#most games now make almost every inch of the map have a use

[ardri-na-bpiteog]

outing myself here but absolutely no game brings me more comfort than Classic WoW. Maybe it's largely the nostalgia but something about it, the art style, the slower pace of everything than most modern MMOs, but I just find it so peaceful.

[ficfield]

Tension and Passion

Request: Hiiiii I have an idea to insert into your brain  Hate sex with Chris (I'm writing something like this with piers don't tell anyone)  I'm talking like the most nasty, messy hate sex known to man Love you please stay watered and photosynthesised 

Chris Redfield x Fem!Reader Word count: 1510

The air inside the makeshift command centre was thick with tension, the kind that crackled like static electricity, ready to ignite at the slightest spark. Chris stood by the map table, his broad shoulders squared, fingers tapping impatiently on the worn surface. His fatigues were creased from days of relentless fieldwork, and the shadow of stubble on his jaw only added to his rugged, battle-hardened appearance. He was a man used to being obeyed, a leader whose orders were followed without question. But today, his usual composure was fraying at the edges, thanks to you. 

You sat across from him, legs crossed, a defiant smirk playing on your lips. Your uniform was as dishevelled as his, but you wore it with a casual confidence that grated on his nerves. Your hair, a wild mess of curls, framed your face, and your eyes, those damn eyes, sparkled with a mix of annoyance and something else, something he refused to acknowledge. You was his subordinate, a member of his squad, but you acted like you were his equal, and worse, you often ignored his commands, questioning every decision he made.

“I said we’re not ready to move in yet,” Chris growled, his voice low and dangerous. “the intel isn’t solid enough. We go in blind, and we’re walking into a slaughterhouse.” 

You rolled your eyes, leaning back in your chair. “And I said we don’t have the luxury of waiting. Every minute we waste, more people die. You’re too cautious, Redfield. It’s going to get us killed.” 

His jaw clenched. “Caution keeps us alive. Recklessness gets us buried. You’d do well to remember that.” 

You stood abruptly, your chair scraping against the metal floor. “And you’d so well to stop treating me like a rookie, I’ve been in this game as long as you have, and I’m not about to sit around while you second guess yourself to death.” 

The room fell silent, the tension between them palpable. Chris took a step forward, his height and bulk looming over you. You didn’t flinch, your gaze locked on his, daring him to make a move. The air between you was charged, electric, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. 

Then, without warning, Chris grabbed you by the wrist, pulling you close. His grip was firm, almost bruising, and you hissed in response, your nails digging into his forearm. “You think you know better than me?” he snarled, his breath hot against your face. “You think you can defy my orders and get away with it?” 

You smirked, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Try me.” 

Something snapped inside him. The months of frustration, the constant defiance, the way you challenged him at every turn, it all boiled over in that moment. He shoved you against the wall, his body pressing against yours, his lips inches from yours. “You want to play games? Let’s play,” he growled, his voice rough and raw. 

Your eyes widened, but you didn’t back down. Instead, you tilted your head back, chest rising and falling rapidly. “You’re all talk, Captain. Prove it.” 

He didn’t need to be told twice. His lips crashed down on yours, hard and demanding, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth. It wasn’t a kiss, it was an invasion, a declaration of dominance. you responded with equal ferocity, hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. kisses were rough, desperate, fuelled by anger and something darker, something you both tried to ignore.

Chris tore his mouth away, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "You think you’re so tough," he muttered, his hands gripping your hips, pulling you against him. "Let’s see how tough you are now."

You laughed, a low, throaty sound that sent a jolt of desire through him. "You’re all bark and no bite, Redfield. Prove me wrong."

He didn’t say another word. With a swift motion, he lifted you, pressing you against the wall, your legs wrapping around his waist. His hands roamed over your body, rough and impatient, his fingers digging into your thighs. You moaned, the sound muffled against his neck as he kissed and bit his way you’re your jawline.

"You’re going to listen to me," he growled, his lips brushing against your ear. "From now on, you do as I say. Understand?"

you chuckled, your hands gripping his shoulders. "In your dreams, Captain."

His response was immediate and brutal. He slid his hand up your uniform, his fingers finding the soft skin of your stomach before moving higher, cupping your breast. You gasped, your head falling back as he squeezed, his thumb brushing against your nipple through the thin fabric. "You’re mine," he said, his voice a low rumble. "And you’re going to learn your place."

You arched against him, hips grinding into his. "Prove it," you whispered, your voice hoarse with need.

Chris didn’t hesitate. With a swift motion, he ripped open your uniform, the fabric tearing under his hands. you wore nothing underneath, your breasts exposed, nipples tight and aching. He lowered his head, taking one into his mouth, sucking hard, his tongue swirling around the sensitive peak. you cried out, your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer.

"Fuck," you muttered, body trembling. "You’re... so... rough."

"That’s the idea," he growled, his lips trailing down your chest, his hands moving lower, slipping beneath the waistband of your pants. He found you already wet, your core throbbing with need, and he smirked against your skin. "You’re a mess," he murmured, his fingers dipping inside you, teasing, driving you wild.

You moaned, your legs tightening around him. "You’re... not... so... bad... yourself," you managed, your voice breaking with each word.

Chris chuckled, a dark, dangerous sound. "Shut up and take it," he ordered, his fingers moving faster, his thumb pressing against your clit. you cried out, your body arching against him, your release building, inevitable.

But he wasn’t done yet. With a swift motion, he unbuckled his belt, his pants falling to the floor. He was hard, his cock throbbing, and he pressed it against you, teasing you, driving you insane. "Beg," he commanded, his voice harsh. "Beg me to fuck you."

You glared at him, your breath coming in short gasps. "Go to hell."

He smirked, his hand gripping your jaw, forcing you to look at him. "You’re going to beg, one way or another. Might as well make it easier on yourself."

Your eyes flashed with defiance, but your body betrayed you. you were trembling, your core aching, and you knew you couldn’t hold out much longer. "Fine," you snapped, your voice barely above a whisper. "Fuck me, Chris. Fuck me hard."

That was all he needed. With a swift motion, he positioned himself at your entrance, thrusting into you in one smooth, relentless motion. You cried out, your nails digging into his shoulders, your body adjusting to his size. He was big, his cock filling you completely, and you moaned, your head falling back as he began to move, his hips snapping forward with brutal force.

"That’s it," he growled, his voice hoarse. "Take it. Take all of it."

You were lost, your body moving with his, your cries echoing off the walls. The hate, the anger, the tension, it all melted away, replaced by something raw and primal. Your bodies slapped together, the sound obscene, your breaths coming in ragged gasps.

Chris pounded into you, his control slipping, his movements becoming more urgent. "You’re... so... tight," he muttered, his voice breaking. "So... fucking... perfect."

You laughed, a low, breathless sound. "You’re... not... so... bad... yourself," You teased, your hands gripping his ass, pulling him closer.

He growled, his hips snapping faster, his cock throbbing inside you. "Shut up," he ordered, his voice rough. "Just... feel it."

And you did. You felt everything, the stretch of your walls around him, the friction of his skin against yours, the way he filled you completely. Your orgasm built, a tidal wave of pleasure crashing over you, and you cried out, your body shaking, your release overwhelming.

Chris followed, his own orgasm tearing through him, his cock pulsing inside you as he spilled himself deep within you. He groaned, his forehead pressing against yours, his body trembling with the force of it.

For a long moment, you stayed like that, your hearts pounding, breaths intertwining. Then, slowly, Chris pulled out, setting you on your feet. You swayed, legs unsteady, your uniform in tatters around you.

He stepped back, his expression unreadable, his eyes dark and intense. "Next time," he said, his voice low, "you listen to me."

You smirked, your hands on your hips, your chest rising and falling rapidly. "In your dreams, Captain."

He chuckled, a low, dangerous sound. "We’ll see."

And with that, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing there, your body still buzzing with the aftermath of your encounter. You knew it wasn’t over, far from it. But for now, the tension between you had been temporarily relieved, replaced by something else, something neither of you was ready to acknowledge.

Yet.

[simblorbo-bracket]

Round 2 - Simblr's Saddest, Wettest Meow Meow - Mainline

Dr. Purity (@morrigan-sims) VS. Nyon Specter (@plasma-tree)

(polls are presented left -> right unless stated otherwise)

Who's sadder? Who's wetter? Read on for more information, and vote with your heart!

What is a ‘Meow Meow’?

(taken from tumblr user @/torturelabyrinth) “The thing about a true poor little meow meow is they have to be 1) downtrodden 2) morally questionable at best 3) deeply and pathetically miserable”

Dr. Purity

Name: Dr. Purity (alias, real name unknown). Other/past aliases include Dr. Meladria and Sigmar Passeone*. (*: actually a corpse puppet he was controlling and using to befriend Rook.)

Why a SWMM? Where do I start with this man? He's a literal war criminal, personally responsible for the complete destruction of four cities and wiping an entire Fey kingdom off the map. He's a mamma's boy. His family was killed ~300 years ago, and he still has nightmares about it. His daughter was killed when she was a baby (or so he thought). Got called a pussy and a coward and was essentially bullied into becoming a villain. He kinda-sorta runs a cult. Wears lots of jewelry and puts flowers in his hair. He invented a super-serum. Lives in a metal box because he's still a coward. He was captured, tortured, and sold, and forced to work for an evil queen to make monsters. Now he just makes monsters (called Nightwalkers) for fun. He got pathetically attached to Rook, so much so that he ignored his own daughter in favor of him. Has no idea how to talk to people so he read a book with a fictional mentor character and filled every inch of the margins with notes of how to be that person for Rook. He's one of the most powerful people in the world but he held back from killing one of the people who sold him because Rook asked him to. We still don't know his real name.

Origin: He's the BBEG from my longest running Dungeons and Dragons game, which we call Black Desert, after the kingdom where it takes place. He was originally very connected to the party wizard's backstory, but now he has a much, much deeper connection with Rook.

Additional Propaganda: Well, if you want evil people who are sad wet meow-meows, then there is literally no better candidate than this man. He's basically a supervillain, and yet he could not possibly be more pathetic. Just look at his sulky face! He's a literal fucking war criminal, committed actual genocide, and yet... His pathetic manners and lack of social skills have bewitched me.

Nyon Specter

What makes them a Sad, Wet Meow Meow? Doesn't know his dad, grimborn, mom keeps deleting pool ladders, in an almost doomed timeline :( but he's so nice to his lil girlfriend. He's like the mold for sad little guys. Look he's literally caught fire :'(

EA premade makeover

He really saw the cute vampire girl his step dad was shagging and decided he wants to marry her. Come on. Sad wet little guy. He's seen so much misfortune and death. Poor baby. He also throws up a lot and I'm not 100% sure why.

[adastraperfortuna]

Tears of the Kingdom; or, The Sequel to Breath of the Wild

The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild is one of the most focused and restrained AAA games that I've ever played. After Skyward Sword and Twilight Princess, two games that pushed the long-standing franchise formula to its breaking point, Hidemaro Fujibiyashi and his team set out to build a new Zelda identity from the ground up. With a clean slate, every feature that they added built towards the game's central themes - the majesty of nature, player freedom, and systemic play. If something wouldn't contribute to that, it often didn't end up in the game at all, leading to a lot of players complaining about Breath being threadbare, quiet, and streamlined.

I say all of that because its sequel, Tears of the Kingdom, is most decidedly none of those things. Tears is a game defined by its maximalism, taking more or less everything from Breath and tacking stuff onto it for six years. Where Breath had one map, Tears has three, and they did their absolute best to fill every square inch of the new and returning playable space to the brim with characters, quests, systems, caves, dungeons, easter eggs, and collectables. Tears is a game with seven currencies that you can trade in at five types of vendor for various rewards, and that's excluding the new upgrade systems for the new abilities that you can get from completing the new temples.

When I say that it took more or less everything from Breath of the Wild, though, I did mean it. While ostensibly a sequel, Tears functions as something much closer to a remake or reimagining in practice. The overall story structure is almost identical, down to the minutiae of which characters inherit which responsibilities from which champions/sages. The memory system for storytelling is retained, much to the detriment of the now-linear story that it's conveying. You're going to be revisiting the same towns, doing similar shrines to unlock similarly-adjacent waypoints, and restoring things to the status quo by the time you say your goodbyes.

I'm really not sure that those two goals - massively expanding a game while also being slavishly devoted to recreating it - can coexist.

Breath of the Wild wasn't an accident, and while there are things in Tears that I would port back to its predecessor if given the opportunity, taking a game defined by its minimalism and grafting three new games' worth of capital-c Content onto it is going to fundamentally change the nature of the beast. By giving the player all of these new abilities (primarily Ultrahand - check out Postscript 1), we're left with a game with even fewer true puzzles and navigational challenges than Breath, requiring the audience to play along and role-play as someone with fewer tools in their belt than they do to have fun. The looser, more character-focused storytelling that Breath used allowed the memory system to flourish with each scene comfortably making sense on its own, and with Tears's pivot to a more traditional plot it becomes possible for the player to ruin a reveal for themselves simply through bad luck.

More than that, though, Tears effectively completely eliminated Breath's exploration loop without anything waiting in the wings as a replacement. With vehicles and man-cannon towers that can take you more or less anywhere on the map, traversal has been turned into selecting a point and more or less airdropping directly to it. Maybe that was a necessary change - you can't explore the same map twice, after all. Unfortunately, with the new additions, caves and wells, only being visible from up-close (in comparison to the bright and beaconesque shrines and towers from Breath), exploration in Tears asks you to do more than exactly that, combing the map and checking every crevice and crevasse in a way that Breath only rewarded with Korok seeds and ambiance.

I'm leading with all of this negativity because this is what I was left stewing in after I gave up Tears of the Kingdom two dungeons in and a few weeks after its launch last year. For about six months, give or take a few twenty-minute play sessions to see if I was feeling it yet, I simply couldn't believe that this is what Nintendo had released as their sequel to my favorite game of all time. I was frustrated, disappointed, and hyper-critical. I enjoyed a lot about Tears, but the problems were so fresh and my expectations were so high that the flaws were all I could feel. I spent a lot of time hashing out how I felt online (see Postscript 2), and it well and truly astonished me to see how few people could sympathize. Were we even playing the same game?

As my return to Tears of the Kingdom a few weeks ago suggested, maybe we weren't.

The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom is one of the most systemically generous and aesthetically luxurious AAA games that I've ever played. After Breath of the Wild, a game that felt in many ways like a blank slate for the future of a legendary franchise, Hidemaro Fujibiyashi and his team set out to rediscover and reintegrate the Zelda identity of old into this new format. With a great foundation, every feature they added could bring something new and unique to the table, providing such a wealth of options and experiences that no two players would've truly played the same game. And once I opened myself up to that, picking and choosing which parts of the game I wanted to play more judiciously and holding back from "optimal" play in lieu of finding the fun, the game blossomed for me in a million dazzling ways.

The scripted, authored material in Tears is some of the best work that a Zelda team has ever done, full stop. There are more quests that are more engaging than any of their equivalents in Breath, with every town now brimming with unique activities and fun overarching progressions both in and outside of the main quest line. So-called "Side Adventures" have you fighting off groups of monsters with roaming squadrons of soldiers, rebuilding towns, plunging into the darkest corners of the Depths in search of enemies from past games, and solving map-spanning puzzles in search of ancient wisdom. You can't throw a rock twelve feet in Hyrule without hitting an NPC with a minigame on deck, it seems, and almost all of them are a blast. Characters from Breath are given new life as leads in game-long side quests covering anything from construction to journalism, and the modes of gameplay that you're asked to engage with are diverse and fun, recontextualizing existing spaces in interesting ways.

Of course, the side material wasn't what drew me to the prior Zelda games (with the exception of Majora's Mask), and the main quest represents a bafflingly large step up from Breath of the Wild's. Each of the dungeon approach sequences is hours-long and absolutely jam-packed with memorable moments, providing a linear, focused progression that'll have you solving riddles, probing caves, and diving into storm heads. The dungeons themselves, while functionally similar to Breath's Divine Beasts, feel at once more unique and closer to the series's past by building out their own aesthetics. The bosses are more visually diverse and tactically demanding, and when you beat them you're rewarded with a fundamental shift to the area you're saving (with the exception of the Goron village, a part of the game that disappointed me enough to stop me playing for half a year). Even the approaches to the towns are reinvigorated, with interesting additions like an expanded extreme climate zone around the Gerudo Desert providing the kind of focused navigation challenges that only the Zora portion of Breath provided.

And this is all referring to the first dungeons you encounter, the stretch of the game that mirrors Breath so thoroughly that I genuinely found it concerning on my first go at it. What happens afterwards, from the "reveal" at Hyrule Castle to the moments that credits roll, is maybe my favorite sequence in Zelda history. It's deliriously smart, using the scope of the game's systems to deliver a part of the journey that feels epic, personal, global, and threatening. Their newfound freedom to create bespoke moments pays off in a finale so explosive that it's hard to believe it came from the studio that gave us Breath's Dark Beast Ganon fight, with everything from that last leap into the darkness on absolutely dripping with verve. And, my God, that last button prompt.

