#the rest of his fucking aliases -

[b1rds3ye]

Victory Kiss

Turns out Graves gets very passionate when celebrating a successful mission. And when you’re nearby you end up facing the brunt of it.

Pairing: Phillip Graves x GN!Reader

Reader Aliases: Chief

Genre: Fluff, Comedy, Pre-MWII

Word Count: 1.5k

Warning: Graves kisses reader without prior consent (not malicious but please read at your own discretion)

A/N: Probably OOC Graves but imagining this was too entertaining to me 😋

You’ve gotten used to this.

You’ve gotten used to Graves’ infectious energy after a hard-earned win. He was a natural leader, cunning and brimming with charisma, but carefully restrained as to not be impulsive in high stakes situations. But when the stakes were low - such as times like now - Graves was free to be as expressive as he wished. And as second in command to Shadow Company, required to always stand by his side, you got front tickets to watch it unfold.

Shadow Company had offered unofficial air support in the depths of Kastovia. With every operation the stakes were getting higher and higher. After deploying all ammunition until resources were depleted, it seemed the entire aircraft waited with bated breath as you surveyed the ground through a heads up display. You sensed Graves beside you, his looming shadow gave more contrast to the monochromatic screen. Each pixel flickered from the daylight, the movement of trees and friendlies through the screen setting false flags in your mind.

You pulled back to look at Graves. His face was stern, the muscles in his face taut, eyebrows slightly furrowed as he tried to read your neutral expression. You shook your head.

“Confirmed hit, all hostiles eliminated.”

And there it was, like a switch flicked inside of him, you felt a little proud that you were the one who triggered it. Graves slammed his hands on the front console, pushing himself off to stand tall, brimming with energy. He was now adorning that familiar smile, a little wonky but charming all the same. With a heavy arm, he gave you a hefty slap on the back in congratulations, one that would’ve sent your head through the display if you weren’t prepared.

“That’s what I’m fucking talking about Shadows, this is how you get the job done!”

The entire atmosphere of the compartment lifted, you wouldn’t be surprised if the aircraft itself increased in elevation. There were sighs of relief, cheers of joy and hugs of a job well done. You never got sick of this sight, it reminded you what you were fighting for, to bring these boys home and secure victory.

It was a familiar sight, but it was comfortingly predictable. You watched with amusement as Graves paced around the room, praising each individual member in a voice so loud it damaged your ears once, then bounced off the walls to hurt your hearing for a second round. Each recruit responded with the signature ‘yup-yup’ and beaming smile. With each comment given, Graves was getting more and more drunk off the adrenaline which after months of observing him, came with some interesting habits of his.

It was fun hearing him swear like a sailor when he usually keeps his language so restrained he could be put on a children’s show.

“I saw your shots Erikson, that was the shit.”

“Vance you saved our fuckin’ asses with that extra fire.”

“Send this mission report to Shepherd and your dads will be back with the milk before you fucking know it!”

You’re pretty sure Graves has no idea what’s coming out of his mouth at this rate and to be fair neither do you nor the rest of the Shadows.

You stifled a snicker as you watched on. He continued with his questionable praise, not even stopping at the aircraft itself to which he gave an encouraging spank to the metal wall, only to recoil his arm when it unmistakably hurt his palm. Even on the other side of the aircraft, you caught snippets of what he said and you were sure the cheerful laughs of the Shadows were out of respect and not because they understood him. Although with an accent and voice like his, he could make a nonsensical string of sounds and you’d be nodding along.

Graves had gone full circle and made his way back to you.

“And to the soldier of the hour.”

He reared his head to you with such a leading force that the rest of his body had a hard time keeping up. His arms swayed from the momentum.

Just like every routine celebration, he planted his hands securely on your shoulders. His face is graced with the same charming smile he’s given you for months. Even under the red lighting of the aircraft he looked nothing short of a budding hero, the blue of his irises shone against the shadows cast over his face.

You expected the praise.

“Beautiful fuckin’ work, Chief.”

What you didn’t expect was the kiss that came straight afterwards.

You didn’t even have time to reply as Graves used his leverage on your shoulders to pull you in, lips crashing against yours. It was chaste, but the sheer strength he had made you sure your lips will bruise. Your mind blanked, adrenaline numbing any potential pains. The whirring of the aircraft’s turbo engines were drowned out, your vision dimming at the edges as all your senses honed in on Graves’ lips pressed into yours. It lasted no more than a single second until he separated from you, lips parting with an exaggerated but unintentional mwah.

“Dunno what I’d do without you,” he breathed out, only for you to hear. He watched you innocently, the skin around his eyes wrinkled in excitement, hands drifting down until they were on your biceps, rubbing your arms affectionately. However, you had to tear your gaze away from him and to the rest of the aircraft.

Graves just kissed you…

… in front of Shadow Company.

Your stomach dropped as you made eye contact with the entire team who now watched the two of you like teens tuning in to the hottest new flick. They were here for the drama, quiet as they waited for your response but smiles of anticipation creeping onto their faces.

“Eyes off, Shadows.”

Graves’ voice returned to its usual commanding tone, as though you were back in the mission. There was the grumble of ‘yup-yup’s’ as the rest of the team made the show of focusing on their stations (but you knew they were still sneaking glances whenever possible). Graves reoriented the two of you until you were against the wall, using himself to obscure the company’s view of you.

“Fuckin’ beautiful,” Graves muttered absentmindedly. He sounded more grounded, but he still needed to catch up on his breath, chest heaving in and out.

“It was a damn clean mission, Graves.”

“I ain’t talkin’ about the mission.”

Graves gives you his signature cocky smirk, waiting for a few moments for you to reply with your usual reassurance. But no thoughts were crossing your mind, instead it was aimlessly swimming in his attention. His arms that latched onto you were getting stronger, fingers tightening and burrowing into the narrow space between your tactical gear and shirt. His pupils were blown out, puppy-like as they searched you. But you couldn’t reply, not when you were drinking him in like he was to you. Your silence started to become overwhelming, crashing against Graves’ confidence and his smile fell, bravado collapsing with it.

“No good?” He faltered, letting his head hang low. He let out a quiet curse under his breath. “You put up with a lot of Shadow bullshit, both from them and me… I got lost in the moment.”

His attention turns to his hands that are on your arms. The pads of his thumbs rub your shirt fabric soothingly before dropping his hands to his sides. He gives you one final reassuring pat on the back, half-hearted and lacking its usual strength.

“I misread us,” he pursed his lips as he reflected, eventually shaking his head and tutting his lips disapprovingly at himself. “This is on me.”

“What?” You force yourself out of your stupor upon noticing Graves’ dejected form. You hurriedly try to pick him up, now you were the one putting your hands on his shoulders. “No, I just- I didn’t expect it. It was a surprise.”

“… you like surprises?” He looked up at you through his lashes, eyes brimming full of hope. You sometimes forget he’s your superior when he dials up his boyish charm.

“If they’re all like that then yes.”

“Then there’s plenty more where that came from, darlin'.”

His smug grin was back in full force, he only allowed himself a split second to memorise your shocked expression before turning away so you couldn’t respond. He rouses the rest of the Shadows up with an authoritative clear of the throat. He stands tall, back to the restrained commander role but not without a hand sneaking up to settle on the small of your back. Even as he assumed his professional role once again, the zeal in his voice was unmatched.

“Excellent work all ‘round boys. Let’s bring this aircraft back home.”

There were affirmative responses all round, but a curious Shadow couldn’t help but poke their head out of their station.

“So, uh, Graves. Are you and Chief a thing now?”

“Speak outta line like that again and you’re on cleanin’ duty for the next month, Sergeant.”

“… yup-yup.”

Call of Duty Masterlist

[ladykailitha]

Icarus Part 1

Hello! I know there are a few minutes left of the poll, but there is nothing that could happen in the next 15 minutes that is going to change the outcome.

3 to 1 in favor of the main story first. The only reason I asked, was because that story has been finished a long time, but this one is just getting started. But the masses have spoken.

Original prompt here.

Summary: Eddie and the Corroded Coffin boys made it big right out of high school. So big that Metallica could open for them. Outselling the biggest bands and artists. They are huge. Then a small little indy metal band called The Fallen comes on the scene. They wear hoods and masks and go by aliases. Eddie (and most of the rest of the metal scene) are dismissive of them. More splash then talent.

Only fans don't thinks so. So when Dustin takes him to one of their concerts Eddie learns two things.

One that they are super talented.

And two, that he knows at least of one the members' of the band's real identity.

@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @redfreckledwolf @emly03 @itsall-taken

****

Getting out of Hawkins had always been the dream. Being able to do it with three of the best people he had ever had the pleasure of knowing with their music? That was the cherry on top of the icing.

But Eddie never dreamed that Corroded would outsell one his favorite bands of all time. Never even crossed his mind to dream about.

But there it was in black and white. Corroded Coffin was the highest grossing band of the year. Metallica was seventh. Fuck they had outsold Taylor Swift for Christ’s sake.

Barely.

But it still counted damn it!

What was a surprise was the number nineteenth best selling band of the year. A band he’d never heard of before. The Fallen. It said the genre was metal in that little italic font.

He rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

Yeah, it was impossible to listen to every up and coming metal band. But if they had already hit this big with only their second album, surely Eddie would have heard them on the radio.

Only on their last tour Chrissy Cunningham, their beautiful and amazing manager had put an embargo on the radio because the riffs were finding their way into Eddie’s song writing. So he guessed it made sense that he hadn’t heard of them.

So he called the one person he knew who would have all the details on these guys.

“Dusty!” he greeted when the man picked up. Man. Shit, when did they all get so old?

“Eddie!” Dustin greeted back. “Finally back in town?”

Eddie grinned. “You know it. Dude, you know my tour schedule better than Chrissy does.”

“Maybe.”

He laughed. “Guess who hit the top of the most successful metal bands of the decade?”

“Oh my god!” Dustin screamed. “That’s so cool! Is the issue out on stands yet or did you get a sneaky peak for having made it to the top of their list?”

Eddie winced. “Sadly the later. But! I can bring it over to show you when I come to hang out.”

“That’s acceptable,” Dustin said. “Steve just got back in town, too. That label he works for sure does like dragging him all over the world.”

Eddie hummed. “Yeah? Where’d they send him this time?”

