizzy McAlpine

August “ And I can see us twisted in bedsheets. August slipped away like a bottle of wine.’Cause you were never mine.” Taylor Swift

Bubble Gum “ Sorry I didn’t kiss you, but it’s obvious I wanted to.” Clairo

Caramel “ Love like a landslide, I kiss you goodnight. It used to be easy.” 5SOS

Cardigan “And when I felt like I was an old cardigan, under someone's bed. You put me on and said I was your favorite.” Taylor Swift

Chai Tea “ I love sippin’ chai tea, with you across from me. I love hearing your voice, talkin ‘bout nothing.” Audrey

Champagne Problems “ You had a speech, you’re speechless. Love slipped beyond your reaches, and I couldn’t give a reason.” Taylor Swift

Chocolate “ I need more time off with you to turn you on. And I want to wake up without the alarm. A thousand eyes on me constantly, but I just want you.” Ziggy Alberts

Cinnamon “ It’s a slow cinnamon summer. Your spell is pulling me under. Rowing in a wooded hollow. Showing me the moves to follow.” Jome

Coffee Breath “ Make me fantasize,'bout you baby. And you smell so sweet, like fresh-picked daisies.” Sofia Mills 

Coffee Cup “ So we’re swapping our cups, and after a while, we’re swapping a glance. And I can think nothing better than starting the year with a drop of romance.” Anthony Lazaro

Espresso “ Now he’s thinkin’ ‘bout me every night, oh. Is it that sweet? I guess so. Say you can’t sleep, baby, I know. That’s that me espresso.” Sabrina Carpenter

Grapejuice “ I was on my way to buy some flowers for you. Thought that we could hide away in a corner of the heath. There’s never been someone who’s so perfect for me.” Harry Styles

Honey + Tea “Girls like flowers, clever poetry. That old adage doesn't work on me, but conversation and a cup of tea. Boy, you had me at philosophy.” Mōzi

Milk & Honey “ So come meet me in the garden, where the angels sing. We’re mixing up milk and honey, soft lips divine. Slow cherry and lay me down, oh, she’s coming to set me free.” Jessarae

Pancakes for Dinner “ I’ll try to hide the way I feel, but I’ll just wanna shout. What do I have to lose right now?” Lizzy McAlpine

Thin Mints “ If you let me lova ya like I wanna, write you all the poems like Whitman. You can take my Thin Mints, if you let me love ya like I wanna.” Evan Crommett

Too Sweet “ I think I’ll take my whiskey neat. My coffee black and my bed at three. You’re too sweet for me.” Hozier

playlist for the songs above can be found here: 🧸

to my lovely mutuals, please don’t feel pressured to participate or share, just thought I’d share this with you all ♡  

@peteyprecious616 ♡ @malum-forev ♡ @rosepetalsinwinter ♡ @inkedreverie ♡ @nickfowlerrr ♡ @missraion ♡ @pocolottie​ ♡ @sweetiebarnes ♡

[ezra-editss]

I finally got myself to watch X-Men Dark Phoenix, after a lot of you warned me and told me not to.

I think what bothered me the most weren't the things that didn't make sense, but the fact it was so fucking serious. There were NO JOKES and NO HAPPINESS. It felt like they didn't have fun with this movie. This is so unusual for marvel movies and a scene like the one with Peter in the Pentagon in Days of Future Past, would've helped this movie so much. The only happiness we got were the minutes 8-18 and the very last scene.

Because I heard a lot about people being bothered with what they did with Charles, let's talk about that. I think he's blamable for some stuff and for some not.

Lying to Jean as a kid might've been the wrong choice, but it was a hard one and I get it. I also don't think it made that much of a difference overall.

Blocking away most of her power, technically not that stupid of an idea, terrible execution. He should've tried to help her control it, but more like he did with Erik. I think if she'd grown up with all her power, it could've worked. And if it wouldn't have, then he could've done it, if it was her wish. She didn't want all that power, so if she had tried for a long time and it just didn't work, I feel like she would've wanted it herself. So this is on him, like he admitted.

Can't say they did him wrong here tho, as he literally did this in the old timeline too.

Where they did him wrong tho was his reaction to Raven's death tho, because why was he barely bothered😭. And even tho I don't really blame him for it, HE would.

I might be alone with this, but besides some of his reactions or the lack of those, I do think the first half of the movie is, in that sense, not bad. I like the conflict and I do believe Charles could lose himself when he finds a way that works really well. He dreamed of that his entire life, so him losing sight of the thing as a whole, when he gets it, doesn't seem out of character to me.

Who was way more out of character was ERIK. I WAS SO MADDDD. At least in the middle of the movie. I first liked what they did with him, having built something that's similar to what Charles did. Protecting mutants. And then he tells Jean what he learned.. AND THEN GOES EVIL AGAIN?! I'M SORRY?! That was so god damm unnecessary, as we already had Jean and fucking aliens😭. And over Raven's death?? Why are they suddenly acting like he cares for her deeply, when all the other movies only ever proved the opposite. Like, yeah he's a better person now, I guess he cares more, BUT THAT HE'D KILL AGAIN? The only way I might've been ready to accept this, would've been if Charles had died. BUT EVEN THEN.

And then he's more mad than ever, doesn't even accept the "old friend", makes fun of Charles speeches, just to have "a change of heart" OVER ONE OF THOSE SPEECHES.

They should've just fought side by side, it would've worked, just as well.

THE ENDING THO?? I wanna thank you all, because noone spoiled me that they fucking live together now???!

This was a lot for my head, holy shit.

[captainsophiestark]

The 60s

Klaus Mikaelson x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for Fictober 2023!

Fandom: The Vampire Diaries/The Originals

Day 9 Prompt: "I wouldn't do that if I were you."

Summary: Klaus wiped the memory of the love of his life after hundreds of years together to try to protect them from Mikael. Now, however, his ex has their memories back is going to find their boyfriend. Even if he is in someone else's body.

Word Count: 2,215

Category: Angst, Fluff

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

I was going to kill Klaus Mikaelson.

Unlike the other thousand people who'd probably had that thought in the last week alone, however, mine was actually justified. For hundreds of years, Nik and I had been together, happy, and in love. We'd wandered the world together, side by side, having each other's backs through thick and thin. Out of everyone in the entire world, I was the only one he'd always trusted, completely, without a doubt in mind.

And then Mikael had shown up one time too many.

Nik and I had faced him a few times, and he had firmly held the spot of 'my least favorite Original' for literal centuries. We'd always come out shaken, but fine, until about a hundred and fifty years ago. That time, he'd gotten Nik cornered, so I'd jumped in to save him. Mikael had almost killed me instead.

We'd managed to both make it out alive, thankfully, but Nik had been foaming at the mouth with nerves and fear. I'd tried to calm him down, but it hadn't worked. He'd gotten too scared, so for the first time in our entire relationship, he broke my trust. He compelled me to forget him, and to go somewhere else, far away, where I'd never be put in danger by him and his family again.

It had worked, unfortunately for me. Until recently, when something had happened to break the compulsion and bring my memories back. At first, I'd been terrified that it meant Nik had died. But, after a little investigating and compelling of my own, I realized he'd been body-hopping with the help of witches. Something about it must've shaken his compulsion loose, and allowed me to remember.

It hadn't taken me long to track him down to Mystic Falls, Virginia. I couldn't help being a little proud of myself for finding him so quickly; it helped that I knew him well. I'd arrived in Virginia last night, and managed to track down Nik's exact location and hiding place just as quickly. He'd apparently taken over the body of a history teacher at the local high school. Who would I have been to miss that opportunity?

With a little more compulsion, I'd convinced the front office staff to let me into the teacher's history class. I found a seat to one side of the classroom, then settled in to wait for Nik to show up. I almost blew my cover when, a moment later, the spitting image of Katherine Pierce walked through the door.

I knew he'd come to town for the doppelgänger, but it was still surprising to see someone who looked just like Katherine. Apparently, that lie we'd planted about the Curse of the Sun and the Moon had been working out pretty well. She sat on the other side of the room from me, flirting with another vampire and sitting with her witch friend. I sighed, already ready to leave the classroom, when Nik finally walked in.

The teacher, Alaric Saltzman, was tall, with brown hair, and dressed in something I could almost see Nik wearing normally. He strode through the open door with a "hello class" and went right to his desk like it was any other day. I snorted.

"What... are we learning today?" he mused, flipping through his history book. He hadn't looked up once; hadn't had a chance to see me yet.

"With the decade dance tonight we've been covering the sixties all week," a girl in the front chimed in. Nik looked up.

"Right. The sixties."

For the first time, he turned, and I thought his eyes might finally find me. Instead, they found the doppelgänger—Elena—like a heat-seeking missile.

Understandable, since we didn't think she existed. But still annoying.

He glanced from her to the open classroom door, then turned to the board. I huffed a sigh and rolled my eyes. What was he gonna do, just grab her and run? Much too obvious for his style, and we both knew it.

"The uh... the sixties," he started, mentioning the decade for the third time now as he turned around to write the same words on the board. "...I wish there was something good I could say about the sixties."

I covered a snort with my elbow. I almost raised my hand to say something like "Maybe they would've been better if you'd still had me with you", but that was also too sloppy for my style. Too many students asking questions, seeing me, and too many enemies possibly getting hints about Nik.

"They actually kind of sucked," Nik continued. "Except for the Beatles, of course, they made it bearable."

His eyes strayed to Elena's witch friend, and my heart squeezed in my chest. Nik was recounting memories that didn't include me, when I should've appeared in almost all of them. The hurt was only semi-manageable because I wasn't looking at the love of my life's face while hearing this, too.