This is all accompanied, of course, by the best thing that a game could take from Breath of the Wild: its audiovisual presentation. While the primary overworld looks more or less like you'll remember it, the addition of the sky and Depths lets the team expand their palette to match. The sky reaches truly profound, sublime levels of beauty, while the Depths gets just about as close to horror as Zelda can handle - those two endpoints giving us something to fear and something to fight for, which in turn elevates the storytelling. The soundtrack pulls from a million influences to give us something new, but it isn't afraid to pull those old Zelda heartstrings when the time is right. One particular theme incorporation during a post-Spirit Temple cutscene had me hooting and hollering.

I do apologize if these last few paragraphs have felt closer to an exaltation than something meaningful and insightful - the best parts of this game just sort of did that to me. While Tears has problems, and I think they're worth examining, it also has a structure that lends itself to simply ignoring what you dislike and pursuing what you do. It took me approaching it from a completely different and unnatural angle to see that, though, and I'm hoping that the next Zelda is able to provide both the focus and bombast that only one of the last two excelled in. With this next blank slate, with this next fresh start - with a new map, a new style, and new ambitions - maybe they can combine the best of both worlds.

After Tears of the Kingdom came out, I found myself asking how my favorite game development team lost the magic touch and what it would take for me to get excited about their next project. The answer to that is in two parts: they didn't, and I already am.

Postscript 1: Ultrahand

Ultrahand doesn't have a place in the Zelda series. While it gives the player a lot of options, and I understand the fun that a lot of people had with it, it simultaneously breaks too many challenges and fails to introduce many more. The most interesting questions you can ask with Ultrahand are "how do you move this object" and "how do you climb over this thing", with the answer to both almost universally being "make something that can fly." While Ultrahand as-is is a technical marvel, you need to wilfully ignore most of its abilities if you want to have any fun with half of the game's puzzles, let alone traversal. It "fits" with Tears's everything-and-the-kitchen-sink vibe, but I had way more fun with the game when I refused to use it unless absolutely necessary, and I truly don't want to see it again.

Postscript 2: Apologies

In the half-year period where I was perpetually bummed about Tears of the Kingdom I let my disdain for it become a staple of my online personality. It dominated any conversation about the game that I joined, and I have the reasonable suspicion that I ruined at least a few good conversations with needless shit-flinging. To those of you that got hit by that: I apologize. The game kind of rules, actually. I was right about some things, wrong about others, but my face turn on this has well and truly wasted a lot of people's time. The least I could've done is waited until I beat it. I can't wait to intellectually learn this lesson and then never put it into practice. Oh, well.

Postscript 3: Cohost

This post is adapted from a post I made on my Cohost blog earlier this year. I will miss Cohost dearly, even if I wasn't tremendously active there.

[nightthinker-08]

lil DOS2 rant?

Le sighhhhhh Finally finished DOS2 again, and I do adore this game a lot and has easily become my favorite. I love the combat of the game and the implementation of magical and physical armor really makes you think on your builds and strategies. And I know some might disagree cuz not a lot like turn based combat apparently? The story is so rich from start to finish, absolutely no parts of it bored me. The dialogues are fun and witty, catching me off gaurd and making me laugh way more than I thought it would. And the characters are so well written, you fall in love with almost all of them, especially the origin characters and the people you sail with in Lady Vengeance. But for all that praise, whenever I think of the romance in the game I can't help but feel its more than a little lacking. I love the characters to death I, wouldn't've have played the game twice already and have over 200+ hours on it if I didn't- but interactions with them are so few and far between. You don't even have one quiet moment with them. Well... I mean you do get one moment alone with them, but to call it a quiet one would be so... hilariously untrue for a number of reasons Anyway me being me took the little romance I can get in stride on my first play through, thinking "oh if I progress their quest they give me important dialogue!" So I focused a lot on the one person I wanted to romance (it was Sebille) and absolutely eating up any romantic dialogue that pops up (most of them catching me off gaurd cuz again we didn't talk much through out our journey and suddenly she's cozying up on me-). Only to have missed a lot in my first playthrough (not really a big complaint cuz I like you can do a lot of different things to get to the same point), and accidentally not progress one of my companions stories and have a small betrayal at the end. But then by the end of it all, while the ending I got was mostly happy, the ending I had with my chosen partner was absolutely bittersweet. While yes- I did make a lot of mistakes in my first game cuz I had no idea what the hell I was doing :D So it could absolutely be chalked up to me just missing a lot of key things to ensure a better ending with us. Hence why I played it twice in a row, and believe me I missed A LOT especially in forth joy, the first chapter. I tried my best to be as thorough as I can. Exploring every inch of them map, talking to almost every NPC I come in contact with, finishing every quest in my log book, talking more instead of fighting to get more dialogue. And while I can safely say I was absolutely more thorough this time round, I'm pretty sure I still missed a few things. Its a long ass game- there are a lot you need to keep track of, and I can be very forgetful. But I think I completed well enough to know this is the general scope of what an average player—or maybe not even averege, but a slightly more avid player—would get. So what did I get after all that? Well... Roughly the same ending with only minor differences... Was the entire game more different the 2nd time round cuz I knew what I was doing and found a lot of new and cool things through out that gave it more charm? 100%! Without a doubt! Did the companion I got together with get a happier ending? Also yes. But am I still a bit disappointed at romance and how that side plot ended? Sadly yes. Spoilers below for people who haven't played or haven't gotten to the end game.

So somewhere in the late game there's a choice to have Sebille rooted into the mother tree, I dont want to have to overly explain it but it basically bounding her to elven duties for the rest of her days and also she turns in a a tree once she dies :'Dc. Now I was an idiot and actually rooted her even when I had 2nd thought on it cuz I thought that was just her duty. And bit me in the ass at the end and was mostly what made the ending so bittersweet for me. She wasnt free yet we still loved each other so we had to part ways. Of course she said she'd always love me and never forget me before sharing a sweet kiss but it was still sad... Me being the simp I am I made a completely new game just to ensure she gets a happy ending (preferably together with my character) and she did and it was nice but... It made the whole end game conversation with her a lot shorter, it wasn't explicitly stated we'd stay together but in the epilogue nothing about our romance was mentioned. She was just happy traveling and living her best life and don't get me wrong- like Go girl! Live your best life! No need to get tied down! But I just wish the bond you form not just with your romance partner but with all your companions didn't feel like such a forgettable chapter of their life. There could have at least been a mention where at least one, or preferably all, of your party members would gather to together to meet up every now and again in the new world. Maybe its just makes me sad cuz I thought of my party as being a found family towards each other, so to see them be so ready to leave each other, split off and never talk to each other ever again really pained me. The origin characters are one, if not, my top reason I want to keep coming back to this game and replaying it but every time I just keep thinking of how it all ended, my heart sinks.

Minor complaints up ahead.

Poly? Where poly? No poly?? Give me the ability to romance both Sebille and Lohse you cowards!! so like at the end of my 2nd play through I made a save where one onf them I chose to be the new devine, made ifan sad and was generally a more sad ending- but also made me spilt with Sebille again cuz she was like "can a god mingle with us mortals?" and Im like oh shit so this is the wrong choice. So I reload my save and spread the source to everyone. and this time round it was happy again but she was still like " what happens with us is up to you" Like girl what you mean? We're on even playing field neither of us have responsibilities we're both free, what am I missing here? BUT ALSO SHE DOSENT KISS ME IN THIS ENDING?????? maybe I messed up the dialogue?? She says she wants me and love me but doesnt lean down for a kiss like my save before that or in my first game play either so I was left so confused-

another Sebille centered minor problem, after you kill her master her story kinda just ends there- Like there's nothing for her in Arx at all. And before you say it yes, we meet with Saheila when we get there, she's talking about elves wanting to rise up to start that war. And she just dismisses it and chalks it up to Saheila being insane(which you know true) but that's it? you don't want to figure out why your kin who's been through almost the same things we've been through suddenly underwent an over night change?? you aren't going to talk to the hostile elven people in arx?? People's opinion of you after killing the mother tree/ being prime scion doesn't get touched on here??? It just another one of my little disappointments in her story. She was very prominent at the start but nothing in Arx, which despite being the last chapter is still a long one. So to just have her there with nothing important to progress with her or our romance it just left me a lil bumed :/

[hikomichi64]

(Spoiler Free) Some Quick Thoughts On Dragon's Dogma 2

[Pic is from the official DD2 Twitter Account https://twitter.com/DragonsDogma/status/1741640475705033071?t=Pfr3vQbpXjitF0OUGwjI3Q&s=19]

Having finally beaten the game and taken the time to mark down my thoughts I would like to share some of the with you all.

First of all, this game is essentially 2 Dragon's 2 Dogma meaning that almost none of the issues of the first game have been improved while almost all positive aspects have been expanded upon.

I'll start with the Negatives since I like saving the Good for last.

Pawn AI is still unhelpful in a pinch and even with the correct specialisations, equipment and skill selections they still end up being nothing more than distractions for bosses or meat sacks for said bosses.

Without going into spoiler territory the main-plot/story of the game is clearly rushed and underdeveloped.

The Bottom Half of the Map is Under-Used and also Underdeveloped, like writing a long essay for a test at High School but noticing that you are running out of time so you rush the latter parts.

The Spawn Frequency of Enemies is too high at times and can also make the post-game extremely exhausting.

Lastly, Visual Clarity is a Glaring Issue (that most AAA games have). You will be climbing a monster trying to reach for its weak point just for the frames to drop massively due to the number of magic effects cluttering the battlefield making the poor invisible cameraman have a stroke and for his camera to go all over the place making something as easy as climbing up a confusing ordeal.

Now on the other the Positives.

The OST is incredible, it breathes life into the world of the game making every inch of every settlement or forrest or wherever feel distinguishable and one of a kind.

Exploration is rewarding and a massive step-up from both its predecessor and its peers. Relying on the lay if the map and your party knowledge from beyond the rift makes the overworld feel alive without it feeling intimidating as there are no endless markers and GTA-style gps routes.

The Art Direction is laser focused and jaw dropping cooperating perfectly with the OST to elevate the over quality of the Open World.

The Pacing of the game, how fast you reach new villages or cities or the quest rewards and when said quests are made available to you work good with the Action part of this Action RPG making my ~50 hour play through feel like 25 hours -and I mean that as a compliment.

Finally, my favourite improvement definitely is the Voice Work. Every and I do mean every actor brings their A-Game to the table and it shows. Both the directing and the individual actor's skillset shine brightly together.

Overall the game has some rough edges but the pros DEFINITELY outshine the cons. Having played the original when it came out on the PS3 as well as on the port PS4 I can safely say that I was left satisfied and my itch was scratched. Seeing the devs stick to their guns a decade after the first game is a sight to behold and I can only look with glee to the future for what else lies in store for this franchise.

[pjorange]

uncharted 4 rant because my stoopid ass played it on crushing for my first time (but also a few things I didn't like about its combat)

Just beat Uncharted 4 on my first time playthrough... which I did on crushing. And I'm sorry, but the second half of that game was genuinely one of the worst gaming experiences of my entire life. U4 has the highest highs so far, but also the lowest lows, man.

I did crushing on my first playthrough not just because I like to 100% games and wanted to get that trophy over with, but also because I already beat the first game on crushing and the other ones on hard. Things were fine for the first half - I liked the more stealthy gameplay options, and of course there was the famous dirt road chase scene. But then the chapter "Marooned" comes in and oh my fucking god. Ruined from then on out. Just genuine torture. You could say... it was crushing. But I don't know if I wanted to crush my own skull, or those of whoever designed these encounters.

If I'm not wrong - for the first three games, even though Nate is positioned on one side of the screen, the bullets would come from the center of the screen. It let you do that thing where you position yourself behind cover and shoot enemies by inching your view out slightly. It gave you a slight advantage, but it didn't take away the challenge, because then if somebody rushed you, you wouldn't be able to see them as well. But with U4, the bullets actually go from Drake's gun to the center of the screen, so now peeking out doesn't work. I blew myself up with the China Lake a few times.

The weapons too. The Pistole used to be a god tier weapon; you'd cry tears of joy every time you got to use it because it would just instantly blast away anybody you shoot it with. Then U4 turned it into a confetti gun. The best and most consistent gun in the game is genuinely just the default starter pistol. Everything else is either too inaccurate or doesn't have enough ammo.

But back to that jungle encounter. The added emphasis on stealth is great, but the thing is, you need to have GOOD CHECKPOINTS to go along with it. A lot of the encounters from Marooned onwards have these obvious two-phase segments where you beat some generic guys, then move up a little bit and get assaulted by a bunch of armored assholes. It'd be one thing if, after doing the (what feels like) 15 minutes of stealth, dying over and over and hearing the same dialogue and having to make it back to the same positions, you would be given a checkpoint so you don't have to have all that time wasted away because Nate grabbed the wrong ledge, or decided to grab onto a ledge one foot off the ground instead of walking off it, or took cover on the SIDE of a box right in front of an enemy instead of behind it. But no. You get turned into swiss cheese then have to do it all over again.

I'm sick of getting lasered halfway across the map by a chaingun with AR accuracy, obscured by a leaf from a palm tree, obscured by a particle effect, obscured by the cinematic depth of field blurring, that I can't shoot because the camera won't show the right angle. That's the other big thing - the fucking blurring effect. That didn't exist in the old games, so when I took the risk of peeking out of cover, I would be able to see the enemy and SHOOT THEM. With U4, I peek out, then I have to wait 3 seconds for the blur to refocus, and in that time I get my health whittled down to where a single sneeze kills me.

I was reading online that the part most people dread is the elevator section, but I actually liked that section, BECAUSE IT HAD A CHECKPOINT. Once the elevator is almost to the top and you encounter the dudes on the ridge, you're actually given a checkpoint. Ammo is tight on the way up, but I liked the challenge of having to be careful with my shots, and I was able to scrounge up some dropped guns. Not to mention they actually gave you OPTIONS on where to go by having a lot of different holds to climb on.

The challenges I DIDN'T like - not having any idea where the hell to go w/o being detected and facing off against overpowered enemies in Marooned, that one shipyard encounter where two armored minigunners and a bunch of gas mask guys come in and rush you after you have to snipe a bunch of guys, the encounter after that where the truck and RPG guys shoot at you and the cover is a bunch of shittily placed "Crate.obj"s placed too far apart to move between, and the batshit crazy mansion encounter. I dunno man.

Anyways, the final Rafe encounter was awesome. I also LOVED the little pick... thingy you get while climbing that lets you latch onto the soft walls. The story was of course absolutely awesome... part of me agrees with being disappointed that there wasn't any supernatural element, but I think of that being replaced by the idea that anyone who goes after Avery's treasure ends up dead/going crazy. I could also argue that a bit of the "Uncharted" vibe is gone given the silent title screen, subdued soundtrack, and aforementioned lack of supernatural stuff, but ehh, it makes sense. And some people didn't like Libertalia and don't find it as mystical as something like Shambala, but I thought the graphics were so ridiculously good and the scenery so obscenely beautiful that I didn't care. Photo mode got a lot of use out of me.

Despite my very frustrating experience, I still like U4 and prefer its combat (and other innovations and gameplay variety, like the rope and driving) over U3's random downgrade-for-no-reason where the enemies don't flinch to being shot in the head, and John Rambo's bitchass comes out to kill you in the desert. I think my order so far is 3 < 4 < 1 < 2. The first game is not nearly as "outdated" as people say it is, the gameplay is the fucking same except for the grenade throwing and not having the wildly inaccurate blind cover shooting.

Yeah I don't know, kinda just rambling. Just had to get that all off my chest because god DAMN was I suffering. I could maybe gather all my thoughts on each game and do some series retrospective on YouTube, but I'm kinda over the whole YouTuber thing lol. Would rather just write my thoughts and move on than spend hours of my time wallowing in the same topic so I can make a video for free for people to get pissed at me in the comments.

Anyways, onto Lost Legacy!

[rocorambles]

Set My Heart Ablaze

Pairing: Matsukawa x Reader

Genre/Warnings: NSFW, Non-Con/Dub-Con, Creepy Matsukawa, Obsessive Behavior, Public Train Sex

Prompt: Chikan/Trains/Public Sex

Summary: Neither of you can deny the mutual spark of interest between the two of you, but Matsukawa takes the matter of turning that spark into a fire into his own hands. Only time will tell if that fire will provide you warmth and comfort or burn you alive.

A/N: This is my submission for the HQHQ NSFW Collab! Masterlist can be found here. Be sure to check everyone’s content once the masterlist goes live tomorrow night~

The train doors open and Matsukawa briefly glances up, smiling to himself as you step onboard, looking left and right for an open spot despite how you always end up in the same corner of the moving vehicle. He doesn’t know anything about you, not even your name. Yet he finds himself drawn to the normalcy you bring, the comfort of knowing you’re a clockwork fixture of his everyday life.

It hadn’t always been like this.

Matsukawa is just a man at the end of the day and he doesn’t deny that he took note of you long before you became so ingrained in his life. But it had been no more than a man observing an attractive woman and he doesn’t give you another passing thought as he returns to gazing out the train windows.

But working with death on a daily basis makes you look at life differently.