“Japan if you can believe it,” Dustin huffed. “He basically came home sometime around midnight and just crashed.”

Eddie didn’t know what Steve and Robin did for the studio, no one did. But the general consensus was that they were dogsbodies of some sort. Getting coffees for execs and stars, driving them places. Just stuff they didn’t want to hire out for, they made Robin and Steve do.

“I won’t be waking him up if I come over, will I?” Eddie asked, biting his lip. He had a crush on the other man. A large one. But fame and fortune kept getting in the way of something more.

“Nah,” Dustin assured him. “He woke up about an hour ago. He’s even showered and eaten. He’ll want to see you as much as I do.”

Eddie very much doubted that, but he was going to take it. “Great! This list is insane, man. I can’t wait for you to see it.”

“Come over for dinner,” Dustin suggested. “We’ll pour over the list over pizza and beer.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “I can’t believe you’re old enough for beer now.”

“Yeah, yeah, old man,” Dustin said. Eddie could feel the eye roll from here.

****

Eddie was watching Steve in interest.

He was walking around like he was used to being in high heels or something, as he would catch himself on his toes and force his feet down on his heels.

He would jump at Dustin throwing open the door. He kept touching his face and rubbing at his throat.

Robin was constantly pushing tea into his hands to get them settle. When they weren’t cradling the tea mugs, they were all over the place. Not just his face. But his back and stomach, too. Rubbing his palms on the front of his jeans.

“Dude!” Dustin hissed. “What is wrong with you? Japan can’t have been that different from America.”

Steve winced from the sound. “Bud, you are seriously being too loud. I told you that I have a migraine.”

Eddie tilted his head. “Hey do you need me to go? Butthead here said you were fine.”

Steve looked up at Eddie and his expression softened. “I’m fine as long as you aren’t yelling like Dusty Buns, here.”

Eddie chuckled. “I hear that. So how was Japan? When me and the boys went a couple years ago it was so beautiful.”

Steve rubbed his forehead between his eyebrows. “I wish I could have seen more of it. It felt like we were running nonstop. At least we aren’t roadies. I don’t think I could do the work they do. They’re the true beating heart of the operation.”

Eddie nodded. “Our last tour we had twelve trucks of roadies and equipment. It was insane.”

Robin grabbed Steve’s cold tea mug and swapped it with a warm one. Steve murmured his thanks. “I’m still not sure if I’m on this time zone yet. And I worry that this fucking migraine may throw me off even further.”

“Is that why Robin is plying you with tea?” Eddie asked. “To keep you awake enough to go bed at the right time?”

Steve nodded, humming contently over the cup of tea. “Nothing caffeinated, not really. Peppermint for the most part, honey lemon, too. She thinks I might be coming down with travelers’ cough.”

Again Steve made an aborted movement toward his face.

“Stop doing that!” Dustin hissed again. “Why do you keep touching your face like that? Did the Tibetan monks curse you or something?”

Robin smacked the back of his head. “That’s China, doofus! And no, no one has been cursed. We had to wear face masks like the surgeons wear for a lot of the trip because there had been a flu outbreak.”

Eddie nodded. “Ooh, yeah. They recommended we wear them too in certain areas, it wouldn’t surprise me if I was that twitchy when we moved to the Australian leg of the tour.”

Dustin eyed Steve warily, like he wasn’t sure if he should believe him or not, but Eddie had backed him up, so Dustin decided to let it go.

For now.

“Where were you touring again?” Steve asked Eddie after taking a long sip from his mug. “South America, wasn’t it?”

“Right in one, big boy,” Eddie enthused. “It was our first time in some of those countries so it was super exciting meeting the people, learning the culture, eating the food. I swear by the end of the tour we had all gained at least ten pounds and that was with us sweating our asses off on stage almost every night.”

Steve winced. “I don’t know how you guys do it, the stage lights we had were merciless.”

“Years and years of practice, Stevie,” Eddie said, “years and years of practice.”

Dustin turned to Eddie. “All right I think I’ve been patient enough, I want to see the top twenty money makers of metal before I vibrate out of my skin.”

Steve laughed and smacked the back of his head. “You know who number one is, why do you care about the other nineteen?”

Eddie shook his head. “Not just metal bands, my weird little friend. But out of all the bands.”

He pulled out the magazine and Dustin snatched it out of his hands, careful not to rip it.

Dustin was furiously reading the list and it was clear that he was looking for someone specific.

“Eureka!” he cried. “I knew it! I knew they were outselling other new metal bands.”

Steve looked over his shoulder. “Yeah? Who’s that, bud?”

“The Fallen!” he cried. “They are so cool man. They have these on stage personas like Daft Punk and they kick ass on stage. I was so bummed when they didn’t come to Pasadena or anywhere near there when they were doing their US leg of their tour.”

Dustin was going to school at Caltech because as much as he wanted to go to MIT his mom was worried about him being by himself, so he moved out to California to move in with Steve.

He was on campus for housing most of the year, but he came home on the weekends and that put Claudia’s mind at rest.

Steve himself had moved out to California a couple of years before. Robin and him had gotten a job at record company and had to move out there to be closer to the headquarters.

Interestingly, or at least to Dustin, Steve’s friends all found jobs out here, too.

“I saw that one,” Eddie was saying. “But I’d never heard of them are they any good?”

Dustin scoffed. “Are they any good? Holy shit are they good.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “They’re a metal band, no offense to Eddie here, but there are only three metal bands on the whole list. Most of them are pop, rap, or country. How good can they be?”

Eddie scoffed and held his hands to his heart. “You wound me!” Then he flopped on the sofa, playing dead.

“That’s what does make them so good, Steve,” Dustin insisted. “Because there are only three metal bands on the list, it means they had to work their asses off twice as hard as the others.”

Eddie popped up. “Yeah, Stevie!” He stuck out his tongue and Steve laughed.

“You got any of the albums?” Steve asked, with a flippant wave of his hand. “If they’re so good, let’s hear them then.”

A shadow crossed over Robin’s face and she looked like she wanted to say something, but couldn’t.

****

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

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[tobiasdrake]

What is Goku's morality?

Goku has a good head on his shoulders usually. He has an innocent and "childlike" approach to morality in the sense that Goku doesn't have a complex or nuanced approach to right and wrong. He's just a compassionate person who likes it when people are happy and safe.

I do specify "usually", however. While Goku's moral compass is wound pretty well, he also has what Toriyama called the "poison" in his character: A deep-seated personal flaw that conflicts with his moral center, making for an interesting and nuanced protagonist rather than a one-dimensional paragon.

Pretty much from the get-go, as early as chapter 3, Goku and Bulma were being set up as moral foils to one another. Goku's purehearted innocence contrasted against Bulma's self-centered callousness.

This is made explicit when Goku receives his Kintoun/Flying Nimbus, a metaphysical test of virtue that only someone who's pure of heart can ride. This serves as a litmus test for how we're meant to read various characters, in terms of their morality.

FAILURE

PASS

FAILURE

PASS

FAILURE

PASS. Uh, this alter, at least.

And so on. In terms of morality, Goku takes a pretty simple position: He doesn't like it when people are being hurt or oppressed. That's it. That's all there is to it. Goku has a strong sense of compassion for others and while he doesn't go actively looking for wrongs to right, he can't look the other way when they land in front of him.

Oh, you're being enslaved by a militant warlord? That's not nice. Goku's gonna go file a complaint. Stapled to the general's face.

He was just here to find a Dragon Ball but, as long as he's in the area, he might as well liberate an oppressed population. Goku loves to help others.

In fact, the RRA arc is a great demonstration of Goku's moral center, because he didn't have to go to war with the Red Ribbon Army. Goku finds what he's looking for about 2/3 of the way through.

That's it. That's all he wanted. He's done. Goku's mission is complete; He can go home now. He has zero investment in any further conflict with Red Ribbon.

...until this happens.

Bora's death sets in motion the events that will carry Goku through the rest of the arc: His rematch with Taopaipai, the siege of Red Ribbon HQ, and the Uranai Baba Tournament are all for the sake of this man, a man Goku's known for like ten minutes, who lost his life because he tried to protect Goku from Taopaipai.

Everything after this point is revenge for Bora and the utility of getting what Goku needs to make Dragon Ball's very first resurrection wish.

Hiring Taopaipai was a mistake that turned Goku from a meddlesome interference into a vengeful nemesis gunning straight for their door.

This more or less remains Goku's relationship with the various ne'er-do-wells of Dragon Ball. He doesn't like when people get hurt, and he relishes opportunities to fuck up their oppressors.

If you hurt people in front of Goku, he's gonna fuck you up.

If you hurt people he likes, may Enma-Daio have mercy on your soul.

But.

This is where Goku's "poison" comes into play. Goku is a moral person but it isn't morality that drives him. If he sees a mugging taking place (and understands what he's seeing) he'll go punch the mugger, to be sure. But he's not looking for muggers to punch.

Goku has heroic inclinations, but he is not a superhero. He's an athlete looking for good sport. A martial artist driven by a desire for self-improvement, always on the lookout for his next rival. This complicates the way he approaches the villains of the story.

What Goku wants, more than anything, is a rival who can keep pace with him. A chance to push his limits and test himself. It's at the end of the 23rd Tenkaichi Budokai where we first see Goku's poison begin to push him into... questionable decision-making.

The reincarnated Piccolo uses the 23rd Tenkaichi Budokai as a chance to get revenge against Goku. This stops being a martial arts tournament once the poorly-aliased "Demon Junior" reveals his true identity.

Or, at least, it probably should have. But Goku is hellbent on taking the title of Strongest Under the Heavens even if the whole goddamn island is about to get leveled. To the bitter end, Goku refuses to let this stop being a sports competition.

There is nothing on Earth more important than this.

The thing about Goku is that he's really good at mixing his morality with his poison.

He gives Piccolo a Senzu to restore him to full strength after the match, then sends him on his way hoping Piccolo will come after him for revenge some day. He wants to use Piccolo as a motivator to keep pushing himself - An incredibly dangerous decision to make given that this man wants to kill him and conquer the world.

Goku makes the moral argument that they can't kill Piccolo without killing God, but as Krillin points out, this isn't a binary choice. They could have sealed Piccolo away with the Mafuba/Evil Containment Wave while he was lying helpless on the ground.