"Uh, what else was there? The Cuban Missile... thing. The uh... we walked on the moon, that was, uh... Watergate."

"Watergate was the seventies, Ric," Elena chimed in with a fond smile. "Uh, I mean, Mr. Saltzman."

"Right," Nik continued, a familiar edge to an unfamiliar smile. His eyes never strayed from Elena. "It all kind of... mushes together up here. Sixties, seventies. Thank you, Elena."

I watched him teach the rest of the class in a way that could only be described as 'playing with his food'. He said Elena's name another time or two, savoring it in a way I recognized as him relishing in victory. I was happy to see him happy, but the added side effect of him being so wrapped up in doppelgänger nonsense meant that he still hadn't noticed me.

I tried not to let it get to me. Especially since it had given me the best opening I could've asked for to scare the daylights out of Nik and get just a little bit of payback.

Once the bell rang, I stood and hovered at the edge of the classroom. Nik dismissed everyone and said goodbye to the class, saying a special, specific goodbye to Elena and watching her leave. It wouldn't have been terribly obvious to anyone with no reason to suspect 'Alaric' was not who he said he was, but it was ridiculous to me.

Nik moved to the door to look out into the hallway as the classroom emptied of every single student except for me. He watched Elena go, his back to what he thought was an empty classroom, giving me exactly the opening I wanted. I crossed the room quickly but quietly, using all of my vampire skills to keep him from noticing me until I was right next to him, almost shoulder to shoulder.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," I said, right into Nik's ear. He'd jumped and spun around at the first word, but now stood frozen, his mouth open in shock as he stared at me. I grinned. "You know, whatever you were planning to do to the doppelgänger. At school. In a human body. While she's surrounded by supernaturals. That's just a bad idea."

"Y/N..." he breathed, voice barely above a whisper. Then, he surged forward, wrapping me tight in his arms and spinning me around in a hug. He moved backwards into the classroom, and I slammed the door with my heel just to avoid any prying eyes.

Nik finally pulled back, eyes wide and a vague smile on his face, like he was happy but didn't actually believe this was real. I smiled back at him, even though he didn't quite look like my Nik, and gave his hands a reassuring squeeze.

"How... how is this possible?" he asked, his voice still quiet, like any loud noise might shatter the moment. "How are you here?"

"I still don't totally know. But I think, when you moved into this... teacher body... it was enough for your compulsion on me to break."

Nik's face fell immediately, as it should have. I frowned, the immediate happiness of finding Nik having worn off.

"I can't believe you did that to me, Nik," I said, taking a step back from him. "It was supposed to be the two of us, through everything. Against everything. No matter what. How could you betray that?"

He gave a frown of pain, taking a half step towards me before thinking better of it.

"You don't understand. My... Mikael... almost killed you. If I'd been the cause of your death-"

"Okay, first of all, you would never be the cause of my death. You know how I know? Because you would never kill me." I stared at Nik long and hard, and although he looked away from my gaze quickly, I never did. "Second, the only person who would've been the cause of my death was Mikael. You are not responsible for a bad person trying to kill me."

"Unless that bad person is trying to kill you to get to me." He said it quietly but firmly, looking up at me with a rueful smile from lowered lashes, like he'd just said some checkmate truth we'd both been avoiding. I put a hand on my hip and glared.

"Actually Nik, no, it's still not your fault. It's the bad person's fault. That's it. And before you start telling me it's your fault for dragging me into it or whatever, I could've left. I didn't want to, and I still don't want to. I've seen every level of crazy your life has to offer, and I'm signing up for all of it.

"And Nik, before you try to tell me how much you'd miss me if you lost me, you did lose me! By letting fear drive you to compel me out of your life. And I also lost you. I guess I've been generally content for the past hundred and fifty years, but I've never been totally satisfied. Because something is missing. I've known total and complete happiness, and it's whenever I'm with you. This immortal life isn't worth living without you, Nik. Don't try to tell me it is."

He stared at me for a few long moments, then pulled me to him again. Unlike the first hug, this time our feet stayed planted firmly on the ground, wrapped tight in the strong hold of each other's embrace. I sighed as Nik rested his head against mine, moving his mouth right next to my ear.

"I'm... I'm sorry, Y/N. I shouldn't have done that to you. I was just... terrified at the thought of losing you."

"I know. But Nik, we're nothing if we're not together. I need you to promise me you won't do that again. The two of us, side by side, for eternity. That's it, alright?"

He pulled away, hands holding my arms tight as he stared me straight in the eye.

"I give you my word."

Slowly, a smile spread across my face, a new warmth growing in my chest. Not once, in hundreds of years, had Nik ever broken his word to me. We were going to be okay.

He grinned back at me once he noticed my smile, then leaned in to kiss me. I stopped him, jerking back a bit, and he gave me a concerned look.

"I love you, and I am so happy to see you again, but I'm not kissing you until you're back in your own body. I have no interest in kissing this rando you've possessed."

Nik grinned, and although it wasn't his body or his smile, I swear it looked exactly like it was supposed to.

"Fair enough. I don't think I want you kissing this 'rando' either. What do you say we get out of here, and do what needs to be done so I can get back into my body, break my curse, and kiss you properly?"

"...Not in that order, right?"

"No, not in that order."

"Then deal."

Nik smiled and took my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze as we headed towards the door together. I had no idea what the next part of his plan was, but once I was caught up to speed, I knew we'd be putting it into action shoulder to shoulder again, and all would be right with the world.

"You know, you're a shit teacher," I mused as we headed off into the high school together. Nik shot me a look as he kept leading me towards whatever destination he had in mind.

"Do you remember much interesting information to teach children about the sixties?"

I shrugged. "No. But I could probably fake it better than you. Watergate."

"I was in Australia, Watergate was a low priority."

"I was in Greenland, so... checkmate."

He just shook his head, a smile finding its way onto his face all the same. I was the only one in the world Nik trusted endlessly, the only one who could find him in a matter of days no matter where he was in the world, and the only one who could get away with giving him shit with absolutely no repercussions. And now that I had him and my memories back, I was never letting him go.

****************

TVD/TO Masterlist: @elenavampire21

[mambalae-s]

wc: 7.8k words

cw: milf! reader; reader is described as a plus sized black woman; masturbation (m); public masturbation (m); no penetrative sex; fantasizing — throat fucking; one (1) mention of a daddy kink; one sided sexual tension; wakatoshi is a simp; he’s down bad; let me know if i’m forgetting anything!

notes from author: so, i’d wound myself up for an entire month working on this and i still had so much i wanted to write for it despite it already being nearly 8,000 words long…! i’ll certainly try my best to make a second part for this, one i’ll want to write from our reader’s experience too! this, truthfully, wasn’t the first idea for my milf reader idea, but i think it’s so much better, and i’m happy with the plot i settled with! i hope that, at least even a little bit, it’ll be satisfying for you to read, too!

it’s amidst a blistering summer’s day when you move into the house next to his.

there’s blood pumping beneath ushijima wakatoshi’s skin and boiling beneath each heavy breath that wafts from his swollen lips. his feet pound against the paved roads as he jogs at a steady pace, and he feels his fibers tinge with a static as they blaze beneath the sweltering noon’s heat, a familiar ache ebbing deep within his muscles and crawling through his veins. the sweat clinging to his brow burns like a toxin that pours out through every cell, his heart beating with the drums that pound through his airpods and teach him a dance he’d learned many times before. iwaizumi had told him once that running could be as addictive as any drug, and here, beneath clear blue skies and through heavy draws of air, wakatoshi considers that maybe he was right.

he takes a deep breath as he mounds the slight hill that leads to his house, and abruptly, his pace halts, chest heaving still as his eyes take to the moving truck parked out in front of the house next to his; a house that had, for a while, remained empty, certainly gathering dust and stale air after the elderly couple had moved away nearly a month long past. it had been easy for him to forget all about the vacant space, what with him dedicating his days to training and months of traveling for practice and tournaments, and it seems that, within that time, someone’s finally purchased it and were moving in today.

he’d been gone long enough for the hard working men to have finished their work, wakatoshi muses, as he watches them pack away their trollies and begin making to either door of their truck. though, as he stands there, he feels puzzled, confused and seeking reason to something he can’t find. there’s nothing spectacular about seeing these two men readying to go about their day, nothing that should keep wakatoshi’s feet planted and his laboured breaths stilling beneath the wind, yet he finds himself waiting, lulled into a curiosity that he can’t explain as he watches the break lights glow red and listens to the engine roaring to life.

and then, he sees you.

you, who wears a gorgeous sundress, deep purple fabric woven like a tapestry of flowers that blossom over a body of voluptuous curves. he finds himself enraptured by your brown skin that shines beneath the scorching sun like smoky quartz, by the sweat that lines your brow as he likens the glistening sight of it to beautiful jewels that shine around your smile and set you alight with the luster of ten thousand diamonds. the strands of your black hair, they sheen on the painting of the midnight sky; dark and elegantly falling around your round face and pouring like a river of obsidian and black tourmaline across your busty chest.