He prides himself on being a practical and level-headed man and despite the heavy nature of his profession, he never thought he’d get too bogged down by the environment, by the grimness of his business. Sure, maybe someone like Oikawa would freak out within hours, if not minutes, of being in a funeral home surrounded by corpses and coffins. But he’s not Oikawa (thank God for that). It’s just a job to help keep a roof over his head and food on the table.

But the longer he’s surrounded by caskets, the more grieving and sobbing families and friends he has to comfort yet professionally guide through catalogs and brochures and price tags, he can slowly but surely feel the weight of his daily work resting heavy on his shoulders, digging deeper into him with every corpse and tragic story he reluctantly becomes privy to. Matsukawa finds a new appreciation for life, for every tiny and minute detail, and suddenly you aren’t just another stranger who happens to share his train route.

You’re a reminder that he’s still alive, that despite the curveballs life throws at some, he’s still blessed to enjoy the routine and monotony of it. Life looks different, clearer, as he begins to really pay attention, appreciating every moment he has.

Maybe he’s paying too much attention. He doesn’t know when he begins to focus so intently on you, shocking himself with the realization that he’s observed you so closely when he nonchalantly notices that you’re using a different tote bag than your usual one. When did Matsukawa Issei become someone who notices the details of a woman’s outfit and accessories?

He knows it’s not right, knows even Hanamaki would crinkle his nose in distaste if he found out Matsukawa was creepily studying a random unknown female on a daily basis. But he can’t help himself, his realization only seeming to make him unconsciously focus on you even more. He notices what hand you use to hold your phone. He memorizes every expression you make as your mind drifts off, lulled by the machinery of the train.

But looking from afar only satisfies him for so long and he finds himself creeping closer to you, adjusting where he sits to be closer to your preferred corner of the train. He always tells himself just a little closer, but it’s never enough. And although he’s now standing right beside you, close enough to see every eyelash, every pore of your skin, it’s still not enough. He needs to hear your voice, feel your body against his, know everything about you inside and out.

He understands the irony of the situation he’s found himself in, reminiscing on how Hanamaki and him had gagged at how disgusting men could be as they watched older businessmen grope and grab at poor unwilling female passengers on their way to and from school. He knows how wrong it is, how like an uninspired porno this is, but when the train conveniently rattles, he jostles his body into yours, “accidentally��� bumping into you.

Acting isn’t Matsukawa’s forte, but he thinks he damn well deserves an award for the performance he’s putting on as he profusely apologizes to you, hiding the groan of satisfaction he feels from the brief contact he’d had with you, from the way your attention is solely focused on him, from the way your voice seeps into his ears like the loveliest melody he’s ever heard. He doesn’t even know what he’s saying, meaningless small and polite talk leaving his lips as his mind focuses on what’s more important, mentally recording every syllable and movement you make as you continue conversing with him. But whatever words are spilling out of him seem to be working and something hungry and possessive stirs in him when your face lights up as you board the train the next day, making a beeline towards where he stands as you cheerfully greet him.

Maybe it’s foolish of you to so easily trust and warm up to a complete stranger. But he’s tall, attractive, and interesting, which is more than you can say for most of the men you’ve met and your friends and family are always telling you to put yourself out there more. Is there really much of a difference between finding a random stranger on the countless dating apps you’ve installed versus connecting with one in person? You’d even argue that there’s something whimsically romantic about how the two of you met, even though you don’t know for sure if this is really going to lead to anything. But at the very least, your daily commute becomes more exciting.

You’re everything and more compared to what Matsukawa had imagined and if he thought he was infatuated with you before, he’s completely and utterly obsessed with you now. You’re all he can think of, all he can see in his mind’s eye, even hours after you’ve parted ways on your morning commute, even as he lays in bed in the middle of the night. And as his hand slips underneath the hem of his boxers, wrapping around his aching cock to his imaginations of what you’d look like writhing underneath him, how you’d sound moaning his name, he knows he needs to have you.

After all, as pretty as a meal can be, it’s ultimate purpose is to be devoured.

You giggle when the train shakes and you feel a long toned body shift into yours, squishing you against the wall you’re leaning against, sighing in bliss at how right, how good it feels to be in Matsukawa’s embrace even if it is just for a fleeting moment, a little accident all too common on jam packed trains. But your face heats when you continue feeling his warmth, when his body seems to press even further into you until you can feel the expanse of his body against yours, not even an inch of space left between you.

“Matsukawa-”

Your words are caught off by a gasp as Matsukawa buries his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent, lips and tongue mouthing and licking the sensitive skin there. You’re confused, scared, and aroused, hands reaching up to clutch at the lapels of Matsukawa’s suit, unsure whether to hold him tight to you or push him away. And your humiliation only increases when a nearby elderly couple scowls at the two of you in disdain, clearly unamused by the scandalous gestures of what they believe to be a young couple in love.

Yet you can’t help how your heart beats faster, wondering if this is proof of Matsukawa’s attraction to you, wondering if your hidden feelings for him are returned. But this isn’t the time or place for that conversation and you fervently whisper in his ear, begging him to stop, telling him people are watching.

“Is that the only reason you want me to stop? Because people are watching?”

You grow flustered at the implied meaning of his words, shame filling you at how much you’re enjoying this, hating how your neck arches for more attention as he straightens up once more, his body hiding yours from view as he stands in front of you, still pinning you to the wall.

“Better be as still and quiet as you can, sweetheart.”

You don’t have time to register his words before your mouth opens in a pathetic whine as a calloused hand trails under the hem of your shirt, sliding across the stretch of your stomach, mapping your torso before finally shoving your bra above the swell of your breasts, kneading one of your mounds, tweaking and swirling around your hardening nipple. It feels so good and you almost succumb right then and there, lost in the predatory lustful gaze he pins you with.

But when the train makes its next stop, the conductor’s voice jars you from your trance and you clutch at Matsukawa’s forearm, silently pleading for him to stop with desperate eyes despite the way you quietly mewl when he just quirks an eyebrow and pinches your nipple in retaliation.

“We can’t- We shouldn’t-”

Your hand trembles, jaw going slack when he slides one thigh between your legs, digging his hard muscles into that already dripping hole only protected by the fabric of your pants.

“You’re not very convincing. How about we play a game? If you can tell me you don’t want this without moaning like a bitch in heat, I’ll stop.”

There’s no room for disagreement as he abruptly begins grinding his thigh into your aching cunt, flexing and relaxing his muscle in a pattern and rhythm you can’t keep up with. It takes every last bit of will power in you to not wantonly ride his leg and hump against him like the lewd slut he had just accused you of being.

“I don’t want-”

You cry out in agonized pleasure as his fingers still hovering near your breasts begin to roll your nipples between calloused tips, his thigh never losing its momentum. And under the dual points of attack, your resistance crumbles. Matsukawa’s eyes widen in awe as you bounce and roll your hips against his leg, hiding your face in his chest as you try to muffle the lewd sounds slipping past your lips in the fabric of his jacket.

You’re gorgeous like this, a needy, lustful mess. But as much as he loves to see you suffer so beautifully, there’s only so much time before your stop and he decides to have mercy on you, to reward you for being so honest, so good for him. Your face snaps up to stare at him with pupils blown wide as his hand reaches underneath the waistband of your pants and panties. He groans when his fingers are instantly soaked in your arousal, your panties sticky with your fluids and his digits slip inside of your tight wet heat with no resistance at all.

He wants nothing more than to push the pesky fabric out of the way and lay you bare for his viewing pleasure, to have easy access to thrust in and out of you. But he’ll save that for another day. Instead his fingers slip out of you, tips circling your swollen clit, rubbing your sensitive bundle of nerves as you resume humping his leg, body trembling, drool beginning to trickle from your lips as you frantically chase your end. And as the train stops once more, passengers trickling in and out, you silently scream, body convulsing as he brings you over the edge, pleasure washing over you and leaving you exhausted as you shiver and slump in his arms that are quick to embrace you and hold you steady as the train begins to move again.

You submissively let his fingers coated in your essence enter your mouth, obediently sucking and licking him clean, finding strange comfort in the action as you remain rested against him. But you keen in confusion, cheeks still hollowed as you mindlessly continue sucking while he guides one of your hands to the bulge in his pants.

But although Matsukawa is a man of few words, his desire is clear despite the silence and your face heats in embarrassment as he unbuttons his trousers, bringing your hand to the waistband of his boxers, dark eyes expectantly staring down at you. You shouldn’t. You really shouldn’t. Not when you can literally hear the other passengers surrounding the two of you, only Matsukawa’s tall frame hiding your illicit activity. But your body has a mind of its own and you greedily slip under the fabric barrier, moaning around his fingers at how large, hot, and heavy he is in your hands.

You hate how badly you want to see it, to feel it inside you, splitting you apart. Your pussy clenches, leaking in interest once again despite having just found blissful release mere minutes ago as your hands curiously trail up and down the shaft, trying to memorize how every bit of it feels against your skin, trying to visualize what it looks like. But you whimper as Matsukawa finally pulls his fingers free from your mouth, squeezing your jaw and giving you a warning look.

“Don’t tease me, doll.”

Your fingers wrap around the length and it’s your turn to stare up at Matsukawa with eyes full of hunger and awe as you watch his Adam’s apple swallow, as you feel a pleased groan reverberate in his chest with every stroke of your hand. Up and down. Up and down. Your hands are slick with pre-cum and you know it’s just your imagination, but you swear you can hear the lewd wet sounds of his sticky essence coating his shaft with every movement of your palm against the velvety skin. You’re so mesmerized, so lost in the experience that you startle when something hot and thick spurts onto your hand, mixing with his pre-cum, making an even bigger mess of his boxers and you.

You stare stunned at the hand you pull out from between his legs, gazing at the white and transparent fluids that coat your flesh. But before you can even think about wiping it off or scavenging around for a spare napkin or paper in your bag, a large hand grabs your wrist and brings your stained fingers to your mouth. You try to resist him, the spell he had you under broken now that the haze of lust isn’t blinding you. But his grip tightens until you wince and finally relent, stomach churning in disgust and shame as you tentatively lick at the bitter liquid.

He doesn’t release you, not until every last drop is coating the inside of your mouth, his taste heavy in your mouth, seemingly in every crevice of your orifice, your hand completely clean and void of your sinful interaction.

You want to hate him. You want to wipe the smug satisfied look clean off his face. But as you readjust your disheveled clothing, you’re reminded of your own body’s betrayal, your own carnal desire and pleasure, by the uncomfortable mess in between your legs. And all you can do is silently stand there and pretend that nothing has happened as Matsukawa nonchalantly tucks himself in and checks his phone.

There’s an uncomfortable silence as you wait for him to acknowledge what has just happened, only to be disappointed as he doesn’t even spare you another glance, too observed in the glowing screen in his hand. You wonder if this was just a one time thing, if he had been stringing you along all this time for one quick public tryst. And you hate the way that thought makes your chest hurt, hate how much you dislike the idea of never seeing him again, never talking to him again, never feeling and tasting him again.

But as the train pulls into his stop, your eyes widen when his face hovers by your ear, lips grazing your lobe as his voice melts into your soul.

“Wear a dress or skirt tomorrow. No panties or bra.”

He laughs as surprise turns into an endearing scowl that barely hides the apparent relief in your eyes and he just casually waves farewell as you send him on his way with a tirade of angry words about his fucking audacity. But it’s all empty heat and he chuckles at the self-conscious embarrassment written all over your face when he sees you the next morning, a pretty dress fluttering around your knees.

There’s no preamble, no pretense of what’s about to happen and he smirks in appreciation at the unobstructed feeling of skin against skin as he slips his hand under your skirt, not an inch of fabric covering the treasure at the apex of your thighs.

[anonymousfiction211]

Seven minutes in heaven

Summary: After a party the team (which includes Loki) has another drink. They decide to play seven minutes in heaven. Loki, who you have a crush on, and you are pick. But the whole situations makes you uncomfertable. Luckily, Loki knows a solution.  Word count: 2.252 words Warnings: Smut

The party was dying down a bit. The last guest who wasn’t an official part of the team had just left. Most of the night you spend with Loki, judging the other guests and laughing about the way some of them danced. And the rest you spend laughing with your other teammates. You liked that Loki was a real member of the team now. It took a long time, but he finally fitted in. You were one of the first persons that Loki connected with, and you had developed a crush on him ever since.

Whenever the two of you weren’t together at the party, you couldn’t help but glance in his direction. He was wearing his black suit and he looked way too good in it. Sometimes he would catch you staring at him and you quickly turned your head back to a conversation, you weren’t really listening to. You were hoping he didn’t saw the blush on your face. The only person who knew you liked Loki was Natasha. She wasn’t understanding at first, but once she was okay with Loki, she was pushing you to do something about it. ‘What is the worst thing that could happen if you tell him?’ she always said to you. The worst thing was Loki rejecting you, of course. ‘And what is the best thing that could happen?’ was always her follow-up. That would be Loki returning your feelings.

But even if it was worth a shot, you never could tell him. You were always shy when it came to guys you like. And this was not a guy you liked, this was a God. You were pulled out of your thoughts when Tony clapped in his hands. ‘Guys, afterparty!’ he boomed. The whole team grabbed another drink while sitting on the ridiculous large couch together. You ended up next to Natasha, which was great, but unfortunately Loki was on the other end of the couch. ‘Why haven’t you told him already?’ she asked you. ‘I- I can’t’ you whispered back. She rolled her eyes at you. ‘Let’s play a game’ you heard Tony suggest. Everyone agreed, a game could be fun. That was until you heard Natasha ‘Let’s play 7 minutes in heaven!’ she gave you a subtle wink.

‘What’s that?’ Thor asked. ‘Two people are chosen to spend seven minutes in the closet, and what they do in there is their business’ Tony explained to the people who didn’t know the game. ‘How do we choose?’ Steve asked. Natasha was already writing everyone’s name down on paper and putting it in a bowl. ‘I’ll pick from the bowl’ she said. You didn’t like where this was going. She put her hand in the bowl, playing with the tickets. She pulled the first one out ‘Ah, Y/N!’ she said slightly too happy for your liking. You glared at her, but she just smiled back at you. She pulled another ticket from the bowl ‘Loki’ she said. Everyone else was whoo-ing like a bunch of children and you felt yourself become redder and redder.

Loki looked a bit confused but stood up and walked towards you. He held out his hand. Now it was your turn to look confused. But you took his hand and he led you to the closet. The rest of the team was still snickering on the couch and you tried your hardest to ignore them. This felt really uncomfortable and forced. Loki opened the closet door for you, and you went inside. He closed the door behind him. The two of you were silent, you could still hear the team in the background, but couldn’t make out what they were saying. The closet was pitch black and you barely could see him. ‘Okay, I still don’t understand it. We’re locked in a closet for seven minutes. What are we supposed to do know?’ Loki asked. You didn’t answer him, how could you? You felt a hand on your shoulder and you immediately tensed up. ‘Are you okay?’ he asked you.

‘Ehm.. yeah’ you stammered. You took a deep breath and tried to relax. ‘This game is mostly played by teenagers. You can do whatever you want.’ you explained to him. ‘Alright, and what is it most people do in here?’ he asked. ‘Like I said, it is mostly played by teenagers. So, mostly the just fool around in here’ you answered a bit meekly. ‘I see’ Loki replied. ‘B- but like I said.. ehm.. you can do anything. Talking is also good’ you went on. That was when you heard Tony yell from outside ‘Loki and (Y/N) are awfully quiet, not much talking going on in there’. The rest of the team started whoo-ing again. You were standing in a dark closet with your crush, while the people outside thought you were busy getting it on, people you had to face in the next five minutes. This was the most uncomfortable moment of your life.

Suddenly you felt two hands grabbing your waist, Loki pulled you a bit closer. If you weren’t already tense, you would have tensed up now. ‘Close your eyes’ he said. Even tough it felt like you were going to be sick, you did as he told you. You felt a breeze around you and noticed that the team suddenly got quiet. ‘Open your eyes, love’ Loki told you. When you opened your eyes, you noticed that you were in Loki’s room. The moonlight lit up his room and you could finally see his face. He looked concerned at you. When you realized that the team was practically on the other side of the building you relaxed. Loki let go of your hips, something you hoped he wouldn’t. ‘You looked really uncomfortable, so I teleported us back here. You can leave if you want. Sorry you got stuck with me’ he laughed awkwardly. You furrowed your brow at that last comment. ‘Thanks, but it wasn’t you. Just the team outside made me feel a bit nervous’ you explained.

A smile formed on his face. He was beautiful when he smiled. Loki took a step towards you and put his hands back on your hips. ‘Hmm, in that case I quite like to finish the game’ he said. The most inappropriate thoughts crossed your mind, making you blush hard. ‘I love it when I make you blush’ he whispered in your ear. He grabbed your chin with one of his hands and you felt his lips almost touch yours. ‘May I?’ he asked. ‘Yes’ you whispered, your mind was racing, and you couldn’t believe this was happening. His lightly kissed you and your eyes fluttered shut. He tasted like pepper mint. Now you know why they called the game 7 minutes in heaven, he really felt like heaven. When he pulled away you put your hands behind his neck, pulling him back in. You felt him smile against your lips. The kissing became more heated. His lips felt right against yours and you felt his tongue sliding against them. You opened your mouth and his tongue slid inside of you. It was slowly circling your own tongue and you felt yourself become aroused.

