#story time with sterling

[lonestardust]

[daydreamerdrew]

Captain Marvel Adventures (1941) #45

[lastwave]

more systems need to do collaborative art this shit is fun

[mossnrocksnbogwater]

Spence Sterling, intersex icon and neurotic teen <3

more lore in tags

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

Poolside

Husband Joel Miller x Female Reader

Rating: Mature. 18+ (Minors DNI)  Summary: You and Joel take your first vacation together, all you want to do is read your book... and all your husband wants is your attention... and a seat. Warnings: Fluff, Joel Miller greatest husband award, smut allusions, trashy romance novel, chocolate chip cookies, use of a "Birds Of A Feather" lyric, no use of y/n, not beta read. Words: 900

A/N: This was written for @beefrobeefcal's Married Joel Sits On You Prompt Challenge and woooooo beefy! This was very fun and cute to write.

Masterlist

___

Immelda tells Berlioz she’ll never love him, not in a million years, not if he was the last standing man on God’s green earth. Your eyes fight to stay open, you’re sun drunk and satiated luxuriating in the bright rays of the afternoon light. 

You’re savoring every minute of this vacation, the first you and Joel have ever taken without Sarah, the two of you didn’t even have time for a honeymoon between your busy schedules and parenting responsibilities. A full week in a vacation home on the coast, complete with a beautiful swimming pool and gigantic kitchen. Just you, your husband, and a couple of trashy romance novels you’ve been meaning to read. 

It feels good to celebrate, Joel just finished his biggest job yet, one of those sprawling developments full of gaudy McMansions. Miller Construction is booming, much like Joel’s stomach. Marriage had been good to Joel. His mental health and financial stability had improved, and he seemed overall a happier person. The only drawback seemed to be the effect it had on his waistline.

You love your husband, no matter what he weighs, and if you’re being honest, you love knowing how happy and plump he is. He just can’t get enough of your baked goods, maybe it wasn’t a good idea that the man with the insatiable sweet tooth married a baker. Sure, you’re probably a little to blame, since you are the one that packs his lunch every morning, always making sure to include his favorite snack– your famous homemade chocolate chip cookies with dark, semi-sweet, and white chips. He can’t get enough of them, you can always tell when he’s snuck his hand into the cookie jar; the dusting of crumbs across his beard and shirt always gives him away. 

Each vacation day has been lazy– waking up around noon, drinking mimosas and eating flaky croissants on the patio, discovering a new position on the chaise lounge by the pool, never having a schedule that you both have to answer to– this is the good life. 

Joel swims and floats the day away, the water feels good on his often aching back. “You gonna join me baby?” he swims towards the edge of the pool with a wide smile across his face. You love all interations of your husband, but vacation Joel Miller might just be your favorite. The waves of his hair sit slicked back by the pool water, the water glints and glimmers across his body turned more bronze under the sunlight, a smile stays planted across his face miles and miles away from any responsibilities and stress.

“Maybe later,” you look up from your trashy romance novel, “Immelda just accepted Sir Sterling’s hand in marriage.”

—

Berlioz cages Immelda against the bruising stones of her garden wall, far away from the onlookers attending the regal party being thrown in honor of her engagement to Sir Sterling. He thrusts his tongue into her eager mouth, tasting the forbidden fruit of her. Finally, the story’s getting good.

The book drops out of your hands thumping onto your bare chest at the shock of Joel’s wet, warm body against your stomach, smushing your internal organs.

“This seat taken?” his Texas drawl drips with the sarcasm you’re always a sucker for.

“WHAT THE HELL?” you labor out, struggling under the full weight of Joel’s body.

“Figured since you weren’t answerin’ me, I’d get your attention somehow,” he adjusts his weight on top of you, giving you a bit of a reprieve from his full heft. You’d be a fool if you didn’t admit that you love the crushing sensation of your husband’s weight on you. “You’re quite comfy.”

“I’m glad I can be of service, even if you’re flattening my intestines.”

Joel moves to get up, but you reach an arm around him, pushing all of him back on top of you.

“Actually,” you gulp a breath in, “feels kinda good.” 

He turns to you, removing your sunglasses to look into your eyes, reaching his hand down and placing it against your cheek. “I don’t think I could love you more.” 

Everyone knows your husband as the often grumpy, direct, and intimidating force of a man. His workers dread him, the hardware store employees cower in fear at his knowledge, hell, even the oil change clerks hate to see him approach. What those outsiders don’t see is the softness in his eyes when he watches you and Sarah dance along to your favorite song, the hand he holds out to help you step down from his truck, the gentle touch of his lips against your skin when he gets out of bed to start his day. Joel Miller is a soft man underneath that gruff often flannel covered exterior. Now, all of his softness sits atop your body, dripping big droplets of water all over you. 

“I feel the same way honey, but could you please stop sitting on me now?” 

He chuckles as he stands, the shadow of your husband eclipses the sunlight before he lays his whole body on top of you; the chaise lounge groans at the weight of the both of you. He places his head in the crook between your shoulder and neck, sighing against your skin, soaking it with his wet body. 

“Ow,” you whimper, when the spine of your book pushes into the soft swell of your breast. 

Joel leans up, grabs your now soaked book and tosses it aside.

“Sorry ‘bout that, lemme kiss it better,” he says, angling his head down to place wet, sloppy kisses across your chest. “Hope you didn’t want to finish your book."

“I kinda did, it was getting to the good… smutty part.”

“Oh darlin’, I think you and I can make our own happy ending,” he says before taking your breast into his mouth. 

[rqbossman]

Hi Alex, saw the livestream got cancelled, hope you’re doing ok!

I was wondering- did you and Jonny meet in a civil service job, or private sector? Because there’s a lot in protocol that’s very accurate. (Just started a CS job). Of course this could just be your sterling research skills, but even in archives I wondered if there was direct experience informing the fiction. Though, theres a lot of overlap in dumb jargon for private and CS. I will absolutely punch a hole in my computer if Lena tells Gwen she has to engage in agile thinking 😒

thanks for your time 🙂

So the O.I.A.R. is entirely based on the jobs that Jonny and I held when we first met. It was private sector but all of it, the weird job interview, the ancient computers, the unnecessary night work, even the location of the offices is all pretty damn accurate. The only difference is that what we had to summarise, whilst still horrifying, was much more late-stage capitalism horror stories than murderous puppets or whatever. In terms of civil service stuff, I do my research and know plenty of people who work there. Weirdly enough I suppose that means that if I was Sam (since I joined later) and Jonny was Alice (in that he was weirdly acclimatised already) that would mean that Sam and Alice both quit to make horror podcasts about their time at... oh god. I've gone all recursive.

[suguful]

ᥫ᭡ — the media wonders why itoshi rin’s fingers have been empty these days

╰➤ gender neutral , pro athlete au

while rin has never seemed to be the sentimental type, there’s no denying the attachment he seems to have to the promise ring always sitting on the fourth finger of his left hand. the sterling silver shines proudly wherever he goes — between run-ins with paparazzi while on trips to the grocery store, press conferences before a big game, and as well as on the field itself: rin’s dedication to keeping the piece of jewelry on him at all times has garnered the notice of reporters and fans alike.

he had bought matching rings for the two of you on your second anniversary, presented to you in the confines of your bedroom. with a whisper and assurance of deep affection, rin slipped the ring on your finger before sliding on his own. a kiss to your knuckles sealed the promise laid in the piece of jewelry — a promise of sure love.

the gentle weight of silver on rin’s finger grounded him, cool and smooth and symbolizing what is only to be shared between the two of you. worn with pride, the ring has never failed to catch light in each public spotting of the famed itoshi rin.

never, until this past week.

starting with scrutiny of rin’s empty fingers during a home game, alarm bells had already started blaring through the minds of fanatics itching to get the latest update on rin’s love life as well as reporters looking to get a juicy scoop for their next story.

he probably forgot to put it on this morning, some reasoned, while others jumped the gun to decide that yes, something had indeed occurred between rin and his long time partner.

it was a day of nonsensical talk, rin had told himself, that was all. he could stomach that much.

what rin could not stomach, though, was the snowballing of such nonsense day by day. a ringless day on the field, followed by a ringless press conference the next day alongside a ringless interview a few days afterward — the people were convinced.

“this is ridiculous.” rin rubs his forehead in irritation, glowering down at the headlines plastered across his screen. he shows you his phone, expression deadpanned and tired of the turbulence of public word. you read the titles presented to you.

Breakup Rumors Circulate Pro Athlete Itoshi Rin

Itoshi Rin DUMPED?

IS IT RINOVER?

you break into a laugh, shaking your head at the silly tabloid articles. “i think it’s kinda funny, actually.”

“you’re insufferable,” rin rolls his eyes at you. “give me your hand.”

rin takes your hand in his, turning it over and cupping the front of your fingers with his. he brushes his thumb over the ring sitting on your finger — just as rin’s will on his own finger in a few day’s time — and brings it up to his mouth. he presses a tender kiss to it, just as he had done on the very first day.

“couldn’t wait one week,” he grabs his phone again, sliding open the camera app. taking a second to focus the lens on your hand in his, ring front and center, he snaps a quick picture before letting you go. “breakup rumors my ass.”

you hear your phone vibrate nearby, and you glance at the notification that had popped up on your screen.

itoshirin just posted.

“and what’s this?” you look towards rin, suspicion etched into the eyes and smile he sought to take care of.

he only shrugs at you. “took care of it.”

you tap the notification, opening up rin's post. though it had only been a few seconds, a couple thousand had already beat you to it.

alongside the photo he had just taken — poorly lit, illuminated mainly by the subtle sparkle of what could only be the matching piece to the notoriously absent ring — is a brief caption.

We’re fine. Just getting my ring cleaned.

[songsofadelaide]

Radiant Point

cw/tw: Vice Captain Hoshina Soshiro x Platoon Leader (f) reader, childhood friends to [one-sided sworn rivalry] to lovers, no use of yn and instead follows my usual naming convention (I use Otome as a placeholder for yn since it means maiden, which pretty much means yn too), time skips, Kendo and Fencing references, arranged marriages and family traditions and breaking said family traditions - requited unrequited love. ✦ based on my other Soshiro piece, Raging Tempest wc: 8.2k

"It was said that the gods tie a crimson string around the pinky fingers of those predestined to be together."

You recall the quiet night when your mother first said those words to you, as though reading you a fairy tale of old. Years ago, you were but a child who believed in such things. And perhaps your mother would weep at how realistic you've grown, rather than remaining a dreamy-eyed girl with her head in the clouds. 

As a daughter of the esteemed Koganei Family, whose extensive roots ran deep back into the Muromachi Era, you were expected to uphold your clan's sterling heritage and reputation by marrying a man of equally exceptional status. There was but one family that your clan had close ties to, for your ancestors fought for the same masters of old, defeated the same ancient monstrosities, and won the same battles of the past alongside each other— brothers in arms, as they were in the past, and even until now…

That is how you came to be the bride of the eldest son of the Hoshina Family.

Soshiro knows that. He knows that you were the bride-to-be of the esteemed first son of their house. He knows that fact well enough as though it was etched in the back of his hand, and yet…

"You have changed me already. I am a fireball That is hurtling towards the sky to where you are You can choose not to look up but I am a giant orange ball That is throwing sparks upon your face Oh look at them shake Upon you like a great planet that has been murdered by change— —And when you come upon me I won't look back at you You will feel a hand upon your heart while I place your voice back Into the heart from where it came from And I will not cry also Although you will expect me to I was wiser too than you had expected For I knew all along you were mine." — Poem To An Unnameable Man, Dorothea Lasky

"It was said that the gods tie a crimson string around the pinky fingers of those predestined to be together."

You recall the quiet night when your mother first said those words to you, as though reading you a fairy tale of old. Years ago, you were but a child who believed in such things. And perhaps your mother would weep at how realistic you've grown, rather than remaining a dreamy-eyed girl with her head in the clouds. 

As a daughter of the esteemed Koganei Family, whose extensive roots ran deep back into the Muromachi Era, you were expected to uphold your clan's sterling heritage and reputation by marrying a man of equally exceptional status. There was but one family that your clan had close ties to, for your ancestors fought for the same masters of old, defeated the same ancient monstrosities, and won the same battles of the past alongside each other— brothers in arms, as they were in the past, and even until now…

That is how you came to be the bride of the eldest son of the Hoshina Family. 

Your families said it was an auspicious union— and a rare one, too, for, despite your clan's aged and storied history with this fellow clan of swordsmen, the possibilities of marriages between the two were always slim at best. There would always be extraordinary rivalries born out of their sons' mutual respect, but seldom would there be any engagements between them and their daughters. 

There was a time you believed in the red string of fate— and how it made sense to you that you would marry one of the Hoshina sons… But only because you've been told that all your life. And maybe you would have fallen in love with the son that was ordained to be your husband in the future had he acknowledged you, or made himself known to you. 

Tough luck getting that to happen. Soichiro didn't even acknowledge his own younger brother. 

You first met Soichiro when you were children at the Hoshina Estate, his back facing you, not a care in the world whether or not you were able to follow his steps. His haori and hakama were mottled with dirt, evidence of his long hours of sword training. The older boy's dismissal of your presence made you question how exactly your match became an auspicious one, given his… carelessness. To think that your mother and the rest of your house's ladies spent all morning dressing you up, only to be ignored by your betrothed the moment you arrived. 