“thank you so much once again,” your voice comes through with fluency in his mother tongue, the japanese you speak perhaps a little regional… osaka, he considers, or kyoto? your voice sings on the breathlessness of intense labour, and wakatoshi deludes himself into thinking that the exhaustion on your sultry voice mirrors the intensely beating heart that stirs in his chest with a restlessness that he doesn’t attribute to his run. “seriously, you two… i can’t tell you how much i appreciate coming all this way!”

the older men you speak to are friendly in their departure, cheering with bright smiles that resemble yours in their warmth and openness as they drive down the deep slope, passing him by the side and far from his mind as he loses his focus on you. suddenly, the fog that clouds his mind doesn’t come from a sweltering summer’s day, but instead from the picture of you, hot and bothered and eyes squeezed shut as you try to wave cool air over your wet skin. the daze that locks around his tongue is the one of your sheen-covered lips as they part and let pass the heavy breaths that sit on your chest, of the rise and fall of your large breasts and the bit of tummy that he can see atop your curves. that daze that consumes wakatoshi, he tells it to lust — a venom that crawls through his bloodstream and tinges his tongue with desire unchecked, so that he becomes consumed by you and the deceptively innocent visage that burns itself into his skin. and suddenly, wakatoshi feels too damn hot, his heart beats so hard he fears it’ll leap right from his throat, and his pants are too damn tight.

oh. fuck… how embarrassing could it be to get a hard on in front of your new neighbour? he didn’t think he’d ever have to ponder such a specific scenario, and he certainly isn’t happy to have a taste of it first hand. even worse, what is he supposed to do when the very same neighbour turns her eyes to him and catches him staring like some demented creep? wakatoshi’s face burns with a heat that far precedes the blazing sun and he wishes the earth would open up and swallow him whole as his mouth starts to taste of sand and parchment paper. really, he shames himself, how appallingly embarrassing!

just like a guilty child, he averts his eyes as his blood boils across his neck. his feet act on their own, guided by the desire to disappear as quickly as he can with hurried steps and trembling hands that are more than eager to open his front door and seal him behind their sanctuary, and he feels even more guilt for awkwardly avoiding the kind yet confused smile you’d sent his way as you watched the large man scurry up his front steps. the protruding bulge that pokes out from his trousers is so painfully obvious, almost aching behind its confines as he prays that you hadn’t had enough time to notice it. and even then, behind his barrier of safety, he’s left with a problem — a very big one that powders his nose red and takes his breath on laboured climbs.

huffing, wakatoshi trudges to the kitchen, desperately searching his refrigerator for the coldest bottle of water he can find and starts chugging right away. arctic drops spill between his lips and down his throat, though the chill does nothing to dissipate the heat coursing beneath his skin and inside his pants. he doesn’t intend to slam the now half empty bottle down on his counter the way he does, but he loses control and water spills over, and his olive eyes only glare at the puddle that drips over on his marbled floor with something of disdain and increasing frustration.

for all that was holy, he can’t stop thinking of you. even now, with cold water sticking to his skin and poured over his bare feet, wakatoshi cannot get this image of you out of his mind and is rendered powerless to the aching boner that refuses to go away. within just one moment, you’ve seeped into his mind like a parasite that morphs and festers on sin and fornication, plaguing him with your large breasts and plump thighs that sheened with sweat and poured out from beneath your sundress. it’s a hard battle he faces with himself, feeling morally disgusted by the thoughts he finds himself with, and all about a stranger, no less. there’s no way he could be acting so depraved, right? is he a man so starved that the mere sight of an admittedly attractive woman could send him reeling like a damn teenage boy?

once more, wakatoshi heaves a heavy sigh, slouching for a moment with hands clenching the edge of his black stone counter before he rises to his full height. it’ll do him good to at least clean up this spill, and perhaps, he thinks, he aught to keep himself busy — surely then, he’ll forget all about you, and this glaring problem beneath his trousers will forget you too.

thankfully, it’s easier than he’d had hoped to fill the hours of his day. after taking care of his spill, wakatoshi takes to his home gym and continues working out till the late evening, when he showers and prepares himself to settle in with a cup of white wine and a book that he’d bought himself a while back, though only just recently had the time to begin. it’s only so rare for him to be able to enjoy slow days like this between training and volleyball tournaments, and he finds himself at peace with this lull in his schedule. finally, he feels relaxed and at ease, and his stressful situation from the afternoon earlier is far from his mind, until there’s a knock at his front door, and his heart lurches in his chest.

apprehensive, he turns his jade coloured eyes to the smoky glass panels by his entrance, and he feels his tongue turn heavy when he sees you waiting. for a moment, he hopes that you’ll give up if he doesn’t answer, though he immediately feels a bit guilty for thinking that. you’re only wanting to greet your new neighbour and make a good first impression, he considers, and it certainly isn’t any fault of yours the situation he’d found himself in earlier that day. you’re entirely blameless, and it’s really him who apparently needs to mature and grow a bit more than he’d thought. taking a long sip from his glass of chardonnay, wakatoshi builds himself on liquid courage and meets you by his doorway — though there’s no amount of wine that could’ve possibly prepared him for the sight that greets him once he opens the door.

you’re here, but you hadn’t come alone. hiding behind each leg are a young boy and girl who look about the same age and share striking resemblance to your own soft features. heads topped by black, wavy curls, with her tied in pigtails and his cut to his shoulders, there’s curiosity in their dark brown eyes as they appraise him, and he feels almost as if they’re judging him with something that he can’t identify. and you, you smile sweetly at him, your lips painted with a clear gloss that shines golden beneath the lights of his entryway’s chandelier.

“i’m sorry for disturbing you so late in the night, mister,” you offer your apology, and wakatoshi can hear more clearly the distinction in your accent that he’d only briefly heard before. now, as he listens attentively, unconsciously taking in the sultriness of your voice as your words flow from your two-toned lips, he’s certain that it really is a kansai dialect. “i’d just wanted to introduce ourselves since we’d just moved into the neighbourhood.” you lift your hands, that he now notices are not empty, to present a beautifully packaged basket with a little pink bow tying it closed. “and we also brought you these as a gift — a thank you gift, kind of! for having us here with you!”

wakatoshi accepts the gift basket from your hands, trying his best not to focus on the way you tuck your hair behind your ears and beam brightly up at him. standing so close, he’s able to notice new things about you that he wishes he didn’t feel so curious about; like the way you style yourself elegantly, your straight black hair parted to the side, curling the smaller hairs surrounding your forehead so that they lay neatly and perfectly brushed to frame your round face, or the fact that you stand several inches shorter than him, perhaps only barely reaching his chest. he wishes he doesn’t take in the clothes you wear and how they fit your beautiful figure, how your white cardigan hangs elegantly over a beige tank top and khaki coloured pants that accentuate your mature body. he tries, not to notice these many things about you, and so hopelessly fails, as he clears his throat and tries to offer you a polite smile that he hopes doesn’t come off as a grimace.

“thank you for being so thoughtful,” he says, and your smile widens, your eyes creasing around your expression as you respectfully bow.

“it’s my pleasure! i really should be thanking you for welcoming us this late!” theres a timidness to your grin as you lift yourself to full standing once more and you bashfully laugh. “it took us a little longer than we thought to prepare all our gift baskets — oh, right!” your eyes widen on a realization, “my name’s (l/n) (f/n), and these two here,” gesturing to the two children behind you, you bend down a bit to rest a hand on either of their backs. “this here is asahi, and this is makoto.”

the two young children, with your encouragement, bow their heads in greeting to him, with the boy — asahi — quickly returning to hide behind your leg, while makoto continues to stare at him, now with her curiosity unbridled and what looks like an eagerness that roars beneath her brown eyes.

he looks back up at you and offers a bow of his own, ducking his head with the basket clutched to his chest. “my name’s ushijima wakatoshi,” he says his name, and immediately, he hears two simultaneous gasps from the children by your feet. though, at least in this moment, he decides not to ponder too much on the expression. “thank you for introducing yourselves and for bringing a gift.”

you wave your hand in a ‘shoo shoo’ motion and shake your head. “no need for thanks, ushijima-san,” you hum, “really, it’s nothing much, but i hope you’ll be able to find good use for them— ”

“are you a volleyball player?”

suddenly, the little girl, makoto, blurts out a question that causes your eyes to widen and catches him off guard as you both turn your attention to her. she continues to stare up at him, as if awaiting his answer despite you reaching for her hand to gently pull her back. “makoto!” you exhale, a bit surprised, it seemed, as if you hadn’t expected her to ask something like that. though wakatoshi, he doesn’t take any issue at all with her question, and he simply nods his head, once more offering the most polite of smiles he can muster.