Loki broke the kiss and tensed up a bit. ‘My love, if we continue now I’m not going to be able to stop’ he whispered to you. You looked into his eyes. They were filled with admiration and lust. You saw him clench his jaw, waiting for you to answer. You were ready to let him ravish you, but you loved that he waited until you actually told him that you wanted this too. You put your hands on his chest ‘Loki, don’t stop. I want you’ you told him. As soon as those words left your lips you felt his lips back on yours. He was kissing you passionately. You felt him move you backwards until your legs hid the bed. He put you down gently and crawled on top of you. You pulled his jacket of him and started to work down his buttons. Loki threw his shirt across the room and started to kiss you neck. You could feel his abs through the fabric of your dress and loved the way his back muscles moved beneath your fingertips. He let out a soft moan and you couldn’t help but giggle a bit. You undid his belt and he pulled down his pants. He was only wearing his boxers now, a sight to behold.

He suddenly grabbed your hips and flipped the two of you around. You were straddling his lap and felt his erection clearly against your core. You instinctively rolled your hips, making the God beneath you gasp. ‘Take off your dress’ he told you. You slowly undressed yourself, taking your time. You saw Loki become impatient and loved that you had that effect on him right now. Your dress was on the floor and the only thing you had on was your bra and thong. Loki grabbed your ass while changing in a seating position. He immediately undid your bra clasp and took it off. His tongue found your nipple and he started to circle it, making it hard. His hand found your other nipple, slightly pinching it. When he was satisfied with his work he laid back down. You started to kiss his neck, trailing downwards. You felt his breathing speed up when you got lower and lower. Your hands found the hem of his underwear and you pulled it all the way down. Loki was know laying completely naked underneath you and you took your time appreciating the sight. He rolled his hips making you gasped and fall forward a bit. Your hands were on his chest and your legs opened a bit wider. You could feel his full erection through the fabric of your thong.

You started to ride him slowly. When he wanted to protest that this wasn’t enough, you swallowed his words with a kiss. When you broke the kiss, you heard him growl. His hands found the side of your thong and he easily ripped the fabric. ‘Take me, now’ he said. He grabbed his cock and lined it up with your entrance. You sat down on his cock, slowly taking every inch of him inside of you. Once he was fully inside you started to move your hips. Loki grabbed your hips, guiding your movements. It didn’t take long before the two of you were moaning and panting. One of his hands slid from your hips and found your clit. He started to trace slow circles around it, smirking and mapping every reaction you had. You felt your orgasm build up, when suddenly Loki flipped the two of you around.

He grabbed one of your legs and threw it over his shoulder. The new angle made it able for him to pound deeper inside of you. He quickened his pace and started to play with your clit again. He was watching you intently and grinned widely when you started to moan his name. ‘I will never grow tired of that’ he huskily said to you. ‘Loki.. I’m close’ you panted. ‘Me too, come fore me (Y/N)’ he panted. Loki thrusted two more times when you felt your wall clench around him and an incredible sensation spreading from your core to the rest of your body. You came moaning his name loudly. After a few more thrusts Loki reached his own high. He collapsed on top of you, but after a few seconds supported himself with his arms, not wanting to crush you with his weight. You stroked his hair and he kissed you slowly. ‘I’ve been wanting to do this for a very long time’ he said to you. You smiled at him ‘Me too’. Loki got up and handed you a towel to clean yourself up. He gave you a pair of his boxers and a dark green t-shirt. He himself was in a pair of black pyjama pants.  

He laid back in his bed, pulling you against him. He laid on his back with you on his chest, starting to stroke you, and playing with your hair. When you remembered that you were at a party playing 7 minutes of heaven you tensed up. The team surely would be looking for the two of you right now. ‘Something wrong?’ he asked you. ‘Ehm.. aren’t you afraid they come looking? Shouldn’t we go back?’ you said to him. ‘No worry, my love. I left a note saying we were tired of them and that we left’ he said. Your heart fluttered when he called you ‘his love’. You relaxed in his arms ‘Thank you’ you whispered. ‘Anything for you’ he replied. It didn’t take long for you to fell asleep. You barely registered Loki kissing the top of your head, pulling you closer and wishing you a good night.  

[simblorbo-bracket]

Round 1 - Simblr's Saddest, Wettest Meow Meow - Losers Bracket

Dr. Purity (@morrigan-sims) VS. Nancy Landgraab (@fallstaticexit)

(polls are presented left -> right unless stated otherwise)

They may be down, but they're not out yet! Who deserves a shot at redemption, to prove that they, truly, are the saddest and wettest of meow meows despite all the odds?

What is a ‘Meow Meow’?

(taken from tumblr user @/torturelabyrinth) “The thing about a true poor little meow meow is they have to be 1) downtrodden 2) morally questionable at best 3) deeply and pathetically miserable”

Dr. Purity

Name: Dr. Purity (alias, real name unknown). Other/past aliases include Dr. Meladria and Sigmar Passeone*. (*: actually a corpse puppet he was controlling and using to befriend Rook.)

Why a SWMM? Where do I start with this man? He's a literal war criminal, personally responsible for the complete destruction of four cities and wiping an entire Fey kingdom off the map. He's a mamma's boy. His family was killed ~300 years ago, and he still has nightmares about it. His daughter was killed when she was a baby (or so he thought). Got called a pussy and a coward and was essentially bullied into becoming a villain. He kinda-sorta runs a cult. Wears lots of jewelry and puts flowers in his hair. He invented a super-serum. Lives in a metal box because he's still a coward. He was captured, tortured, and sold, and forced to work for an evil queen to make monsters. Now he just makes monsters (called Nightwalkers) for fun. He got pathetically attached to Rook, so much so that he ignored his own daughter in favor of him. Has no idea how to talk to people so he read a book with a fictional mentor character and filled every inch of the margins with notes of how to be that person for Rook. He's one of the most powerful people in the world but he held back from killing one of the people who sold him because Rook asked him to. We still don't know his real name.

Origin: He's the BBEG from my longest running Dungeons and Dragons game, which we call Black Desert, after the kingdom where it takes place. He was originally very connected to the party wizard's backstory, but now he has a much, much deeper connection with Rook.

Additional Propaganda: Well, if you want evil people who are sad wet meow-meows, then there is literally no better candidate than this man. He's basically a supervillain, and yet he could not possibly be more pathetic. Just look at his sulky face! He's a literal fucking war criminal, committed actual genocide, and yet... His pathetic manners and lack of social skills have bewitched me.

Nancy Landgraab

What makes Nancy a Sad, Wet Meow Meow? Our famously known townie turned OC is the Queen of Melancholy. She's closeted, she's religiously repressed, she's h*rny, she's rich, she carries the burden of her deceased elder brother, she's the bane of her mother's existence. When she's not internalizing her self loathing, she's gazing longingly into the distance thinking about a life free of her mother's judgement and status that she never wanted in favor of running free through a sunflower field kissing beautiful women. And when she manages to actually show up for her two sons, she's still so emotionally detached that this will very much come up in a therapy session later. Her husband is almost on his knees begging for her to smile but she's still pining after her first love while being married to said husband (who's a second runner up for SWMM tbh).

She's a cheater, she's a liar, she's about to get into some risky, sketchy business, she disappoints her children, she's morally grey, she's a top, she's catholic, she's a cougar, she likes to splurge on dr*gs and strippers, the list goes on. ahhh.

[miscellaneous-obsession]

Story of any kind of Lady Dimitrescu x Reader but have Miranda in it?

Back to our usual schedule of fics, here is one that took a bit to write! I went with full on angst and fluff so you have been warned... and will be again like twice :)

Unending Nightmare

Warnings: Graphic violence, details of injury, blood and gore, general feeling of anxiety, panic, despair, Miranda being horrible as hell and not suitable for minors.

It seemed almost surreal to regain consciousness in the main hall, her body lounging on one of two settees that sat perfectly aligned to the table in between. Alcina's spine cried in anguish with an unnatural contortion, prompting amber eyes to flutter open, blinking comically in rapid succession to disperse the remnants of sleep that clouded her vision. Rising to a sitting position relieved the strain she experienced, with subsequent stretching of limbs resulting in audible pops.

As her gaze panned briefly across the room, everything appeared untouched, even lipstick-stained cups that sat atop of matching saucers, evidence of her impromptu afternoon tea shared with her wife. A smile saw her slackened jaw tighten with the memory, her mind reliving the moment vividly as she gracefully angled her legs as to touch the ground. However, the sole of one heel didn't make it, landing upon the novel still open to the bookmarked page in which it was discarded as she succumbed to sleep.

However, as the matriarch moved to collect the piece of literature, a piercing scream laced with agony carried through the endless corridors, starling Alcina from her reverie. A sound from such a distance shouldn't have been able to travel, nor should the crying wails and sobs that followed. A note of familiarity within the voice struck a chord in the countess as her mind sought an answer. All the while, fear began to steadily crawl along her spine, wrapping tight like a snake, slithering into her heart in an attempt of manifestation. Shakily she brought her hand to her lips, eyes widening as she recognised the perpetual weeping.

The safety the castle once afforded her dematerialised before her very eyes as fragments of reality appeared to settle into place. The pleading whimpers almost quietened into non-existence, much like the fire that began to dim. In what light remained, Alcina took note of the disorganised chaos that made itself known, how furniture had been shoved aside, vases broken in the wake of a predator, even the blood that marred the marble floor.

Instinctively her claws unsheathed, sensing the danger that posed as a threat to her family. However, as the matriarch took a step closer, intent on examining the trail of crimson destruction, she staggered backwards. The scent of iron in the air was unmistakable; a smell she was well acquainted with and often so enticed by became reclusive as it hit her olfactory receptors. Someone dared to touch... harm what was hers, somewhere in the place they called home, her wife lay injured.

Grappling with the panic and horror that strove to run rampant in her mind, Alcina frantically called aloud for her daughters. But even when beckoned, her solitude persisted; never once upon summoning had her girls elected to disobey or ignore. At last, the illusion of elegance and composure shattered, leaving the countess in what she deemed an unsavoury, feral state, desperate to find and protect what she claimed to be her own.

Alcina all but marched to the cellar growing increasingly fretful with every step she took as she was forced to strain her ears to catch sound of the almost silent, pained murmurs. Ignorant of her own wellbeing, she pursued her wife in heels with an unnaturally fast pace across the uneven, damp terrain, paid by a loss of stance on more than one occasion. Upon rounding the corner in what could be deemed a dishevelled appearance, the matriarch's heart stuttered, skipping a beat involuntarily at the lurid sight before her.

Laid on a mortuary table, gasping for breath, was her beloved, blood pooling beneath her quivering frame from a freshly inflicted incision site as her body seemingly rejected what was both forced and foreign. Once vivid blue irises were almost consumed by blacked pupils, a natural response to the accumulation of adrenaline created as unwavering pain gripped her body. Teeth had long pierced both tongue and lips, allowing more blood to bead in droplets to go unused and wasted, following gravity to the drain so conveniently in place on the stainless steel table.

The growl unleashed from Alcina's throat was unrivalled; her desire to cry out extinguished as she pried her gaze upward. Standing mere inches from her wife's side was Miranda, in a laboratory coat almost befitting of her former self. In hand was an empty jar, fluid swishing with the gentle jostles of the deities movements. A worn label, lacking adhesive, clung to the glass, almost faded to the human eye, but two letters confirmed the unthinkable.

"You've arrived in time, my dear; your pet's future is dependent on this very moment."

Unable to refute the truth in Miranda's words nor bring solace to her wife, she attempted the latter as it appeared the more achievable of the two. With claws retracted, unwilling to cause more harm, Alcina cradled her wilting wife's face as delicately she could muster. She blinked several times over the next minute, refusing to let the tears she felt building fall as she honed in on the ever slowing heartbeat. Hushed apologies and whispered declarations of love were shared, albeit one-sided, in some hope that her beloved heard.

Desperate for her wife to avoid an inevitable future as a mindless moroaicǎ, she continued to track her declining health, choosing to strike as the paled woman took her final breath as a human. Before the transformation could ensue, Alcina made the decision to end what would begin within the coming minutes. Her choice is emboldened upon catching Miranda's dismissive and callous opinion, "Another failure, unsurprising."

Just as her claws were sat poised to cut and render the moroaicǎ useless, her body jolted awake, sweat beading along her brow from the horrifyingly realistic dream her mind had conjured. Swiping a hand to remove what clung to her skin, her eyes blindly searched the room devoid of light. A shaky but relieved sigh slipped past her lips as her hand came to land on and subsequently caress the top of her wife's head.

As calming as one's breathing regulations could be, it didn't replace nor best physical contact with the woman she loved. With arms outstretched, she enveloped her wife, drawing her atop her chest, listening and attempting to match the rhythmic beat of her heart. During such extrication from her place under the covers, bleary eyes opened a fraction in confusion, head tilting to mirror jumbled thoughts.

"Alci?"

"Forgive me, dragă mea, go back to sleep."

Feeling the minute shake of a head, the countess peered down, acknowledging the look of concern that replaced serenity. A hand of supple skin rose to gently gloss over her cheeks, gathering what tears had fallen with the pull of gravity.

"What is troubling you so, beloved?"

Unable to recount most of the tale, Alcina spared her wife from gruesome details, summarising the dream to one line, "It appears my mind attempted to convince me I had lost you."

A contemplative hum resonated directly below her ear, the vibration of which tickled the countess' neck as her wife nestled comfortably in her hold. "Nothing in this world could part me from you; I love you too much to bear separation in this lifetime."

"And if we had no other choice?"

A tutting sound emerged in the dark, an almost dismissal of such a notion. "Then I'd have lived a life knowing I had a woman who loved me and three beautiful daughters to succeed me."

"Poetic... only divulging such a divine talent and way with words now. But I fear you forget that you were the one, with an open heart and mind, who reintroduced my capability to love another outside my darling girls, a trait I thought had been long lost to my mutation."

A keening whine of appreciation caught her ears, further emphasised as featherlight kisses were pressed along the expanse of exposed skin, her wife opting to include areas of her jaw within reach.

"It appears we were both lucky with the hand fate dealt us." After a beat of silence, a tired voice reiterated what had been murmured in the last moments before their slumber, "Te iubesc Cina... te iubesc."

Those wise words and impromptu reaffirmation soothed the ache left by the dream, eradicating the pain like a salve. With practised ease, the matriarch responded in kind, "Și eu te iubesc," before succumbing to the sleep her body so desperately craved.

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

Both were jolted from sleep only hours later when the covers were unceremoniously pulled back and bodies pressed against them in urgency. Muffled giggles and quiet hushes saw eyes open, only to narrow imperceptibly in faux annoyance, prompting sheepish grins to spread across their daughter's lips. Half-hearted glares quickly faltered, softening into smiles, giving all three the go-ahead to bury their chilled frames in between and around the couple.

Following their lead, Bela too extricated her body, albeit with an audible whine, from beneath the covers. Soon the countess grew amused at the trio's antics as they pleaded with an array of tactics for her wife to join them for their morning routine. Reluctantly Alcina released her wife from her grasp, seeing her subsequently tugged out of bed by the girls. The four ran from the room as a game of tag began, allowing the matriarch to muse as she mapped the softened footfalls of her family throughout the wing in which they resided.

Without warning, her peace was disturbed by the shrill ring of the ornate rotary phone that sat in the adjoining room to her chambers. Donning a robe to retain some modicum of decency, Alcina took her place at her vanity, a tremor running through her hand as she picked up the receiver.

"Mother Miranda."

"Ah Alcina dear, I trust you aren't busy."

Before the matriarch had a chance to respond, Miranda continued on a tangent of her own, "Now, I called to discuss business regarding your wife; her repeated test results have revealed something rather... interesting."

From the moment that phrase was uttered with such an insinuating tone, Alcina could no longer focus. The countess' heart dropped and found herself wishing that the echoing laughter of her girls and beloved could remain forever constant in the castle walls.

[pterodactylterrace]

Guys Like You Chapter 8

Title: Guys Like You

Chapter: 8

Chapter Summary: It’s just 2.5K words of smut.

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Smut. That’s really all this chapter is.

{Prologue} {Chapter 1} {Chapter 2} {Chapter 3} {Chapter 4} {Chapter 5} {Chapter 6} {Chapter 7}

The tension between the two was almost tangible the next week and a half on set. One would catch the other staring and respond with a suggestive smile. They would stand just a little too close during breaks. Stolen glances and gentle touches ran rampant, both waiting for their next opportunity alone together.

Therein lies their greatest problem. Being alone together. You see, their lack of sealing the deal wasn't a matter of effort on both their parts. Henry had Faye come back a few days later, willing to forgo his early morning exercise if it meant spending the night doing 'cardio'. As it turned out, Briar was still terrified sleeping in a room by herself in the strange house. They had tried letting Kal stay with her, hoping to kill two birds with one stone and stop the canine's constant wines from the other side of the door. Using that technique, they made it just to Henry with his shirt off and his hand down the front of Faye's shorts before being interrupted again. This time both Kal and Briar were outside the door begging to be let in.

The look of desperate exasperation on his face was a memorable one. That night ended with Briar and Kal squeezed between them, but sleeping peacefully at least.