You couldn't fault him for his reaction. Soichiro was a boy, after all, and heir to his esteemed house in the future. He had much to prove if he were to stand at the helm of everything, while you…

What exactly did you have to do? Just sit pretty? Or perhaps squeeze out an equally exceptional heir? That won't happen until later in your life and your marriage. Then again, will that marriage ever come to pass if he doesn't even pay any attention to you? 

Were you not… pretty enough for him? Now that you thought about it, his silver hair was, in fact, much prettier than yours, but your annoyance at the situation made you want to pull his braid to maybe knock some sense into him…? You were deep in thought when you realised you lost sight of him as he vanished into one of their family's houses. 

From across the estate, you could hear the sound of wooden swords clashing, a testament to this family's continued commitment to the way of the swordsman. It made you wonder if your family was in the wrong for wrapping you up like a present for a boy who held no passion for fanciful romances… Or if he was ever told about your arrival— who you were and what your presence meant for him.

You were told that the sons of the Hoshina Family were considerate and good-natured, but the way your betrothed refused to greet you or even meet your eyes earlier said otherwise. And to think that you were so nervous about this visit… The loneliness was stifling. The excitement that coursed through you this morning when your mother dressed you in your new kimono had finally died down. You didn't want to cry, but the tears welled in the corners of your eyes, hot and blurring your vision. 

If this kind of life awaited me, then I don't want it. 

You hurriedly wiped away your tears when you heard footsteps approaching you, though it was too late, for a boy your age caught your hand before you could even run off. 

"You must be the girl my brother's going to marry in the future."

Brother?

So this was the second son of the Hoshina Family. 

"If you aren't doing anything, why don'tcha swing a sword at me instead?"

???

Soshiro had the same dirt of the land speckled all over his training clothes. In his hands were two shinai, the other stretched out to you.

"I don't really know how to—"

"What?! I was told the Koganei were great swordsmen! Ah, but then again, you're a girl, so I guess ya don't count." 

His evident surprise made your brows furrow in frustration. What did he mean by that? 

"On second thought, give me that. I'll take a swing at you. How hard could it be?"

Swinging a sword at a more experienced person was indeed hard. Coupled with his speed and footwork, albeit a little slap-dashed, your opponent wasn't someone you could land a hit on as easily as you expected. 

"Fix yer stance if you're gonna swing!" 

You lost track of how many times you've swung the bamboo sword at him, nary a care at how your pretty hair accessories and kimono nearly came undone at your sharp and sudden movements. All that mattered to you was landing a hit at your opponent, the dirt of the land that reached your face not at all bothering you.

"Yaaah! Ack!"

Your lunge was cut short when the master of the house wedged himself between you and his younger son. You unceremoniously bounced off the older man's legs, falling to the ground with a dull thud in complete and total surprise. Yet all you could think of was retrieving your shinai and rising to your feet. 

"Your father is here to take you home, ojou-san," the older man stated as he helped you to your feet, his other hand reaching out to gently pry away the sword in your smaller hand. It was only when you saw your father's silhouette approach from behind that your exhilaration turned into indignation. 

"Otou-san, you—!" You exclaimed, charging at your father with the same sword in hand. "You need to teach me swordsmanship! I can't believe you didn't teach me in the first place…! I must study it now!"

Your fathers exchanged confused glances before yours decided to speak up. "Otome, you—"

Only for him to be cut off by your voice slicing through the silence of the training ground. 

"Until then, you need to keep getting better, too, Soshiro-kun!" You declared to your opponent, who had a knowing smile on his face. "I will catch up to you!"

When you returned to the Hoshina Estate months later, you were no longer decked out in a beautiful silk kimono, but rather in training garb similar to what the two brothers wore. Emblazoned on the back of your haori was your family's mon, and strapped to your side was a weathered shinai you've obviously swung around a hundred times since your last visit there.

"Soshiro-kun, I've been practising! My father taught me Shomen-Uchi, too! I can take you on now!"  

As he thought, the look of delight on your face suited you better than tears. Soshiro watched in awe as you were able to hold your own against Soichiro, only for his older brother to topple you over with his sheer strength and advantage in skill. 

"You're leavin' yourself wide open in other areas, but other than that, your stance is perfect."

The older son finally acknowledged you, but you had no need of it anymore since it was the company of the younger son you looked forward to even more whenever you visited their home. 

For Soshiro, the sound of your voice calling his name and all of his attention so you could spar was like melodious music to him. It was the two of you who grew closer, and the two of you were often on the receiving end of Soichiro's disparaging remarks whenever you both lost to him while sparring. 

"When Otome-chan marries your older brother, she will become your sister-in-law," his father once told him ahead of your next visit to their estate. "You focus on training on your own. Soichiro will train with her this time around."

Soshiro knows that. He knows that you were the bride-to-be of the esteemed first son of their house. He knows that fact well enough as though it was etched in the back of his hand, and yet… 

There was an image in the back of Soshiro's mind that he couldn't forget, no matter how much he tried. A girl in a gold-coloured kimono sewn with the finest thread, a floral kanzashi in her hair as she tried to fight tears in one of the corners of his family's estate. Moments later, she was swinging a shinai at him, her eyes kindled with a fiery passion and a smile on her face as she tried to catch up to him. 

Something changed when you went your separate ways to different high schools. When you were both sixteen, you decided to abandon the ways of Kendo for another form of swordcraft— Fencing. It was such a sharp turn that surprised even your family, but they could hardly stop your meteoric rise to prominence in the sport. 

Something else always came to mind whenever Soshiro thought about you. He remembered your prostrated figure before his father in their family home, your forehead reaching the tatami as you uttered, "I thank you and your family for your kindness to me, and I apologise, oji-san, but I don't want to marry Soichiro-san."

When you met again not long after that incident, you laughed as you told him how you got a really bad walloping from your father. You shocked him with the bruises on your torso, all from the blunt end of your father's favourite bokken, but he was more pleased to see your spirit remained unbroken as you wheezed in breathless merriment, telling him, "you should see my father". 

With your engagement to Soichiro unceremoniously broken off and the Hoshina Family accepting your dismissal of their eldest son, your family held very little resistance to whatever it is you wanted to do with your life now. They permitted you to go to France when you said you wanted to perfect your fencing form because there was no other way you could disobey them more. Your family told you that, "brilliant women rarely made good wives, but good wives can learn to become brilliant women", or something along those lines, and it seems as though they've given up on finding marriage matches for you. 

Soshiro was unable to accompany you to the airport ahead of your trip to France. You didn't mind, though you were a little upset. Neutralization College wasn't something you could leave whenever you wanted if you were truly serious about entering the Defense Force. He was still the first one you messaged when you touched down in France, counting the time difference in your head as you opened WhatsApp on your mobile phone. 

[ YN: 🗼-> Eiffel Tower ]

[ H. Soshiro-さん: 😂😂😂 Glad you made it there in one piece! ]

"To Hoshina Soshiro-隊員,

How are you? Paris is unsurprisingly beige. I miss Tokyo every once in a while, but not having to hear my father's nitpicking is more pleasant than I thought. 

I know we can always just message each other on WhatsApp, but letters are pretty ingenious again this time around. 

As I thought, there are many skilled sabreuses here in Paris. The club that I joined is called ASA Maisons-Alfort Escrime, somewhere along the south of the city. This town is famous for its veterinary school. Should I ever want a career change, I think I'll know what to do next! ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

Congratulations on passing the Defense Force Selection Exam! I know for a fact that you are going to do an excellent job just like your father and your brother. From what I've been hearing from my father, though, it seems the force is slowly moving away from the primary use of swords and blades. Still, I hope you aren't discouraged. You've always wanted to be an officer, so I'm proud of you for reaching the first of your many more goals!

I hope you're always taking care of yourself, too."

…

"The wine here is good, too, but you know I'd rather be drinking beer back at home with you. If anything, I like the wine because it reminds me so much of your eyes. And perhaps how I wish I could swim in them and maybe read your thoughts while I'm at it."

…

"I miss you, Soshiro."

Soshiro sometimes thinks it may be his fault that you changed. But then again, you were already a brilliant girl in your own right, and perhaps too smart for your own good. Men of old clans always wanted docile, unassuming women for themselves so their decisions would never be questioned, but you were neither, thus never fitting into your society's mould of how women should be. He wasn't aware of his older brother's preferences, but it was safe to say that he was consistent in never really caring that much about you. 

"Dear Koganei Otome-選手,

I hope you're well! Just as you have no lack of fine opponents in France, there's no lack of Kaiju attacks here at home. There's never a dull moment here in Japan as long as we're always at the centre of monster sightings. 

Remember when I last told you that swordsmanship is slowly losing its foothold in the Defense Force? Something amazing just happened. The Captain of the Third Division asked me to join her force. She did so herself! It feels almost unreal how the whole thing happened, but here I am. 

…I never got to write about how I almost died that time, too, because I know for sure that you'd get worried and start calling. I'm fine now, so don't you worry your pretty little head about me. ദ്ദി ( ᵔ ᗜ ᵔ )

Are you taking care of yourself? I hope you're always eating well. And doing proper cooldown exercises after training. Whether it be Kendo or Fencing, taking care of yourself and your sword arm is paramount for us swordsmen.

Just the other day, I went out drinking with my men. The beer here at home is exceptional, as always, and it tastes even better as the cherry on top after a long day of exterminating Kaiju. I feel a little bad for you for only having wine to drink there. They say it's sweeter but stronger. Strange enough, it kind of reminds me of you, too."

…

"I miss you a lot."

At one point, your letters stopped arriving. Your Line and WhatsApp exchanges were less frequent, too. And though you did your best to stay on top of what's been going on with Soshiro, your growth in your sport was something you prioritised more than waiting for his sparse replies. 

He had just been promoted to Vice Captain of the Third Division when he saw your name on the top of the list of Japanese athletes on the International Fencing Federation's website. His promotion meant he'd be much busier, but like you, he did his best to check up on what you've been up to, especially for the last few years. 

There was no stopping your meteoric ascent to the ranks, and you stood onstage amongst the best swordsmen and swordswomen in the world. Though not in the way he expected, it was still an extraordinary achievement for him. 

That's no surprise, he thought to himself, only for the rest to be drowned out by the pounding, resounding blare of the Third Division Base's alarm, which could only signify yet another Kaiju attack they had to get on top of. 

As the Vice Captain of the prominent Third Division, Soshiro was tasked with overseeing the second part of the yearly Selection Exam. Each hopeful that passed and came in became their little fledgelings, some more promising than others.

This year was a little strange, though, since even the top brass were muttering something about an elite athlete taking the exams. Athletes usually scored high on the physical tests but tend to flip-flop on the aptitude tests, depending on what it was. It was only after receiving this year's list of candidates that the whispers finally made sense to him. 

Mixed in between the fresh graduates and the more experienced examinees was your application form, bookmarked with a recommendation by the Japan Fencing Federation. And all the whispers were right about one thing, too— You would have to carve a space into this new era of the Defense Force, which has slowly stepped away from blade work as a primary form of combat. 

Soshiro wasn't surprised. Even though he was at the receiving end of many discouraging comments due to his poor marksmanship, Captain Ashiro Mina herself saw his potential and value in his skill. He's heard it before, and the officers will not be kind to you just because you brought home some medals for the country. For everyone else, whatever skill with a sabre you have would prove useless, seeing the force's growing preference for automatic firearms.

As he expected, you scored well in your physical tests, but he was faintly holding his breath for the aptitude test, which involved Kaiju disposal this time around. As the hopefuls suited up into the provided combat suits, the systems and machines lit up in anticipation of a surge of power from each present. 

UNLEASHED COMBAT POWER: 27%

Soshiro had the same knowing smile on his face as your preliminary combat power was announced out loud. Most examinees would reach a maximum of 5% to 15%, so for someone to score that high on their first try was worth noting. 

You were slightly older than most of your fellow examinees, so you had no problem taking on a leadership role— you helped maintain an organised field, ensured everyone had the proper precautionary gear equipped, and coordinated with everyone willing to cooperate with you. 

From where he stood inside the base's Operations Control Room, he tried his darndest to stifle his laughter whenever he heard a French swear word slip out from one of the examinees. And even until the end of the test, you took no credit for your class's effort. Some have taken a shine to you while others considered you a goody-two-shoes trying to worm her way into the Defense Force with clerical expertise. 

It was no surprise that you even caught the eyes of the Third Division's existing Platoon Leaders. They took your athletic and leadership experience into account when they deliberated your application. Your marksmanship was mediocre at best, but it was nothing continuous training can't improve. The other thing they couldn't ignore was the fact that you received a commendation from the Captain of the Sixth Division. 

A curious thing, if they were being honest. Division Captains rarely get involved in the exams and deliberations, so for someone like you to receive such a prestigious recommendation meant you were someone worth investing in. 

Soshiro eyed the document from the Sixth Division before eventually tucking it away in the rest of his files. They didn't need that commendation to know that you were skilled, and you had all the time in the world to sharpen those even further.