“that’s right. i play volleyball.”

you seem to recognize something within the awe-filled gazes of the two children that he doesn’t, because before either of them can get a word out, you’re hurriedly reaching for their hands and making your way down the stairs. “thanks so much again, mr. ushijima!” you call back to him with one free hand, leaving the man standing stunned inside his doorway as you walk away from him. “let’s get along well from now on!” when you think you’re far enough, he thinks he hears your voice taking to astonishment as the little girl whines a complaint — “but mom, we saw him on tv! it’s really him!” and your response heavily pouring with your dialect as you lightly scold her for blurting out so suddenly.

he’s left here, basket in his hand as he hears several gears creaking to their abrupt stops and clanking as they fall apart in his mind. mom? she’d said mom, hadn’t she? with ghostly steps that are far too quiet for a man of his stature, wakatoshi shuffles to his expansive living room where he sets your gift atop his clear glass coffee table, right next to his glass of wine and his book, and collapses into the black suede sofa behind him. you’re a mother? the guilt that consumes him tastes bitter and threatens to crawl up his throat. he sits, hands folded above his lips as his elbows dig into his thighs, and he stays this way for one minute, then two, constantly replaying the sound of your daughter calling you mom. your daughter, your daughter and son, you have a daughter and a son who both call you mom—

wearily, wakatoshi’s eyes glaze over your cutely packaged gift and straight to the glass of wine that sits like a pretty temptation, and cruelly, he thinks of how you are just the same. a beautiful and painfully enticing temptation that will surely render him helpless if he gets any more involved with you. he groans, hissing under his breath as he reaches for the glass and stands up. it’ll serve him better to retire for the night, he concedes, a hand nursing the growing migraine that sits on either side of his head. he’ll finish his glass and read his book peacefully in bed, and for the second time this day, wakatoshi will forget all about you.

except, he doesn’t.

amidst his waking dreams and long night, forgetting you is impossible. how can he, when you come to him here in his bed, the straps of your purple dress falling from your brown shoulders and your breasts pouring out from the thin material? how is wakatoshi supposed to forget you when in his dreams, you tease him with the likeness of a vixen, when you lift the edges of your skirt to show him just how plump and fleshy your thighs and ass are, whispering “do you wish to touch me, mr. ushijima?” in that sultry, silk-like voice of yours. he dreams of the way your eyes would roll back into your skull if he brushes his fingers over that sweet spot between your legs, if his tongue traces lines over your panties until your knees buck and you fall right on top of him. in his dreams, he wants you so much that it’s an ache he needs to fill, until he’s unconsciously fucking his mattress and squeezing his pillows with a vice. his breathing is laboured and tasting of honey as he begs you yes, yes, please, i need you… need you so bad, please i need to touch you—

his climax rocks his body like an earthquake and tears him away from sleep with a jolt, his chest heaving as sweat clings to his skin and his eyes, disoriented, search his dark room for your image before they fall to the soiled mess leaking through his boxers and between his thighs. his damn cock is twitching, still painfully sensitive, and wakatoshi stutters through a gasp as his hips buck uncontrollably, as if chasing some phantom feeling, cum still continuing to spurt from the angry red tip. he reels from pure shock and a bit of morbid amazement as he reflects on his dream, and as he recalls those dirty visuals his mind managed to conjure, he lets out a loud, frustrated cry and falls flat against his mattress. really, is this the man he is? a perverted fool who has inappropriate thoughts and dreams about another man’s wife?

he curses himself, and curses his mind too, as he begrudgingly swings his legs over the edge of his california king and. sleep evades him now, he certainly fears reliving that dream that felt far too realistic, your touches, the taste of you — all far too real that it leaves him shaken. one hand lifts to brush his sweat-matted hair away from his forehead as his eyes disdainfully behold the mess he’s left all over his dark sheets, where his semen sits in a large puddle while there are still drops running down his thighs, and he unwillingly thinks about you once more. those sounds that your voice made in his dream, all those dirty songs and cries of his name that you’d uttered, the way your skin felt so supple and soft beneath his hands as he felt you up and spread your legs apart—

a surprised moan causes wakatoshi to slap a hand around his mouth as his cock twitches in his soiled boxers, still very hard and leaking through the now cold material. no, he decides, he really won’t be able to fall asleep again — not like this, at least. but wakatoshi has practice in the morning, and within all his years of playing volleyball, he’d never gone a night without proper sleep. for the umpteenth time, he groans helplessly, flopping back down on the edge of his bed. he glares at his boner, wishing it would just peacefully deflate and that, really this time, he could forget you and just go back to bed; and again, once again, he sighs, and submits himself to a decision he’s certain that he’ll immediately curse himself for as he pulls out his cock and wraps his fist around it.

he hates himself for it, but it’s so easy for him to build a perfect fantasy of you. one where you’re sitting prettily on your knees and batting those doe-brown eyes up at him through your lashes. his hand squeezes softly around his erection and at first, he moves slowly, choking back each heavy breath of air that threatens to burst through tightly pursed lips. but god, he thinks of the way you’d tease him, slowly tracing your mouth over the tip and leaving a trail of saliva and strawberry flavoured lip-gloss while your manicured nails would trace tantalizingly lines down his thighs. his hips buck impatiently into his own fist and his chest heaves with soft grunts that become more uninhibited as he imagines you finally slipping him into your warm mouth and his very spirit crumbles on the lust that consumes him.

“does that feel good, mr. ushijima?” you’d beseech him, so eager to please as you’d trace your tongue across his leaking slit, collecting the drops of precum that poured out and smear it around your lips. and he’d be just as breathless as he feels in his fantasy, trying and failing to conceal each gasp that evades him as he nods, “yes.. yes, your mouth feels so fucking good.” he’d force you to swallow him whole, pushing your head down to the base until you’d choke and your eyes would water as he’d throw his head back — without his will, his hand moves faster around his cock and fills his dark bedroom with filthy, sloppy noises. “take every inch, don’t you fucking dare spit it out. that’s it, shit…just like that. swallow it all the way down.”

he thinks of how fleshy and warm the back of your throat would feel as you’d gag around him and dig your nails into his thigh, struggling to take even a single breath through your nostrils as he’d mercilessly fuck your face. he’d drag you off him suddenly and slap his cock against those messy lips, and he’d get to admire the way you’d fall apart as your mouth lolls open as if begging him to put it back in. “ohh, such a greedy little slut, aren’t you?” he’d taunt, and a particularly loud, wanton moan rises from his chest as he imagines the way you’d use your hands all while staring up at him. you’d be the very picture of salaciousnes as your hands wrap around his smeared length, teasing the underside of him with your tongue and groaning through your own arousal. he imagines how he’d wrap his hand around your throat as he’d tower over you; he’d have your face pressed right up to his stomach while he’d reach down and grab a handful of your breasts, reeling at how soft and squishy they’d feel pouring between his already large hands before he’d twist your nipples, and you’d whine like a helpless nymph from how sensitive your body would become. “go on, then.” he’d hum, and he wouldn’t give you even a second to prepare before he’d have you choking around his length, groaning as spit would bubble around his erection and pour from your nostrils. “use those pretty little lips of yours. mhm, let daddy feel your tongue on his dick while he fucks your throat.”

and its as he pictures the way your eyes would roll into the back of your head, cheeks puffed and stuffed full as you whine around him that, for the second time that night, wakatoshi cums into his fist. pleasure sears through his teeth and down his spine as spurts of semen explode from his slit and he forgets himself on the suddenness of his orgasm. “shit… ahh— aahhhh, shit!” the spots in his vision and the heat that consumes him from his bone and to his skin, it all coalescences on a pleasure he’d never once felt in his thirty-three years of living. his entire body trembles and his cock twitches against his abs, cum splashing against his sweat-sheened skin and dripping over his skin like hot, molten lava. the afterglow of pleasure is forsaken for the adrenaline that courses through his blood and turns the taste of his tongue to metals untold.

through his bliss, wakatoshi reaches clarity, and is overwhelmed by an intense wave of disgust and repulsion as he glares at his cock so feebly slapping against his stomach; it’s still hard, the damn thing, and every cell in his body craves ravenously for more, more, more…but he refuses. absolutely refuses to repeat what he’d just done. for christ’s sake, you are a mother — a wife to someone who you return to each night, who gets to hold you and touch you, to whom you may give your heart and gentle affections to. tonight had been a mistake, he tells himself; an irrational lapse in judgement, and come morning — he means it this time, really! truthfully! — he’ll forget all about this sin, and forget about you. you’ll be nothing more than a new neighbour who moved in with your family, and your interactions will be few and far between, enough that he’ll be forgiven for the immorality that he’d let himself fall to.

but the devil, oh, the devil, bless his soul, he has his tricks, and he loves to play.

wakatoshi hasn’t at all forgotten about the previous night, but he pretends that he has. on the cusp of dawn, when the rising sun sinks her warm fingers through his tousled hair, he focuses on his beating heart and his laboured breath as he jogs through the park and back through his gated community. he pretends that he didn’t jerk off to his new neighbour and envision her doing the dirtiest things to him, and he almost succeeds.

almost.

he nearly swears when he walks out of his front door the next morning and bumps into you at the earliest hours of dawn. there you are, where you shouldn’t be — not this early in the morning before the sun had risen, when he’d made sure to leave early enough that he would’ve avoided this situation exactly. it’s summer, isn’t it? why, wakatoshi wonders, had you woken up so early? could he really be do unlucky? he sees you and your two children, and he’s now certain that they must be twins, and you’re too busy fixing their backpacks on their backs and fussing over their hair and faces to even notice him awkwardly frozen by his doorstep.

“you both have everything you need, right?” your voice reaches him on tones of faint worry and anxiousness as you lean down over your children, unwittingly showing off your rack for him to see between the button up blouse you wear. even from where he stands, it’s such a clear picture that he feels his head spin as his eyes remain glued there. “you’ve got your toothbrushes and toothpaste? lotion? shampoo and conditioner?”

your son, asahi, tries to escape your busy hands, though it doesn’t dissuade you very much it seems. “mama, we already have everything!” he grumbles with a slight pout, “we’ll be alright.”

a quiet sigh falls from your lips as, finally, you relent, kneeling down to hug your two children. “i know you will be, asahi,” you whisper softly before pressing a kiss to each of their foreheads. “promise me you’ll both be good and have lots of fun, alright? can you send me a text when you get there safely?” both the twins nod their head yes before placing a kiss on either of your cheeks, and wakatoshi finds the sight endearing as he sees your smile brighten on tenderness and motherly affection. a part of him feels as if he’s intruding on what should be a family’s private and treasured moment, something precious that should only be seen by your husband and not the creepy neighbour next door. his stomach turns in on itself and, like a demon he can’t escape, guilt and shame crawl over his neck.