You know. Instead of giving him a Senzu and wishing him tremendous gains. This is Goku's poison in action. We see it again with Vegeta, where Goku even admits that he's being unbelievably self-serving by insisting on sparing Vegeta's life.

We see his poison strike when he agrees with Vegeta to do nothing and allow the Androids to be created. Once again coming up with a moral angle to it, but only after his kneejerk reaction of wanting to fight.

But it's easy to overlook because Goku's questionable decisions tend to work out for the best anyway. This poor man's been searching for years for a sinister archrival that will come after him like a Saturday Morning Cartoon villain, but they keep reforming.

Well, at least he got to have this.

Good times.

Goku is a generally good man compromised by a desire for sportsmanship that sometimes inhibits his perspective of things. When he can, he tries to satisfy both his moral center and his poison.

But sometimes his poison gets the better of him.

Goku makes questionable choices when he gets his blood boiling with the rush of competition, even at times when he probably should be thinking about harm mitigation. Because that is a thing he cares about; He doesn't like it when people get hurt, and he'll go out of his way to help others in crisis.

But he can't help himself. He was born for the stage.

Which makes it fitting that Goku's journey ends with one final compromise between his moral center and his poison. Right at the very end of his journey, Goku finally manages to satisfy both.

By relying on the karmic cycle itself, Goku destroys the monster that Majin Buu is while making a promise to fight each other again one day in a better life. The ultimate evolution of "No, let the bad guy go so I can fight him again."

And a promise well-kept.

[piratefalls]

another long list, except it's a day early because this is how i give thanks.

list one. list two. list three. list four. list five.

No Sense or Sensibility by inexplicablymine

“When and where was your first kiss.” Oh shit. The thing is… Alex actually has an answer to this one, it’s just a matter of admitting that it happened. ____________________ Kennedy’s. 7pm, Pub Quiz and Ice Cream. Every Monday ‘til death due us part. Alex liked his little routine, until Derryl got it in his head to host The goddamn Newlywed Game instead.

I'm Rememberin' I Promised (to Forget you Now) by Angelwithwingsoffire

It's been six years since Alex Claremont-Diaz graduated law school. And he's made a good life for himself, working with a firm he enjoys and making a difference in the world. Until a part of his past he'd thought he'd gotten over seven years ago walked back into his office asking for his help. To get a divorce. Which Alex has never done before. But he's never been able to say no, and he's willing to put his heart back under the bus for the chance at one more smile.

Rogue's Gallery by OrchidScript

Loathe as Alex was to admit it, Henry Fox was going to be a legend someday. He already was in the bureau depending on who was answering. Tied to art theft, jewel theft, one or two little sweet confidence schemes, and an alleged counterfeit Super Bowl ring, but caught on three counts of art forgery, the blond Brit had run circles around the Art Crimes division for six years. He was quick, smarter than the average bear, and more detail-oriented than a nuclear chemist. He had a penchant for nice suits, silk ties, and gin tonics with lime. He wrote letters to agents in taunting poetry, tucking them under windshield wipers or posting them to the office directly. Once, he managed to drop one directly into the pocket of a plainclothes officer without them seeing his face. _____________________ Henry Fox is a famous art forger, and Alex is the FBI agent who caught him three years ago. When one of Henry's aliases comes up attached to a new case, can the two put aside their cat-and-mouse past to put the copycat away?

Queer little ducks hold a special place in my heart. by anarchyat4am

Henry’s at a local Hispanic Heritage Month event browsing the art stalls when his gaze catches on a kid looking around with both purpose and nervousness. She’s fidgeting with the hem of her t-shirt with one hand while she bites the nails of the other one, eyes alert and searching. Lost, then. And oh, Henry recognises her. She’s a regular at his bookstore, even at only six years old, and is there at least weekly with her dad—Alex, who she’d introduced to Henry as her papi—or various aunties and uncles, most of whom Henry doesn’t think are actually related to her. Keeping one eye on her, he lets his gaze sweep the vicinity but doesn’t see anyone else he even remotely recognises. Shit. He has to do something. “Sirena?” he calls gently. * Henry... is more than a bit useless around hot guys. So when he finds the lost kid of the gorgeous dad who frequents his bookstore, he pulls himself together until they reunite, only to then be devastated by the revelation that the man thinks Henry hates him. And, well... courage always rises, and all that.

just say you won't let go by viciouslyqueer

After dancing around each other for months, Alex and Henry finally get together. The morning after comes with a slight misunderstanding and comforting words.

We were supposed to find this by kiwiana

Still, half an hour after shaking Prince Henry’s hand for the first time, he finds himself back in his hotel room with one shoe and sock hurriedly tugged off and his right foot resting on his left knee. Just to check. Just in case Alex is somehow, by some miracle, about to become the first documented case of Surprise! You Can Totally Have A Different Soulmate, We Fucked Up And Your One Kind Of Sucks. No such luck. The words are the same as they’ve always been, etched into his skin in a careful, calligraphic font. The kind of handwriting someone might have if, for example, they came from the sort of family that valued tradition and etiquette far higher than letting their children write like normal human beings.

Sit. Down. Please Stay. by politics_and_prose

Alex adopts a dog he found abandoned on the side of the road. She's nervous and he wants to make sure he knows how to give her the best life possible. Enter Henry Fox and his beagle David.

muscle memory by stutteringpeach

It's been ten years since Alex was in London to stage a PR friendship with Henry after ruining the royal wedding. It's also been ten years since Alex dropped to his knees in front of Henry in a Kensington Palace kitchen. But now Henry's in the Hamptons for the summer, and who should he bump into? None other than Alex Claremont-Diaz, who happens to be working in New York all summer long.

The Perils of Midsomer Residency by clottedcreamfudge

"I'm sure I don't need to tell you that care should be taken, given the Mountchristens' local influence?" Liam nods. "Sir." Luna then turns to Alex. "Do not piss anyone in that family off." Alex throws his hands in the air. "So many aspersions have been cast on my good character this morning that I could start a fucking farm. An aspersions farm." Luna narrows his eyes. "Correction," he says, "have another coffee and then do not piss anyone in that family off. Don't make me regret fast-tracking you through the ICI Development Programme." * After getting shot in the line of duty back in Texas, June forces Alex into a change of scenery. Because how much can really be going on in the quaint little English county of Midsomer?

something that feels like forever by dearestalez

“You’re crying,” she pointed out. Alex choked on a laugh, wiping his eyes. “I’m just-” he sniffed, holding her so delicately Henry felt herself melt into the touch. “I’m so happy for you, baby.” — alex and henry are so in love it makes me want to rip out my heart and stomp on it but slash pos

behind brick walls by weather_stained

After Henry and Alex move in together, it takes quite a while for them to fully adjust to their newfound freedom. Alex very much enjoys watching Henry grow more comfortable in his own skin after a lifetime of looking over his shoulder.

It's a (Birth)date by Celaestis

5 times Henry is oblivious that they're dating and 1 time he isn't.

Save a Horse, Ride a Princess by affectionatelyrs

“I have to say, this is all quite literal, don’t you think?” Alex wouldn’t know literal right now if it hit him in the head. “Huh?” Henry points at Alex: “Pillow Princess,” and then to himself: “Cowboy. Ready to ride and all that.” Alex nods dumbly. “Right.” - Or, Alex and Henry dress up as the ultimate couples costume for Halloween — themselves — and they both feel some kind of way about it

baby boy by smc_27

It starts as a joke. Alex taking the piss about how much money Henry has. How he could have anything he wanted, from anyone he wanted, if only he just asked.

My Songs Know Secrets You're Sick of Keeping by ma_lark_ey, paythe_piper

"How about this," Alex offered, "If I win AOTY, I announce Henry and I in my acceptance speech. If I don't, we do it your way." OR: Alex is a world famous pop punk star, Henry is still the Prince of England, and the public is onto them.

Au Naturel by cmere

The French doors leading to the office are thrown open, so he has a moment to take in the scene in front of him: Alex, lying on his stomach on the floor, feet kicked up and crossed at the ankle, surrounded by books, papers, and two open laptops. None of that, however, catches Henry's attention as much as Alex's hair, secured in a small, messy knot on top of his head with nothing but a single wooden chopstick. Henry blinks rapidly several times. "Alex," Henry says, somehow hoarse. Alex's head whirls around. There's a single, perfectly curled tendril over the apple of his cheek; his scruff has hit the mystical, magical point where it's more soft beard than prickly shadow; his reading glasses sit atop his adorable nose; and Henry realizes with sudden gravity that he's not entirely in control of his physical responses anymore—something has to give. Alex hasn't really been bothering with some of his usual upkeep, and Henry is kind of extremely into it.

You deserve my love by whateveridk

“I’ll leave as soon as you tell me to." Henry had turned towards him, stealing himself, sticking his chin out, and said “leave.” Alex has been picking up the pieces ever since. Two years later, living with Nora and June in NYC, it still haunts him, but it's fine. Whatever, he is fine. And then... Breaking News: Prince Henry comes out as gay So it's not fine, Alex is not fine.

sex ed in 6 steps by coffeecatsme

“Please tell me you used a condom, Fox,” Alex drawls out, leaning against the wall, and Henry chokes on his next breath.“Excuse me?”“You’re gonna tell me all about this tomorrow, but for the love of God, tell me you used a condom and we won’t have mini Henrys on campus anytime soon.” Or, 5 times Alex thinks Henry's straight and 1 time he finds out the truth. Or, 5 times Alex jokes about Henry's sex life and 1 time he gets to be a part of it.

More Than A Makeover by everwitch

The Fab Five—Alex, June, Nora, Liam and Spencer—descend on a New York based shelter for disenfranchised queer youth to give the place a much needed makeover. As the week progresses, sparks start to fly between Alex, the culinary representative of the queertastic quintet, and Henry, the sweetly charming founder of the shelter. It’s a deeply emotional week full of unexpected realizations, and certainly a week that strengthens Henry’s friendship with Pez in ways that neither of them quite knew they needed. As the week comes to a close and the Queer Eye team say their goodbyes, it remains to be seen what will become of the warm connection between Alex and Henry. Will it last, or was it too much of a perfect miracle to ever grow into something real?