A few days after that had been their next attempt. Lesson learned, this one took place at Faye's home. Now Briar had her own room to stay in, so that should be one distraction eliminated. Kal had a full bowl of kibble and water set out in the kitchen and his bed was placed in the small living room between the couch and the coffee table. Unfortunately, Henry had just wrapped up a physically demanding day on set and ended up snoring on the couch with Briar sleeping on his chest by 7 pm. Faye had felt too bad for the poor guy to wake him up for more exertion, plus Briar would likely throw a fit if she were moved now. Instead, she threw a blanket over the pair and retreated to her room alone.

Tonight, though. Tonight was going to be the night. They had the location worked out for the fewest distractions, and it was even a short day for Henry. This was finally going to happen. The pair tried to be discreet throughout the day but ultimately found it hard to keep their hands to themselves. Well, Henry did anyway. It seemed he was sneaking handfuls of her bottom every chance he got. She would turn to grab something off the makeup table behind her and feel a hand on her backside while he casually pretended to just be trying to look around her to see what she was doing. He would slide behind often her and run his palm across her ass as he went, giving her a cheeky pinch as he went. Finally, when it was time for Faye to head home for the day, Henry wrapped her in a bear hug, one hand on her lower back, the other firmly gripping her backside as he lifted her up, whispering promises to get out of his costume quickly to meet up with her at her home.

Now, here they were, the door to the bedroom barely closed before Faye was pressing Henry back against it, her arms around his neck as she tugged him in for a longing kiss. His hands found her hips, pulling her closer, more than happy to return her affections. This was happening. This was really happening and Faye was wasting no time. She practically ripped Henry's shirt off in her haste, greedy little hands mapping over every inch of exposed skin she could reach while Henry worked on his belt.

Faye's shirt was next, her bra being hastily removed after. Henry shoved his jeans down his legs, kicking them from his feet and pulling Faye back in for another hungry kiss, large insatiable hands gripping her ass and lifting her up with ease, her legs automatically winding around his waist.

"Lock the door." Faye panted against his lips, her fingers sliding into his curls as she squeezed his waist tighter with her legs, trying to gain some friction against her heated core. Henry reached behind him, blindly grasping for the handle, finally finding it and turning the lock.

He carried her to the bed, gently laying her on the blankets, slowly moving back to take her in again. "I'm never going to get tired of seeing you like this." He breathed, his fingers ghosting down her sides and hooking in her leggings, dragging them and her underwear down her legs reverently, groaning softly when he saw his glistening prize.

"Condom." Faye instructed, crawling back to the pillows and rummaging through her side table drawer.

Henry chased her up the bed, attacking her side and hip with playful kisses and nips, pulling back when she handed him the foil-wrapped protection. "Fuck." Henry groaned, his face falling in distress when he looked at what was in his hand.

"What?" Faye asked, tilting her head questioningly.

"Do you... have anything else?" Henry asked, sitting back on his heels, turning hopeful eyes up to her.

"No... why, are you allergic?"

"No, it's not that. It's just... too small." Henry sighed, a faint flush coloring his cheekbones.

"Too small?" Faye asked skeptically, sitting herself up on her elbows. Typical excuse.

"I'll use it, it's not that big of a deal, I can get it on, but it's more likely to break," Henry explained, looking despondently at the packet in his hand. "Also... don't be offended if I don't finish. I swear, it's not that I don't find you insanely attractive, but these squeeze me really tightly and I can't feel much when I use them."

"Henry..." Faye started, giving him an unbelieving look.

"I am not trying to get out of using protection. I'm responsible, I promise! I got checked for everything at my last annual check-up and I'm clean. I'm just telling you what can happen."

"What exactly are you working with?" Faye asked, sitting up and hooking her fingers in the waistband of his underwear, Henry leaning back to allow better access as she quickly pulled them down, grunting softly when his erection thumped against his lower stomach. "Oh shit." Faye swore, her eyes going wide when she took him in. She'd had a feeling he was 'gifted' from the times she had felt him through his clothes, but she had no idea exactly how 'gifted' he was.

"Are you ok?" Henry questioned after a beat, shifting uncomfortably under her intense gaze.

"That's... fuck. Yeah, we're going to have to take this slow. That thing is huge. Jesus... is that your dick or a third leg?"

"I wasn't being a prick when I said it was too small." Henry chuckled nervously. "Are you on the pill?"

"No, I tried a few different ones when I was younger but I always had horrible side effects." Faye admitted, a curious hand sliding along his shaft pulling a deep content sigh from deep within his chest. She'd never been with an uncut man before.

"Fuck." Henry groaned, his hips twitching into her touch. "I could... shit, just like that." He gasped when her thumb gently slid back his foreskin, circling the hypersensitive spot just beneath the crown. "Fuck... " Henry trailed off, his eyes falling closed as he allowed himself to just feel.

"How good is your pull out game?" Faye questioned, her other hand gently cupping his balls, massaging them the best she could in her tiny palm.

"No misfires." Henry chuckled, hope sparking in his belly. "Not to kill the mood, but are you... like... fertile right now?" Henry asked, gesturing vaguely to her lower stomach.

"It's a crap shoot, honestly. Never been regular, I have no way of knowing."

"Fuck." Henry groaned.

"Not that I don't think you're a great guy, but I don't know if I'm willing to risk being a single mother of two." Faye mumbled softly, continuing to work him with her hand.

"I don't plan on going anywhere." Henry scoffed, pulling her closer to claim her lips. "But I won't do anything that makes you uncomfortable. How about you sit on my face and we take it from there?"

"I thought you were joking about that." Faye squeaked, her eyes going wide.

"No, I'd love to have that pretty pussy riding my jaw." Henry whispered against her lips, slowly trailing down to her neck with playful kisses. "Have you screaming my name from on top of me." A gentle nip at the junction of her neck, causing her to gasp. "Using that amazing ass to pull you even closer." He descended lower, teasing her nipple with his lips, his tongue darting out to flick against it. "What do you say, beautiful?"

"I... fuck... what about you?"

"Worry about that later." Henry dismissed, rolling onto his back next to her, his greedy hands dragging her thigh over him to straddle his chest. "Right now, I'm hungry."

"Shit." Faye gasped as his hands gripped her ass, dragging her up to hover over his mouth, being met almost instantly by his impatient mouth on her heated core. He licked slow, deliberate stripes through her glistening folds, catching every drop of arousal he could before he began his assault on her sensitive bundle of nerves. The gasps and moans falling freely from her mouth spurred him on. He pulled her even closer with his hands on her ass, wrapping his lips around her clit and sucking it desperately.

Faye was vaguely aware of one of his hands leaving her backside, but only became fully aware of what it was doing through her lust filled haze when she felt a long thick finger slowly pressing inside of her, curling at just the right moment to press against the most sensitive spot inside of her. "Fuck! Henry!" Faye groaned, torn between chasing his mouth or pushing back against his invading finger as he moved it in small teasing wiggles inside of her, just enough to drive her insane with need.

His eyes snapped up to her face when she called his name, a cocky smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth as he added a second finger, massaging her inner wall with more purpose. All it took was one firm lick to her clit and a deliberate curl of his fingers for her to come undone, gushing onto his hand and jaw as she panted his name desperately, holding onto the headboard for dear life as she rode out her orgasm.

Henry gently slipped his fingers out, watching her closely as she moved to sit beside him instead, pushing her sweaty strands from her face as she tried to catch her breath. He absently sucked on his still wet fingers as he watched her, waiting to see what her next move would be. Would she be too tired to continue? Would she go back to teasing his shaft until he lost his mind? Might she possibly return the favor?

His ponderings were drawn to an abrupt close when Faye had finally caught her breath. Before he realized what she was doing she was laying between his legs, her lips teasing the head of his cock as her hands rubbed along his inner thighs. Her tongue followed the thick vein on the underside from the base to the tip before taking him into her mouth. She started out slow and modest, his thick shaft already stretching her lips; her jaw had to open impossibly wide to prevent scraping him with her teeth.

Slowly, she sank deeper and deeper, her tongue flicking along the underside, her hands busying themselves with pumping his shaft and cupping his heavy sack. Her cheeks hollowed out as she pulled back, releasing him with a lewd pop. Her hands kept working him as she stared up at him, content to watch him squirm for the moment.

"I've never done this with an uncut guy before." Faye admitted innocently, her eyes falling to his cock as her hand easily slid up and down. "This is certainly easier to do, but you need to tell me what you like."

"You can just... push it back and do what you'd normally do." Henry explained through his panting, his hips jerking up desperately into her touch. It had been so long since he'd had anything other than his fist to get him off, and he could tell he wasn't going to last very long tonight.

"So, just push it back?" Faye repeated, her tiny, agile fingers slowly pushing his foreskin back, watching his face for any sign of discomfort. How far back? Just enough to get it out of the way? All she knew for sure is she didn't want to be rough and end up hurting him, especially in such a sensitive area.

"That's good. You're ok." Henry praised, his fingers sliding through her hair, urging her closer to his twitching cock.

Faye licked along the head, growing more confident at his increasing moans. He was certainly vocal. She took him back into her mouth, her tongue focusing on the tip as her hand worked his shaft again. His hips continued twitching up into her mouth, occasionally pushing too far and causing her to gag. She took him as deep as she could, tears falling from her eyes as she fought her gag reflex. She slowly pulled back, sucking hard as she went, her hand pumping him faster, her head bobbing along with the rhythm.

"Shit." Henry hissed, his head falling back against the pillows, his hands gripping her hair tighter. "Fuck, Faye. I'm close." He warned, his hips twisting beneath her as he fought the urge to thrust up into her warm mouth. "I don't... I don't care where but if you don't want it in your mouth, you need to move." He gasped, the pressure building at the base of his spine until it grew too much to handle. He let go with a loud roar that sounded vaguely like her name, pumping himself up into her mouth with each wave of his orgasm until he was left a blissed-out, sated mess beneath her.

"Sorry... Didn't know if you swallowed." Henry apologized, his hands falling from her hair to cup her jaw.

"Not a problem if I know it's coming." Faye assured, crawling back up the bed to curl into his side.

"Tomorrow, I am going to the nearest pharmacy and buying out their entire stock of condoms." Henry determined, kissing the top of her head.

"Just the XL ones, or are you going to take everything they have?" Faye teased.

"I'm taking everything. If the universe keeps getting between us having sex, no one else should be able to do it either." Henry pouted.

"Pass them out to all your buddies. Be like their Fairy Rubber Mother. Make sure they know they don't fit your massive cock when you do it too." Faye giggled, kissing his chest gently.

"Damn right. If I have to carry this monster around all day, everyone should have to know about it." Henry chuckled around a yawn.

"Get some sleep, Bear. We have to be in early tomorrow."

[ladykissingfish]

Under the Mistletoe with the Akatsuki // Part Nine // Pein (Nagato)

Leader. Never in a million years did Nagato Uzumaki believe he had it in him for be a leader, and especially not one of a group of S-ranked criminals like the ones that comprised his Akatsuki. But perhaps he really wasn’t; after all, save for Konan, none of them had even met him before. All they knew about him was Pein, the body that he animated and controlled through his chakra. Yet despite all he and his group have accomplished, the nagging feeling never leaves him ... that Yahiko would have done a much better job than Nagato. It’s one of the main reasons that Nagato fashioned his main Pein-body after his old friend; to try and infuse some of Yahiko’s wisdom and charisma into his own leadership style. One of the things Yahiko often stressed was the importance of having people around you that you could trust, and depend on. In short - friends. Aside from Konan, Nagato doesn’t truly consider anyone in this organization to be his ‘friend’ ... rather, he’s come to think of the group as a whole of being his family. And apparently families played games with each other, hence why he (as Pein) agrees to this mistletoe game now.

Kisame

“Good evening, Leader.” Kisame was by far one of the more desirable members that Nagato had strived to bring into his group. Mature, experienced with battle and ninjutsu, and one of the fabled Seven Swordsmen of the Mist. In any given situation, in any conflict between members of the group, Kisame will most often be the voice of reason. Nagato chose to pair him with the young but mature beyond his years Itachi, believing they’d have much to learn from one another, and he was correct. Out of all the duos, theirs was probably the most stable (and certainly the least problematic). Despite being both tall and intimidating, the half-shark had a surprisingly gentle, almost shy nature to him when one caught him in a one on one situation, as was the case now. Kisame walks up to Pein but seems unable to take the initiative, so Pein does so himself. He puts one hand on Kisame’s shoulder, leans up slightly, and kisses his cheek. Kisame blushes and grins, before going back to his room for the evening.

Sasori

Unbeknownst to the others, aside from Konan, Sasori is the only member of the Akatsuki that knows that Pein isn’t who (or what) he presents himself to be. After all, spending years hidden inside a puppet body gave one a little leeway into seeing into (or perhaps seeing past) others’ true selves. But Sasori understands Nagato’s need to conceal his real body; in fact, he’s even helped him a few times. He’s travelled with Konan before to meet the actual Nagato, when the latter came down with an illness that Konan wasn’t sure how to treat. Sasori used his extensive knowledge of medical procedures to help Nagato, and since then, the two had become good friends. He also gave him valuable advice (again from his own experience of using chakra to control multiple puppets at once) to Nagato in how to more effectively maneuver his Six Paths of Pein bodies during battle, even helping Nagato to tweak them to better control their movements. Sasori shows Nagato (and ultimately, Pein) the same respect that he would a fellow master puppeteer. He approaches Pein now, in his own body. Pein leans down and kisses his cheek, and the two nod at each other before Sasori returns to his own room.

Itachi

“He murdered his entire clan in one evening.” “Are you sure?” “Well, all but his younger brother. But I’m sure if he ever got the chance —“ Nagato still remembers the conversation he had with Konan, the day before they brought Itachi into the Akatsuki. Nagato had been against it at first, believing that one who could commit such callous atrocities against his own clan and family would no doubt have trouble turning against a group of people that were strangers to him. But Itachi pleasantly surprised Nagato, with how calm, and quiet, and kind he was. He often forgets how young Itachi is, considering he speaks and acts like a man decades older. But still ... there was a sadness that could be felt whenever Itachi was in the room, tangible even to someone who’s “real” body was quite far away, like Nagato’s was. When Itachi comes to him, the Pein body reaches out and pulls the boy into a hug. Itachi seems surprised, but whether out of respect to the leader or because he truly needed it, he lets the embrace happen. The two stand there for longer than seems feasible, until Pein breaks it by gently kissing Itachi’s forehead. Itachi steps back, gives Pein a smile (which turns back the clock even more and makes Itachi seem like a child) and goes back to his room.

Deidara

Nagato felt real, valid concern when bringing the 15 year old Deidara into his group. Besides being the youngest, besides having that volatile temper and wanton pleasure in causing chaos and destruction ... the kid was beautiful. An odd word for a male, perhaps, but it was the most fitting term for him. In the Akatsuki it was more or less made clear that Konan was off-limits in terms of things like that, but Deidara ... with his long silky hair, big blue eyes, soft skin ... what was to stop one (or possibly ALL) of these older (and likely stronger) members from attempting to — but Nagato was lucky, in that everyone exhibited more self-control than he gave them credit for. And pairing him first with the older Sasori and then with the wily Tobi had seemed to be good choices, as well. One taught him maturity, and the other, patience. Although sometimes — “Oi, Leader ... can you talk to Kakuzu for me?” “For what?” “He won’t let me have an advance on my pay, because he says I’m just going to waste it on ‘my stupid clay’, hm!” “I do not interfere with the financial decisions of my treasurer, Deidara.” “But —“ Pein kisses his forehead and says, quietly, “Learn to exercise restraint when it comes to your artistic endeavors, Deidara.” Deidara grumbles as he walks away, and Pein smiles and shakes his head as he watches him go.

Kakuzu

“Pein. No matter what Deidara said to you, you won’t convince me to give him an advance on his pay. That boy is already three weeks into his money, and our budget simply won’t allow —“ “Do not fear, Kakuzu. I don’t intend to step on your toes regarding our finances.” Never in Nagato’s life has he met anybody quite so concerned with money as Kakuzu. He was strict not only with his own money, but every other member’s, as well. While Nagato found this to be a character flaw at first, now, he saw Kakuzu’s thriftiness and frugal tendencies as being a God-send. It was only because of him that they were able to move from hideout to hideout, to put food on the table, to buy clothes and weapons and any number of things that the group needed to survive. But his finance-savvy ways weren’t even the most impressive thing about him; it was the fact that he dealt with Hidan, day in and day out, and had not been driven to madness. The older man walks up to Pein now, lowers his mask, and delivers a light kiss to the cheek. Pein nods and watches as he leaves, noting, as he often did, his cold Kakuzu’s skin is. Nagato can feel it through Pein’s sensors; standing close to Kakuzu is much like standing in front of an open grave. He often felt that he should suggest redesigning Kakuzu’s Akatsuki robe to make it warmer, but Nagato knows that this suggestion would be rapidly rejected.