“bye mama!” makoto is the first one to hop on to her bike, waving her hand excitedly and full of energy despite the early morning, while her twin follows in a far less eager manner as he waves at you too. “i love you!”

“i love you mama..!”

“i love you both, you two!” now standing at full height, you wave both your hands as both asahi and makoto start to pedal away. “make sure to have lots of fun!”

before long, both your children have gone down the hill and you’re left alone with a wistful smile, and wakatoshi finds himself desperate to go before you have the chance to notice him standing. his normally sure feet fail him on a moment as he stumbles in his hurriedness, and in his attempt to steady himself, his hands fall slack and drop the very large, very metal he’d bottle been carrying with a loud clang! that causes your head to whip around. he meets your gaze, shame bubbling in his gut and he wishes that lightning would just fall from the sky and take him from his misery. what happened to avoiding you as best as he could? he wonders, what happened to leaving at the crack of dawn and being on his way before he’d need to lay eyes on you again so soon after last night?

wakatoshi is so embarrassed that he could die.

“ah! good morning, mr. ushijima.” you, oblivious to his plight, greet him politely, bowing your head. he notices the way you absentmindedly pull your cardigan over your sheer night dress, the chill from the morning mist having caused you to shiver a little. your nipples have turned hard and poke through the thin white material, and are very, very visible without him needing to try and see them. he purses his lips, sighs through his nostrils and averts his gaze, focusing instead on retrieving his traitorous waterbottle and praying that his grey slacks do well to hide the problem that now begins to grow beneath them.

“good morning, mrs. (l/n.)”

he tries to focus on his feet as he descends down his front steps, ensuring that he doesn’t lose his footing once more rather than looking at you. and yet, he can’t help the awkwardness that he feels as every muscle in his body seems to have tensed up despite him having gone jogging to warm himself up. you remain none the wiser, something he’s thankful for, as he hopes and prays that he can get past you and on his way before you notice his strange demeanour.

“do you normally get up this early?” you ask in a polite attempt at making small talk, to which wakatoshi offers you a slight nod as he gives you just enough of his attention.

“yes,” and, admittedly, he’s also curious, and he returns a question against his better judgement. “do you?”

laughter bubbles up from your lips as you shake your head. “goodness, no!” you chime playfully, lifting your watch to see the hour; 5:39. “it’s too early for me, but asahi and makoto are about to start summer camp for their club — i’d only been seeing them off today.”

he offers an understanding nod, similarly recalling the days of his youth where he’d also attended summer camps during elementary through high school. right now, he considers would be a perfect time to end this conversation and see himself away now that he’s heard what he wanted from you, but something in him urges him to stay, to talk to you more and spend some time with you. he knows he’s not the best at small talk, is all too aware that his social skills are terrible, at their worst, incredibly abysmal, but he wants to try — against his better moment, and he’s reminding himself all the while that you’re a mother and a married woman, but despite that, he wants to talk more with you. perhaps, and it’s a delusion that he forces himself to believe, he’d want to be friendly with you. it’ll certainly be easier than perpetually avoiding you when you’d done nothing wrong to him, after all.

“are you—” fuck, his voice sounds scratchy as he clears his throat, blush creeping over his cheeks. “are you um… headed back to bed then?”

as you ponder his question, he gets to take in your morning appearance. your hair’s been brushed and tied back with a little white bow, and your lips look air brushed and as soft as rose petals. hugging your sides beneath your cardigan, you shiver, and wakatoshi notices the way you slightly lean back and forth on your heels. “i guess it’d be a waste to try and sleep again now,” you hum with your gaze turned towards the horizon, where the sun begins to peak over the far off mountain on soft blue touched by golden hues. “i’ll need to be ready for work in a few hours.” you turn your gaze to him with a cheekish grin, and his heart skips a beat. “why not start my morning now, right?”

oh. oh, this is bad. for the second time, waktoshi tries to clear his throat with a hand covering his mouth and averts his eyes from your beaming face. “i’ll let you get to it then,” he says, his voice sounding so small and timid to him that he feels his mind reeling and his tongue turning heavy. “enjoy the rest of your morning, ms. (l/n).”

“thank you, ushijima-san! you do the same, okay?” for a second, he lets his eyes find yours, and they dazzle him within just that moment that he has to look away. he leaves as you re-enter your home, and it’s the only thing he can do to squeeze the straps of his bag to rid himself of the jittery feeling racking through his spine. his heart beats too loudly and he feels dazed, as if he walks on clouds and forgets how to even breathe.

he doesn’t— no, he can’t be; his feet break from the slow pace as he breaks into a jog, each muscle within him burning cold and begging for release from the thoughts in his mind. there’s no way… he doesn’t like you, does he? why else would he have dreamt of you the way he had? why else would he feel so nervous and timid when you stand face to face? the morning dew tastes like liquid mercury and sets through his veins on a violent rush as he runs, as far away from you as he can get, hoping to immediately expel you from his thoughts, to escape this hold that you seem to have locked around him.

he laughs at himself, helpless and bewildered; is he really nothing more than a foolish boy? at thirty-something years old, ushijima wakatoshi is developing a crush on his married neighbour — even the mere notion to him is so adamantly ridiculous that he could throw himself off a bridge. he feels embarrassed, utterly and completely mortified, and it’s for his sake that he tries to push the notion far, far away, so that, at least for the day, he wouldn’t have to think about it. he suppresses these budding epiphanies in the face of his teammates, who tease him for being seven minutes later than he usually is and tries to ignore the fact that it’s all because he’d stayed and talked with you. he tries to forget about you through the drills and practice rounds, lets the heavy beating of his heart turn its turmoil into adrenaline and sweat that seeps through his thin shirt. wakatoshi falls into routine and this time, certainly, this time, he’s moved on. the feelings that soaked through his core on the early morning’s dawn have disappeared and melted away on summer’s blistering heat, and he thinks that finally, he can let go of that ghost that’s haunted him from the night until morn.

but noon, as it always does, succeeds the dawn, and there you are.

the burn in his muscles turns to a seething fire that he fears will consume him right where he stands, amidst the people around him going about their days while he remains glued in place. his heart, oh the poor thing, it beats on the fallings of a thousand horses and threatens to rip right from between his rips and spill itself out on the pavement. wakatoshi wants to run, he wants to take flight and escape into the burning sun, but his feet fail him on the jolts that run through his aching muscles when your eyes, oh, he imagines he sees the world in them, find his amidst the sea that threatens to swallow him whole.

“ah? mr. ushjimima!” your voice calls out to him a surprise he thinks he feels on tenfold as you approach the man. god, how many hours has it been, even? he’d only just seen you this morning, isn’t it too soon for him to be put through this never-ending crisis? he doesn’t feel as if he’s ready, as if he can look you in the eyes while trying to force away the memories of last night, or the turbulent mess that dances and ties red knots around his throbbing heart. “i didn’t expect to see you here too.”

neither did i, he thinks helplessly, though he offers a single words that sounds choked up in his throat, “practice.”

“oh!” you chime, your eyes gazing behind him to where the large sports gym stays only so many paces behind — if he really wants, wakatoshi could easily pretend that he has to return if only to escape from you, but he doesn’t — for some incomprehensible reason, his tongue betrays him with the phantom taste of you.

“well,” you smile, and laughter spills from your lips as you tuck your hair behind your ear and meet his eyes from behind your lashes. “i didn’t think i’d see you again so soon — and at my place of work, no less.”

i didn’t think i would, either, wakatoshi thinks to himself, and then your words rewind in his mind and everything halts. your place of work? the question spills from his lips before he can even think to stop it. “you work here?”

you nod with a hum, gesturing with your palm to the academic buildings that span the expansive lot. “i teach vocal composition and contemporary piano courses here.”

“ah.” of course. wakatoshi is bewildered; how unlucky could he be? for the married woman he fantasized about to be working at the very same university that his team frequents for volleyball practice? he takes a moment to curse the heavens and the cruel gods within them because certainly, they must find humour in his agony.

like lasers, wakatoshi’s eyes become too hyperfocused on you all at once. there’s sweat gleaming down your neck and dipping between your breasts and trailing wet marks down your v-line as you, absentmindedly, fan at yourself. he takes in the way your eyes scrunch together and your lips part with a heavy breath, a sigh that, to his ears, sounds lewd and filthy, and on that single breath, his world runs like a viscous furnace. he’s like a moth drawn to each and every detail about you that swells on the summer’s heat and as he stands here, everything consumes him — the slight pout of your full, puffy lips, the display of your breasts that look so big that they could pop out of your low button up dress at any second, those big, doe-like eyes of yours that are so close to rolling back beneath the agonizing heat — every bit of you accords into a vision of immeasurable pleasure and lust, and then you look at him, head tilted back and panting ever so slightly, and it’s enough and too much all at the same time.

“it’s awfully hot today, isn’t it, mr. ushijima?”

wakatoshi thinks he’ll lose his mind.

something breaks like a faucet and pours scalding water all over himself as he feels his grey sweats becoming too tight, too confining, just like the situation he finds himself in and he decides that now would be the perfect time to leave. “i have to head back.” he nearly stutters over his abrupt sentence, and he sees the slightly startled look that comes over your sun kissed face. again, he feels guilty for fooling you, for lying straight to those innocently pure eyes that are none the wiser of the effects you have on him. in a pathetic attempt that he doubts you’ll even believe, he tries to dissuade you with a simple, yet suffocated, “practice is gonna start soon.”