The Royal Wedding by DracoWillHearAboutThis

HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS PRINCE HENRY OF WALES AND MR ALEXANDER CLAREMONT-DIAZ ARE ENGAGED TO BE MARRIED HM Queen Mary is delighted to announce the engagement of Prince Henry to Mr. Alexander Claremont-Diaz. The wedding will take place in the Spring or Summer of 2025, in London. Further details about the wedding date will be announced in due course.  Prince Henry and Mr. Claremont-Diaz became engaged earlier this week during a private holiday in Paris. Prince Henry has informed The Queen and other close members of his family. Prince Henry has sought and received the blessings of Mr. Claremont-Diaz's parents.  The couple will live in Nottingham Cottage at Kensington Palace. 

A Toast to the Night by allmylovesatonce

Henry looks up from his drink and swears his jaw drops. Standing in front of him is one of the most beautiful men he’s ever seen. From his dark brown curls to the way his deep eyes gleam as he stands there, an awkward smile on his face. Henry is nearly sure this man is going to ask for his seat. He probably has some woman with him, scouring for a place to sit. “Uh, hi,” the man says. “Hi.” “Look, this is really awkward,” he says and Henry feels the confirmation in his gut — also maybe disappointment. “My ex-boyfriend just walked in and I really don’t want to talk to him. I was wondering if I could sit here with you so that he won’t talk to me.”

That's What You Get For Waking Up in Vegas by bleedingballroomfloor

The bartender slides Alex the whiskey and shot of water before turning her attention to the person behind him. He turns around at the same time as the person speaks, “Gin and tonic” in all rounded vowels, a distinct English accent shining through, and he swears his heart stops. “Holy shit,” Alex says before he can stop the words from slipping out of his mouth. “Henry?” When Alex is celebrating June and Nora's bachelorette party in Vegas, the last person he expects to see is his ex-boyfriend Henry, who moved back to London nearly a year ago. Waking up next to him the following morning, naked and sated with a marriage certificate poking out of his pocket, he starts to wonder if he's truly over Henry.

hang on 'til the chaos is through by ShyAudacity

David is lounging on his spot at the foot of the bed when Alex comes in. He opts not to turn on the light, not wanting to disturb Henry, but then quickly finds that the light is on in their bathroom. Henry must still be getting cleaned up before bed; Alex can say hello and check on Henry when he steps out. It’s weird that he’s still up. Henry was awake well before Alex was this morning and… come to think of it, Alex can’t remember him ever coming to bed last night. Alex has only made it through the top three buttons on his dress shirt when he hears a terrifying crash come from the bathroom. Clutching his chest, he steps towards their shared bathroom, afraid to see what’s on the other side. “Henry? …H, what was-.” Alex stops short in the doorway, startled to find the love of his life in a miserable heap on the bathroom floor.

Sad Again (Don't Tell My Boyfriend) by lucy_in_the_sky

After proposing to Alex, Henry writes a letter to his father reflecting on all the moments he’ll never get to share with him. AKA Alex comforts a mourning Henry and promises to be there for him, forever and always.

monster mash by matherine

None of Henry’s answers to “Who are you supposed to be?” are particularly funny to anyone but him, especially in his inebriated state, so he’s completely given up on making any sense when the latest person asks him, someone who he assumes is yet another sorority girl in a skimpy costume from the glimpse of a cheerleading skirt he gets while they brush past him to open the fridge. “George Villiers,” he offers. “Deep cut, England,” a decidedly male voice snorts, and Henry can’t help the way his head snaps up, eyes wide.

Take it Down Low / Make Me Get High by Mags (sparklepocalypse)

“Henry,” Alex rasps wonderingly, sounding almost entranced, “I want to eat your ass.” Henry’s train of thought screeches to a halt with such force that for a moment, he thinks he might’ve had a stroke.

how did a middle-class divorcé do it? by Time_Sequence

Not really concerned, Alex watched the typing bubble appear – disappear – appear again, like Henry couldn’t quite find the words to say what it was he was thinking. Most likely, he was trying to find the perfect sarcastic quip in response. What came through made him genuinely pause. HRH Prince Dickhead💩: You complete and utter moron Then, HRH Prince Dickhead💩: Royalty can’t marry divorcees If Alex had been having a good time before, he definitely wasn’t now. - When a joking interview reveals that Alex and Nora drunkenly married ten years ago, suddenly Alex's upcoming wedding to Prince Henry is jeopardised.

discreet packaging by demigodbeautiies

“Please, please, please explain to me,” Zahra says, finally, sounding more than a little bit long-suffering. “Why I had to have the head of the Secret Service sit me down and tell me to give you a talk about avoiding bomb scares with unidentifiable packaging.”

the world watched (and the world smiled) by fangirl6202

"Oh,” Alex says finally, faintly, touching one hand to his lips. Then: “Shit.”  His mind catches up then, realizing that Henry is walking away and he doesn't even think twice. He begins to quite literally chase after him, trying to get to him before he can get away or, God forbid, try to fly back to England and ghost him.   Henry is very pointedly not looking at him, stuttering apology over apology until Alex has to quite literally throw himself in front of him to get him to stop. Alex doesn’t know what to do. But the answer is simple, isn’t it? So fucking simple.   He takes Prince Fucking Charming’s lapels into his hand and kisses him back.  Or; it's New Years, and Henry stays.

Rabbit Hole by TuppingLiberty

Some sort of non-famous au, don't worry, there's not really a plot. Alex has been going down a research rabbit hole for hours and Henry comes to rescue him.

Let Loose Your Glow by athousandrooms

“Seems like my liege was caught in a situation where he’d rather the ground swallow him whole.” Pez nods towards a spot to the side, and Alex follows his gaze. He spots Henry easily – a tall lighthouse of tousled blond hair – talking to a girl who is clearly into him. His expression looks perfectly polite, but he’s subtly leaning away, and he looks tense. So, Alex makes an impulsive decision. Whatever happens, this is going to be fun. *** Or: Alex is so very definitely straight, so pretending to be Henry’s boyfriend to get him out of an awkward situation should just be a fun little pastime - except that he doesn't really want to stop, and he has no idea why. But maybe it's okay to not think too hard and let himself go with the flow, for once.

Things I Cannot Accept by SprigsofViolets

In 2016, Ellen Claremont lost the presidential election. In 2019, Alex Claremont-Diaz is not the first son of the United States, so he’s shocked when his path crosses with Prince Henry for the first time in almost four years.

How well you play...that's up to you by happinessofthepursuit

Treacherous (adjective) guilty of or involving betrayal or deception; (of ground, water, conditions, etc.) hazardous because of presenting hidden or unpredictable dangers. Or, how to describe surgical residency in a single word. A Grey's Anatomy inspired AU.

In Accord by absoluteaudacity

Pursuant to the establishment of an ongoing relationship between The Crown and the Office of the President of the United States, the representatives of the The Queen and Her interests are authorised to establish a contract of marriage between His Royal Highness Prince Henry of Wales and Alexander Claremont-Diaz.

A Heart Even More Your Own by chaa_kiao

“Guess you’ll be writing those poems after all.” He swallows. "I should go." Henry’s mind— every part of him, really— his heart, his body, his fucking soul— is screaming at him to take it all back. To hell with the monarchy, the American presidency, damn it all. This is the man he’s spent his entire life loving and he’s throwing it away for a legacy he doesn’t give a single fuck about. He forces out a rough “I think so,” but he can’t hear it over the ringing in his ears. “I love you.” “Alex—” “I know,” Alex says. “I just had to say it.” _______ Or: Alex and Henry getting back together takes a little bit longer this time.

you are my mountain (you are my sea) by alasse

Five times Alex and Henry have important conversations in houses, and one time they have a very important conversation in a castle.

Down For the Count by LolaLand (Lola_di_Penates)

Alex came to Las Vegas to count cards, not feelings. Henry came to win it all. Is it possible to find something real in Sin City, where nearly everything isn’t as it seems? OR Goodbye reality, hello Vegas (the blackjack/poker AU).

Let Them Eat Cake by rohruh

“I wanna eat you out,” Alex’s voice comes out raspy and intrepid through the phone pressed against Henry’s ear. Henry lets out a soft whine at the admission, his breath up-ticking in synchrony with his hips as he thrusts up into his hand. “I’d like that,” he tells Alex eagerly, cradling the phone in his palm as though he could materialize Alex right there in front of him if he presses it against his ear firmly enough. “I’ve never done it to a guy before,” Alex confesses. “Is it… different from eating out a girl? I bet you’d taste so good, baby. Fuck.”

A Thousand Words by Thunder_Cakes

After that Han/Leia mural both their accounts go silent for a while. For months, actually. They’re both in therapy after Alex tried to post a selfie with June after election night and had a panic attack before he could hit “Share.” Suddenly the thought of sharing the details of his life and loved ones with the world is paralyzing. Wonder why. or: Alex, Henry and what they choose to share of their life

All for a Taste of the Honey by chamel

“So you’re telling me you’re not in favor of this plan,” Henry says eventually. “No, I’m fucking not,” Alex huffs, glaring at him. “It’s stupid and dangerous and unnecessary.” Henry cocks one perfect eyebrow at him. “You have another idea for how to get access to the room where he does his deals? The one that only ever admits Vega, his associates, and the strippers who entertain them?” (Or, an FBI agent!Stripper!Henry fic. Henry goes undercover at a strip club, and Alex has a lot of feelings about that.)

in the mood for... by carzla

Henry knows that he’s the one who said “casual”, and it had been a reminder to himself that that was all it could ever be between him and Alex. So, telling Alex that they should “make love” is probably a mistake in syntax bigger than he could safely afford. But they’re in Paris and Henry is feeling terribly, terribly maudlin.

something good and right and real by HypnosTheory

“This is pretty expensive for a high school trinket.” “Everything is bigger in Texas,” Alex jokes. Henry looks up at Alex, who’s standing with his shoulders relaxed for the first time since October. The relief of his mother’s victory has made him loose-limbed and calm, his smile easy and lovely. Henry looks down at the crown in his hands and back at Alex. He imagines the gold half-buried in Alex’s hair, heavy on the man’s brow, decadent and royal. Henry swallows, face heating, and holds the crown out to Alex. “Put it on.” -- After the election, Henry explores Alex’s childhood room. He finds trinkets of a young Alex that intrigue him, including a crown that gives him some ideas.