[ H. Soshiro-副隊長: Your uniform looks good on you. ]

[ YN: Not even an hour in the job and you're already flirting with me, Vice Captain? 😂 ] 

[ YN: Also, it's the other way around. I look in the uniform. Though I'm sure that's what you meant to say. ]

[ H. Soshiro-副隊長: What if I made you run laps after the ceremony? You wouldn't be laughing then, would you? ]

[ YN: I'm going to report you to the Captain. ]

[ H. Soshiro-副隊長: And you think she'd take a rookie's word over her own Vice Captain's? 😂 ]

[ H. Soshiro-副隊長: You're lucky you're so, so pretty today. I'll go easy on you. For now, my li'l fledgeling. 😂 ]

In every mission, you endeavoured to accomplish every task as swiftly and efficiently as possible— without breaking ranks, of course. Your tenacity was rewarded in the form of a promotion to Platoon Leader, an unexpected but welcomed opportunity. Soshiro seemed to agree with the Captain that other officers could stand to learn a thing or two from you.

They say a radiant point is the track of light in the sky from which meteors appear to come from. 

Your leadership has been compared to that. Many say your commands are always easy to follow, and your team members are easily filled with the same courage whenever you take to the field yourself. 

It didn't take long for your history with the Vice Captain to come to light, too, all because you slipped up and drunkenly called him by his name during a night of drinking with your squad. Soshiro was the one who explained everything to your teams while you were fast asleep with your head on the table. It happened again when you thought it was just the two of you in the training hall. By the third time, he had you run laps as a consequence of your carelessness. 

"Y'know your carelessness is gonna get ya in deeper trouble if this keeps happening in the long run," he told you as he watched you finish your 23rd lap around the training grounds. "Seven more. I know 30's such a measly number fer a seasoned athlete like you, but I suppose I'm being a little lenient since you are my dear childhood friend."

"Childhood friend my a—" You scoffed as you ran past him. You heard him chuckle to himself, followed by a thinly veiled threat. 

"Do you want another 30, then? Looks like ya still have a lotta fight in you."

You picked up the pace even faster, his silly laughter rang in your ears as you shouted back your breathy reply. "N-No, sir! I'll…! Be more mindful of… myself! Vice Captain!" 

XX August XXXX

"To Hoshina Soshiro-隊員,

I wonder how different things would have been if you were the one betrothed to me instead. Or would you have acted like your brother back then, too? 

Clubs are on recess this time of the year. I don't feel too comfortable having this too much time on my hands and not being able to fence. Good thing my lodging has this wide backyard I can   

Just the other day, I received a package from my family. It was just some snacks, but imagine my surprise when I saw my father's bokken in the box, too. I wonder how that got through French Immigration. 

A wooden sword is so different from a sabre, but holding it made me feel… I dunno, kinda like I'm home or something. Do you remember when you first handed me your sword when we were children? That's when I realised what was missing from my life. 

The Koganei are no longer like the Kaiju exterminators of old. I think it has to do with the lack of talented sons being born in our family. We've always had a lot of pride in our history as slayers alongside the Hoshina Family, but I think… I think that's all our family has now.

History. 

When I asked him before, my father said he didn't bother teaching me swordsmanship because he feared I would get so many 'ideas' in my head. Like joining the Defense Force. He laments my disobedience, but there's nothing he can do that will make me return to my old ways. 

I feel sorry for him that he doesn't have talented sons like you and your brother, just a stubborn daughter with a skill for a sport that's more like art than action. Would he have been happier if I stayed obedient? If I hadn't broken off my engagement to your brother? 

My father would have been happy seeing me become Soichiro's wife, but not me. Though I would have agreed to marry into your family if it were you. I like you so much, after all.

I want to say thank you for handing me your sword back then. For introducing me to the sword. And if you'll let me say this, too— for giving me purpose."

…

"I like you a lot, Soshiro."

…

"Some idiot here thought I was single. I mean I AM, but that doesn't mean I want to be all chummy with guys here!" 

…

"If you ever ask for my hand in marriage, I'm going to depart from this earth and ascend to the heavens out of sheer happiness—"

XX XX XXXX

"To Hoshina Soshiro-副隊長,

I'm going home in a few months. My father said that my grandfather is refusing treatment. He even said your family visited our estate to pay your respects to the old man. I love my gramps, but when I found out that he was the one who told my father not to teach me swordsmanship, the shine on him kinda dulled. 

Izumo Tech sent me an email saying I would receive a 'hero's welcome' once I get back. I'll have to make a courtesy call to them, too. Not every athlete is blessed to have such a generous sponsor. (Not to mention that they've been closely watching my progress ever since they signed me on…)

I've been thinking of retiring from fencing. But I wouldn't know what to do with myself—

I'll see you soon."

— Present Time.

With your father summoning you back home to your family estate, you had no choice but to file for leave and miss this year's Selection Exam. It was a pity you couldn't watch the potential recruits take to the field, too, since Izumo Tech's heir was part of this year's crop. 

When your grandfather's death anniversary memorial concluded, you retreated to your room. It was left untouched for the most part. When you arrived back home a few years ago, it was only to unload your excess belongings. The clan hardly had time to give you a proper welcome home since you had to secure the documents you needed for your Defense Force application. 

In a pocket of your old carrying case for your sabre was a bundle of unsent letters addressed to Soshiro, along with a bunch of unused French stamps and a pack of envelopes. You haven't practised your sabre sword arm for quite some time now, so you thought of bringing it back to base with you. Kendo was one of the primary forms of training at the force, so you did a lot of digging back into your roots whenever there were training sessions. 

The exams will have been done by the time you return to base, so you may as well sleep while you can. 

"It was said that the gods tie a crimson string around the pinky fingers of those predestined to be together."

You never really paid much thought to your mother's story back then, but you could faintly recall the chilly evening breeze that blew through the shoji of your bedroom. Her yukata was the colour of ginkgo leaves, her embrace kind and warm. 

"But what if you… don't like the person on the other end of the string, okaa-san?" 

Hmm. What a profound question for someone so young. Did you really ask that yourself? Even so, your mother smiled at your query, brushing away the hair over your forehead with a cool hand before pressing a tender kiss on it. 

"If that day ever comes, my little heart, I know for certain that there is one who will defy fate for you, but you will have to be courageous, too…" 

There was no helping your curiosity when you caught wind that this year's recruits were an exceptional bunch— and that one happened to share a tremendously intimate history with the Captain. It was a sizzling hot press release you couldn't help but sink your teeth into when Tae started talking your ears off about it.

You tried not to make that much noise as you both made your way back to your personal quarters that evening, but your topic was far too interesting to just stop and drop— it was about your usually pensive Captain…

"Do you think the Captain will start softening up?" You couldn't help but muse out loud.

"Doubt it! This is Captain Ashiro we're talking about," your fellow Platoon Leader remarked. "Then again, she's still a woman..."

Pretty much, you thought to yourself. Woman or not, a person's relationships shape the way others view them. Officer Hibino's revelations about his shared childhood memories with Captain Ashiro painted her in a new light, unveiling her as a tender girl in her youth— more human than machine like everyone else thought her to be…

"I heard something interesting about you, too," Tae said, a glint of mischief in her eyes. "One of the rookies said they already knew you from before. When you were still a professional fencer."

There's only one, you sighed to yourself this time. "It must be Haruichi-kun. If you must know, Tae-chan, Izumo Tech sponsored my fencing journey, especially when I was just starting out."

"That's not all, too," she chuckled at your slight change of tone. "Last I heard, the kid might even have a crush on you."

"That is not true at all," you elbowed her and laughed at her statement. "That's probably the most absurd thing I've heard in my entire life. Haruichi-kun is—"

"Why do you think it's absurd? I think it's ridiculously truthful," came the voice of a man from behind you.

"Vice Captain! G-Good evening!" You squeaked and managed a salute as Soshiro made his approach. He didn't look like he was ready to retire for the night just yet but was just hanging around.

"Kafka's tales have made the rounds, huh?"

"It's hard not to get roped into the gossip when it's so interesting," Tae said with a grin. "And with a Captain like ours who's so well-loved and well-respected, it's pretty tempting to hear what kind of person she was when she was just a kid."

"Yeah, she really went for her goals and succeeded," you nodded in agreement. "She's awe-inspiring."

"We're all aware of how amazing our Captain is," Soshiro stated with the same recognisable cheer in his voice. "But what's that thing about you and one of the rookies again?"

"Y-You mean about me and Haruichi-kun, Vice Captain? I-I mean Officer Izumo—"

The redhead standing right next to you could only purse her lips to prevent herself from laughing out loud, because by the gods, only she and a handful of other superior officers were aware of their Vice Captain's long-time infatuation with you. Not that he's ever confirmed it, but you two were childhood friends, after all. And this was their Vice Captain getting all jealous and territorial with you.

"I'm just gonna go ahead and turn in for the night," Tae said as she nudged you before breaking out into a salute directed at Soshiro. "Good night, Vice Captain!"

"T-Tae-chan?!" You could only call out to your fellow Platoon Leader as she disappeared into the darkened hallway leading to your quarters.  A little whimper of defeat left your lips as you turned back in the direction of your Vice Captain. "Vice Captain—"

"Are you two close?"

"Huh?"

"You and the rookie."

Close wasn't exactly the right word for you two. Haruichi was your main sponsor's son. You've met a lot of times before and have nothing but great respect for each other. A silly crush doesn't do him any justice. That rumour was made in poor taste and faith.

You shook your head at your superior. "We're familiar with each other, but not really as close as everyone thinks."

"Is that so?" Soshiro said, not at all sounding convinced. "If I ask him, will he say the same thing?"

"I suppose," you replied to him with another small sigh of resignation. "I'm sorry, Vice Captain. It's not a nice rumour if you ask me… I feel sorry for… the rookie for being embroiled in this mess."

"Don't apologise because of that," he said as he reached out for your hand. "If you're going to apologise, at least say sorry because I heard it and believed it."

You can confirm now that he wasn't there to reprimand you at all since his hold on you was both tender and solid. There was a storm in his wine-dark gaze— languid but brewing and the way he looked at you made you want to dive right into the depths of his eyes.

"If you want to apologise to me properly, let's do it somewhere more comfortable," he told you as you caught the twinkle of expectation in his eyes. You were likely playing into his hands now, so what else could you do but dance to his rhythm?

"Yes, of course. My personal quarters are nearby," you said, pointing in the direction of the dimly lit hallway that Tae disappeared into moments ago. "If… If it's all right with you…"

"Okay."

"You know, if my family ever finds out I've been alone with a man in my room, no one would ever want me anymore," you said to him in jest. He paused in his tracks the moment you opened your door for him, and you did not expect his reply to your silly joke.  

"Whaddya mean? I want you. I've always wanted you. From the moment I saw ya crying in our family's garden, I—"

Oh, he's done it now. His words slipped out so easily because talking to you always felt so natural to him. 

"V-Vice Captain?!"

"Yer calling me 'Vice Captain' now, of all times?!"

"I-I don't wanna run laps after hearing t-that! I-I'm just being careful!" You squeaked at him. It was only when you heard the shuffling of footsteps from next door that you managed to take him by the hand and hurriedly pull him into your room. 

You didn't think you'd slip and fall on your back in the process. And since you held him by his hand, Soshiro toppled over you with his surprisingly heavy frame. He was quick to cup your head in his hand to brace your fall. 

"H-Hey, are you okay?" Came his concerned query as he lifted himself off of you, but he was taken aback by the shine of tears in your eyes. 

"Soshiro… Did you mean what you just told me?"

For a moment, you feel like you're back in France, sipping sweet wine on your bedroom windowsill, the colour reminding you so much of your first love's eyes. 

The very same eyes staring right back at you at this very moment. 

"I do. And if ya don't like it, then let me know. Let me know so I can take it back. And we can pretend this never happened—"

You tenderly coiled your arms around his neck, as though returning his half embrace. With your chest so closely pressed to his, you could hardly tell apart whose heart was beating so incredibly hard. 

"Don't take it back," you murmured into the crook of his neck. "Not when I've waited this long to hear it."

And though you said you wanted to talk to him— to clear the air and rid yourself of this trepidation and hesitation that you felt— very few and far between words were exchanged that night.

You liked him too, after all. Now all those times you looked forward to seeing him and he was always just as excited… He's had eyes for you ever since. 

You drank deep into his wine-coloured eyes while he helped himself to your warmth, the radiance that you were now in his arms as a single beam of sunlight he wanted to keep all to himself. 

And keep you he did.

Soshiro couldn't help his curiosity when he saw the carrying case for your sabre in your quarters. He quietly walked over to it as he dressed himself, careful not to make any noise that may wake you from your deep, deep sleep. 

It was no surprise to him that you always kept your weapons in immaculate condition, but what piqued his attention even more was the bundle of unsent letters addressed to him, all of which he stealthily pocketed in his uniform. Some of the envelopes addressed him as 'Officer' and not 'Vice Captain', which could only mean those go way, way back. 

"Time for some morning readin', then." 

When word got out that the female rookies caught Vice Captain Hoshina leaving your room early the following morning, you already expected to be summoned to the Captain's office that very day.

But instead of being vexed about the situation and her Vice Captain's unusually poor judgement, Mina had a rather amused expression on her otherwise normally calm face as she sat across from you two.

"What happened to not breaking rules, Hoshina?"