“oh, of course!” his lie seems to work, and wakatoshi hopes that the relief that locks inside his throat isn’t too obvious as you turn your feet to the opposite direction. “i didn’t mean to hold you up, i’m so sorry!”

“no, it’s alright.” it’s not, but what is he supposed to say? “i’m sure you’ll need to prepare for your next class soon.”

you giggle, hiding your smile behind your hand, and your eyes crinkle at the corners. “you’re right. it was a very nice surprise to see you again, mr. ushijima!”

as he makes his pathetic escape, wakatoshi prays that you don’t find him weird after this, but perhaps if you’d have any inclination of what he’d done, what he’s about to do, would you look at him in disgust? of course you would — he asks himself, how could you not? his feet can’t take him to the secluded gym fast enough as he forsakes everything about himself, purely fueled now by this burning desire that’s carnal in its awakening. the bathroom door locks and the bolt slams with a loud click, the ac languidly blowing through this confined area not nearly enough to quell the fire blazing across his skin. it’s immoral and utterly deprived what he considers doing, and the shame he feels is bound to be an eternal scar. yet in this moment, with his cock so painfully hard and pressing uncomfortably against his thigh, leaking so much precum that it stains through the thick material of his shorts, wakatoshi doesn’t care — not for the ungodliness of the act he’ll commit, nor for the consequences that could follow him. not now, at least. as he releases his throbbing member from its binds and wraps his fists around it, it’s the farthest thing from his mind as he thinks about you. again, it’s you.

the wind in his lungs is knocked out from his mouth as he rapidly pumps his dick. in an instant, the empty bathroom is filled with the squelching noises that bounce and echo off the tiled walls, only contested by his laboured breaths and groans. his knees threaten to lose their ground, and he desperately clutches the cold edge of the sink, the chill consuming his palm almost jarring to the aggressive heat that pours all through him. the image of you with your head tilted towards the sky, of your lips hanging open on salacious cries of his name as he envisions you on top of him, it all drives him to the brink of insanity.

wakatoshi thinks of your body in that tight button up dress blue dress. he thinks of how elegant and put together you looked, the picture perfect woman, and how he wants to tear apart only the top pins open and let your breasts fall out so that he could take them between his lips. how would you sound, he wondered, if he rolled your nipples between his teeth, sucked on them with his tongue until they’d turn hard and perky? would you cry out his name just like you always do? would that sweet voice of yours sing out on torrential pleasure as you’d call out to him, your thighs squeezing around his waist while your hips buck and wriggle over his cock? that innocent façade you wear, how quickly could he make you abandon all reason for desire, until you begged him with your words of honey for him to destroy you?

his fantasy falls apart and rips through him like a comet as cum explodes from his throbbing member and spills through his fingers, ever so narrowly missing his pants and spurting out on the tiled floors. it’s non-stop, this horrible, horrible mess that keeps on growing, his body jolting and knees feeling weak and he struggles to hold himself up because he can’t stop coming, so consumed in his fantasy that the moans he fought so hard to contain now ring freely inside the empty bathroom as his hand continues to milk every drop that jolts out of him. you’re the only thing in his mind, consuming him with hellfire as pleasure winds him up and tears him apart over and over again, and he knows he needs to stop, he’s being too loud, too careless, he could get caught, but god, does this taboo feel so good that he loses control. his depraved mind wonders on you catching him, cumming all over his hands like a depraved beast, all because of you?

there’s a daze that overcomes wakatoshi, heat fading to a warmth that fights for some kind of structure to hold on to as he, breathlessly, leans over the sink. his eyes look down between his legs, the length of his cock still twitching in his palm and cum smeared around it and webbing along his fingers. it doesn’t yet come to him, the reality of what he’s done, and its awakening is slow and steady, until it crashes all around him with the last wisps of adrenaline trickling out of his system. for a long time, he stares at his hands, at the mess smeared in his palm and all over his pants, and he meets his stare in his reflection. he stares, but doesn’t comprehend as a minute becomes two, and then five, and when it’s been far beyond ten, his body flushes over with red-hot embarrassment as he clenches his teeth and drops his head.

wakatoshi, filled with shame, wishes he could throw himself into the sun.

© mambalae-s - rb's+feedback are greatly appreciated!!

[fourthwingfan]

Madness - Chapter 15

Hello there. I'm here with the new chapter. Enjoy :)

Just because you survive Threshing doesn’t mean you’ll survive the ride to the flight field. Being chosen isn’t the only test, and if you can’t hold your seat, then you’ll fly straight into the ground.

—Page fifty, the Book of Brennan

Air rushes past us and I sit higher in the seat and look out over the landscape, wind ripping tears from the corners of my eyes. No wonder most riders choose to wear goggles. There are at least a dozen dragons in the air, each putting their rider through a trial of dips and turns. Reds, oranges, greens, browns, the sky is speckled with color.

My heart lurches as I see a rider fall from the back of a Red Swordtail and the dragon doesn’t dip to catch the first-year. I look away before the body hits the ground.

It’s not anyone you know. That’s what I tell myself. Violet, Liam, Ethan… They’re all probably safely bonded and already waiting at the field.

“We’re going to have to put on a show.”

“Awesome.” The idea is exciting, but I don’t know if I can hold on correctly.

“You will not fall. And you will trust me.”

Not a question. An order.

“I trust you with my life, Aon!” I shout and grip tighter the pommels and I tighten my legs.

“There’s no need to shout. I can hear you just fine. The entire mountain can probably hear you.”

Oh, yes. He can hear my thoughts.

His wings give a mighty beat, and we lurch upward in what feels like a ninety-degree climb, leaving my stomach back at the lower altitude. He crests the top of the snow-dusted peaks, and we hang there for a breath of a second before he twists, diving back down at the same terrifying angle.

It’s the most exhilarating moment of my life.

Then he twists again, sending us into a spiral.

My body is wrenched this way and that as I hold on as hard as I can when he completes turn after turn, pulling us out of the dive only to bank so hard, I swear the land becomes the sky, then repeats it all until my face splits into a grin, and I laugh out loud in joy.

There is nothing like this.

It’s pure freedom.

In the sky there’s no fear, no hatred, no duty.

It’s just Aon and I.

I have never felt so free in my life.

„I think we made our point.” He pulls us level, then banks right, starting up the valley that leads to the box canyon of the training fields. The sun is close to setting behind the peaks, but there’s still enough to see Tairn and the little golden dragon with him. They stand in the middle of the field. I’m really happy Tairn chose Violet.

„Why did you choose me?” I have to know, because as soon as we land, there are going to be questions. “Professor Kaori showed us the dragons who was willing to bond this year and you weren’t among them.”

“As I said I won’t choose someone who is not worth my time. I watched, then decided. You’re smart. And you’re willing to protect the weaker. Let this be enough for now. You have to gain knowledge about what is beyond the walls of this school.”

Beyond this school? Are they witholding information from us?

Memories flash before my eyes.

The General wants me to observe the marked-ones, as if he can’t ‘see’ them with his signet. This is already suspicious.

Then he shows me a strange dagger and wants me to report him if I see even one. When I asked about it, he became irritated.

“Don’t think about it now, golden one. You have to learn how to shield your mind from others.” He says as we pass over the Gauntlet and crest the narrow entrance to the training fields.

I suck in a sharp breath at the sight of so many dragons. There are hundreds gathered along the rocky edges of the mountain slopes behind the bleachers that were erected overnight. Spectators. And at the bottom of the valley, in the same field I’d walked only a couple of days before, are two lines of dragons facing each other.

“They are divided between those still in the quadrant who chose in years past and those who chose today.” Aon tells me.

The General will be here, on the dais in front of the bleachers. I hope I can avoid him tonight.

A ferocious roar of celebration goes up among the dragons as we fly in, every head swinging our way, and I know it’s in deference to Aon. So is the parting of the dragons at the very center of the field, making room for him to land beside Tairn.

And then we land in the dead center of the field. The impact jars me slightly, but I sit up tall in the seat and even let go of the pommel ridges.

Aon tucks his wings up and looks over his shoulder at me. “You need to dismount, then tell the roll-keeper—”

“I know what to do.” I pull in a shaky breath. I can do it. I just need to go there and avoid eyecontact with the General.

I step over the scales of Aon’s shoulder and, before I can lament the distance I’m about to have to jump I just do it.

I land safely on my feet, bending my knees a little to lessen the impact.

“Don’t foget that you’re mine now, little one. And nobody can harm what it’s mine!” Aon lowers his head and blows at me warm air through his nose.

I walk across the wide field, heading for the small formation directly ahead of me. Behind me, wind sporadically gusts as more dragons land and their riders dismount to have their names recorded, but it’s softer and softer as the line spreads farther down the field. Look like we weren’t that late.

Dusk falls, and a series of mage lights illuminates the crowd in the bleachers and on the dais. In the very center, right above where the redhead from Parapet is recording roll, is General Sorrengail, dressed in all her military finery, medals and all. Though there is an assortment of generals on the dais, each representing their wing, there’s only one more highly decorated than Lilith Sorrengail.

General Melgren, the commanding general of all Navarrian forces.

They stand in a tight circle and they’re shouting. What the hell happened?

I approach the roll-keeper at the base of the dais, who’s recording bonded pairs.

“Aelin Melgren.” She looks up, then writes my name in the Book of Riders. “For the record please tell me the name of the dragon who chose you.”

I lift my chin. “Aonniasach.”

“Pronunciation could use some work.” Aon’s voice rumbles through my head.

“Hey, at least I remembered,” I think back in his general direction, wondering if he’ll hear me across the field. “You said that I will forget it.”