Zetsu

On the day that it is Pein’s turn under the mistletoe, Zetsu is nowhere to be found. Nagato knows where he is, of course; traveling through the earth at the speed of sound, going to scout out an enemy territory before the Akatsuki makes a move on it. Zetsu and his infiltration skills have helped Nagato countless times in the past, providing valuable intel on targets and mapping out the most problem-free routes for the rest of the group to take on missions. Still, though; there’s something about the plant-man that gave Nagato the slighter touch of unease. Being near Zetsu, even through the barrier of Pein, gave Nagato the feeling of being inches away from a wild animal. Hearing him speak was like listening to a dog that suddenly begins speaking in a human tongue. Nagato is very glad that Pein does not have to kiss this individual, and in fact hopes that his turn will end before Zetsu makes his inevitable return.

Tobi

Tobi, Tobi, Tobi ... such a confusing young man. Such a surprising young man. Many months ago, the Pein-body walked into Tobi’s room to retrieve him for something, and happened to catch him sleeping. Nagato was curious and made his artificial body approach the side of the bed that Tobi’s face was on ... but all Nagato was met with was darkness. A solid, blurred-out black where the boy’s face should have been. Nagato thought that perhaps something was malfunctioning in the Pein body’s ocular region ... but everything else was clear as a bell. Did Tobi have some kind of exterior defense mechanism set into place that would bar Pein, specifically Pein, from seeing his actual face? And if that was the case, then WHY? What exactly was he hiding?? It made Nagato nervous, but he never let this on to Tobi. “Pein-sama, Pein-sama! Is it Tobi’s turn for a kissy?!” Pein nods and Tobi approaches him, slides his mask halfway off ... and again all Pein can make out is blackness. He can feel his cheek being kissed, but his vision doesn’t return to 100% until Tobi’s mask is fully back in place. “Thanks, Pein-sama!”, Tobi says; and is it Nagato’s imagination or is there a touch of smugness to his voice? Well, regardless, the kid is leaving, and a Nagato can put him out of his mind once more.

Hidan

“I’ve had to kiss every single one of you fucks, including the old geezer and the orange idiot. Now I’ve gotta slobber with the boss too?? What’s next; are we are jumping into bed and having a group fuck?!” Nagato hadn’t rolled his eyes in many years (and rolling Pein’s eyes would have been an unbecoming gesture for a leader), but hearing Hidan speak always made Nagato want to break this self-imposed rule. With his additional bodies, his Rinnegan, his seemingly unlimited chakra and his fabled Uzumaki clan endurance, Nagato considers himself to be an earthbound God. But then this kid, this foul-mouthed violent crusader, comes into the group speaking about HIS God, Lord Jashin, and flaunting his (admittedly enviable) gift of immortality. From the very beginning, Hidan made it clear that offering sacrifices to his God was his main priority; and the kid wasn’t lying. It’s always been Pein’s (Nagato’s) mandate that as long as one completed their assigned mission, then they would be free to do as the my liked in their spare time. But Hidan’s preferred “hobby” left even someone as war-weary and hardened as Nagato feeling a bit queasy, in the pit of his stomach. “Come, Hidan.” Hidan visibly balks at being given an order; but he’s never love hesitated to obey the Leader. He goes to Pein and, after Pein studies his face, receives a kiss on the nose. The gesture is so light and whimsical that it leaves Hidan blushing and flustered, as evidenced by his leaving without uttering a single swear word.

Konan

The kiss between Konan and Pein is ... disappointingly short. Surprising, considering how close the two of them are, and how much Pein seems to care about her. But it’s a very quick forehead peck, and then both Pein and Konan retire to their rooms. The Pein-body shuts down in his own room, but Konan is getting dressed. It’s a somewhat lengthy journey, especially for this time of night, but one Konan is very familiar with. She comes every single day, after all, after everyone else is asleep or preoccupied for the evening. The old cave is so far into the woods, and from the outside seems abandoned, but ... “Nagato? I’m here.” Nagato turns his head and, although he’s happy to see her, can’t help but sigh. “You’re soaking wet.” Konan uses her cloak to wipe her face, telling him it’s not a big deal, just a little drizzle outside... but it is to Nagato. Trapped like this, a prisoner of his body and his hatred and pain ... anybody else would have walked out and left him years ago. But Konan, no matter what, she stayed by his side, and showed him more caring and comfort than Nagato felt he deserved. “I brought you some beef and curry rice tonight,” Konan said, now uncovering a small bowl. “It’s still warm.” She moves into position to feed him, and as she does, she quietly tells him little tidbits about her day. It’s solely through Konan that Nagato has any sense of the outside world at all, or any REAL idea about what the members of the Akatsuki are actually like. And he’s grateful to her. He’s grateful to her for so many — “Konan?” She looks up from where she’d been tidying up. “Yes?” “I’m so sorry.” She stops and looks at him, head tilted. “Sorry? What are you sorry about?” “I’m sorry that you’re not married, I’m sorry that you don’t have children, or a family, I’m sorry that you go from hideout to hideout and village to village and all you see is the same pain we saw when we were kids. And I’m sorry that things are only this way because of me. I couldn’t save Yahiko, and I’m destroying you, and any chance at happiness you could have had. I never meant for things to be this way. I’m —“ but Konan’s arms are around him before he can finish his sentence. “You’re a goddamn idiot,” she mumbles, her voice slightly shaky. “Yahiko dying wasn’t your fault, and my life — my life is full, and despite what you may believe, I’m happy, Nagato. This Akatsuki you’ve created; you’ve done two things. You’re fulfilling Yahiko’s dream, and you’ve given me, US, a family. So stop with this nonsense, okay?” “But I —“, and Konan interrupts him again, this time with a soft kiss on the cheek. Her lips breathe warmth and comfort into his chilled skin. “You’re the most important person on this earth to me, and I love you,” she murmurs as she pulls away, a smile on her face. “But I swear if you don’t cheer up, you’re not getting any of this dessert I made.” A pause, and then, with a smirk reminiscent of the shy boy he once was, “I’ll only cheer up if it’s something I like.” “Strawberry pie.” Nagato gives Konan an even bigger smile, to which she replies “That’s better”; and the two laugh. He feels like a weight has been lifted off of his heart. After dessert, he tries to mentally prepare himself for her leaving again ...but to his surprise she pulls a blanket from her satchel spreading it out neatly along the ground. “You’re staying tonight?” “I’m staying.” “Good. I love you, too, by the way.” “I know.” Before bed she spends a good deal of time gently brushing out his hair, telling him jokes and stories, the same that she used to do with him and Yahiko when they were all children, during those many long, cold nights when hunger or anxiety kept them awake. Neither is present now, but the goodness of the feeling remains the same. After awhile they both fall asleep, and for once their dreams are calm and peaceful.

[amjustagirl]

Chapters: one. ~ two. ~ three. ~ four. ~ five. ~ six. ~ seven.

Wordcount: 2.3k

Summary: Akaashi Keiji catches glimpses of another life in his dreams. He dreams of fields of endless gold, of constellation of stars that light up the night sky. He hears echoes of the birdsong in her laugher, the songs of the gods in the wind. 

(Loosely inspired by ‘Your Name’, aka Kimi No Nawa, featuring Haikyuu’s own pretty Tokyo boy)

Wordcount: 3.5k

Masterlist here

AO3 Link here

Author’s note: This fic is a little different from my usual work, so I’m a little nervous about publishing it. If you do like it, would love if you leave a comment / reblog / anything!

If you’d like to be included in the taglist, do drop me a msg/ask!

‘It’s rare to see young men like you buying flowers for their mother’, the florist comments offhand as she wraps his order of yellow chrysanthemums in paper. 

Akaashi smiles, accustomed to the friendly florist by now. ‘I guess I’ve always had a partiality for flowers’, waving to the florist as he leaves to head to Shibuya to meet Bokuto for Izakaya. He’s running late, but Bokuto doesn't mind, hooting good naturedly at the comedy show playing on the television in the rundown bar. 

‘Agaaaashi, you made it!’ Bokuto rises from his seat to give him a jovial fist bump. 

‘Of course I did’, he responds dryly. ‘Wild horses wouldn’t keep me from my appointment with you’. He spends most of dinner listening to Bokuto’s recent exploits both with the national team and MSBY. Excitement still sparkles in the older man’s eyes as he recounts each and every match he’s played in, and Akaashi idly wonders how it is that Bokuto seems to have managed to pack on even more muscle in the short span of a month, the last time they met up was to see Bokuto off at the airport for the World Cup. 

‘You should have continued playing volleyball in university’, Bokuto crows in between mouthfuls of yakiniku and beer and Akaashi shakes his head at the refrain he’s so used to hearing from his senpai.

‘I wouldn’t be able to maintain my grades if I wanted to take volleyball seriously in university, plus there’s no guarantee I’d even get off the bench’, he answers self-effacingly. 

‘But you have the best tosses, Akaaaaaashi!!’ Bokuto declares, his words slightly slurred, and Akaashi wonders if he should start to inch Bokuto’s beer away from him. After consuming far too much barbecued meat (Bokuto took the liberty of ordering twice of what Akaashi would normally order, waving his protests off by stating grandly that he’ll take care of the bill, he’s the one working after all!), Bokuto slips into a food-drunk stupor, happy to listen to his anecdotes of university life, and he takes the chance to ramble on about his advanced Japanese classical literature course that he finds far more fascinating than his class on modern literature to his best friend. 

They stumble out of the izakaya when the line outside grows far too long to be ignored, Bokuto draping a heavy arm over Akaashi’s shoulder, the red tint on the tips of his ears betraying his slightly tipsy state. As they stand at the traffic light patiently waiting for the light to change from red to green, Bokuto turns to him and grasps his shoulders in his large, warm hands. 

‘I’m really proud to have you as a friend, Akaashi’, Bokuto tells him seriously. ‘And I’m going to prove to you that I can be the best ace so you can be proud of me too’. The molten gold glimmering in Bokuto’s gaze fills him with far more warmth than any alcohol could possibly achieve. 

‘I’m already proud of you, Bokuto-san’, he answers, his earnestness resounding in every word of his short declaration. Bokuto beams at him in response and bounds across the pedestrian walkway in approximately three strides, ignoring Akaashi’s chiding to ‘look before you cross the road, even if you have the right of way!’

Many things may have changed since high school, but some things still stay the same.  

His dreams take a strange turn that night.

He’s back in the Fukurodani gym with his teammates, but it’s not accurate to say he’s with them - rather, he’s watching his past self from afar, seated on the bench, a wrist guard on his right arm. He doesn’t remember ever injuring himself enough to warrant a wrist guard at any point during his high school volleyball career, but it’s probably just another oddity of being in a dream.  

‘I wish your wrist was feeling better, Akaashi. I miss your tosses already’, the pout in Bokuto’s voice pronounced.

‘It’s just for a while - I’ll be right as rain tomorrow!’ he hears himself say cheerfully - but that doesn’t make sense either. No one in their right mind has ever described the way he speaks as cheerful, and the rest of his teammates glance over at him curiously. Then his past self awkwardly tucks his legs under the bench, ankles crossed almost as if he’d like nothing better than to fold himself away with all the cloth vests they use for practice – but that doesn’t make sense either, he doesn’t even know why he’s behaving like some fish out of water. While volleyball doesn’t come naturally to him as it does to someone like Bokuto-san, and there are times he feels like he’s struggling to swim upstream, his fingers still itch to toss a ball up into the sky in a perfect arc even now. 

‘I told you, I don’t get what you insist on waxing lyrical on him being a star you can’t help but follow,’ he hears her voice chime in his consciousness, inexplicable though her presence in this scene may be, he hears himself answer - ‘just be patient and watch’. 

Anahori, their substitute setter tosses the ball up in the air and it’s a good toss, he will give him that, but it’s still not quite as high a toss that Bokuto likes. Bokuto runs right up to the net to leap into the air, back arching to slam the ball to the ground with such force that it’s a commanding full stop punctuating any doubts about his place on the team as its captain and ace. 

‘You see! When he plays well, he's like a supernova, shining with a light so bright it almost blinds my eyes.’

‘Waxing lyrical again, Keiji-kun?’ He can hear her tease him gently. ‘Go on, carry on with your celestial metaphors’.

‘How about a shooting star then’, he replies, amused. ‘If a shooting star shot up from the earth instead of falling from the sky.’ 

‘You sound like you like the guy. Are you sure you don’t?’ She asks. ‘You sure sound like you do.’

What?!

His legs are tangled in his sheets when he thrashes awake, mouth open in a gasp for air. That was a new twist in his collection of dreams, the first time he’s dreamt of something other than that phantom girl’s life in months, but even when the dreamscape doesn’t even feature her, she still manages to invade his dream. 

Worse - his dreams are now edging into territory he hasn’t mapped out in years. His teenage infatuation with Bokuto-san died a natural death after he realised that he’d mistaken his admiration for the ace for romantic feelings. Besides, there was no way Bokuto-san would ever be in love with him, not when he’d chosen to devote the next decade of his life to his sport. So why are his dreams dragging him deeper into a labyrinth of memories that aren’t even his own?

‘Why are you squandering my pocket money in a maid café of all things’ he says, sounding uncharacteristically put out. But then again he would be annoyed if anyone managed to drag him into the pink and white monstrosity his dream has deposited him into.

Bokuto’s happily seated across from him (or rather, his past self), exclaiming ‘ooh - isn’t the ketchup art on this omurice amazing, Akaashi? They managed to capture my hair so well!’, and to his horror his past self nods encouragingly and only laughs when Bokuto whines about not wanting to destroy this ‘piece of art the maids took so much time to create’ by eating the damn omurice. 

‘Don’t be such a killjoy, Keiji-kun’, she giggles. ‘Look at him, he’s having such fun, and besides, your day will reset so your money won’t be wasted anyway!’. 

Bokuto, distracted by the catchy beat of the J-pop song blasting over the speakers, is cajoled by a trio of pretty maids to join them on stage to dance along with them. He pops his hips to the beat of the music, throwing up cheesy hand signals with such gusto that it makes him (yes, present day Keiji) want to smile. 

But his past self evidently hasn’t lightened up yet, because he hears himself say crossly – ‘You do realise this is a waste of time when we could be doing something more useful like homework, especially since  Bokuto-san and I already spend most of our time training?’

‘Oh Keiji-kun, life is too short to be spent worrying like that. Because before you know it, you’ll grow into an old man who doesn’t know how to have any fun’.

‘I have fun’, he says petulantly, a faint sulk in his voice. 

‘Oh really? Then stop worrying and live a little. Maybe you should take a leaf out of your beloved Bokuto-san’s book – look how much fun he’s having!’

Bokuto clearly seems to be having the time of his life because now he’s prancing around the stage playing some silly game with the maids. 

‘I told you, I don’t think of him that way.’

‘And I’ve told you I’ve borrowed your skin for far too long to know when you’re not telling me the whole truth, Keiji-kun’, she sing-songs. ‘You wished for more time with him, didn’t you, so aren’t I doing a good deed by helping you figure out what Bokuto might like to do with you?’

‘Bokuto-san doesn’t have spare time on these things – and you’re just making an excuse to explore cafes in Tokyo at my expense!’ 

‘Two birds, one stone. Don’t be pedantic, Keiji-kun!’ 

The next time he’s back in one of those dreams, he finds his past self dressed in a blue yukata along the Sumida river, tugging Bokuto away from the takoyaki store. He remembers Bokuto dragging him away from the rest of the team on a quest to buy some snacks at the food stalls set up around the park, insisting that his stomach’s growling too loudly to wait until the fireworks display is over ‘come on, even you can hear my stomach at this rate, Akaaashi!!!’ – but that’s where the dream starts to diverge. 

‘If you queue for takoyaki, we’re going to miss the fireworks, and you don’t want to miss that, do you Bokuto-san?’ he says, hand firmly on Bokuto’s yukata sleeve. 

‘That’s right! But shouldn’t we join the rest of the team? They’ve got a spot by the river just over there!’ 

‘We won’t get there in time with this crowd – come on! If we hurry, I know the perfect spot to watch the display’, weaving his way through the crowd to shimmy up the trunk of a tree and settle himself comfortably against a large branch. 

‘Woah – Akaashi! I never knew you could climb trees!’ Bokuto calls, sounding impressed.

‘Well, don’t stand there, come join me!’ 

The tree creaks ominously as the larger boy scales its trunk, branches already heavy with red lanterns groaning in protest as he settles himself in the branch opposite Akaashi. And not a moment too soon, because a collective gasp ripples through the crowd along the river as the night sky explodes into rainbow hued fiery streaks.

‘It’s amazing, Akaashi!’ Bokuto hollers with his face tilted up to the sky. 

‘You’re amazing, Bokuto-san’, he says fondly, reaching over to bump Bokuto’s shoulder with his fist and the older boy beams at him, the sheer delight in his smile brighter than the fireworks in the sky. There is a sea of stars in his eyes, and Akaashi wants to shrivel in shame at the way his younger self looks like he’s mentally planning to pirate a boat to cross the straits to Bokuto’s heart. 

‘There is no way I’m going to do that’ he hears himself say, sounding mildly cross. 

‘Eh – it’s cute. ‘sides, doesn’t he look so happy’ he hears her say, sounding overly chipper. 

‘You could spend your time instead learning how to play so Bokuto-san won’t pout when you sit out of practice and you wouldn’t have to pretend you sprain your wrist every time we swap.’

‘Are you mad? Do you really think they won’t think something’s up when I can’t even do a simple serve?’ 