"Hey, it's not like I wanted to get caught!" Soshiro shot back at her, though there was very little he could do in the face of his Captain's evident thrill at his predicament.

"I can turn a blind eye to this, but the rumours are already out there," she continued. "I suppose I'll have to mete out some form of 'punishment' for you both. Just to make an example out of you."

"I-I'll accept whatever punishment you have in mind, C-Captain!" You exclaimed with a stiff and deep bow. You've never been reprimanded by the Captain ever since you first started out in the Third Division. For you to be sanctioned for the very first time... I've really done it this time!

"On second thought, I'll just have you two file this instead," Mina stated as she handed you a single sheet of paper with a header in bold letters that read Workplace Relationship Disclosure Form. "As a formality. It's also a written promise that you won't let your relationship get in the way of your jobs."

"That's it? Piece of cake!" Soshiro said with a smile as he read out the form. "We'll file it now and—"

"You'll file it at headquarters yourselves," she said with a small smile as she stood up from her desk. "Other than that, I hope you two managed to talk things out. You're dismissed."

"Headquarters?! Captain Ashiro! We'll do anything! Just don't make us go there! It's such a pain to get there!" He pleaded with the Captain this time. "We'll tell everyone if we have to! I mean that's not a bad idea, too, so they'll know that we're together! But we're just going to be normal about things, we swear!"

"Just how normal are you two going to be?" The Captain said with a small laugh, just like the one you heard from the rumours. "Just promise me you won't let this affect your work. I have great faith in you both, after all."

"Roger!" You exclaimed in unison, followed by your shared tender laughter.

"Good. Now do 30 laps each before training starts again this afternoon," Mina replied to your enthusiasm with another small smile. "I'm really not letting you guys off the hook that easily."

"Th-That's fine, Captain! We-We'll make a start now!" You stammered before she could change her mind about your choice of consequence, throwing her a salute before eventually jogging out of her office.

"Don't make her run your laps, Hoshina. She'll do it for you without you even asking."

"Wouldn't dream of it, Captain. As if I'd let her do all the heavy lifting herself," he replied with a salute and his usual cheer. 

"What do you plan on doing about the rumours?"

"Let them talk. It's even better for us. At least they know now who she belongs to."

"It's so strange hearing something like that come from you," Mina said to him, the same hint of amusement in her voice before eventually asking him, "Is there… anything else you wish to discuss with me, Hoshina?"

"While we're here, Captain. I was wondering if you could hear my request for time off," Soshiro started. As he thought, his Captain was keenly perceptive. "There's someone I gotta talk to." 

"It must be important, then, if you're requesting time off."

"Guess you could say that! I gotta make my intentions clear, after all."

You were summoned back home to your family estate on one of your days off. It was rare for your father to call on you given your busy schedule, but on the phone, it sounded like he had something important to discuss with you. When you arrived, your servants promptly brought you over to the estate garden, where your father stood smack in the middle. He wore his favourite hakama, your family mon embroidered on it with fine gold thread. 

"Otou-san."

"Ah, there you are," he welcomed you with an uncharacteristic smile on his face. He looked a little tired, but also somewhat pleased. "Walk with me, daughter. I have something I wish to tell you."

He offered you his elbow as you walked over to him, and you took it, though you were evidently confused. "Soshiro-kun was here the other day."

"Really?" You asked, your confusion compounding even further. "What business did he have with you?"

Your pace was restful and leisurely, an afternoon breeze blowing overhead. You tried to match your father's steps, only realising now how short his strides were. 

"You should have known from the start that the Hoshina Family only permitted your presence in their home out of pity. It was no surprise for us that their heir didn't think much of you. He must have known that the Koganei owe a great deal to the Hoshina and your grandfather was so hell-bent on having you marry into that family for reparations."

So that's what it was. "Huh. I suppose that makes sense…"

"Your marriage wasn't really for prestige. We've long lost that, after all… If anything, it would have secured you a home in the future. They would take care of you, at least…"

"Was it a large sum?"

"A debt that can only be paid by a life."

Someone from the Hoshina Family died for yours. How long ago it was, you will never know. 

You couldn't help but think back to your childhood, that very day your family brought you to the Hoshina Estate, and how Soichiro looked over you as though you were an ostentatious doll on display. That was why your family tried so hard—

"The Hoshina… wanted us to excel at swordsmanship so there would be no more needless deaths like of past. But all I had was a daughter. They thought the marriage was a good idea at first, but then the brothers started fighting over you."

"That's new, otou-san. I know for a fact that Soichiro-san hates me and my guts."

Your father chuckled at your statement, even though he knew you were right. "He only hated the fact that he could not make a rival out of you. But his clever younger brother did."

His fingers were cold from the breeze, the hardened calluses across his palm tenderly squeezing your smaller hand in his.  

"I know it was Soshiro-kun who gave you that very thing we deprived you of," he told you, holding your gaze for you to understand the gravity of this conversation. "Purpose." 

Time was still for you all of a sudden, the weight of your father's tired eyes rested on you before he spoke once more. "He came to ask for your hand. In the future, he amended. He said the two of you are far too busy and far too valuable to the Defense Force to even consider marriage at present." 

It was your mother who related the events of Soshiro's visit to your family estate the other day. 

The blockhead second son of the Hoshina Family came to your home and prostrated himself before your father, his forehead reaching the tatami as he beseeched the patriarch with a crack in his voice that pulled at the older man's heart. 

"I don't care about your family's debt to mine. I promise to be good to her, so please…"

"What's this I heard about the Sixth Division Captain reachin' out to ya the other day?" 

You were conducting drills with your platoon when Soshiro arrived at the training ground. His arrival prompted your team members to pause their exercises to throw him a snappy salute that matched your own. "Vice Captain, sir!"

"We'll resume in five. Take a break, fellas," you gestured to your team, who could only watch with bated breath how your commanding officer pulled you aside. 

"Now, of all times?" You asked him, a hint of annoyance in your voice. "You do know everyone's watching us… Vice Captain, sir."

"I was just… curious. Why's he callin' you now—"

"Captain Hoshina simply wished to… congratulate us on our…" You replied to him, though every word you said made you more embarrassed and self-conscious because your members were still in their respective positions, only pretending not to hear your conversation. "30 laps around the block! You all better pick up the pace when I catch up! Go! Go! Go!"

Your team was quick on their feet when you clapped and motioned for them to start running. The mischief makers smiled as they passed by you, shouting their congratulations on your engagement. 

"Good grief…" You sighed in defeat. "I thought we were keeping things under the wraps."

"Hard to do that when everyone in the Third Division's so nosy," he chuckled. By the time all your members disappeared into a block, he gently took your hand in his and gave it a tender squeeze. 

"You know, Vice Captain, your brother did say something interesting earlier. I thought I'd let you know about it," you started. "Soichiro-san said you always challenged him to improve yourself, but there was one time you actually scored a point over him. Because you two were fighting over something."

"Really, now? I wonder what it was…" He replied with a playfulness in his tone. "It probably didn't matter to him much since he was a genius and all."

"He said he only let you win because you'd never stop bugging him about it," you told him, followed by a small pfft when you saw his expression change. "But you're right. It didn't matter to him much, but he saw how much it meant to you…"

It was supposed to be a petty argument between brothers, but it meant so little to him now since you were the one who broke off your engagement with his older brother. 

"There was a time when I thought I'd end up being Soichiro-san's wife because he was the one on the other end of the string… or so my family said," you stated with a scoff this time. "But if you must know, Soshiro, I considered myself yours the moment you asked me to swing a sword at you."

You squeezed his hand right back. "Thank you for defying fate for me. And for giving me the courage…"

Soshiro smiled at you— his same, knowing Cheshire Cat smile you've liked from the start. "Are ya kiddin' me? It was you who defied fate. Probably not for me, but good enough to think that it is. And our ancestors got what they wanted too, so there's that."

"Our ancestors didn't want a marriage," you retorted with a laugh. "They wanted a life for a life." 

"They got that, too. Yours is mine and mine is yours. Y'know, I think that red string just got tangled in the midst of everything. You're meant to be part of my family one way or another."

You returned his warm smile as you raised his hand to your cheek. "This is the only way I'd have it. The only way I want."

✦ x x

[janumun]

A Lemurian’s Guide to Love (LaDS Rafayel – General NSFW Headcanons) 

Rated: NSFW/18+

Tags: oral and vaginal sex, body worship, fingering, praise kink, facial, hand kink, Rafayel shenanigans, allusions to spoilers for Rafayel’s myth dates, certain ASMRs and his character story

Words: ~3k

Author’s Notes: The chokehold this man has on me (!!!) has led me to exploring Rafayel’s sexual foray as well as smidges of how I imagine his relationship to progress with his beloved in these headcanons. 

Please take careful note of those tags and rating and proceed at your own discretion!  

With that said, I hope you enjoy your read. 

Rafayel has stood by and waited for you; over the course of several years — from that fated meeting and the result: a promise borne and broken — and through the descent of the sands of time.  

And while he likes to consider himself a patient man — and to a degree, he has been just that; endurance incarnate over the course of those long, arduous years without his beloved at his side — when he does finally come across you, Rafayel finds his resolve ripple, and then gradually implode, into paper-thin fragments of yearning and fond desire.  

From how Rafayel oft presents his public persona to the world — cool and dispassionate; a tepid smile on the ready for strangers who wish to garner his favour or attentions, one wouldn’t even think to scratch past that surface. The task of avoiding unnecessary engagements, especially since his return to Linkon City a few years prior, preceding his debut as an artist, is one he finds particularly cumbersome.  

But during intimate moments, reserved for just the two of you, you see that exact same Rafayel — that handsome, charismatic artistic talent plastered, glossy, across covers of magazines and billboards — mould into silly scowls. A flair for the dramatics the minute he senses your attentions are not his alone for the taking. Ridiculous and feline-like in his excuses of demands from his ‘bodyguard’, to allow him her company.  

After an endurance survived this incredibly long, he finds that in certain matters, he can no longer wait.  

Great Lemurian entity he may be, but his habits fit firmer akin to a cat’s rather than any fish you’ve kept as a pet.  

He likes to tease and prod at you, wind you up and then, burst into subdued laughter the moment you take his bait. He’s frighteningly adept at stringing you along to his whims, a certain boyish charm you’ve never seen him utilize on any of his vast majority of fans in public. 

He loves to drag you out to impromptu sea-shell collecting ‘dates’ along the shores of Whitesand Bay, to capture the perfect pearlescent pink and silvers, to grind into paint on days he moans of “not having enough inspiration to paint’.

Tows you along for long drives in the vermillion convertible he was provided by Thomas, purchased from Rafayel’s private funds [the correct color he insisted on getting for the car before a poor Thomas was finally able to fulfil his request].  

Had you both stranded miles away from home once, when he had a punctured tire and ‘forgot’ to ensure he had a spare to change, in case of emergencies.  

And when you biked him back the rest of the way on a rental bicycle, you had the very nagging suspicion he wasn’t too upset about the mishap as he hummed an odd tune, seated behind you. Bodies close enough you felt the gentle vibrations of his voice deep within your bones, along with the steady movement of the tires hitting the paved road.  

Truly a feline more than any amphibious creature. 

A wondrous man, a delightful dissonance of character.

That very same man, when the two of you hold each other for the first time: 

His digits scour a delicate path across your face, your jaw, down your neckline; Rafayel is incredibly, uncharacteristically quiet the first night you are his. Bathed a sterling blue under the watery gaze of the moon. Save for the thick hitch of his breath with the unveiling of bare skin, he is mute.  

His eyes, however, a crisp indigo, seem to set an inextinguishable fire to the rest of your clothes.  

He observes — engraves into memory — first with his gaze, and then, his fingers follow. Long, tapered digits mapping the shape of your breasts, thumb denting gentle at the peaks of them. A grip he tests, firm, against the supple flesh of your waist, flaring outwards into the soft squish of your hips.  

He makes a sound then; incoherent, incomprehensible. Perhaps, an unconscious break of language into his native Lemurian tongue; the hoarse, barely compacted passion of it, however, conveyed to you in feelings.  

You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on.  

Your first night is incredibly long, Rafayel shows you truly what it means to be made love to, you nearly weep of joy and pleasure.  

He has waited, oh he has pined and wanted, for so long. It’s a surreal and soul shattering experience for him, just the blessing of you naked underneath his fingers alone, has all of Rafayel’s pretenses unravelling, all masks and facades falling away.  

The first time, there is no teasing, no hiding.

Rafayel is immaculately thorough in his exploration of your body. His fingers; his preferred medium of following the swells and dips of his canvas — your body.  

Unfortunately, and yet so very delightful for you; he takes his time sketching across your body throughout the night, providing no chance of rest or relief from the torrential waves of pleasure he crests through your body. His eyes trained fast on your face, for every slight quiver and break of you, witnessing your response to each single pinpoint of pleasure his fingers brush against.  

Responding obedient to pleas of “oh, there, right there, Rafayel.”  

This very first time, the sounds of you alone, moaning his name, could bring him to completion but he resists. Your pleasure, first and foremost, in his near-tunnel vision. 

When the calls of his name upon your lips become unbearable, with the curve of his index and middle up into your warm wetness, Rafayel caves, like sand carried back into the depths of the sea, underneath the unrelenting break of waves. Long fingers indenting into pliant thighs as he cleaves them up and apart for unobstructed access to your weeping slit and presses a parched tongue to lap up your essence.  