In His Wildest Dreams by myheartalive

Once Alex has pulled out, Henry turns over to face him. He strokes the hair softly away from his face and Alex smiles at him. “So… that happened again.” Henry leans forward and kisses him on the forehead. “Indeed.” There’s a sort of thoughtful pause, where Henry can see Alex working to pull together the right words. “I’m not sure I’ve ever seen you that… thirsty?” “Oh, bugger off,” Henry says, but he’s laughing. It’s a fair description. “No, but I mean it. You were like… urgent. It was hot.” “It felt hot. I liked waking up like that. With you up against me, trying to have your way with me.” — Set in and around the Henry bonus chapter, this is a story about Henry and Alex’s hectic schedules, family appearances etc. pulling them apart, and about what starts to happen between them, in the quiet of night: their sleeping bodies turning to each other, finding their sweet spots and opening up. And Alex and Henry learning a lot about each other in the process — Mind the tags, y'all. That particular tag features prominently and it’s a major plot point, so if that’s not your jam, just hit the back button.

until next time!

[kirisunshineboy]

Hey there! You would write something abusive boyfriend Niragi x reader at the beach? Like, him being obsessive, smut if you are comfortable with that!!

𝙝𝙞𝙨. | 𝙣𝙞𝙧𝙖𝙜𝙞 𝙨𝙪𝙜𝙪𝙧𝙪 𝙭 𝙛𝙚𝙢! 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

☆ 𝘗𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨: niragi suguru/reader

☆ 𝘎𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦: idk, yandere(?

☆ 𝘞𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: rape/noncon referenced, toxic relationships, possessive behavior, humiliation, jealousy, violence, attempted suicide (not so explicit, I think), beatings, what you would expect from any writing containing Niragi

☆ 𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 2.2k

☆ 𝘚𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: "Girlfriend" Ten letters you adored until that day. Until you realized that carrying that title implied to stop belonging to yourself and receive with open arms the marks of love that Niragi gave you.

☆ 𝘕𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘴: Thank you for leaving your request! ♥︎

I really enjoyed writing this, but sorry if the ending is a bit rushed, I really wanted to finish it before I went to sleep. About the smut, there are only references but it's not explicitly narrated, not that it makes me uncomfortable, but I don't know how to narrate it, I'm really sorry! 😭

❕Long paragraphs written in italics narrate the events of the previous night ❕

𝘌𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺! ☆

english isn't my first language

His girlfriend.

Two words that hurt every time someone uttered them.

And that was because they had long ceased to be true. Yes, there was a time when she herself displayed the title with a smile under the gaze of the other Executives, who privately bet on how long it would take Niragi to throw it all away.

Mira was the winner: she gave a maximum of one month, and a day before the deadline, all hell broke loose.

Niragi had never touched her beyond protective and possessive hugs, but that night after the game of spades he took it upon himself to get her drunk on all the alcohol in the bar and then rape her in front of the other members of The Beach who were in the pool. She remembers screaming for help, but only received looks of disgust and pity from the others. No one lifted a finger to help her.

Her torment went on all night; Niragi took her back and forth, fucking her in all the common areas to show everyone who she belonged to.

"I don't want to... Please-"

"Who said anything about wanting? You're a selfish bitch, it's not about you. It's about what I want. And I want to keep using this pretty hole of yours until I'm satisfied."

His girlfriend no longer existed. She was now so shattered that she couldn't even remember her own name, and it had been a long time since she had tried to do so. All of her had been reduced to two aliases that depended entirely on Niragi's mood:

Sweetheart when his mood was acceptable (or he had hurt her so badly that he felt slightly guilty).

Or

Desperate whore when he was upset (almost always).

The rest of the people simply recognized her as Niragi's property, and that was enough for them to avoid her like the plague because no one wanted to get into trouble with him. Not even the Executives dared to speak to her or acknowledge her presence. That was the best thing for everyone.

For everyone other than her, of course.

She opened her eyes slowly, feeling them moisten from the contact with the sunlight slipping through the curtains. Her body felt heavy and she couldn't feel her left arm. She sat carefully on the bed searching the room for some sign of Niragi's presence, and could almost breathe easy when she realized she was alone.

Almost, because the sound of the lock opening caused what little strength she had mustered to flee her body in a matter of seconds. A tray peeked through the door followed by Niragi's slender frame. He smiled as soon as he saw her conscious.

“Ah, I'm glad you're awake. I was planning on making you do it myself in case you were still asleep.” He walked to the edge of the bed and set the tray down in front of her. He watched her shrink back and bring her knees to her chest, hugging herself. Niragi frowned as he noticed how she avoided his gaze. “Eat.” He ordered giving her a light tap on the leg.

She held her position.

"Listen sweetheart, I won't say it one more time. Eat." His voice was threatening. She looked at the tray and took the plate of fruit that was there, starting to eat silently. Niragi brushed a lock of her hair out of her face and she shivered from the contact. When she was finished with the contents of the plate, she set it down on the tray again and returned to her original posture.

Niragi noticed how tightly she held the bandages over her left wrist and realized they were stained with blood. He picked up the tray and set it down on a nearby piece of furniture and then turned to where she was and bent down to carry her.

"What are you doing?"

"Let's give you a bath, you're a disgusting cutie right now."

He came into the bathroom and left her sitting on the toilet. "Undress" She obeyed as he prepared the tub with hot water. Niragi was aware that her body ached and knew that he was responsible, so it was his duty to take care of her. That and for no reason would he let anyone else do it. Only he could break and fix his doll. When he felt the right water, he poured a generous amount of bubble soap on her and turned to look at her. She was covering her body awkwardly.

How cute, Niragi thought, she's still embarrassed that I'm looking at her.

The thought of moving her arms to leave her exposed to him crossed his mind for a moment, but he let it go. It would allow her to retain a modicum of modesty this time. He lifted her back up to carefully deposit her in the tub. He took shampoo and began to massage her scalp gently. Niragi felt his pants begin to tighten as he noticed how vulnerable she was. He might as well get into the tub and abuse her until he made her cry with pleasure....

But no. He decided that, for once, he would leave her alone. At least as far as his self-control would allow. He began to wash her body carefully, scrubbing at her arms with a sponge.

"I can do it alone.” she murmured.

"No, you can't," Niragi replied with annoyance in his voice. He was surprised that, after so much, she was still trying to put up a fight. He took her left arm and began to remove the bandage covering her wrist. The fresh scar adorned it like a bracelet. Niragi gently pressed down on the cut. "Does it hurt?" he asked.

She nodded. She gasped in pain when Niragi accidentally splashed her with hot water.

"This is something you could have avoided if you weren't such a selfish bitch" Niragi barked with a hint of anger in his voice. Memories of her in that same tub the night before clouded his vision.

He had returned from a game ready to unload the adrenaline with her and the next thing he knew the bathroom floor was covered in blood with her unconscious in the center.

Niragi had rushed to squeeze the wound on her wrist to stop the flow of blood as he ran to the infirmary in search of Ann. The woman looked shocked for a few minutes until she seemed to regain her composure and ordered her to leave her on the gurney. Niragi went to get painkillers while Ann tried to bring her back to consciousness.

"Let go of me," was the first thing she said to Ann as she opened her eyes.

"What?"

"Let me die" she asked in desperation tearing her throat. "Please tell him you couldn't do anything..." The babbling came out of her mouth awkwardly. Ann felt her heart constrict.

"You know I can't do that. You know well what he's capable of."

Tears began to well up in her eyes. Ann clenched her fists.

"You're the one who makes him have some sanity."

Ann had spoken the truth. That was what all the Executives thought. That was why they had let Niragi do whatever he wanted with her. She was their scapegoat, the sacrifice they had to make to keep the peace on The Beach.

When Niragi took her back to the room, he took it upon himself to chastise her for her cowardice. "Do you really hate me so much that you'd rather die than be with me?" he bellowed in a mixture of rage and pain. What she remembers before she fell unconscious is nodding and feeling Niragi's body pounce on her.

Once all traces of blood, semen and tears were wiped from her, Niragi wrapped her in a towel and carried her back into the room, laying her on the bed. He tossed her one of his shirts and waited for her to get dressed.

"I have a surprise for you." He told her when she was ready. Niragi smiled proudly as he showed her the pair of handcuffs he had gotten from Hatter in exchange for participating in ten more games.

She opened her eyes in surprise. The handcuffs meant they would come out. Niragi only allowed her to be outside only to participate in the games and he always accompanied her. He reached over and placed one handcuff on her right wrist, then locked the other on his own arm.

"Where are we going?" she asked with a knot in her stomach. Niragi ignored her voice and walked out of the room, dragging her with him.

"'Sweetheart, I thought I told you I don't like questions."

They walked through the hallway amidst curious glances until they reached the dining room of The Beach. Niragi murmured. "I thought you might like to stretch your legs. I hear going for a walk is good for pets."

He stopped in front of a table away from the others and ordered her to sit down. He removed the metal from his wrist and closed it around the base of the table, leaving her with no way to leave.

"I'll go get our food," he reported. "Don't do anything stupid, sweetheart."

Saying this, Niragi walked away to the buffet area. She stood motionless, casting quick glances around. She didn't see any familiar faces, but that didn't make much difference. No one would help her anyway, and she wasn't going to ask them to. She kept fiddling with one end of the bandage that had moved out of place until she noticed a presence beside her.

She raised her head expecting to see Niragi, but panic spread through her body when she saw that it wasn't him. A guy who looked about her age was looking at her worriedly.

"Are you okay?" The stranger asked with a grimace. Her curious eyes traveled over the bruises reaching to see on her body, stopping at the handcuffs. She ignored the guy hoping he would take the cue and walk away.

He didn't.

"Hey, tell me what's going on...why are you wearing those handcuffs? Did someone-?"

"Let go of me." She interrupted him.

"What?"

"Don't talk to me and walk away."

The guy folded his arms, the expression of distress expanding. "How can you say that, it's obvious someone is hurting you! It's my duty to help you."

Nervousness showed on her face. She glanced behind him, fearful that Niragi would see her with someone nearby.

"This is none of your business. I'm fine. Just leave me alone already." Her tone was more pleading than annoyed. "Please spare me any more trouble."