‘Fine. You have a point’, he answers begrudgingly. 

‘Of course I do. Come on Keiji, live a little. Enjoy your time with the lodestar of your life’.

‘Can you not say things like that?’ he says dryly. 

‘It’s your fault for reading so much Shakespeare to me!’ she replies with a grin in her voice.

He texts Bokuto the minute he wakes up. ‘Bokuto-san, apologies if this seems weird, but do you remember if we ever climbed a tree when we watched fireworks with our team?’ 

Bokuto takes a while to respond, but that’s to be expected, it’s his mornings are usually filled with practice and conditioning. But when he does respond, his text makes Akaashi’s brow curl. ‘Nope, but sounds fun! What’s up Akaashi!!’ 

Akaashi drops his head in his palms. Good to know he’s not losing his grip on reality at least. 

But his sleep for the following weeks continues to be filled with dreams in the same vein. 

He dreams of scenes that have never taken place in real life - him challenging Bokuto-san to ramen eating competition, the older boy winning handily of course, crowing like a child when he slurps the last mouthful of tonkatsu broth - ‘eh Akaashi, eat faster!’, him dragging Bokuto-san to the arcade near school, demolishing middle schoolers in endless games of dance dance revolution (there is no way he is actually able to move like that in real life) and losing far too much money in claw games - ‘Akaashi I really want that toy pleaseeee’ - and even he would admit it’s absolutely adorable if not for the fact that he can’t explain why these dreams keep invading his head like a wildfire that refuses to die. 

‘I honestly don’t understand you’, she says and again, why on earth is she in this set of dreams - she doesn’t belong in them -

‘What exactly do you not understand?’

‘If you like him that much, why aren’t you jumping at the chance to hang out with him? All you do is nag me about how I’m wasting his time, I’m wasting your time, but I don’t understand -  isn’t time meant to be spent on the people you love? Unless you’re confusing love with admiration, because yes, I get that you admire his talent, but you don’t seem to have all that much patience for spending time with him outside of school.’ 

‘I suppose I do like him, but…’

‘Finally you admit it, but I don’t like the sound of that word.’ 

‘It’s nothing’, he finally says, and she huffs in annoyance, clearly wanting him to explain but he stubbornly refuses to say another word. 

His past self is skidding down the hallway with Bokuto hot on his heels yelling ‘Akaaashiii you owe me a Yakisoba bunnnnn’ when he hears an almighty crash behind him. As he spins around, Bokuto’s sprawled on the floor, papers and books scattered around him. The older boy grimaces as he sits up, grabbing at his ankle in pain. 

‘Bokuto-san, are you ok?’ he cries, running back towards the older boy. 

‘I might have twisted my ankle. Argh this is bad - prelims are just next week!’ Bokuto groans, clutching at his ankle desperately. 

‘Don’t worry. You’ll be fine tomorrow, trust me’, his past self says with complete certainty, and flags down a passing student to call for a teacher. 

‘Look what you’ve done now. Are you happy with yourself?’ he hears himself say accusingly. ‘Everything might reset tomorrow, but look - he’s hurt himself today. Is this what you’ve been trying to prove to me?’ 

‘I’m sorry, Keiji’ he hears her say, her voice watery. ‘I didn’t think -’ 

‘Of course you didn’t, you never think about the consequences of your actions, do you?’ he says, glass shards in his words. 

His dream fades to black. He never hears her answer. 

His sleep remains relatively undisturbed for the next fortnight, just in time for his mid-term exams which he aces, even his course on classical Japanese literature. He’s relieved of course, because his final year grades matter most when it comes to recruitment, yet there’s a part of him that’s buried deep between ventricles and pumping flesh that childishly wonders what his dreams are going to show him next.

His wish is answered when he opens his eyes to an ocean of stars, white pinpricks of light against the vast tapestry of the purple night sky. His head is pillowed on tufts of grass and the wind whispers against his feet.

The sight takes his breath away. 

He’s a born and bred city boy, and he knows from experience it’s near impossible to see stars in the city sky amidst light pollution and masquerading satellites.  

‘Is this your way of apologising?’ he asks, his voice wry. 

‘Is it working yet?’ he hears her ask, an uncharacteristically timid note in her voice. He laughs, a fond sound, and he can hear her huff a breath through her mouth. ‘I am sorry though, Keiji. I never meant to hurt him’. 

‘It’s fine, no damage done. Besides, I was thinking about what you said.’

‘Me? About what? I know I’ve said plenty to you so far’, she says curiously. 

‘About Bokuto-san’, he supplies, and she stays silent, waiting for him to go on. The stars twinkle down at him, and if he closes his eyes, he can imagine the galaxy reaching down to lend him its infinite strength. ‘You were right about how…I felt about Bokuto-san. I thought what I felt for him was something more than it really was - now I’m starting to realise I just admire his strength, and I don’t see our paths ever converging, especially if he’s going to chase his dreams of going pro all the way’. 

‘You don’t have to chase someone else’s light when you’re brilliant in your own right’, she says gently. 

‘Thanks’, he answers thickly, as if the word feels a little awkward in his mouth. 

‘So -’ she pipes up, and he can tell she’s trying her best to paper over the sudden lapse of silence. ‘Will you tell me stories about the stars, Keiji?’

He laughs fondly, raising a hand to catch the stardust from the sparkling constellations overhead. ‘I could tell you the story of Andromeda, chained to rocks as a sacrifice to satisfy the cruel demands of the sea monster?’ 

‘Ugh no gory stories, I want a happy ending!’ 

‘It has a happy ending, I promise. Just be patient and listen, okay?’ 

Akaashi wakes up before his past self can finish telling the tale of Persues’ rescue of Andromeda from the jaws of defeat. It’s barely three in the morning, but he knows it’s futile to try to go back to sleep. He wanders to the window, and wonders whether the lone star hanging in the cloudy sky is merely a satellite in disguise. 

Against his better judgment, he dials Bokuto’s number. 

‘What’s up, Akaashi!’ he hears the older man mumble sleepily, sheets rustling. 

‘Was it obvious I had a crush on you in high school?’ he asks plainly. If seeking closure is what he needs to end this slew of dreams, then he’s going to do it, never mind the embarrassment thick in the blood in his veins.

‘Huh?’ 

Akaashi’s pretty sure he can hear Bokuto blink rapidly. ‘A crush on you’, he repeats, and for good measure he adds - ‘sometime in your third year of high school’. 

‘Ehhhh…’ Bokuto’s voice trails off over the phone. ‘You did?’ 

The sigh that trips out of Akaashi’s mouth is worn, weary. ‘I did’, he confirms, embarrassment writhing in his belly. 

‘But you stopped right? Just before I graduated? You started becoming distracted after Spring High and I thought you were just worrying about university entrance exams.’

‘I suppose.’ And Akaashi should really get a grip on himself but his dreams have been doing a number on him so to his horror, he starts to ramble. ’ It’s probably the lack of sleep, but look - this sounds really stupid but I was having a lot of really weird dreams and I don’t understand what’s happening but I’m hoping getting this off my chest helps me get some more sleep and I hope you don’t think I’m completely weird and don’t mind still being my friend -’

‘Woah, ‘kaashi, slow down! You’re overthinking again - what, you think I’m not going to be your friend anymore?’ Bokuto booms, laughing widely. 

‘Uh. I don’t know?’ 

‘Relax! I’m flattered, but I think it’s a good thing we never went out! You were already so stressed dealing with me in high school Washio used to joke about your hair falling out, but I’ve changed! Now I’m just an ordinary ace!’ 

‘Bokuto-san, I don’t think anyone would call you ordinary’, Akaashi interjects, rubbing circles against his temple. 

‘You know what I mean!’ Bokuto laughs, the sound so round and boisterous that it makes Akaashi quirk his lips up in affection. 

‘Yes, Bokuto-san. Anyway, sorry for disturbing your sleep.’ 

‘Anytime, Akaashi!’ They bid each other goodnight, and the relief he feels after the call settles on his chest like a blanket, and he falls back to sleep. 

Taglist: 

@1tooru @kageyamakock @animeflower26 @underrated-fruit-tarts-official

[koreaweeb]

Marionette - Beach Arrival (1)

TW: SWEARING, VIOLENCE, SEXUAL VIOLENCE, SEXUAL CONTENT

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Chuya Kurenai - Day 5 of Sojourn

Sat at one end of the dining table, Kurenai opened her eyes to find that she was bound at her wrists and ankles to the chair. It did not matter how much she struggled, her attempts to escape were futile. 

On the other end of the table was a familiar face. A face she had hated all her life.

Looking around for something that could free her, she froze when she looked above her. What looked like a large blade was hanging so precariously from the ceiling, swaying ever so slightly. There was no doubt she would die the moment it fell. 

“Welcome to Borderland. This is a simple game of choice, only one may survive. Player Chuya Atsushi must make a choice between his children.”

Stood on top of the dining table was her father, holding a rope in each hand. All he had to do was let go and that would be the end of either of them. 

She kept struggling, the ropes cutting through her skin from how much they were rubbing. She tried to scream too, to plead with her father but no matter how hard she tried, no sound came out. Not even a squeak. 

He did not look at her once, not a single glance, when he let go of the rope attached to the blade above her. He chose her brother. It had always been her brother.

Waking up abruptly from her nightmare, Kurenai found herself breathing hard. She looked down at her wrists, rubbing her thumb against her skin. It was just a dream but she could vividly feel the pain of the ropes cutting into her. She could still feel the pain now. What hurt more, however, was the fact that even in her own dream, her father chose her brother over her. 

She let out a sigh, closing her eyes and taking in a deep breath to calm herself. 

Was her dream trying to tell her something?

That she would never be able to cut the strings her father had attached to her? That if she were to cut those strings, it would mean the end for her?

PAK!

With a hard slap to her cheek, Kurenai stopped herself from spiralling. 

Borderland was an unforgiving place, one mistake and she could be losing her life. She had no time to be thinking ‘what ifs’. Her only goal now was to return to the real world, so she could exact her revenge on her father. Every day she spent in Borderland, was another day he was winning.

Sitting up on the mattress, Kurenai let out a soft groan as she stretched her arms up in the air. She found herself a little home in the furniture store, in a shopping mall. While she loved a little shopping spree every so often, it was extremely eerie when the mall was abandoned and empty of shoppers.

As she got out of the bed, she adjusted her dress before frowning. It was crinkled from all the game activities and sleeping in it for several days. Time to go shopping.

The clicking of her heels echoed around the entire mall, coupled with her soft singing, it was almost as if she was in a horror movie.

With a few items on her arm, she went into a changing room to try the clothes on. She decided on a red A-line dress while holding onto several more outfits. Although she liked to look good, after the five of Spades game, practicality seemed to be more important. She even went to the shoe store and picked out a pair of comfortable sneakers. She kept her Louboutin still, she was not about to part with them.

Grabbing a backpack along the way, Kurenai was now ready to go on her way.

Before leaving the mall, she headed to the information desk and searched around. In the drawer of the desk was a stack of what she was looking for: a map of Tokyo. Shopping malls tend to have information pamphlets for tourists, whether it was for attractions or a map of the city. She picked up a map, browsing the area. 

Right now, her main problem was finding food and water, which she did not have much of. 

Carefully looking through the areas, she suddenly remembered something.

Maybe when we meet, it’ll be at the beach.

That was what Chishiya said to her last night.

Under normal circumstances, she would have dismissed this simple statement. But they were not under normal circumstances. Anything and everything one would see or hear around this place could potentially be life saving. 

Still, she was skeptical about trusting Chishiya.

Though as she was studying the map, she found herself looking at beaches around Tokyo. None of them were close enough, and if she was being honest, Kurenai was hoping to avoid any kind of physical activity. If she were to participate in games, it was better to conserve her energy.

Just as she was about to fold the map up, one particular place caught her attention. It was not too far from where she was, if she decided to explore.

Could this be the place?

--

So this is how the top 1% lived.

After spending forty-five minutes trekking through a seemingly empty Tokyo, Kurenai finally found it: Tama Pacific Beach Resort Hotel. On her way here, she had been doubting the place but now that she was just standing just across the river looking at the hotel, there was no doubt. 

Most activities seemed to be happening by the pool, where there was a DJ blasting music through the speakers while girls were parading about in their bikinis. The contrast was stark, between the bubble within this hotel and the rest of Tokyo. Almost as if there were no games of life and death going on every night.

As she was still processing the information, an arm snaked around her waist when she was suddenly grabbed and a hand was placed around her mouth. Struggling out of instincts, it seemed pointless as she was being dragged away. 

She really got herself in trouble this time.

Next thing she knew, she was put in a chair, surrounded by strangers in the room with an eccentric man’s face just inches away from hers. She could smell the alcohol on him, and see the crazy in his eyes. Just what did she get herself into?

“How many times do I have to tell you to treat the ladies with respect, Niragi?” the man hummed, never taking his eyes off Kurenai. She did not back down either, staring straight into his eyes. “Interesting…”

“I don’t take orders from you,” another man answered. 

“Anyway! Welcome to utopia, my pretty! Welcome to the Beach! We have the answer you seek for!”

Answer? 

So they held the key on how to return to the real world?

“And who are you for me to trust?”

“I’m the number one around here, I’m the Hatter. These are my executives who help keep order here at the Beach. Who might you be, pretty?”

“I prefer not to say.”

Someone suddenly yanked her by the hair, jerking her head back. She was looking into another pair of eyes, a very dangerous pair of eyes. If she were to stay here, she would have to take note to avoid this man. The man called Niragi.

“Don’t play games with us, little girl. You won’t come out winning.”

“Now, now,” Hatter said, shooing the man away. “I told you to be gentle. We are a community here at the Beach, building a utopia and working towards a goal together. We won’t want to scare people away. Come on now, pretty, just tell me. We’re not your enemies here.”

“Chuya Kurenai.”

The hatter’s eyes widened. 

“Chuya? As in the Chuya Group? That Chuya? Please tell me you are that Chuya!”

Even in Borderland, the Chuya name prevailed. 

The Chuya’s were one of the bluest and oldest blood in Japan, and they were a household name. While the Chuya Group was known for their real estates, they were involved in almost everything from politics to entertainment. If one were to carry the Chuya name, or marry into the family, they were set for life.

In a place like Borderland, however, what good would her name serve?

She still had to participate in games. Her life was still on the line every time she entered a game. If her visa were to expire, it would not extend just because she was a Chuya. 

“Well Miss Chuya, we welcome you with open arms.” Beckoning one of the others, the Hatter was handed something and he put it on Kurenai’s wrist: a key with the number 70 on it. “Now, let me tell you the rules here at the Beach. We only have three. First of all, since we’re at the Beach, swimwear is required. Makes sense, doesn’t it?”

Once again, at his signal, the others moved and pulled back the moving wall to reveal another room. It was, however, what was on the wall in that room that interested Kurenai. 

The entire wall was covered in graffiti. Not just any graffiti but the entire deck of playing cards drawn crudely with a few crossed out. 

“This is the answer, Miss Chuya. The one and only method to leave Borderland.”

A smirk crept onto her face. She was right. By her second card, Kurenai guessed that the objective of these games was to collect the cards. Otherwise there was no point in issuing the cards after each game. Still, it was a cruel objective. Did they really expect one person to collect all fifty-two?

“By collecting each and every card, one individual will be chosen to leave Borderland,” Hatter said. 

Her smirk was now replaced with a frown.

Only one individual would leave when all cards were collected? Was that why the Beach was formed? A large group would collect more cards and duplicates could be used for the next person in line.

She looked down at the key on her wrist and scoffed. The number 70 was really mocking her right now. 

“Which brings us to the second rule here at the Beach,” the Hatter smiled, putting his hands on either side of the chair and leaned close to Kurenai. All cards must be handed over. We are a collective after all, any and every card you own will be contributed to the Beach.

“I know it seems unfair that your number is lower and you have to wait around longer before you leave but we can’t help that you’re a new member here. However! Members die every night in games, so naturally you will be promoted. And what if you contribute more cards than a person higher in rank? Or...what if your card is one that we need? Well, my pretty, then you will be promoted to a higher rank. Fair, right?”

“Oh? In that case, you will most definitely promote me,” Kurenai smiled. “Not only will you promote me, you will make me an executive too.”

[tomtenadia]

Island Dreams - Chapter 20

Chapter 20 is finally here and sorry for the wait. I work full time and I am doing uni as well. I have an assignment due next week so I had to leave my fic aside as well.

Tonight here in Scotland is a big night for rugby fans. Rowan and Lorcan from my fic will be probably celebrating with me just now. Scotland has won against England at Twickenham (Home game for England) and for the three of us it's a very, very, very, big thing. I guess our two men are on their way to the pub to get totally pished (wonderful Scottish word for drunk).

Also, I was so involved in the game that I almost forgot to publish tonight.

Chapter 20 has been a challenge. I have changed a part of the story about 4 times and I hope I chose the best plot. We get to meet Chaol. I know in the books he is not as horrible but i made him a bit more horrible just for the sake of the story. Also, be happy that it finished the way it did. In one of my plans I had gone for much, much more angst. Then I told myself that I was writing a fluffy story and ignored the cruel idea.

Oh, I forgot to add that there is just a smidge of smut.