Curling his tongue up into your fluttering walls as his fingers dance against the tight bead of pleasure in between your legs, to the steady compresses of your thighs against the strength of his shoulders.

Rafayel adores and encourages your honesty in bed.

Ready to slow down when and if you tell him how overwhelmed you are. Takes you faster when you beg him to make you come with his mouth. All the while, that dark azure gaze is fixated upon you, the flush beneath them turned a deeper crimson with each sound of satisfaction he triumphantly plucks out of you. 

Lashes descending involuntarily, only when you crest at the peak of your pleasure and flood yourself onto his waiting tongue. The taste of a delectable sea; he laps up every single drop of until he is sated. 

And it is only when you implore Rafayel to put his cock inside you does he startle at the negligence of his body; hard and leaking, soiling the sheets beneath him.  

When you finally, finally connect, painfully slow; the push comes without resistance offered, from how wet he has had you from his ministrations, for a good part of the night.  

Rafayel has to struggle to breathe at the sensation of your warmth around him, tight, herculean control the likes of which he hasn’t ever had to scrabble for, ever in his life. To not just spill the moment he is inside you.  

Her pleasure, I want to feel it. I want to make her feel good.  

Still the sole thought behind that glazed, hot gaze. A moment of odd, emotional vulnerability when your eyes finally lock, your hands wandering now, to cup across his face.  

And when he begins to move, Rafayel needs to feel each and every single part of you with every single fibre of his own. Fingers resuming their trek of their now favorite canvas as you murmur love and praise into his ears. The weight of a breast hefty against one large palm, the other with his fingers intertwined through yours as he propels into you.  

Both of your releases, one and the same; as his eyes remain on the scrunch of your brow, just before he too falls, burying his face against the crescent of your neck. 

Rafayel’s style of love-making is firmly passionate.  

It is emotional, relieving and often times fun. He is incredibly adept at reading your cues and adjusting his pace according to your wants. Sex, in his mind, is an activity, as deserving of time and patience as his art — an intricate worship — and hence he usually requires the two of you have those several, long hours to spare before he gets to undressing you. Quickies, as such then, he isn’t a massive fan of.  

Neither public spaces — a private dressing room at one of his events, requiring the two of you to be out within a certain time period — no matter how desperate or wanting he might be. Silencing your own protests with a long, hushed kiss and a skewed mischievous, flushed smile that has your heart quivering inside your chest. “Be a good girl now and wait,” he remarks before setting your disheveled collar back in order. The graceful sweep of his hand; for you to take, once you are done, ready to escort you out into the venue.  

Open but private spaces, however, where you have time to spare and none to disturb, his private beach behind his home, is where you might find yourself spread wide across soft cloth. The cool waves of the shore lapping gentle at your tightly furled toes while Rafayel’s mouth works at the slick in between your legs. Truly his idea of a well-enjoyed romantic date. 

On the note of basking in the benevolence of seas, Rafayel loves giving oral as much as he enjoys receiving it.  

He isn’t incredibly vocal when it comes to giving voice to his desires, for having your mouth on him, often because he is more than happy [and engrossed] to have his mouth do all the talking (and lapping), while you luxuriate underneath the feel of his tongue and lips, like the [his] Queen you are. He loves servicing you to completion, no matter how much his tease of a foreplay may point to, otherwise.  

It is only when your mouth takes him in for the first time, on your request do you make the delightful discovery of Rafayel’s little give-aways. The quiver of his fingers threaded firm through your hair. The clench of a fine toned abdomen, ripples of tight pleasure splaying across his torso.  

“You’re doing so well, baby— hah, just like that. What have you done to me? You’re so good.” 

The drop of his jaw, the fine, dark dusting of red smeared across his cheeks and ears. His slow, stuttered groans and pants.  A deliberate suckle at his tip has him throwing his head back at the sensation, fingers spasming against the back of your skull. Your own resistance shattering and you take him in whole, the moan that chokes out of Rafayel’s throat in reward for your efforts is heaven enough, you keep returning for more.  

Rafayel is loud and has no shame in showcasing his love and desire for you through the sounds he makes, just for you.  

Part of the reason also why he prefers privacy to public displays of affection or quick sexual encounters. And he encourages just the same for you.  

Be it the sounds of appreciation that leave his mouth, muffled and undulating, into your pussy or while he is inside of you, enjoying every single inch of your drenched, clenching flesh against his length.  

“If you squeeze me that hard, I’m going to—” 

Words fracturing apart into a long, stuttered moan he presses right against your lips. Foreheads slick with the sweat of your desires as he bears down against you. Bright blue gaze meeting yours — the gentle florid fringe of pinks — steeped in pleasure as his fingers curve about your jaw, pleading a kiss from your lips. 

“My pretty girl.” A flushed devastating grin. “Let me come inside you. I want to feel the way your body clamps around me when I do. Gods, please.” 

Rafayel is an immensely flexible lover. No rules are set in stone, no bedroom innovations entirely over-ruled before the two of you knock it at least once.  

There is no sole lead; only the steps you weave in between you two, together. He is receptive to a wide variety of tastes and kinks; ever the most studious, eager participant, save for the rare personal boundary or two, he has set in place (see above: feelings regarding public sex). 

Grasping your hand to fold a kiss against your palm as he moves within you. Bidding on sex-hoarse whispers to entrust yourself to his care while he sets to plunging your entire being into flames, pleasure so exhilarating you’re left grappling for air by the end of it all. All the while, he shapes his marks of adoration against your skin, soothing warmth to set nerves lax from all their previous exertion.  

Or, when you ask it of him, supplicates himself — a willing, grinning participant — loving, puckish desire set to blaze within his dark eyes. Tracking each single move, the delicate fingers that sketch against his heaving abdomen, the hand that moves to enclose his cock in between eager digits and pump, slow: a delectable torture. And he responds in kind to your enthusiasm, if you leave his mouth unbound and able — sings for you as you so enjoy, in that rapturous voice you so adore. Lent a lascivious flavour from how his head rolls back across his neck in the throes of incoming release, the flush of him flooding down across his chest from how aroused he is for you to be doing what you are to him.  

The sight of him in his entirety is enough for your own patience to wear paper-thin, drenched wet from the erotic picture he paints beneath you.  

Rafayel’s house is a mess. 

...Something he often brushes off as personal ‘creative choices’, declaring he finds a certain order to his disarray of things strewn about.

The colors he knows exactly where to pluck off the floor of his studio. A second draft of an upcoming painting, pinned underneath a [fish] magnet against the kitchen cabinet. A spare shirt draped across the arm of a sofa for when he wants to quickly switch out of pigment-stained clothes in between paintings.  

However, he takes special care to keep his bedroom — or at the very least, on worse days, one sofa — in acceptable, spruced order. Especially so, after you start coming over to visit or stay the weekend, accompany him on days he holes himself up in his house, to pore over an artwork. Often so preoccupied, by the time he snaps out of it, several hours later: to a velvet sky outside and you scrunched up in an upright position, with your head coasting sideways at an uncomfortable angle, in your sleep.  

The first and last time that happens as he carts you into his arms and off to his bedroom to tuck you into his bed and insists you retire to his bedroom on your own, the next morning, whenever you feel like dozing off. Making a point, then onwards to always have it ready and at your disposal.  

For sleep and when you’re both not; tangled within each other and the sheets, cooling down from your highs.  

Rafayel craves chaste physical intimacy post-coitus as he drags you into his arms, your breath warm against his chest. He despises being away from your comfort for even a moment’s breath; extra adorable and tetchy in his phase of dramatics if you try and squirm away. 

Has startled you on one particular occasion; hunched, stark naked, by the door of the bathroom as you stepped out of it. A frown knit in between his brow, a disagreeable moue to that beautiful mouth and a simple, “I’m cold, warm me.”  

An amalgamation of just how Rafayel is like and something else; deeper, you suspect it stems from unspoken fears of loneliness. There are nights you don’t quite understand, when his emotions run rampant and his need for physical affirmation and constant connection are strong; the man immediately soothed to rest the moment your hand is across his cheek, fingers caressing down the sculpt of his jaw. Tiring him at last into exhausted sleep. A vulnerability to his visage only you are allowed  to stand witness to.  

There is something so incredibly erotic about his girl when she lets him put his cock against her mouth... 

Testing every single mental fortitude, he has ever had thrown up, walls of iron built over the course of centuries, crumbling at the feeling of your wet mouth against his length. Drawing him in before you swallow him, right to the base.  

Taking his seed down your throat like the damn, amazing girl you are but if you pull back at just the right moment, firm fist bringing him to spill against your cheeks, traversing down the arc of your neck— 

Rafayel’s thoughts frizzle into a numb void, mouth agape and panting. A scarlet flush dashed across the ridge of his cheekbones, his ears, to witness your face dirtied by smears of his cum. The sight truly untethers a carnal, primitive want in him, he isn’t able to fully parse himself.  

Truly imprinted upon as the bride of the Sea God. 

Your sexual sessions are more often than not, kicked off on sensual, fun notes and back-and-forths.  

A stray jibe you might throw his way at one of his odd habits and he’s plucking you right off your feet. Nimble digits feathering down the expanse of your abdomen in retaliation before you’re reduced to giggles; both of your fingers catching at the other’s clothes in an attempt for dominance before you drift, natural, against the other’s mouth in soft, scheming smiles. 

Or, when you reach to strike the firm muscle of his behind, the sweet, silly twist to his mouth right as he startles, an indignant, scandalized gaze he rolls your way. “Why, you—” Before you reach to grasp him by the collar and drag down towards your waiting, open mouth. Lips drawing wide into a smile as you feel his reciprocated urgent squeeze across your ass; the pads of his fingers tracing the lining of your panties beneath your skirt. “Don’t make me return the favor several fold, pretty siren.” 

The bite of restive teeth he sinks into his lower lip as he hauls you up and against his rigid length. Before you reach forward, disengaging his lip, to suckle it into your own mouth. “Try me.” 

The act itself leaning more into the romance of the moment and slow, deep thrusts into your body as Rafayel drifts against you. Mouthing every piece of spare skin in sight, affirmations and assurances as clear and heard as the moans that tumble from his lips.

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[terezis]

ok here's the hot goss from the nycc taz gn panel

i don't actually know whether or not it was recorded/ if they're going to put it online so here is my summary. also if i miss anything and u were there pls feel free to chime in. spoilers obviously!!!

got eight new preview pages (four two-page spreads), not the pages on the macmillan website!!!

ok i will tell u about those pages but the main thing discussed at the panel was how they went about adapting this arc into gn form. the actual time spent in wonderland has been trimmed a lot bc they had to think about what was actually important to the narrative as they are building to story and song.

basically in planning out the suffering game they also really had to decide what the rest of the series would look like, bc whatever they include now is seeding the stuff that's going to happen later.

cam is not in this book. it was implied there's less wheel spins. rowan/ash/sterling get much less screen time

almost half of this book is lunar interlude stuff (pre and post suffering game, INCLUDING REUNION TOUR!!! no word on where it ends but they made it clear that a LOT of thought went into what to include and where to end it, and what that would mean for the next book)

ok so about those preview pages

first one was post-taakitz date with kravitz sensing a lich and the umbra staff shooting at him <3 <3 <3

i thought they were going to show us the preview pages that were on macmillan so when i saw kravitz i was so shook

second spread was magnus visiting the voidfish, which now happens right before they leave for wonderland; the whole beginning of tsg from magnus trying to talk to pringles to him kidnapping those guards to the chimera fight was cut LOL bc it never really got… addressed again in the podcast

angus comes to get him for the mission but magnus has been going Through It (outright stated, they were like. he found out he's a red robe. he would probably not be handling it well. he has eyebags now. LOL) and snaps at angus when angus presses him on what's wrong.

more angus content, he will be investigating what's going on at the bureau more (his scene w magnus ties into this)

same for lucretia! more content/ stuff for her to do

third spread was merle w his kids getting saved by the red robe, is at a carnival instead of a random street this time LOL

last one was the boys arriving just outside of wonderland

wonderland looks fuckign cool

what else… oh confirmed like eighty panels of bare ass naked magnus after he gets his body back. so i think we really are getting the full reunion tour this book???

ALSO NAKED BARRY COVERED IN SLIME. WHEN HE GETS OUT OF THE POD. CONFIRMED. CANON. LOL

omg ALSO!!! ben (editor) said he campaigned REALLY HARD to have the umbra staff break during the suffering game, freeing lup early, bc he really wanted more time with her, but griffin campaigned really hard NOT to do this, and in doing so his arguments solved a lot of other problems they had been having at the time LOL

travis is the fans' champion when the others get too edit-happy. he's the one who has a good idea of what moments are important to the readers so he's like hey… too far. don't cut that. and then they don't

justin leaves great notes and when they couldn't figure stuff out ben would often say "no it's fine justin will solve this." and he ALWAYS DID

this was news to justin

??? i think that's all the main points honestly i'm v picky about adaptations but overall i feel like these are good changes that make sense when translating the podcast to gn

that said i do hope taako still gets a washing machine dropped on him <3 do this for me carey <3

[pin-k-ink]

paradox // kunikida doppo

tw ⇢ punishment sex, spanking, power play, sir kink, degradation, dirty talk, begging, unprotected sex, kinda bratty reader, manhandling, slightly possessive kunikida

wc ⇢ 5.7k

a/n: for the sake of the story, let’s just pretend that he has an office of his own. also, i’m not happy with this one at all :(

Kunikida pinched the bridge of his nose, trying and failing to ignore the pounding headache brought on by you once again. As an elite member of the Armed Detective Agency, he prided himself on maintaining strict order and following protocol to the letter. You, on the other hand, seemed to take immense pleasure in upending rules and sowing chaos wherever you went.