The guy was new to The Beach, that much was obvious. Otherwise he wouldn't have approached her. Apparently no one had warned him yet about Niragi and his... pet.

"Look, it's okay. I'm going to get you out of those cuffs and take you to some Executive to help you" The guy gave her a reassuring smile then touched her cuffed arm. She instinctively looked over to where Niragi was and found that he was already watching the scene.

"Run" she whispered to the boy as she saw Niragi approaching with pure anger flashing in his pupils. When the boy followed her gaze, he met Niragi's fist directly in his face.

"Who gave you permission to touch my things!" he shouted angrily at him. The boy's nose was bleeding. The stranger looked at her as if seeking help, but Niragi grabbed him by the chin and forced him to look at him. "Didn't they ever teach you to keep your nose out of other people's business?"

"I didn't-" Another blow. Niragi had kneed him in the stomach. He turned to her. "What did this jerk say to you?"

"Nothing..."

"Don't lie!" Niragi threw another punch that knocked him to the ground. She shrieked in terror. "Are you going to tell me or wait for me to reduce him to a pool of blood?"

"He just asked me if I was okay!" she sobbed, covering her ears so she wouldn't hear the boy's whimpers.

Niragi let loose another kick to the body beneath him. The other people in the dining room watched everything in silence. "Thanks for worrying about her, you idiot. She's perfectly fine under my care" he bellowed with a sadistic grin on his face.

"S-sorry" whispered the boy on the floor.

"I never said you could talk" Niragi replied before delivering another kick straight to his face. She could have sworn she heard his nose crack.

"Stop it, Niragi, please" she begged. Tears were already running down her cheeks. The boy had only wanted to help her.

Niragi gave her a disdainful look and turned away from the body on the ground. "I'm done with him, doll. I doubt he'll get up after this." He removed her handcuffs and grabbed her tightly by the bandaged wrist.

"It hurts!" she screamed trying to wriggle free.

Niragi tightened his grip pulling her out of the dining room. "I'm not finished yet," he warned, "I have to punish the little bitch who talked to a stranger and let them touch her."

[aleksanderscult]

Since we have officially entered the Aries' season I thought I should honor the fact that it's the Darkling's birthday! 🎉🎊

(No, we don't know his exact birthdate but we know he's an Aries. Anyways)

To celebrate it let's remember some facts about him.

Even though he was a Shadow Summoner, he loved bright colors. Blue, red, purple but most of all the color of sunlight.

Since we mentioned that he was a Shadow Summoner, isn't it endearing and ironic how he feared the dark when he was a child?

Once he didn't sleep for two nights because his mother had left him in a tent without a lantern.

He loved sweets! Cakes, pies etc. but his two favorites were a cake with cherries and sweet cream from Kerch and candies coated in sesame from Shu.

He had trouble mastering his powers as a child. He felt embarrassed for the fact that he couldn't make the Cut at the age of 13.

He could play the violin. 🎻

He was really intelligent from a very young age. Until the age of 13 he could speak three languages fluently and could read people and their behavior like an open book.

He was awkward and felt uneasy around children his own age since Baghra always kept them on the move and insisted not to let anyone touch him or for him to get close to someone.

He never met his father although he kept asking about him to his mother and wanted to meet him. The only thing he (possibly) ever knew was that he was a Heartrender.

He loooved nature. The trees and forests. The smell of them. Especially the evergreen trees. He even decorated his room in the Little Palace with carvings of trees.

Oh and he loves animals too! In the "Demon in the Wood" he got excited in the thought that he would see white tigers for the first time and Leigh once mentioned that he's kind to animals (we even saw that in "The Tailor" when he took time out of his duties to visit his horses, pat them and whisper to them soothingly).

And he actually saw those white tigers eventually.

Apparently he has great good looks to the point that he attracts others (and especially girls) like magnet since forever.

And his life was full of sex so he was experienced with it (Alina, your opportunity to fuck around and find out was literally right there).

The author confirmed (in 2014-2015, years before even the show came out) that he indeed harbored strong feelings for Alina and believed that they were destined for a future together (my man was ready to buy IKEA furnitures for their future house😭😭).

He had many, many half-siblings (one of them was a mermaid) and throughout the centuries he sought them out, out of a need for kinship, companionship and a desire to not be alone (🥲🔫)

This one is especially sad. He wasn't conceived out of love.

On another note though, his smell has been described as the smell of winter, forests and of the night.

In a solar eclipse his powers wouldn't be affected.

He's the Grisha with the most aliases in the Grishaverse (that's what living in a persecuted environment as a child does to you).

It's confirmed by the author that he was created after fantastical villains that she used to love, so please let that rumor that he was inspired after her abusive ex finally rest for good.

He had indeed fallen in love many times in the past but he kept witnessing the people he loved die from their mortality. At some point he just gave up on love and became more and more closed off. (Let's talk about the break he never had💀)

We might not know which person was the first he ever fell in love with, but we know which was the last one: Alina.

Do you remember those countless letters Alina was sending to Mal in "Shadow and Bone"? Well, the Darkling not only kept them secretly but read ALL off them.

He has a throat-neck fetish. And it's probably canon. The way he kissed Alina's throat every chance he got, the way he once nipped it, the collar and how he was always touching it.

According to Leigh, he didn't start wanting to be King. But this ambition came eventually after deeming it the only way to change things.

Kaz has been described as more selfish than Aleksander.

Well most of them turned out to be sad and tragic but that's because he had a tragic life and he himself was a tragic character.

Happy birthday to one of the best and most iconic book characters ever created. 🎉🎊

[spahhzy]

The plan!

Roman: Jaune, listen, I have a plan... a plan so glorious it's will put all my other plans to shame with how not glorious those plans were and -are you listening?

Jaune with Neo is currently just currently having his Tuesday tea date with her.

Jaune, annoyed: Yes, Roman, I know another one of your glorious plans. What is it this time?

Neo: Oh, lighten up, dummy. I'm sure it can't be worse than working with that fire bitch.

Jaune: Did you see the look she gave me? Rude!

Neo: She was trying to lay claim to someone that is already mine.

Jaune: Oh, I'm yours, am I? I clearly remember differently last night.

A kick to the shin was all he got as he looked at Neo's cute smile.

Roman: If you two are done being gross flirts, I can actually explain my super ingenious plan.

Jaune: I'm all ears Cap'n.

Neo: Go on!

Roman: We, as In You, me, and Neo, are going to sneak into Beacon as students, and STEAL whatever it is that Cinder wanted.

Jaune: ...wait, you believe what she was saying?

Roman: I did some digging, and she has whitefang in her back pocket, so it seems she is very adamant about getting in their.

Roman: So, it's gotta be something big, plus, I can fuck with Ozpin some more and that's always a plus.

Jaune + Neo: ...

Jaune: Uh, you know how the initiation process is right? Also how can we get in there? We never applied.

Roman: fear naught, my left hand of destruction l have already submitted our fake transcripts under false aliases.

Roman hands them ID cards.

Jaune: Tacitus Kilgore?

Neo: Beretta Stone?

Roman: annnd Rip Van Winkle as yours truly.

Jaune and Neo look at each other before both laughing.

Roman: What's so funny, I had to think long and hard on those names!

Neo: I think you just picked names out of a book and threw a few darts at them.

Roman: I-I did not! Look, we can do this, we steal whatever valuable is locked away right under Ozpin nose and flaunt in Cinders face before selling it off to the highest bidder!

Jaune: Roman, you know this is like a big commitment? It's like a year to four years, possibly depending on what Cinder does, granted we ain't helping them.

Roman: Trust me, Jaune, if all goes well, we can be in and out within the year!

Jaune: Alright if your sure...

Jaune turns back to Neo.

Jaune: How about you?

Neo: playing school for a while? Sure, why not. Plus, it would be fun to flaunt you around a bit.

Jaune blushes before smiling at Neo nodding he turned to Roman.

Jaune: Looks like you got yourself a plan.

Roman: Great!

Neo: Wait... aren't their teams of four?

Jaune: Oh yeah, I heard about that and that you get paired in two's as well, I think the first person you see is like your partner for the rest of your time their.

Roman: Relax, I will have that all taken care of when it comes down to it... As for our fourth member, I already made a call, and she will be down here shortly. Already ran it by her mother and her, and her mom was iffy at first, but with some...persuasion, I was able to get her to agree.

Jaune: Oh, Yangs coming too...oh boy.

Neo: The pun-she devil is going to torment us, oh the inhumanity!

Roman: I actually find her puns hilarious, mind you.

-

Else where on Bumblebee, coming to a stop just outside of vale.

Yang: I got the strange urge to torture two individuals, specifically with puns... hmm.

She continued her drive to vale.

[fleogecorpse]

# CREEPYPASTA/MARBLE HORNETS HEADCANONS

#note : silly thoughts + and attempt to revive this dead asl account

nina is, obviously, a scene queen and has managed to drag cody into it. now they both dress like scene kids and became a lot closer, both skateboarding when they have nothing else to do.

jane’s a metalhead. often times she blasts music at full volume at her and mary’s place.

due to burning herself, nina lost all of her hair and can’t grow it anymore. as a result she wears wigs and false lashes, and draws on eyebrows. slowly though she’s getting used/more comfortable without them.

brian uses mobility aids, ‘nough said. he has a toothgap too.

until slenderman took him in BEN couldn’t stay in the outside world too long, so he mostly stayed in electronics.

helen’s both touch starved and touch repulsed.

sally’s a shy, closed off and quiet girl. she tends to stay away from the men of the mansion, and even when they grow close with her she’s still very wary.

laughing jack has no insides or anything, just an empty body that’s like a rubber hose cartoon.

liu is the lead singer/guitarist in a band

clockwork has a shaved head and she looks fucking amazing

toby has 2c-3a hair that reaches just above his chest. most of the time he wears it in a low ponytail or man bun, sometimes half up.

cody is toby and lyra’s half brother through their dad.

while the rest of his senses got enhanced, eyeless jack lost his taste.

nina knows how to play the drums, toby can play the cello, brian can play the bass, and jeff knows piano.

alex can’t play a single instrument but he has a good singing voice.

jeff is actually really good with kids, much to the others’ surprise.

helen can’t cook for shit.

they didn’t choose their aliases, it was the humans/society/idk.