“What is this commotion?” I lean closer and whisper to the roll-keeper.

She quickly looks at the shouting crowd then back at me. “It’s about Violet. She bonded with two dragons.”

What? How is that possible?

I walk toward Aon while I search for Violet.

There she is, between Tairn’s legs.

Should I go and talk to her?

“It’s not a good idea right now, little one.” Aon says in my head. “Come back, for now.”

I sigh and do as he say.

I’m so tiny compared to him. He’s smaller than Tairn, but bigger than anyone else on this field.

I stand in front of his left leg and look around. I hope to spot my friends. I need to know they’re all right.

“Look left.”

I turn in that direction and I see a grinning Liam. He’s in front of a rather big red daggertail.

I step closer to him but still maintain a safe distance. Dragons only allows their rider to approach them.

He too walks closer and hugs me tightly.

“Aelin, I’m so glad you’re here!” He whispers. “I was worried that something happened to you.”

“Well, I ran into a little trouble, but nothing I can’t handle.” I say and pull back to look into his eyes. “And you? Are you all right?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He looks me over. “Is that your blood?” He asks in a concerned voice.

“No. It’s the ‘troubles’ blood.” I shake my head grinning.

“You have to tell me later.” He sighs then looks up at Aon. “And your dragon is…”

“He’s Aon, a blue morningstartail.” I grin proudly at Aon. “He’s a little bit grumpy but deep down he’s a cutie.”

He looks at me with an expression that’s probably the dragon’s version of an eye roll.

„I’m not a ’cutie’, little one. I am a dragon.” Aon says in my head.

„Grumpy.” reply in my mind.

“See? I told you.” I laugh at Liam.

“Is it just me or he looks a bit like Sgaeyl?” He leans closer and whispers. “I mean it’s not just because he’s a blue dragon. His horns and… I don’t know, maybe I’m mistaken.”

“Hm. I don’t know, I haven’t seen another blue.” I shrug. “What about your dragon?”

“He’s Deigh, a red daggertail.” He stands straighter and looks so proud, I can’t help and smile at him.

“He looks pretty badass.” I say.

“Yes, he…” Liam turns around and looks at Deigh with wide eyes. Then he laughs.

“What did he say?” I ask curiously.

“He saw you.” He says still laughing. “He…saw you in the woods.”

“What? When?” I raise my eybrows.

“You were near to a clearing, and he said you were frozen like a sheep when you saw him, only you didn’t look so edible.”

“A sheep?” I look at Deigh and start laughing. “Yeah, maybe I was intimidated by an unbonded dragon. But thank him for me that he didn’t eat me.” So he was the red I saw. Good to know.

“Stay here, little one. The Empyrean will decide your friend’s fate.”

[shalom-iamcominghome]

What led you to decide conversion to Judaism was "for you"?

I'll preface this post by saying that you are, essentially, asking to open a Pandora's box - this is an inherently huge question to ask, and I only request that you keep this in mind when I talk about this. I'm completely open to this discussion, though! I am absolutely happy to talk about my journey because it is so deeply personal and fulfilling,

I was raised in a Lutheran family - I was baptized, but I was never really... required to go to church. We'd gone before, my dad and I, but I don't remember this because I was young. However, what I do remember is just not believing in any of it. I never truly believed in Jesus, I'd only said I did. Despite having little pressure put on me in a religious aspect, I'd always just assumed that I should please my family. I went to Jesus camp (a moniker for the religious camp I'd gone to a few times), and I went to a handful of confirmation classes. As I understand it, Lutherans practice confirmation in order to educate young adults about the religion, and by the end, the person decides if this is right for them. I dropped out completely, and honestly, it was simply due to "I believe none of this besides g-d."

Once I had consciously admitted to myself that I really could not reconcile my disbelief, I decided to disconnect completely from all forms of xtianity. I mostly kept to myself and didn't even interrogate my feelings about g-d or religion at all.

After a while, I realized that I truly knew nothing else besides xtianity. I always thought it was my duty as a person to learn about others to accept them. I started throwing myself into education about other religions. Now that I think about it, I think part of myself really did want to connect with something that felt right in my soul. For a while, I didn't find that. Once I started learning about what were the true basics of Judaism, I felt a strange and indescribable feeling, really for the first time ever.

My journey into Judaism really began on an intellectual level. I truly jived with what I was learning - I remember one of my big issues with xtianity was the idea of "spreading the Good News," or proselytizing. I think learning that about judaism was what made me realize that there was something out there that I could logically understand. I loved the cultural understanding of disagreement - that you can even disagree with g-d and not be sent to Hell For All Eternity. I loved that observing mitzvot wasn't really a strict dogma. It was a process we all undertake on some level. I'd say that the common attitude held in the xtain spaces I was exposed to all my life (that is - "all of this is strict dogma, and no questions are deemed acceptable.") really made me appreciate the intellectualism that judaism often fulfills. By nature, I want to disagree with others, explain, agree, and ultimately learn, and I loved the culture of education.

I'd say much of the emotional attachment I now have to judaism came later. There is only so much you can appreciate about judaism from the sidelines, and once I got involved in my community, I truly learned this. Much of my love for judaism is simple - it's everyday life, really.

I think what made me decide so soon that judaism was right is because I am trans. I am no stranger to this feeling, I just had never felt it about religion. It's a deep, soul-level understanding of belonging. It's a feeling you can never do justice to through word alone. I've felt this before, and I know this is a feeling that I cannot simply ignore. It's something you can only grab hold of and never let go. It is a primal understanding within your entire being - at least it is for me.

Because of this, there is so much that I have not touched upon here, but I think I've been rambling for long enough. Again, I welcome any and (almost) all questions that may be remaining. So much of my decision about judaism came down to exposing myself to conversion stories and thoughts about judaism from jews, and if there is a chance I might be even a little like that, I will always welcome it!

[starving4thethrill]

My heart breaks when I come across a page like yours with an owner the age you are because I see myself a decade ago. I would genuinely give my life to stop young me from going down the road I did and it all began with a small ed account similar to yours. I was thirteen then, completely sure this would be something I’d do for a few months and then be done with it. I’m now twenty one. I’m relapsing again. It has never stopped for one second. The voice is always there. There hasn’t been a moment since I created that first account where I have had a healthy thought about food or my body. Over the years, my view of myself has become so distorted that I don’t trust the mirror. I look at myself and am always unsure if I actually look like that. Or if I’m fatter or skinnier. I haven’t worn tank tops or anything with spaghetti straps since I was thirteen. If I wear leggings, I have to wear shirts long enough to cover my thighs. I delete photos from my family’s photo album because I hate how I look. This disorder stemmed from a traumatic incident, but as time as passed and I’ve gotten therapy, I’ve gotten over it, but this disorder lingers on. It sticks on you and takes a mind of its own. I plan my outfits for fancy events weeks in advance. I hate my family’s tradition of taking pajama photos in Christmas because I think I look fat in pajamas. I hate how I dress. I wish I could dress how I want, but I hate myself so much in it that I settle for boring shit. It holds me back from being healthy, authentic, and free. When I first created my account, I too get messages from older people saying the same thing I’m telling you now. And I also ignored them. I didn’t care and thought I wouldn’t let it get “that bad.” But, spoiler alert, just THINKING about starving yourself is “that bad.” My heart aches as I know you are starting a vicious cycle that will steal so much happiness. I wish I listened when I was thirteen. My only regret in my entire life is this disorder. The only thing I wish I could change. It is impossible for me to convey how much it isn’t worth it. You’re young. Delete this account and reach out ASAP. You’re doing this for a deeper reason than just weight loss (probably control). You have time before you’re doomed like me. Because that’s what I am. Doomed. This will always haunt me. I know I’m lucky if you even consider what I’m saying right now and I understand if you respond with a little “thanks but I’m too fat anyway xoxo.” I know you because you are me in the same exact path I was. I look on your account and it’s word for word, post for post, picture for picture of what I did. You don’t realize how much of a kid you still are and it just is heartbreaking watching you suffer. Knowing first hand the pain you’re enduring. There is a way out, but I can’t force you to take it. I can tell you life will be way easier if you get out now, or you can learn the hard way. It’s up to you. But regardless, I am sending all of my love to you. You deserve so much more and I am so sorry for whatever brought you to this state. Please stay safe and please hang in there. You will see this through and it will get better. Keep living❤️

Oh wow, this is really touching (being fr) . Good news, I’m (kind of) in recovery! I’m still active on here and no one knows about my ed, but I haven’t been st@rving or anything. Plus, my mental health has been way better eating wise. I truly hope you fully recover one day. Dysmorphia sucks. Love you, random stranger on the internet

[tragedycoded]

oc questionnaire - royston edition.

I'm not happy about this either /bit

So, I lost all my old character intros when I nuked the old blog. They're probably floating around somewhere.

If nobody knows who Royston is, he is the tritagonist (that's right, idiot, Hofer's the deuteragonist) of Doom Metal Love Story and a neverending pain in my neck. As of July 1st, 1873 he is a 45-year-old gambler who's wanted in five states for various flavors of murder and known to consort with 37-year-old First Sergeant Cole Sullivan.

I will do my best to keep spoilers to a minimum; however, for my own sanity, I'm answering for Book 2 Royston.

@the-golden-comet [1, 2] wants to know:

What never fails to make you laugh?

[he immediately starts cracking up]

Well, since you asked, I was just imagining the expression on Laurence Huston face when I stuck him.

What a knob. I cannot wait to drain the snake on his grave. Do not tell Cole I said that.