From the moment the agency had reluctantly taken you on as a recruit, you had been a thorn in Kunikida's side. Your flagrant disregard for authority and propensity for reckless behavior clashed violently with his regimented, by-the-book approach. He had tried every disciplinary method in the book to whip you into an ideal operative - stern reprimands, revoked privileges, even temporary suspensions. But you remained stubbornly defiant, meeting his gravely disapproving looks with that insufferable, mocking smirk.

And yet, Kunikida couldn't deny the alarming frequency with which his thoughts strayed to your insolent countenance, your brazen flaunting of the rules he held so dear. You frustrated him to no end, but also awoke a deeper, indefinable tension within him that he didn't quite understand. An unseemly, unbidden part of him wondered what it would take to finally break through that seemingly impenetrable veneer of nonchalance and make you bend to his will.

Perhaps that made him a hypocrite of sorts - dreaming of bending the rules himself when it came to dealing with his most problematic subordinate. But you inspired a sense of reckless abandon in Kunikida that both thrilled and deeply unsettled him...

No matter how firmly Kunikida attempted to lock away the inappropriate thoughts and urges you awoke within him, you always seemed to claw your way back into the forefront of his mind. Your blatant refusal to take anything seriously gnawed at his restraint in a way he couldn't quite explain.

During disciplinary meetings, he found his eyes inadvertently trailing over the swell of your lips as you responded to his reprimands with that aggravating pout and exaggerated eye-rolls. He cursed the spike of heat that rushed through him at your patent disregard for his authority. A dark part of him wondered what it would take to wipe that impudent look off your face and replace it with something else...something less insolent.

The mere thought made Kunikida's palm itch to land a stinging slap to that sarcastic mouth of yours. He quickly banished the highly inappropriate imagery, aghast at himself for even entertaining something so unprofessional. This was exactly the kind of lapse in his hallmark control that you always managed to inspire in him.

And you remained utterly oblivious to the war raging within Kunikida every time your brazen antics landed you in his office for punishment. You simply met his gravest tongue-lashings with that same unbothered defiance. As if you could sense the effect you had on rattling his sterling composure and relished every second of it.

"Are you even listening?" Kunikida's raised voice would inevitably cut through your studious inspection of your nails or whatever else you used to intentionally tune him out. Slowly, you'd raise your gaze to his thunderous expression and bite back a grin.

"Of course, sir," you'd reply in that dulcet, insincere tone that made his jaw clench. "You were just regaling me again about the importance of following orders like a good little worker bee. My bad for zoning out."

The blatant mockery made Kunikida's hand spasm with the effort of restraining the shameful urge to--what? Shake you until that infuriatingly placid look shattered? Drag you over his knee for a painful lesson in respect?

He ruthlessly blanked those disturbing thoughts. This was precisely why he could never seem to make any headway with curbing your unruly behavior. You prowled at the very edges of his control, threatening to pull him down into a pit of disarray that he couldn't allow. At least, not as long as he remained your commanding superior.

But an increasingly depraved part of Kunikida wondered...what if he stopped adhering so strictly to the rules and regulations, just this once? What if he finally allowed himself to unleash the darkly authoritative side of himself you always seemed to flirt with riling up?

The thought was offensive to his core principles of conduct. And yet, the longer you persisted in your defiance, the harder it became for Kunikida to ignore. He could feel his restraint slipping more each day. Eventually something would have to give - either he would find a way to break through your mulish refusal to obey...or you would finally succeed in shattering his hallowed self-control entirely.

And somewhere deep down, a reckless part of Kunikida feared that the latter possibility was becoming harder and harder to discount entirely.

With every insolent quirk of your brow, every piccant quip dripping from your lips, Kunikida could feel his grasp on his legendary restraint slipping further. You had evolved from a mere disciplinary headache into something more...an itch he couldn't scratch, a puzzle he couldn't solve no matter how sternly he attempted to enforce protocol.

You remained utterly unfazed by his harshest reprimands and threats of punishment. In fact, you seemed to take a impish sort of delight in watching his control splinter under your relentless provocations. As if your sole purpose was to unmake the foundations of order and decorum that Kunikida had spent his life upholding.

The truly unsettling part was the unmistakable frisson of darkness that surged through Kunikida whenever you managed to rattle his unshakable decorum. He couldn't deny the undercurrent of illicit satisfaction that came with fantasies of finally stripping away that veneer of nonchalance by any means necessary. Of making you bend to his dominance and discipline until that diffident smirk was replaces with open desperation.

These were dangerous thoughts, Kunikida knew. They strayed into shadowed territory completely unbefitting of his position and principles. And yet he found himself unable to purge them entirely from his mind's eye. Especially not after that deliciously fraught encounter last week...

You had reported for a disciplinary meeting as required after your latest fiasco in the field. But this time, Kunikida's stern rebukes seemed to land with more effectiveness than usual. For once, you didn't simply smirk and dismiss his words out of hand. Instead, you had gone conspicuously still and quiet, holding his blazing gaze with something like trepidation.

Perhaps emboldened by that minute response, Kunikida hadn't been able to resist stepping into your space, pinning you with the full force of his formidable presence. You shrank back fractionally, your pupils blown wide as Kunikida allowed his voice to drop to a dangerous register.

"I'm going to ask you one final time," he had uttered in a tone of hushed intensity. "Are you going to start adhering to the protocols I've outlined, or am I going to have to take...disciplinary measures?"

Your throat had worked convulsively at the undisguised threat in his words. And Kunikida hadn't missed the way your chest rose and fell in strained panting as his proximity increased. Recklessly, he allowed his hand to grasp your jaw, his thumb sweeping over the plump swell of your lower lip.

"W-what kind of measures?" You managed to whisper, your eyes locked on his with a look he had never seen before. Not defiance or amusement...but something murkier. Needier.

Kunikida felt his control stretching to the breaking point in that moment. He had opened his mouth, dizzy with the realization that you had finally responded to his dominance in a way that spoke to primal, ravenous drives he kept locked away...

But then the sharp rap at his office door had shattered the tension. In an instant, Kunikida had sprung back, snatching his hand from your face as if burned. You had quickly looked away, color flooding your cheeks as you smoothed your shirt with unsteady hands. And simply like that, the intoxicating spell was broken.

A deep, unsettling part of Kunikida remained haunted by the memory - by the implications of what could have happened had you two been left uninterrupted. It was the closest he had come to completely casting off his rigid restraints where you were involved.

And he knew it was only a matter of time before you well and truly pushed him past that line for good.

In the aftermath of that charged encounter, Kunikida found it utterly impossible to purge you from his thoughts. His mind kept revisiting that moment when you had peered up at him through hooded eyes, your quickened breaths and parted lips hinting at something dangerously intoxicating simmering beneath the surface.

For once, you had seemed to surrender to his dominance rather than reflexively defying it. And Kunikida couldn't lie to himself - a baser, unrestrained part of him had sorely wanted to capitalize on that rare show of submission. To finally unleash the full force of his authority upon your insubordinate defiance in the way he'd been craving.

The things he could have done in that heated instance made Kunikida's blood run hot with illicit imaginings. He saw himself crowding into your personal space, allowing you no chance to retreat as he caged you against the wall. His hand would be merciless in its grip on your jaw, forcing your gaze to remain locked on his as he uttered in a dangerous rumble:

"That's enough backtalk from you. I've indulged your deplorable lack of discipline for far too long." His free hand would skim torturously down the side of your body, hips pressing firmly against yours. "I think it's high time I revisited the more...traditional methods for addressing willful insubordination, don't you?"

He could easily envision the thunderstruck look on your face, the sharp intake of breath as you grasped the undeniable threat - and promise - in his words. You would have nowhere to run, nowhere to hide from the punishing weight of Kunikida's dominance as his dark presence utterly consumed you.

Imagining you pliant and submissive in his grasp made Kunikida's core run molten. But even more dizzying was picturing you defiantly attempting to wrest back control. Visualizing the lush curve of your lower lip caught between biting teeth, eyes flashing insolent challenge at him. Kunikida's hand would instinctively tighten its bruising hold in response, his hips flexing against yours in clear warning.

"That's no way to look at a superior officer giving you an order," he would growl in a low tone that vibrated with contained menace and hunger. "If you insist on persisting in open insubordination...I'll simply have to find increasingly creative means of ensuring your obedience."

Coherent thought scattered at the maelstrom of forbidden images that suggestion conjured. He pictured your quickened panting, the feverish sweep of his eyes over your parted lips. Imagined the feeling of bare, flushed skin beneath his roaming palms as he ruthlessly stripped away every last scrap of nonchalance and defiance until only desperation and dark desire remained. Until you openly craved the merciless onslaught of his discipline as the only way to slake the raging ache he had instilled...

Lost in the lurid tailspin of such depraved fantasy, Kunikida had to choke back a guttural groan. He couldn't allow this lapse of his restraints, this flagrant dereliction of his sworn ethics. He was a professional damn it, not some degenerate indulging prurient appetites with a subordinate.

And yet every passing encounter made it more difficult to maintain that line. Especially when you would provoke him intentionally, practically begging for him to give in and relieve this growing, suffocating tension between you both. You were utterly shameless about it - biting your lip as you met his furious glare, shifting your hips in a subtle grind, making a show of trailing your fingers along your throat or any other path that drew Kunikida's hungry gaze.

It was as if you had finally recognized the combustible effect you exerted on his decorum and were determined to see how far you could push until he finally snapped.

The thought made Kunikida's jaw clench hard enough that his teeth ached. Because for all his bluster about punishments and discipline, he knew you had him at a profound disadvantage. He was teetering inexorably toward that point of no return where he would finally abandon every professional protocol and ethical brake.

And once he crossed that line, once he allowed his authority to wholly dominate and subjugate your mutinous defiance...he feared even you wouldn't be prepared for the ferocity of his response.

The closer Kunikida skirted to that precarious line, the more unrestrained your provocations became. You seemed to realize on an instinctual level that his restraint was thinning perilously. And like a predator sent blood in the water, you honed in relentlessly.

Simple disciplinary meetings turned into charged exhibitions where Kunikida found himself battling dueling urges - to either haul you over his desk and put you in your place once and for all...or to retreat before his control shattered entirely. The way your eyes danced with smug challenge as you stretched lazily in your seat, your shirt riding up to reveal a teasing strip of toned midriff. How you made a show of sucking on the end of your pen while maintaining that boldly unwavering stare.

He knew exactly what you were doing, could perceive the deliberate allure in each languid movement and baiting look. Yet it made no difference. Despite himself, Kunikida remained inescapably, irresistibly ensnared.

On several occasions, he even caught himself entertaining dark fantasies of making you pay for such provocative behavior. Of grasping the back of your neck in a brutal grip as he hauled you against his body, hissing reprimands directly against the heated shell of your ear.

"You think you can toy with me indefinitely?" His voice would be low and dangerous, sending involuntary shivers down your spine. "Push my restraint until I finally snap and retaliate in kind?"

He imagined his free hand roaming with impunity up your thigh, reveling in your sharp inhalation and instinctive part of your legs at the first brush of calloused fingertips against overheated skin.

"Be very careful what you wish for," Kunikida would rumble with quiet intensity. "My patience is nearing its end. And when it does...you're going to be wholly unprepared for what I inflict as punishment."

The thought made something dark and primal flare in the depths of his gaze as he drank in your reaction - the abrupt dilation of your pupils, the rapid flutter of your pulse visible in your throat. He found himself aching to push further, to see how far he could shove before you finally broke composure.

Of course, these sordid imaginings remained locked behind a carefully impassive facade in reality. But you seemed to perceive the storm brewing beneath, needling Kunikida with increasingly overt temptations. It was only a matter of time before one side inevitably yielded to the other's insistent goading.

Both of you understood the dangerous inevitability of that outcome. And unless Kunikida missed his mark, a perverse thrill coursed through you at the sinful prospect. You wanted to test the true reaches of his brutally implacable dominance. Craved to know just how merciless and singleminded he could be in stripping you of every last shred of insolent defiance, replacing it with desperation.

And deep down, past his last remaining shreds of professionalism, Kunikida knew he ached to finally unleash the full, unrestrained extent of his discipline upon you. To make you keenly experience the consequences of your flagrant acts of mutiny in a way that would irrevocably shatter the dynamic between you both.

He could practically taste the exquisite downfall awaiting on the other side of that line. The thought made his blood burn with illicit, undeniable need. Soon...so very soon now, he could already sense it.

One of you was going to be driven past the point of no return. And may whatever gods existed have mercy on the both of you when that finally happened.

The tipping point arrived in an almost anticlimactic fashion after one too many instances of your flagrant disregard for authority. A missed stakeout, a botched pursuit, careless actions that nearly blew an undercover operation - all culminated into a perfect storm that saw Kunikida summon you to his office with a look of thunderous rage.