[noellerain]

• Arabella [Luca Kaneshiro x fem!reader]

Warnings: smut, spitting, huge age difference (sixteen years), curse words, vague mentions of violence in Luca's past, implied sexual acts in ShuVox's part, Alban is Luca's nephew lol [please let me know if I missed some! Thank you!]

MINORS DNI!

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

It’s a summer night and the wind is hot and dry. Had he known how disastrous that date would be, he would’ve ditched it and opted to stay home with his little nephew. They would watch cartoons all night, or maybe set up the toys he bought for him a few days ago after a job well done at school. He’d be in his sweatpants, sipping root beer and he’d watch the little boy run around the living room, letting time pass by. Maybe– just maybe– you’d be there too.

But nope. He wore his best suit, and asked you to babysit his nephew until he comes back. He could only groan in regret while he walked briskly down the sidewalk. You came on time, just as you always did. You were out with your friends, you said. But you came as soon as he called. And while he subtly stared at your black crowning glory, a few strands caressed by Midas’s selfish hands, your round eyes that possibly held all the secrets of the universe and the way you bore your entirety with such grace, confidence and innocence… As if that wasn’t enough, you stood close to him, fixed his necktie and when he took a deep breath and smelled papayas in bloom, he swore that it made his head spin.

It’s wrong. He knows damn well it’s fucking wrong. You’re sixteen years younger than him, fresh out of college with your life ahead of you. And he’s old, way past his prime. He knows that and he sees that the first thing in the morning when he looks at his reflection on the mirror: his salt and pepper hair that he dyed a few times before eventually giving up, the wrinkles surrounding his eyes that were testaments to the laughters he had throughout his life, and even the tattoos that are symbols of fearlessness and his dominance in his organisation as a mafia boss had started to fade. The multiple scars, wounds and scabs he got on the job that represent each trial he had surpassed were now deeply embedded in him. So much that those became one with his skin.

He had a fair share of experiences when it comes to women. But what we had with those women is something different. Being the leader of his organisation, he had no time nor could hardly care less for a serious relationship. Those women were a one-time fun. Flavours of the month. Beautiful and confident women who knew what they wanted and who knew what he wanted. And the most important requirement? No strings attached.

He may sound crazy, and no one might believe him but the moment you moved in next door, befriended his menace of a nephew and could easily go inside their home and hop around the house wearing his large apron, clean up after the little boy and make his life bearable… no. Not bearable. In fact, in the last years he spent with different women who only wanted his deep pockets, women who slept with Mr. Kaneshiro and woke up with Luca, only you made life thrilling again.

He raked his fingers through his long, blonde hair before pressing the doorbell button situated at the side of the large gates. He glanced at his wristwatch that read 7:30 PM and he thought… Surely, they aren’t doing monkey business up there, yet?

He had been friends with four men for many years. They were there through the bestest and the toughest of times.The only thing is that three of them are now facing the greatest challenge in a human being’s life: the incessant and non-stop ticking of time.

The infamous detective had retired, enjoying the rest of his time. Every now and then, authorities get caught up in hard detective work and that’s when he’s summoned. The novelist is now living in a province with the love of his life. He’s still writing stories under aliases, his craft getting better like fine wine.

The other two… well, there’s a little secret about them.

“Good evening, Luca.”

He looked up and saw Shu. Unlike his physique that had seen better days, Shu still looks the same after all these years. Beguiling eyes and smooth porcelain skin… except now that he’s standing in front of him, wearing a loose haori in black and red ombre. His neck and collarbone were littered by red and purple marks, some of them are even bleeding. Luca could only groan and shake his head in disbelief.

“Shu, it’s freaking seven in the evening!”

Shu could only rub his forehead in embarrassment and chuckle lightly. “I’m sorry… it’s just, you know, Vox’s been–”

“I don’t want to know the details. Please– Please spare me from knowing, Shu.” Luca pleaded. Shu just nodded shyly and opened the gate a bit wider for Luca to go in. However, the blonde man seemed to hesitate.

“Nevermind, Shu. I… I’ll just…” he took a few steps backward, and that’s when Shu reached out his hand and squeezed Luca’s shoulder tight.

“Come on, Luca. Get in. Let us know what happened.”

This is not his first time visiting the household. But he always got chills whenever he stepped inside and saw the red and black interior of the house, with a touch of violet on the decorations. Their other two friends might have gotten used to what is now the status quo, but Luca is still adjusting and still can’t wrap his head on how, why, where and when his demon and sorcerer friends started knocking boots.

“Hello, big guy!” Vox greeted when he stepped out of the master’s bedroom, wearing a matching haori. His arms were widely opened when he walked towards Luca, immediately wrapping the blonde man in his arms. Luca shivered. He’s still cold to touch even after so many years but the embrace was tight and sincere, reminiscent of his father’s.

And just like Shu, Vox still looks the same. Smooth, porcelain skin, long black hair with streaks of red but this time, his eyes are in the pinkish colour rather than the usual red. When they met each other’s gaze, Vox’s eyes went soft. Just by the exhaustion plastered all over Luca’s face, he already had a gist of what happened.

“I’ll go get you some whiskey. Vox…” Shu looked at Vox. The demon immediately turned to his lover whose brows were deeply furrowed and his hands were clutching the sleeves of his haori. Vox could feel his tension hence, he gave him a reassuring smile before cupping his cheeks and planting a long kiss on the forehead to which Luca smiled at. So many years had passed… yet the love and warmth he felt from the two remained the same. He felt at home with the familiarity and kept it close to his chest.

“I got it from here, darling.” he whispered.

You were in the deepest part of the ocean. No, you weren’t drowning. You were just slowly being carried away by the currents, sinking deeper yet never reaching the rock bottom. You continued to drift in the darkness alone with the beating of your heart. It has always been like this, you thought. So often that you’ve become one with the darkness, and the water could no longer knock your breath away.

But suddenly, a light appeared at the surface. A hand dipped down the water, and using its firm yet gentle grasp, it held and pulled you up. Your eyes shot open, consciousness gradually coming back to your body. You looked up and saw him. You felt his hand on your shoulder, thumb pressing on the straps of your summer dress. He’s blocking the harsh light coming from the lightbulb, and in his position, little strands of hair that couldn’t be tied in a ponytail, were falling.

Luca. The voice inside your mind rolled his name out gently. Your mouth hung ajar, taking little sips of air to fill your clenched lungs.

“Good evening. Why did you sleep here? You could’ve used the guest bedroom, you know.” he asked, his voice the perfect amalgamation of hoarse and smooth. Deep and light.

You looked around and saw that the television was still on… Oh goodness. What time is it? You brought your hands to your eyes and rubbed them while you slowly stood up. He retracted his hand on your shoulder and sat down next to you on the sofa, watching every little move you make.

“I was just watching this… uh, drama while waiting for you. I didn’t even notice that I fell asleep already.” you explained in the middle of a yawn. “Alban has been excited since I came to babysit. We played all day and he helped me cook– oh, right. Did you already have dinner? We cooked some tonkatsu.”

Luca looked at you for a few seconds before he slowly shook his head, a shadow of a smile appearing on his lips. With that, you stood up and went to the kitchen to heat up leftovers. He stayed on the sofa, eyes following every sway of your dress’s hem, while the conversation he had with Vox kept playing in his head over and over and over again.

“I knew right off the bat that all she wants is money.” he explained to Vox while he sipped on his glass of three fingers of rye whiskey.

“I’m sorry to hear that, Luca.” Vox gently said. “Would you perhaps want me to ask my beloved to make you a love potion?”

Luca fell into a pit of laughter. “What?”

“No, I’m serious. We can talk to him right now and he can make you a potion that could attract women who are dead serious in finding love just like you. My darling is that amazing.”

“Nah, I wouldn’t want that, Vox.” Luca told him, shaking his head. “I… you know. I want what you have.”

The sudden confession made the demon’s eyes go a tad bit wide. He pursed his lips, contemplating his friend’s words while Luca downed the rye in one go. Moments passed and the demon uncrossed his legs and walked towards Luca, who was leaning against the counter.

“You know…” Vox trailed off, looking quite unsure on where he should start. “That was flattering. It really is. But for me, buddy, I think… I think you already have it. I think you’re just looking at the wrong places.”

Luca felt his heart skip a beat. He knew what and who Vox was talking about. Slowly, then rapidly, he shook his head, shutting down the possibility as quickly as possible. “No, Vox. It’s just… you know. It’s awkward. She has a life ahead of her. I don’t want her to be with a pathetic old man like me. Everyone is going to say something. There’s only so much I can filter and protect her from.”

To which Vox replied with a smirk, “Luca, I didn’t mention anyone.”

The demon patted the blonde’s shoulder, whose lips sealed in an instant, and said, “I know. Everyone is going to say something. It’s natural, especially we’re beings that are capable of thinking. And just like me, there’s only so much I can protect my beloved from. But you know… I would rather die protecting him than not being by his side at all.”

“Luca?” You called out while waving your hands in front of his face. He seemed to be in a deep thought for a few seconds before he finally blinked, and looked at you with those soft, jet-black eyes that made your heart squeeze.

“I… the food is ready. Don’t you wanna eat?” You asked. He didn’t say anything. He just smiled and stood from his seat. You swallowed the lump in your throat and boldly grabbed his hand that was limply hanging on his side.

“Come on, it’s good! Alban said he made it with lots of love!” you exclaimed and dragged him towards the kitchen, pushing down the bubbling giddiness and warmth surrounding your stomach. His hands were bigger than yours, rough and coarse. But they felt warm, comforting… safe.

“Sit, sit, sit!” You urged him to the table where a plate of steaming rice and tonkatsu sat, waiting for him.

You noticed that he remained standing, looking at you. For the past year that you’ve moved in and became close with his nephew and him, you’ve always thought that there’s something about him that’s so bright. The brightness that reminds you of the sun each day you wake, its beautiful and majestic beams pouring through your window.

He may be a tall, large man who intimidated Alban’s playground friends, but he is the same man who gave up many things just to keep his nephew safe. You know what he’s capable of– heck, he was a mafia boss. He sat down with you on the sofa and confessed what you needed to know over glasses of white wine a few months ago. And though you may not know how the mafia works, you know that it’s dirty business, and a roll of dice can cost you more than you paid for. You’ve seen enough movies and read too many books to have an idea how dangerous and dark it is.