I really hope you will enjoy the chapter.

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The next morning Aelin woke up before Rowan again. She had a fantastic sleep after the perfect day they had at the festival, but now she was ready to celebrate Rowan because his birthday had finally arrived. She turned to him and he was still sleeping soundly. The lines of his face soft making him even more beautiful. She had planned a birthday lunch at Maeve’s, she had a few presents for him, but most especially she intended to wake him up in a very special way. The night before he had gone to bed with just his boxer and shirtless, which meant he had been much more tired than he let it show because he never did that before. Slowly she pulled the blankets back revealing his naked chest. He was sleeping on his back making her plan much easier. Wickedly she removed her top remaining naked from the waist up. Gently she straddled him and then leaned forward depositing kisses along his torso making sure that her naked body was in full contact with his. She heard him moan softly and he slowly come to awareness. Surprise flaring in his eyes as he took in their position.

“Good morning, birthday boy.” Her body brushed his, her hard peaks against his skin. His eyes went wide. “What—” but she kissed him deeply not letting him finish the sentence. He shifted up until he was in a seated position and Aelin kept straddling him, then she leaned a bit back allowing him to look at her properly. “You are…” and he pointed at her state of undress. “Your first present.” She took his hands and placed them on her breasts. Rowan’s mouth crushed against hers, avid and needy and she did not hold back. His mouth then travelled to her neck and finally he grabbed her hard peaks in her mouths and Aelin arched her back into him. His other hand found its way in the waistband of her underwear and grabbed her butt pulling her closer to him. She felt him hard against her and she had to try very hard not to grind against him. His touch became more demanding as his tongue was doing wicked thing to her mouth. “You can touch me whenever you want,” she breathed in his ear and Rowan groaned and flipped on her back, his body now towering over her. “You…” a lick on her neck “have…” a gentle bite that sent her mind reeling “no…” his mouth on her breasts again “idea…” and his teeth closed on her nipple. Aelin gently moaned. His hands were taking in every inch of her body and she felt on fire at his touch. His mouth followed the lines of her abdomen until he reached her underwear and placed an almost reverential kiss at the apex of her thighs. It was a simple gesture but Aelin almost lost it. His mouth travelled back up and locked again onto hers but a finger slipped between her legs. He pressed gently at her sensitive spot and she felt her body jerk. Using the fabric of her underwear for friction, his finger was now making circles and she felt his mouth bend into a grin. This was not what she had planned. It was supposed to be the other way around with her giving him a special treatment for his birthday. Aelin suddenly felt it, the pressure build, her core now starting to tighten and until release rippled through her like a river out of control. She lifted her head and screamed in his shoulder. She rode her high and he did not stop until she was spent. Then he gave a quick kiss on the mouth and collapsed on the bed at her side, propping his head up with his fist. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to regain composure “This was not what I had planned,” she turned to face him and his grin was wide “I was the one one supposed to give you such a lovely good morning. Not you.” And she poked his shoulder, in response he leaned over and kissed her again. “You provoked me.” His knuckle traced her breasts “with these.” He kissed her again “and I really, really loved my present.” Still half naked she got out of bed and went to her old room to grab his presents. She came back and climbed on bed under his hungry stare. She sat down, not bothering to get dressed again. She handed him the first present and he opened it and smiled when he realised what it was: a green t-shirt with the Peat and Diesel logo. His face blossomed in a lovely smile. “Put this one on.” He said handing the t-shirt back to her. “Does it really bother you to have me naked in bed?” “No,” he said leaning closer “I want something with your smell on.” She put the t-shirt and he kissed her “perfect,” while slowly his hand sneaked underneath the fabric. She patted his hand “I have one more present.” “Very generous woman.” He sat back and took the envelope that she handed him. Once opened, he read what was on it. It was a handmade coupon for a romantic getaway of his choosing. “You choose the location. It can be the mainland or here on the islands. Anywhere in Scotland to be honest. And you get to choose when as well.” She explained “My only rules are that it’s somewhere possibly quiet and with a lot of nature. And once we have the location, I get to chose the accommodation, which will be of course on me since it’s my present to you.” She looked at him “You choose the location and the dates, everything else is on me. Clear?” His mouth was on hers again and she pulled him down on the bed where he landed on top of her. “Thank you for your presents.” She hoped he decided on his getaway as soon as possible because she could not wait any longer. His hips slammed into her and ground against her thighs gently and Aelin groaned against his shoulder. With all the force she had she pushed him off and flung herself out of bed “Breakfast. Work.” She said breathless “Please Ro, I am about to lose my wits.” And she moved to the kitchen to cook breakfast. There was no way she was letting him cook on his birthday.

The morning at the bookshop had been busy. The town was buzzing with festival goers and also tourists and they had their constant stream of people flocking in and Aelin was in her element. Some of them even had told her they had discovered the bookshop on Facebook and her face morphed into a grin. She had gone back to Rowan and told him and she bragged about her amazing PR capabilities. He, in response, rolled his eyes. “You might be the owner, but I put the shop on the map.” Rowan chuckled and kept working on his computer. Aelin got closer and sneaked her head under his arm peeking at the screen “So you are ignoring me for paperwork?” “Aelin, I am not ignoring you. You know I need to do this and reconcile the invoices.” He turned his head and looked at her. “I can handle that for you if you want.” “Title of your sex tape.” He kissed her and grinned. Since Aelin had introduced him to Brooklyn 99 he had become obsessed with the show and they have been binge watching it for a while now. Rowan had also started to make ‘title of your sex tapes’ jokes and she was so proud of him. “I created a monster.” She laughed leaning a bit more against him. He put an arm around her for a moment and kissed her head “Can I just finish this? That you can annoy me all you want.” “Fine,” she said, walking away and swaying her hips on purpose “Come and call me when you are done.” He grinned “You know what I am about to say, right?” “Yeah, title of my sex tape.” And she walked away to play with some of the shelves and let him finish work as he asked. It was a couple of hour later when Rowan joined Aelin. She had one shelf completely empty and was now re organising the non fiction section. “What are you doing?” “I am giving a chance to some of these books to be noticed.” She replied while hauling a small pile to the table “This is the slowest seller section. Fine, we don’t have many titles, but we need to make an effort so it does not lie here forgotten.” “Go ahead and have fun. I trust you.” Then he looked at a couple of titles “Let’s choose one title to put in this week’s recommendations.” “Great idea.” He left her when a customer came in and froze at the sight. He knew that face, he had seen him in a picture Aelin had binned after she moved to his place. Rage surged in him. “I am looking for Aelin.” The man said. Aelin recognised that voice and jumped and went to the front of the shop and stared at the man. “Hi babe,” Her hands fisted at her side and Rowan was at her side as soon as he noticed. “What are you doing here.” Her voice dangerously low. “Saw all you lovely pictures on Instagram and had to come and have a look where my dear ex wife had moved to.” His hands went to his pockets and strutted around the shop admiring it with curiosity “So this is where you work now? A bookshop?” He added in a mocking tone. Aelin was now shaking with rage and Rowan placed a hand on her lower back which did not go unnoticed by Chaol. “Your big dreams seem to have taken a hit.” “Why are you here?” She asked again, reining in the desire to thump him. “To take you back of course.” “You what?” Aelin was speechless “What makes you think I would want to come back with you?” “You love me.” He moved one step closer, ignoring a seething Rowan at her side “I know we had our issues but I am ready to start again. I left her. No more lies. I just want you back. We can have a trial run and then get married again.” Aelin was so shocked by the admission that she could not do anything “I can’t.” She finally said. “You lied to me for over a year. You treated me like a monster. Cheated on me and now you expect me to come back to you? Just because detective slut has left you?” She took a step toward him “You have some guts.” “Aelin, please,” he grabbed her wrist but Rowan grabbed her as well and pulled her back to him. Chaol looked at Rowan and the man straightened up to try and look as imposing as possible. Rowan was a good twenty centimetres taller than Chaol. “Seriously? This guy? You are leaving behind your life in London for this guy?” Aelin heard the growl coming from Rowan. “There is nothing in London for me, Lysandra aside. My life there is a part of the past, same as you are.” “Aelin I was wrong okay? And I am sorry for the way I hurt you. But these months without you made me realise I miss you and I want to do all I can to take you back.” He took another step closer to her. Aelin started pacing. Her mind was spinning out of control. There was no way she was going back to him. Never. She was furious. “I am not coming back.” She eventually said in a low tone, looking at him in the eyes. “My life is here now. I am looking for a job as a doctor here. And I have Rowan. You had your chance and you blew it. Now it’s too late. You should have fought when there was a chance to fix things. It’s over Chaol.” “A job here? Treating what? Sheep? Come on, Aelin, you have more ambition than that.” Rowan almost lunged forward but Aelin stopped him and gave him a tender smile. “Even on an island people need doctors. This is my life now.” She placed herself between the two men, facing her ex husband “And I love it here.” “You can’t be serious.” His tone was getting on Aelin’s nerves. “Like a heart attack.” Was her dead pan reply. Chaol ran his hand through his hair a move that a long time ago it would have sent her shivers down her spine and then ended up in his arms. “It looks like your leg has healed.” She needed some time to refocus. He was taken aback by the sudden change of topic “Yeah, Lysandra is a wizard at her job. I am still walking slowly, but I abandoned my cane last week and I will go back to work the next one.” “Good.” “Aelin, can we please have lunch together and talk? Perhaps without an audience?” And he glared at Rowan. “No. I have said all I had to say to you.” She sighed. He was always stubborn “I have no regrets for the divorce. We were not happy anymore. You were a cheating bastard. It was the only option and you need to accept it. I have moved on. Now it’s time you go back to London and do the same.” “Did you fuck your boy toy already?” Aelin stepped dangerously closer to Chaol “Yes. And you know what?” Another step “He made me scream in a way that you never did all those times he fucked me against a wall.” That was petty but Chaol was out of line and she had enough of him. Then she took a step back and joined Rowan and placed an arm around his waist. She could see rage in his eyes. “Aelin has been quite clear. I would recommend you to leave this shop immediately and never come back.” Rowan’s voice was flat and she realised she had never heard him like that. It was eerie. He was furious. Probably just as much as she was. “Chaol, please…” “I loved you.” He shouted “I still do. I don’t deserve all this hate. It was not all my fault. You didn’t even try,” he stepped back. He was about to add something else but gave up in the end. “Fine. Enjoy your pathetic life here. Enjoy your new boy toy, I hope he can handle you. You are not worth it. Not anymore.” And with those words he left. As soon as he was out of the shop Aelin let out a sob. Her hand to her mouth and her body shaken by the now full blown sobs. Rowan moved a step to her to try and console her but she moved away. She went to the back office and gathered all of her stuff “I need to be alone.” “Aelin…” Rowan’s hand was extended in an effort to stop her. “Leave me alone. Everyone.” She growled and left the shop. Rowan felt his heart break at those words. He only moved again when he heard a customer enter the shop.

Working had been a nightmare. Rowan’s mind kept thinking about Aelin’s broken stare. She pushed him away and the whole thing was driving him insane. She wanted space and he was going to give it to her but it did hurt. He closed the shop at his usual time and went back home with dread in his guts. She hadn’t texted him and he was getting worried. They were meant to go to the ceilidh but that was probably off the table now. And he raged. He was looking forward to dance with her. Once at home he changed into something more comfortable and crashed on the sofa. He lay down and placed a hand on his head and his mobile on his chest, just in case he had news from her. He was almost falling asleep when the phone buzzed. He jumped seated and went for the mobile. It was a text from Aelin. I am sorry. Are you okay? Where are you? Tolsta. Was all she said. Rowan stood and debated what to do next. She had told him where she was. Did it meant it was okay now for him to join her? He paced for half an hour and in the end he decided to go to her. Then he stopped. His car was still in the shop and swore loudly. He had a look at the buses and for a moment he hated island life where buses could be infrequent and stopped after a while. He couldn’t even ask his aunt because she lived outside town and she needed the car to go back home. Finally he decided to get a taxi. It was his only option. He booked the ride and got changed again very quickly. The ride was short and fifteen minutes later he spotted her car at the car park and made his way to her, his heart hammering with fear. What if she was going to break up with him? He knew it was a stupid idea but he was terrified. Once he reached the beach he noticed her seating in the sand, her arms around her legs and his Glasgow uni hoodie on. He had returned it to her the day before. He stopped behind her. “Aelin.” “I am sorry.” She said in a voice that broke his heart. “Can I sit down beside you?” She patted the spot on the sand beside her, but never turned to face him. Rowan sat down beside her and noticed she was staring out to the sea. Her eyes were puffy and anger resurged in him. “I am sorry… I din’t mean…” she leaned her head on his shoulder and her crying resumed. His arm went around her and pulled her closer and rocked her in silence. “He made me so mad.” And another sob rippled through her “I am so tired of hurting for him.” Rowan wanted to say something but at the moment he had nothing that could help her. “I gave him ten years of my life. Ten. And it just went down the toilet.” She breathed in deeply and tried to regain some control “what’s the point in falling in love. It just ends in pain anyway.” Rowan froze at those words. She could not be really thinking about giving up on them. Aelin stare met his “Even us. What’s the point? Knowing my luck you’ll grow tired of me in a few years and bugger off to a new woman.” Rowan kissed her “No.” He said cupping her face and forcing Aelin to stare at him “No. I understand that right now you are in pain, but you can’t give up on us.” And he kissed her again to make his point “I don’t know what fate has decided for us, but I know that I will do my very best to make you happy. You are my everything and I am not giving up on you. Don’t even think about it.” “You say that now—“ He stopped her “Aelin I know my feelings. I am in this for the long run. I love you. And I have never been surer of my feeling in my life. You have to believe me.” “I am scared.” She confessed, snuggling to him “What if we are going too fast? We have known each other for only a few months. We already live together and share the same bed. We said to each other things that people who have been going out for a few months don’t usually say. I am terrified.” She looked up at him, fearing the hurt she would see in his eyes. His hands never left her face “I am scared too. After Lyria left me I told myself never again. I was willing to be on my own forever because I could not cope with the idea of committing so much again. And then you appeared in my life and all my resolutions went to hell.” A gentle kiss on her lips “I have the same fears as you. I love you. Madly” then he smiled at her “If we were in a fantasy we would now confess each other we are soulmates and I would praise our love with an epic speech.” “But we are not…” she added sadly. “No, but it doesn’t change what I feel for you. The fact that no matter how crazy it sounds, I am sure about us. Somehow my soul is telling me you are its missing half. And it frightens me, but I am not giving up on you just because I am scared.” Aelin caressed his face and stared at him in silence. “If you want to slow down, go back to your room or find your own place, I will understand.” She shook her head, tears flowing down her face “No. No, never. I am fine just the way things are. Chaol’s words hit me more that I was expecting. I thought I was over all the pain, but it looks I am not.” “You were not ready. You were not expecting him to come into our shop and say those horrible things to you.” He pulled her face to his chest and hugged her tight “I was terrified when you left. I thought I lost you somehow. And it was the scariest feeling ever.” “I thought about breaking up with for a minute. I was trying to convince myself that not being attached to anyone was the better option. Then I tried to picture not having you at my side and I was even more scared, because I can’t.” “I almost punched him.” Confessed Rowan, lingering in the feeling of her body against his “I have never punched anyone in my life but for him I would have made an exception.” He heard her chuckle and the ice gripping his heart finally thawed away. “That would have been a show I would have paid to see.” “I ruined your birthday.” She sniffled. “You did not. Police officer did. We just blame him.” He kissed her head “being here with you is perfect enough. You are my most precious present.” Aelin laughed “That is so cheesy.” He followed her “I know. I am shocked. See what you did to me?” He felt her hands cover his on her waist “You transformed me into a man who sings epic declarations of love and says cheesy things. You ruined me.” They were silent for a while and then Aelin spoke again. “Ro? I applied for a job as senior emergency surgeon.” She had applied for the job a few days before but hadn’t been able to tell him. It felt like a betrayal. He turned to her and smiled “Good.” “You are not mad at me?” He squeezed tighter “Why on earth? It sounds like an amazing opportunity and I could never be mad at you for choosing to do what you love.” “But the shop—“ “You don’t worry about the shop. Go, get the job and rattle the stars. I will be very proud of you.” “It feels like a betrayal.” And Rowan understood her uncertainty. “No it’s not. Not even close. You are not leaving me or abandoning me without reason. For as much as I hate the man, Chaol was right. Working in a bookshop is not for you. Not with the skills you have. The hospital will be very lucky to have someone with your experience.” And he meant it. Every single word. He wanted her to succeed “unlike some people, I am not scared of a successful woman at my side.” And she finally grinned at him and light reached her eyes still red from the tears. He kissed her forehead. “Ro?” “Yes?” “I am not in the mood for the ceilidh tonight. Can we just stay at home and watch Netflix or read? And snuggle?” “We can also order food and have a very quiet birthday evening. I would love that very much.” “Thank you. Rowan just kissed her. He’d do anything to make her happy. To make sure he could see that wonderful smile on her every single day of their life together. Then he finally stood “Come on. Get your arse off the sand and let’s go home. We have season five of Brooklyn nine nine to tackle.” She stood, stopped right in front of him and kissed him “I love you.”