You sauntered in as usual, seemingly oblivious to the palpable danger radiating off Kunikida in waves. When you opened your mouth to likely spout some flippant dismissal, Kunikida's palm slammed down on the desk with an earth-shattering bang.

"That's it!" He roared, his voice dripping with a lethal combination of fury and something darker, more ominous. "I've reached the limit of my forbearance where your unruly behavior is concerned."

There was an undercurrent of promised violence quivering beneath his words that sent an illicit shiver down your spine. Finally, you found yourself pinned by the full, unleashed force of Kunikida's domineering presence with no filter or restraint.

"S-sir..." You started, surprised to find your voice coming out more breathless than intended.

"No!" He snarled, rounding the desk in two long strides to loom over your frozen form."Not another word from your intractably vexing mouth. All you've done is goad me time and again with open defiance and contemptuous flaunting of every order."

One hand shot out to clutch the front of your shirt, the other gripping your jaw in a bruising hold that you instinctively tried to pull back from. But Kunikida was having none of it, his enraged features just inches from yours as he effortlessly subdued your attempts at retreat.

"It's clear that reasoned disciplinary actions hold no efficacy for an endlessly incorrigible, disrespectful wanton like you," he growled, his eyes burning with a ferocious intensity you'd never witnessed. "Since you refuse to respond to anything other than enticement and temptation..."

His grip on you tightened painfully then, his hips pressing you back against the wall as he loomed into your space, suffocatingly overwhelming in his masculine potency.

"I'm going to give you exactly what you've been asking for this whole time. The disciplinary punishment you've been flagrantly courting with every insubordinate act and tawdry provocation!"

Your eyes went wide at the undisguised vow of dominance, thrills of excitement and apprehension chasing each other. This was it - the moment you had sought to goad into existence through increasingly outrageous mutinies. Finally, you had pushed past Kunikida's hallowed restraints, unleashing the full, untempered force of his merciless authority.

A tiny part of your mind whispered that you should be terrified at the implications of his furious promise. That you were utterly at his mercy now, stripped of all defiance or nonchalance to shield you from his implacable onslaught. But the rest of you trembled with shameless yearning at the exquisite anticipation.

You held his blazing stare, allowing your lips to curl in a last, insouciant smirk that you knew would infuriate him further. A final push past the point of no return.

"Well?" You heard yourself taunting breathlessly, even as your core tightened with need. "What are you waiting for, sir? I'm ready for my punishment..."

Kunikida's eyes dimmed to something utterly primal and implacable in that moment. His mouth crashed over yours in a searing, punishing embrace of total domination and possession that stole your very breath. You could only weakly surrender, every ounce of protest and defiance melting beneath the unstoppable force of his furious onslaught.

Kunikida's assault on your senses remained utterly merciless and consuming for long, dizzying moments. When he finally tore his mouth from yours with a rasping growl, you were left weak-kneed and panting, captive in the scorching heat of his stare.

"If you insist on receiving this punishment you've been so shamelessly angling for," he rumbled in a voice rendered husky with banked intensity, "Then we're going to establish a few ground rules first."

One hand released its grip on your shirt, only to slide possessively down the side of your waist. You shivered at the teasing, almost punishing touch as he pulled your hips flush against his own.

"First - you will address me as 'Sir' at all times without a single exception or hint of insolence," Kunikida stated with soft menace. "Any disobedience, disrespect or defiant behavior of any kind will result in..." His fingers dug warningly into the swell of your ass, making you gasp. "Harsher disciplinary actions, understood?"

You could only mutely nod, throat too dry with anticipation to summon words. Kunikida's blazing eyes pierced you with censure at the lack of verbal acquiescence.

"Answer me properly," he growled in clear reprimand.

"Y-Yes...Sir," you whispered feverishly.

Satisfaction flickered over his expression before that ruthless mask reasserted itself. His palm trailed up to cup the side of your jaw, thumb sweeping over your lower lip in a gesture that somehow felt more overtly profane than his earlier bruising embrace.

"Good girl. Secondly, you are to remain fully nude and available for inspection and use for the duration of your punishment. At any point I desire to revel you laid bare before me, you will comply without hesitation. Are we clear?"

Your blood turned to liquid fire at the dark promise, thighs clenching involuntarily even as you managed a strangled, "Yes, Sir..."

Kunikida's eyes glittered with undisguised approval and something infinitely more carnal. Another lascivious sweep of his thumb and then he was pressing even more insistently into your personal space, his height and bulk rendering you utterly dwarfed.

"Lastly," he uttered in a voice gone molten with depths of rough authority. "You are not to achieve any sort of completion or release without my express command. Doing so will only succeed in prolonging your disciplinary regimen...perhaps indefinitely."

The whispered threat made your knees buckle treacherously. You could only stare up at Kunikida with something akin to desperation, already entirely in his thrall. "Yes..." you choked out, beyond any semblance of defiance or impudence now. "Yes, Sir!"

A sensuous smile of dark promise curved Kunikida's lips as he drank in your naked, yearning avidity. "Then let's begin..."

With that, he closed the infinitesimal gap between your bodies, his large hands grasping to divest you of clothing as his mouth slanted over yours in a searing, claiming brand of possession and dominance.

You could only keen softly into the devouring onslaught, surrendering to the relentless force of Kunikida's unleashed ardor and discipline with desperate, helpless abandon.

Kunikida's hands continued their ruthless task of stripping you bare, leaving you flushed and exposed to the searing heat of his hungry gaze. But the moment your clothes lay a pile at your feet, his grip shifted to seize your wrists. In an instant, he had turned you both to pin you face-first against the wall.

"Now then..." His voice was a low rumble as his large palm trailed down your back to rest heavily on the curve of your backside. "Time to teach you what happens to those who flagrantly disobey and disregard direct orders."

The first smack of his palm landed without warning, making you jolt in surprise. The initial sting was followed by a blooming warmth and spreading sensation that sent shivers down your spine.

"One," he uttered, his hand massaging the sensitive area. "For missing that stakeout last week."

His palm struck again, harder this time, the impact forcing a breathless cry from your lips. "Two," he murmured, his fingers kneading the tender flesh with deliberate, cruel pressure. "For allowing that suspect to escape after being under strict surveillance."

"Three..." A third slap landed, sending ripples of heat and stinging pleasure-pain through you.

"Four..." The sound of your ragged gasps and Kunikida's low, hypnotic voice counted down each blow, making your skin run hot and flushed.

"Five..." Each impact left you feeling more lightheaded, the pain giving way to a pulsing ache of arousal that throbbed through you.

"Six..." Your legs trembled from the effort of keeping upright, and you couldn't contain the sharp moan that escaped as Kunikida's large, calloused palm delivered a punishing swat.

"Seven..." Kunikida's voice remained utterly calm and unwavering, as if the sight of your squirming and moaning in response to his harsh disciplinary measures was merely a formality.

"Eight..." Tears pricked your eyes, the pain of the strikes blurring with the overwhelming pleasure until it was nearly indistinguishable.

"Nine..." Your head tipped forward against the wall, unable to contain the soft whimpers escaping your lips.

"Ten."

The final slap was by far the hardest, and the most intense. It sent a flood of heat through you, the ache of pain mingling with a sharp spike of arousal. Kunikida's palms skimmed over the reddened, sensitive flesh, and a choked moan fell from your lips at the exquisite mixture of agony and need.

"Such a good girl, taking her punishment so well." Kunikida's low voice rumbled with approval, the heat of his chest suddenly pressed against your back. One hand curled around the front of your neck, his nose nudging against the shell of your ear.

"Now tell me..." His free hand slipped down the front of your body, his fingers delving between your trembling thighs. "How do you think I should punish this wanton little cunt for her brazen defiance?"

You whimpered and jerked against him, overwhelmed by the feeling of his fingers sliding through your slick heat. He seemed to be purposefully avoiding your throbbing clit, instead spreading the evidence of your arousal over your folds.

"Shall I fill you to the brim and use you as I see fit until I've had my fill?" Kunikida mused, his teeth lightly grazing your earlobe. "Or should I leave you wanting and desperate, bound and helpless as I indulge myself at my leisure?"

A shuddering gasp fell from your lips, and you couldn't help pushing back against him, grinding shamelessly into his touch. You were utterly overcome with desire and need, the pain of his earlier chastisement still lingering but no longer enough to satiate.

"P-please..." you pleaded, unable to control the needy rocking of your hips. "Please, I need--"

"No." The sudden bite of his voice made you freeze, the hand around your throat tightening slightly. "I've given you enough liberties as it is. Now you're going to beg me properly for the privilege of relief."

You swallowed hard, the pressure on your neck only serving to heighten your desperation. "Please..." you whispered, the ache between your legs becoming unbearable. "Please, I'll do anything, just--"

"Not good enough." Kunikida's fingers abruptly pulled away, and you barely stifled a needy whine. "Beg."

His command was punctuated with a firm swat to the side of your ass, the sting reigniting the dull ache from earlier. You yelped and bucked against him, and you could feel his hardness pressing against your thigh.

"P-please..." The word was torn from your throat, raw and pleading. "Please, I need to feel you inside me. Need you to fill me, fuck me, please..."

"Very good." There was a dark, pleased note in Kunikida's voice, and you shuddered in anticipation. His hand left your throat, only to tangle in your hair and yank your head back, exposing your neck.

"But first, one final lesson in obedience."

You barely had time to register his words before his lips descended on your throat, sucking and biting a dark bruise into your skin. You cried out, arching into his touch, your hips grinding against his as he marked you.

"Mine." The single word was uttered with such possessive certainty that it sent a thrill down your spine. His other hand grasped your hip, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise as he held you in place.

"Say it."

The command was accompanied by a sharp nip to the juncture of your neck and shoulder, and you moaned shamelessly. "Yours," you breathed, the words tumbling from your lips without hesitation.

Kunikida's low growl of approval sent a shiver through you, and you could feel him shift behind you, his hands leaving your body for a moment.

"I want to see you."

The words were growled into your ear, his presence behind you disappearing for a moment. The next thing you knew, his large hands were gripping your waist, turning you to face him. He looked utterly wrecked, his eyes dark and pupils blown wide, his chest heaving and cheeks flushed.

It was a heady feeling, seeing such a usually composed, self-possessed man reduced to such a state of undone hunger. Especially because of you.

Your eyes dropped to his pants, which were straining around the impressive bulge of his erection. You licked your lips, suddenly overcome with the urge to taste him, to feel him fill your mouth as you knelt at his feet.

"Sir, may I--"

"No." His voice was hard and firm, his eyes flashing with dangerous heat. "You are not in a position to make demands or requests right now."

A wave of defiance washed through you, and you bit your lip, unable to resist a parting shot. "Then perhaps I should simply find another way to entertain myself while you get yourself together, sir."

A low, feral sound tore from Kunikida's throat, and before you could react, his hands were gripping your waist, tossing you unceremoniously onto his desk. Papers went flying, and you had just enough time to prop yourself up on your elbows before his hands were pinning you in place.

"Do not," he hissed, his face mere inches from yours. "Test me right now."

Your breath hitched, a flush of heat going through you at the intensity of his gaze. His lips crashed over yours in a rough, claiming kiss, his tongue sweeping into your mouth. You moaned into the kiss, arching against him, desperate for friction.

He seemed just as impatient, his hands leaving your wrists to slide down your body, his fingers finally - blessedly - finding your clit. You broke the kiss, gasping as he stroked you, circling your clit and spreading the wetness gathering at your entrance.

"Fuck, you're soaking," he muttered, his eyes darkening as he watched you writhe beneath him. "You really do enjoy this, don't you? Being put in your place, taken apart by my authority."

His fingers dipped lower, teasing at your entrance, and you whined. "P-please," you gasped, grinding against his hand. "Please, I need--"

"You need me to fill you, don't you?" He rumbled, the tip of his finger sinking into you. "Need to feel me inside you, stretching you, fucking you."

You could only moan in response, the ache in your core growing unbearable. His fingers were driving you crazy, the way he kept just brushing against your g-spot but never quite pressing fully inside. It was maddening, and you could feel your arousal growing with each passing second.

"Well, since you've been such a good girl and taken your punishment so well," he murmured, his thumb rubbing slow circles on your clit, "Perhaps I'll give you a little reward."

With that, he pulled away, and you bit back a groan of frustration. But then you saw him unbuttoning his pants, the sight making your mouth go dry. You couldn't tear your eyes away as he pulled his cock free, stroking himself as he looked down at you.

"Spread your legs."

His voice was firm, leaving no room for argument. You obeyed immediately, parting your thighs as he moved to stand between them. His hands were on your hips, pulling you toward the edge of the desk, and you could feel the head of his cock brushing against your entrance.

"Look at me."

You did, meeting his eyes as he slowly pushed into you, inch by torturous inch. Your head fell back, and you moaned as he stretched you, filling you to the brim. He was big, and you could feel your inner walls fluttering around him, adjusting to his size.

He was watching you intently, his eyes drinking in the sight of you, flushed and needy, spread out on his desk. He began to move, pulling out slowly before thrusting back into you, his pace steady and firm. You moaned, clutching at the edge of the desk as he fucked you, the delicious stretch and friction making you dizzy with pleasure.