How can you tell if you’ll get along with someone?

Oh, I get along with everyone, darling. I don't have to wonder ahead of time.

Do you prefer sweet, savory, sour, or salty snacks?

[looks in Sullivan's direction and sighs]

What is your favorite season?

Autumn. [beat] Oh you want me to elaborate? Well I sweat less, for starters--

Never mind.

Where would you like to visit?

Now that you mention it, I've never been to Kentucky.

When do you usually go to sleep?

Why, are you hoping for an invitation? When I'm done for the day. Or when I'm tired. Or whenever I damned well please.

Royston tends to pass out around dawn.

@wyked-ao3 [x] I picked Royston knowing he would have to answer these:

If you had to pick just one enemy who would it be?

[he doesn't hesitate]

Doctor Emil Powell of Wherever the Fuck University. His actions directly lead to Cole's death. If someone didn't have me figuratively leashed to the damned boarding house I'd have caught up to him already, but noooo, I'm not allowed to go ahead and take care of him myself.

When did you feel safest and why?

[scoffs]

I will bring out Gott.

New Year's Eve. I will not elaborate.

If you could save just one other person who would it be?

Listen, I don't have to save him. He's the one who saved me.

Royston thinks people in town give a shit about whether he maintains his heartless badass reputation.

Oh shit @sableglass [x] has some good ones:

Tell us your favorite joke.

Would you believe I learned this one from Sullivan? Cavalrymen are absolutely filthy.

The private--I presume one could say "gentleman," however when Sullivan recited it to me the first time, it went like this:

The private couldn't understand why his lass failed to write him throughout the entirety of the campaign. She said it was out of her power, as he had carried away the pen with him, and left her nothing but the ink-stand.

Oh he thinks that's funny.

What is your proudest achievement?

He just grins. I think that's supposed to means he's proud of still being alive.

Five things that make you happy?

BEER.

TOBACCO.

BEDS.

HOT WATER.

SULLIVAN.

Pre-Sullivan #5 would have just been "GAMBLING."

And finally, from @orphanheirs [x]:

What would your perfect day look like?

[sigh] He's there when I wake up, and he's there when I go to sleep. Typically I'm there when he goes to sleep and then he has to go. If Army doesn't muster him out quickly I will burn down that entire fort. That would be a perfect day.

Do you believe in ghosts?

[siiiiigh] Ghosts aren't real. Spirits, however... are insatiable little bastards, and I have no tolerance for them.

If you could only wear one color of clothing for the rest of your life, which one would you choose?

Black. It's easier to conceal blood, and I notice Cole looking at my ass significantly more when I'm wearing dark clothing. Win-win-win.

Tag! (I have a tag list, let me know if you want on or off it.)

@lychhiker-writes @cowboybrunch @saturnine-saturneight @ashfordlabs @autism-purgatory

@noblebs @aintgonnatakethis @the-golden-comet @asablehart @mauvecatfic

@leahnardo-da-veggie @sableglass @gioiaalbanoart @words-after-midnight

@lavender-bloom @jev-urisk @wyked-ao3

[the-marron]

All-Forgotten Fics of Yours Truly

You know who constantly forgets to post stuff on Tumblr? Me.

And so now when I tried to find a link to one of my fics I couldn't because it's physically not there 🙃 I am a pro at social media. So now I decided to do a round up of all the Guardian stuff I haven't posted before, just for archival purposes 😅

Guardian

1. To wild uncharted waters

Summary:

Tonight, Shen Wei is abandoning all of Aoguang’s laws and heading towards the shore, for the second time in his entire life. All for Kunlun.

Also known as mermaid!au, written for @birdbird-blog ❤

2. What happens to the heart

Summary:

“I bring an offering,” he starts, feeling the oddness of the words on his tongue. This is not an offering, not exactly. It’s not incense and gold worthy of a god, it’s not a string of worshipful words either, and yet with who they are, The Ghost King has no other word for it.

There is nothing else a ghost can offer to a god.

Novel-verse, an attempt at happy moment between Kunlun and Shen Wei

3. Spellbound

Summary:

Zhao Yunlan and Shen Wei Vs Ancient Couples Counseling

Also known as duck!SW fic

4. The Way of the Househusband

Summary:

Zhao Yunlan vs household chores feat Shen Wei's existential crisis

Technically this one appeared on my self-rec post at some point and it was added to the art that inspired it but I technically didn't publish it here myself, so here it is. Domesticity, dear people, what else can I say.

5. hold every memory as you go

Summary:

Wang Zheng was her first girl friend. It sounds sad when she thinks about it, that the first woman she felt true connection with was a dead girl found by her boss and Da Qing in the woods, but that's still a fact. She didn't have true friends before, not like that.

Also known as: not a fix it people, just Zhu Hong post-canon, thinking about everything she's lost and learning to move on with hope

6. I've got a dream

Summary:

“I swear, if it turns out you have no idea where we are going, I will murder you and leave your body for the crows to find,” Chu Shuzhi said conversationally, stomping through the mud with the air of a man condemned to an unjust punishment. The object of his anger, Zhao Yunlan the Adventurer, just shrugged without turning back. Chu Nianzhi was certain that he had heard worse threats in his life, he used to work at the court after all. Though, in what capacity, Zhao Yunlan had never disclosed – ever since Nianzhi and Shuzhi met him at the inn, winning a strange map from a crowd of very suspicious looking men, all that they managed to get out of him was that he was on an adventure.

Written for an event, it has Chu brothers having The Time of Their Lives (Not) thanks to Zhao Yunlan who Apparently Has A Wife

7. Wish You Were Here

Summary:

Instead of falling asleep, Shen Wei gets to experience the millennia of longing, year after a lonely year.

Written for a friend, featuring, well, lots of loneliness

And I think that's all from Guardian? The rest was here because of the Guardian Bingo, I am pretty sure

And now, as my treat from me to me, the forgotten Luolins:

Luolin [WEILAN DERIVATIVES]

1. Unscathed [WIP]

Summary:

“Well, hello,” the man said, his lips tugging up in a smile. Not prepared for that, all Lin Nansheng could do in reply was to cough shallowly, the exertion of the chase getting to him. “You can let go, comrade, I won’t run.” Despite the lightness in his words, the voice was hushed, as if trying not to attract more attention. And yet, Lin Nansheng found himself letting go. The stranger used his free hand to support the bundle pressed against his chest.

---

A bitter and disillusioned Lin Nansheng gets pulled into much more excitement than he bargained for.

Post-canon longfic that I am still trying to write despite the lack of time. Totally not known as Godzilla AU, not at all good sir.

2. A Practical Arrangement

Summary:

It was a pure accident that Luo Fei and Lan Xinjie knew each other, and that the lady came to Cen Zimo with questions about a possible accommodation for her friend was a sign from the heavens. Luo Fei wasn’t convinced of course, but the argument of 'practical arrangement' swayed him in the end.

Technically it's not Luolin for it features an outsider POV of another deriv that has romantic plans re: LF, but let's be real here, I wouldn't break up Luolin for anyone so it's Luolin through and through. Sorry, Cen Zimo. (I am not)

3. we devour, like a falcon in the dive

Summary:

A quiet moment of trust that morphs into something much more.

Based on art, first attempt to give these two an actual happy ending and not an ambigious one

4. only a touch of dust remains

Summary:

He knows what he will find when he opens the door. He's known for a while, he's been preparing for it but still, the moment his hand touches the handle, he hesitates. He never hesitates, there is no reason for him to do so – there is nothing that can surprise him.

Angst. Outsider's POV. Did I mention angst?

5. All in the Scheme of Things

Summary:

And then Wu-laoshi brought in Luo Fei – a tall, handsome man in a well-tailored suit whose words were outpaced only by his thoughts. It was with relief that Lin Nansheng realized that they didn’t manage to discuss anything and would have to meet again – he had a good excuse to see Luo Fei again.

Modern Teacher!au, a prequel to one of my fics from Weilan Derivs week 2022.

6. Unmoored Academicals [CROSSOVER]

Summary:

A foreboding sense of familiarity washed over Zhao Yunlan. His mind had one, final thought of’ not again’, before the vortex of time opened for good and swallowed everything around him. -- The 'DCU moonlights as Shanghai University' crack that wouldn't leave my brain, with a dash of academia humour

Yeah, I wrote it mostly for crack reasons, but also to appreciate that while there are some similarities between them, SW and LNS are very different, as are LF and ZYL - it is a bit of a love letter to BY and Z1L's acting abilities, dressed up as a crack about a university jumping dimensions, just like Pratchett would have wanted

7. The man you seek is long gone

Summary:

After returning from Hong Kong, Lin Nansheng tries to find out what happened to Luo Fei. -- Mostly canon compliant with some fix-ity changes added

Presumed dead fic, because everyone needs one 🤗

8. It's falsehood's flame, it's a crying shame

Summary:

There is a man at the door, dressed in a rather expensive-looking suit, looking around with a faint air of distaste. He has a cane in his hand and a certain confidence around him – Lin Nansheng notices all of that, but it is dulled by the realization that the man is really handsome. * In an alternate universe, Chen Moqun becomes a crime boss instead of the Station Chief. Lin Nansheng follows him either way, until he encounters an unexpected complication in the form of Luo Fei.

Not-really (and yet) mafia!au which is also my first Luolin ever, written for @babischlong-six 😌❤

and now I am off to live that cryptid life because there are still at least a dozen weilan derivs fics that I haven't posted here either but I don't have the energy to do it today. Better to do something than nothing and all that ~