"You feel so good, taking my cock so well," he groaned, his grip on your hips tightening as he increased his pace. "You're such a good girl, letting me fill you up like this."

His words made a flush of heat go through you, and you clenched around him, earning a low groan from him. He was hitting all the right spots, the angle allowing him to reach deeper inside you.

"God, the things I want to do to you..." His voice was low and rough, his gaze dark with arousal. "I could keep you like this, desperate and aching for me, for hours. Just waiting to be used and filled as I see fit."

His fingers slid down your thigh, finding your clit again and making you jerk against him. You were so close, the tension coiling in your core with each thrust of his hips.

"And the next time you try to defy my orders, I'm going to tie you down and have my way with you until you're begging for release. Maybe even put a vibrator on that pretty little clit of yours and make you ride it until you're screaming my name."

You whimpered, the image his words conjured making your inner walls tighten around him. His thrusts were becoming more erratic, and you could tell he was getting close. You were right on the edge, the tension building inside you with each passing second.

"Now come."

His voice was a command, and you could no more disobey it than stop breathing. Your climax crashed over you, sending shockwaves of pleasure through you. You were vaguely aware of his fingers digging into your hips as he fucked you through your orgasm, his thrusts growing frantic before he stilled, spilling inside you with a low groan.

For a moment, the only sound in the room was your ragged breathing as you both came down from your high. You were still trying to catch your breath when Kunikida spoke, his voice quiet and steady.

"I hope this will serve as a sufficient reminder for you to obey my orders in the future."

You couldn't help but let out a small chuckle, the corner of your mouth twitching upward.

"Perhaps we should repeat the lesson a few more times, sir, just to be certain I remember."

His expression was unreadable, but there was a spark of amusement in his eyes as he regarded you.

"As you wish, my dear."

[rebelren]

I just saw a post about leverage that contained the words "since Eliot is heterosexual," and I'm just sitting here like. I'm sorry, Eliot is what?! The rest of the person's point is fine and good, but my brain cannot comprehend watching Leverage and concluding that Eliot fucking Spencer is a straight man when the ot3 is RIGHT FUCKING THERE.

[Spoilers for OG Leverage]

(Also, Eliot already knew he wasn't straight before he met the crew. The implication is VERY much there with Moreau too.)

And there's just so much to enjoy when it comes to the ot3...

The way Parker and Hardison watch him with glee and obvious appreciation as he beats up Sterling in the pub, like this is not the first time their boyfriend has done this (and they love to see it every time).

The way he grabs the back of Hardison's neck when they're dealing with the Spanish flu. "We agreed we all change. For better or worse, we change together." (And just all of the rundown job bc 🥵)

The story Nate tells in the finale involves them dying hand in hand, linked forever. The actual wedding vows Eliot himself says at the end.

Eliot Spencer is not heterosexual, and you can pry the leverage ot3 from my cold dead hands while my ghost hovers overhead cursing you loudly and vehemently.

[daydreamerdrew]

Whiz Comics (1940) #2

[itsangelicasworld]

*･῾ ⁺ Welcome to My Teen Titans DR 🧨 .*

💥 ˗ˏˋ DESCRIPTION .ᐟ

In 2003 Jump City, a team of six teenagers called the "Teen Titans" fight against supervillains threatening their beloved metropolis. Along the way, they must face issues even worse than superpowered antagonists who want them captured; emotions, romance, and navigating the bumpy road of impending adulthood. My DR follows the plot of the show except with my own headcanons, scenarios, etc.

Like the show, there are no secret identities; so our superhero personas are quite literally just us. WHICH MEANS WE'RE TREATED LIKE CELEBRITIES!! People ask for photos/autographs, we have merch, and there's even an entire Teen Titans fandom with forums and fanarts and theories!! Not super relevant to this reality's lore, but thought it'd be cool to mention🤭.

🔆 ˗ˏˋ ABOUT ME .ᐟ

NAME : Angelica Sterling

NICKNAMES : Quin, Angel

AGE : 16-years-old

PRONOUNS : She/her/hers

ETHNICITY : Black and Mexican

MBTI : INFP-T

PERSONALITY : Optimistic, courageous, charismatic, empathetic, humorous, witty, mature, impatient, cautious, idealistic

HERO ALIAS : Quanta

POWER : Quantum Manipulation (basically the ability to manipulate the very foundation of the universe/matter because I'm the main character actually🤭)

SUB-POWERS : Healing, telekinesis, quantum empowerment, shapeshifting

DRAWBACKS : Using too much of my power at one time can lead to fatigue; symptoms range from mild (grogginess, irritability) to severe (headaches, unconsciousness). Additionally, under incredibly high-stress situations or potent emotions, my powers may become unstable or erratic

COMBAT SKILLS : Hand-to-hand, mixed martial arts, kickboxing, and of course using my powers, which include shooting projectiles and making defense constructs

🍕 ˗ˏˋ RELATIONSHIPS .ᐟ

I made moodboards + added some quotes for all of them here, so check that out if you wanna see their aesthetics🤭

ROBIN : My s/o!! I could write 100 paragraphs about this man but I'll list our tropes instead💪

Tortured hero (on his side, he gets it from Batman ftgyhuhgtfg)

Friends to lovers

Slooowwww burn

Mutual pining

Healing together

STARFIRE : Me and her are SUUCHH girly-girls. Having sleepovers, going to the mall, exploring the city, etc. is literally all we do and I love it. She also really likes ranting about Tamaran to me. Hearing her childhood stories is so sweet🛐

RAVEN : Initially, Raven needed time to warm up to me, but now we have a really close bond. UGGHH I can't wait to meditate with this girl and talk about spirituality. AND I SCRIPTED I'M THE ONLY ONE SHE ALLOWS IN HER ROOM, SO IT'S LIKE HAVING VIP TICKETS FFGHFFG BEAST BOY : This dude is such a jokester but he's so insecure I just NEED TO HUG HIM😭😭. He's like the little brother I never had; super annoying but I couldn't imagine my life without him

CYBORG : Although I'm not as close to Cy as some of the other members, he really means a lot to me!! He's kind of like my big brother. He really likes to teach me about mechanics and I know he's always got my back, and I have his. Even though we can squabble over his attitude sometimes💀

🦇 ˗ˏˋ OUTRO .ᐟ

Feel free to send in asks about this DR (and really any of them if your curious), they'd be greatly appreciated!! Thank you for reading THIS far <333

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ𝘂𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗹 𝗻𝗲𝘅𝘁 𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲 *+:｡.｡ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ. . . . . ╰──╮

Aesthetics inspired by @/shiftingwithjaidyn's fame DR intro | Dividers by @/strangergraphics-archive

[sunnami]

wips. (happy pride month and 1k!)

— snippets of all my ongoing works! hopefully this motivates me to finish them, lol. this is my apology for not posting the last few months huhuhu. enjoy! please remember these are unedited drafts!

last part of time-traveller harry au. (5k words written, my highest priority atm, got stuck in one of the scenes, but i think i can complete it soon now that i realize my writer’s block was due to me having an issue with the spacing... i hate having adhd.)

the houses as the miscommunication trope (hufflepuff ver.) (miscommunication trope is my guilty pleasure, sue me; i love hufflepuffs, y’all.)

isekai au. (i usually hate the modern reader in the hp universe, but after reading some godly fics and watching lovely runner. . . I GET IT.)

enemies to lovers au. (but the reader was forced to be a dark wizard. YEAH YEAAH! THE GIRLS ARE FIGHTING!)

animagus au. (i love shifter fics where the mc is just so tiny and cute, and the love interests are these big glorious animals. DO U SEE THE VISION AJGKSKG. i was supposed to post this before my latest fic. . . but i decided that there wasn't enough angst to work on, so. . .)

werewolf au. (TWILIGHT ROMANCE LETS GO, LMAO. MATES!! THE "UR MINE" MOMENT. SOULMATES, AAAAH!! two snippets—which is basically the entire draft of this fic, lmao!)

drabble: their favorite photograph of you. (i love the marauders sm)

my personal favorite: the solitary firebird. (this would be my dream to write and complete, but this would be a full-on fic with character development and all. it would require so much commitment. one day, aaa. it’s inspired by one of my most favorite fics ever: the sterling nightingale. it’s a finnick odair story on ao3!! but, the next enemies to lovers i write, might be a condensed one-shot of this plot.)

AJGKSKGKF TELL MEE WHAT U THOUGHT AAAA THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR 1K !!! maybe for 2k ill reveal another batch of wips ueueue.

i promise to really, really improve on my writing. there's a lot i think i could do better. im so so grateful for the sweet comments on my posts, the lovely messages in my ask box. im so so humbled and grateful. thank you. 🤎

[deconstructthesoup]

Some miscellaneous stuff for the Fantasy High Leverage AU:

After getting kicked out, Kristen got taken in by Ankarna and Cassandra, who are living their best country-lesbian vibes out on a farm together---a farm which eventually gets in financial trouble and almost gets shut down by a corporation, which is how the crew learn about Kristen's past before she was a hitter. The farm winds up doubling as a safehouse. (Also, Ankarna wears flannels and has a shotgun, and Cassandra does tarot readings at their stall at the farmer's market on weekends. They also have a little black cat, with no relation to Kalina.)

Despite all the rumors swirling around, the way Fig and Fabian met is surprisingly mundane: when Gilear moved from Portland back to London after he and Sandralynn divorced, Fig went with him, and she got enrolled in the same school that Fabian was attending. The two of them became fast and immediate friends, wound up becoming the most popular kids there due to their combined chaos and the fact that they were kind to those who needed it, and were pretty much inseparable from that point forward. And when Fig introduced Gilear to Fabian's mom, who'd been widowed for a while and was looking for someone stable... well, as much as Fabian complained, it meant that he and Fig were officially siblings. (They learned how to grift from Hallariel, who was a very well-renowned thief in her day. It's how she met Bill, after all.)

Fig is the sibling who's the "bad actor in a theater setting, good actor when she's breaking the law" type, though it's a bit more complex than that. She's amazing at coming up with a character on the spot, building off of the questions that people ask her, and remembering details so none of the information contradicts what she's already said, but she finds scripts "boring and restrictive," and always tries to put her own spin on things... which doesn't always fit well. She does get a little better at following a script of sorts when she's on the crew---at least, she learns to follow the plan.

Kristen hasn't gone by "Kristen Applebees" since she was fifteen---instead, the criminal underworld knows her by "Kristen Justice-Forester," referencing her adoptive moms. Mostly because that sounds generally more badass, but also because she really wants to forget about her old life as the church girl next door.

Gorgug's legal name is "Gavin Thistlespring," but he's been going by Gorgug since he was twelve---it was the name of his first ever D&D character, and it eventually became his hacker handle. (This is really because I just needed an explanation as to why a perfectly normal human in a world that's basically ours would be named "Gorgug." I do something similar for Fig in a lot of my AUs---her name's either just "Fig," or she's named after a character from a fantasy series that Sandralynn likes.)

Someone suggested that Kalina is the Sterling equivalent, and I liked it so much that I decided to make it canon---but instead of being Riz's former partner, she's his dad's old partner and mentor who was forced to help cover up Pok's death. She's not necessarily bad, but she does have a very black-and-white view of morality, and she's not a fan of Riz's new, less-than-legal idea of justice.

Adaine still has the Parker rep of being "crazy," but in a very different light. Rather than being a thrill-seeking ball of chaos who's an unpredictable wildcard in every way when the story begins, she's unsettlingly quiet, perceptive to the point where she can predict things minutes in advance, and acts seemingly without morality and with her own skewed logic. As she spends more time with the crew and warms up to them, however, everyone starts to see that Adaine is unflinchingly and unfailingly kind---and that once she actually warms up to you, she will talk nonstop about anything she's invested in, whether it be obscure history facts, thieving tips, or whatever show, book, or video game that one of the others has gotten her hooked on. She's just closed off as a defense mechanism.

Fabian is the sibling with a deep and personal bond with Riz---not that Fig isn't close to him, but Fabian and Riz shot each other when they first met, and you can't beat that. And while Fabian used to have a thing for Riz, he eventually realized that Riz wasn't interested in any kind of relationship, though neither of them fully had the words for it (because, y'know, this story still starts in 2008). Still, though, he considers Riz his best friend and vice versa, and once he's on the crew, he never dates anyone without introducing them to Riz first. And his affections tend to bounce back and forth between Gorgug and Ragh. Or both. Let's just say that Fabian's got the most romantic drama out of any of them.

Riz is still close with his mom, despite the fact that, as a lawyer and former cop, he knows that she probably wouldn't approve of what he does. He just tells her that he runs a private detective agency, which isn't too far from the truth---hell, it's their cover story, after all.

Fabian's father was the greatest thief in the world when he was alive, but that came with a lot of enemies, and that's not something that Fabian wants to deal with---not to mention, he's always been adamant about making a name for himself, and to not just skate by on the Seacaster name. If that means that he has to refer to himself as "Fabian Faeth," well... so be it. He reasons that it's Fig's last name. Not Gilear's.

Fig has never met her bio-dad before the story begins... but she does meet him eventually. There's a whole thing there.

Adaine does not kill Angwyn in her backstory. However, she does get to do that eventually, and it's cathartic as fuck.