But he was a mafia boss.

It was in the past. Bygones be bygones. Because right now, he’s just the fun uncle who accompanies his nephew to school events, joins the mom community in their zumba and yoga sessions, and the neighbour who was kind enough to help you unload boxes during your moving day. He was the one who helped you with your resume and recommended you companies to apply for, the one who made sure you walk on the safe side of the road, the one who ditched his date just to fetch you from work while it was raining and the traffic was heavy, the one who takes note of the little things about you and remembers them, the one who makes you laugh with his incredibly different sense of humour, the one whom you can sit with for hours, talk with or be with in a comfortable silence just watching TV or watching Alban play, and the one who sat down and opened his heart to you– took your hand, and walked you through his past that was inked with blood, the stench of sins that were masked by the scent of lavender and baby powder. He showed you how the big transition of his life took place and told you about the peaceful future he’s working on.

God, the urge to say out loud to him how much you wanted to be a part of that future he’s talking about. To stop looking for someone because you’re right here.

“I see you,” he whispered. You looked at him, face contorted in a frown. You didn’t quite catch what he had said. He only smiled and said once more, “I see you, my Arabella.”

Then he brought his face close to yours. Your eyes almost crossed by the proximity. You can smell the pungency of alcohol, and his scent of musk and wood. And in a matter of four deafening heartbeats, you felt his lips softly land on yours.

Your head spun. What? What was happening?

He wanted to say sorry. Sorry for not being able to keep it in but he also wants you to know that he tried his best for the past months. How it took him almost everything to stop his fingers from tracing the curve of your nose, the bow of your lips, and your nape down to the arch of your back.

He ran his fingers on your scalp, your hair gliding in between his fingers. Your lips tasted of strawberries and rosé, a flavour so intoxicating and dizzying. He cupped your jaw, pressed harder– wanting more and more of that sweet taste while he whispered, “Sorry, ‘m sorry, baby.”

You’ve always thought that it must’ve felt like seeing stars. Blinding light in your eyes, your tight grasp to rationality slowly letting go as you transcend higher to the skies, away from the ground. You couldn’t be anymore wrong.

It was messy. Your lips were swollen by the time you felt the cushion behind your back. The hair tie that was keeping his hair in a ponytail was long gone, strands of his golden locks tickling your flushed skin while his lips smothered wet kisses on your navel. Your summer dress was discarded on the stairs, and he impatiently ripped the white, button-down shirt he’s wearing. He threw it across the room, left to gather the floating dust coming from the moonlight spilling through the window.

It was uncomfortable. Your arms were crossed, legs shut. Your eyes were closed, not daring to look him in the eye. This isn’t how you imagined your first time to be. You wanted it to be certain, and you laid there with a bit of sanity left, wondering in fear of what happens after.

“Hey, hey.” he called, his voice gentle and soft. His hands cupped your jaw, thumbs caressing the apples of your cheeks. “Open your eyes, baby. Look at me.”

And you did look at him, threatening tears blurring your vision. You put your hands on top of his, cheeks snuggling to the base of his palms. “I… I just don’t want to give you something–”

“It’s okay, baby,” he whispered. “It’s okay. You don’t have to. I love you and we can stop here if you want. It’s okay, baby. I love you and we’ll figure things out, okay?”

You felt hot tears sliding down your cheeks, his fingers were quick to wipe them away. Without inhibitions and hesitations, your hands reached out for his jaw, his stubble tickling your fingers. You pulled him close and kissed him ferociously and longingly. Your legs started to relax and soon felt yourself open up, his chocolate-dipped fingers leaving butterfly kisses on your inner thighs. You felt him in, and you fought real hard to hold his gaze. Memorise him. Take pictures with your mind, prove to yourself it isn’t a dream.

He wanted to seize you with his hands and embed his body in yours. Til your bodies become one– he would crawl on your skin and bask in your warmth, be close to your heart and savour its every beat.

His hands situated on the plush of your thighs, fingers squeezing the smooth, plump flesh. His eyes were in daze, staring at you while your lips went down on each wound and scar that he once tried to hide from you. Yet here you are, planting light kisses on each one, reminding him that those scars are his and that there’s nothing to be ashamed of because regardless, he’s loved and accepted. Your fingers delicately traced each line and curve of his tattoos which are symbols of his bravery and the representations of his positions in that society, a world you’ve never been before.

He sat up, held you by the waist and pulled you close until your bodies were almost combined. His lips sank into the nook of your neck, each suck and bite knocked your breath away. Your fingers combed his long hair and gathered a few strands once you reached the ends. You brought those golden strands to your lips, gently pecking and inhaling their scent. You lightly chuckled once the sweetness of the flowers wafted through your nose.

“Hmm?” he hummed after hearing your small laugh and feeling the light vibration of your body. You shook your head and pressed a kiss at the top of his head.

“Nothing, sweetheart. For a big, tough man, you smell rather sweet.”

“I’m a big tough man?” he asked, eyes shining in awe. It reminded you of an adorable and energetic golden retriever. You threw your head back in laughter before nodding, arms wrapping around his neck.

“Yes, you’re my big, tough man, Luca.”

His eyes were tightly shut, his body almost close to convulsing while he held the back of your knees while your feet were hung in the air. Fuck, fuck. Strings of profanities bombarded his mind while he held you close, trying his best to calm down and not scare you. But how the fuck could he do that when you’re this fucking tight? He held to that last string of sanity he has like his life depended on it, reminding himself to take it easy.

“Slowly, please…” you begged, lips buried on the flesh of his shoulder. Your hands are on his back, freshly-painted nails digging his skin. In the middle of it all, you have half a mind to suppress the noises coming out of your mouth, in fear that Alban, who was sleeping next door, might hear.

But there’s only so much you can do. Because when his hips started to snap, and your breath was knocked away, body bobbing up and down– fuck– you lost it. No, there were no stars that appeared and shone brightly in your eyes. What you’ve seen were his jet-black eyes that held your gaze while he continued his ministrations slowly.

“Come on, baby. Hold on to me, yeah?”

“Hmm.” you hummed and melted into his arms, your hips started to snap in sync with his. You heard him groan, which– heavens above– made your insides clench. You took it as a cue to continue and go faster, meeting him halfway through.

It was too much. By the time you reached the one hour mark, the blanket you stuffed in your mouth was dripping wet. Your voice is long gone at the back of your mind, throat dry from the lewd noises that never faltered to slip out for the past hour. Your head is spinning, body spent and filled to the brim. But you refused to let go, legs tightly wrapped around his waist while he bent you in half, his eyes never leaving yours as he kept a faster pace and rhythm. His one hand was encircled on your neck, while the other was cupping your cheeks.

Your throat started to itch and in a desperate attempt and twisted plea, you opened your mouth wide, tongue slipping out, begging for a drop of water in the middle of Sahara. He understood, puckered his lips and spitted. The thick blob of saliva fell on your tongue– tastes like whiskey– and you swallowed hard, an act that made him go even more feral.

You laid down on the bed, time suddenly became an unknown concept while your eyes went in and out of focus. You heard the door creak, and you wanted to turn your head and look at him but your body felt like it wasn't yours anymore: tear-stained cheeks, limp arms, sore legs and aching back. The euphoria was now dissipated, replaced by the kind of silence that was slightly nagging, begging to be acknowledged. He came into your vision and even though it hurt, you couldn’t help but to smile. He reached for your hair and fixed some of the mess before wiping your entire body with a wet cloth.

His hands, big and calloused, dipped in experience and blood suddenly became like Alban’s. Clumsy, shaky… heck, even a little queasy. While he was washing the cloth, he still couldn’t believe what just happened. He could still feel the softness of your lips, the intensity of your gaze, your scent all over him that smelled like ylang-ylang. And heavens… the small whimpers and moans that he had secretly wondered and thought about before… Still, he couldn’t help but feel guilty. It was supposed to be one kiss and a confession. How did it end up like this?

“Sorry.” he whispered while he wiped your stomach using the warm cloth.

“Hmm?” you hummed, way too out of it to even comprehend what he had said.

He retracted his hand and looked at you again. God. Even if your hair’s a mess, your body is marked with his tattooed kisses, you still look so beautiful. A goddess. Or maybe an angel sent from above that he doesn't deserve. In a low whisper, he said: “I’m sorry.”

“Why?” you asked in a tiny voice, your eyes starting to blink slowly. Hypnos had arrived, and was slowly cradling you in his arms.

“I didn’t… I’m sorry. I really am. I wanted you to know how much I love you yet–”

“I love you too.” You said with what’s left of your voice. Once those words came out, your heart almost burst into millions of butterflies, lifting the heavy load up, up and away.

His eyes went wide, mind slowly registering what you just said. Soon, a smile slowly creeped in on his face. You couldn’t help but break into a smile, too. God. If you could only move your arms, you’d pull him in for a tight hug and whisper to his ears that you love him, how much you care for him and Alban, and that he made you feel so, so loved and cared for tonight more than all of the men you’ve gone out with for the past years combined.

“So don’t say sorry, okay? I’m really, really tired and sleepy, Luca… but I love you, okay? I love you and we’ll figure it out…”

Those were the last words that came out of your mouth before you slipped into the darkness and fell. He pulled the blanket up and laid down next to you. Strange. The bed used to feel huge, and no matter how much he covered himself using either a blanket or a duvet, it never felt this warm.

Your hands immediately grabbed onto him, your cheek pressing against his chest. And when his palms held the arch of your back, you felt cold to touch. He pulled you even closer, tangled his legs with yours… Then while he waited for sleep to come, he stared at your peaceful sleeping face, in awe of how tiny you looked in his arms.

Finally, after so many months of hesitations, and searching in the wrong places, he finally has someone whom he shall treasure with the entirety of his heart, along with Alban. Someone who listened to him, didn’t berate and leave him even after knowing his past. He finally has someone who cares for him and Alban, someone he’d be delighted and absolutely honoured to care for, love for, and spend the rest of his life with… oh, wait. That’s looking too far in the future. But he’d let you know tomorrow morning how he intends to make it come true.

He pressed a kiss at the top of your head and inhaled your scent, wishing it would linger on the sheets, on the pillowcases and on him.

“I love you. I love you and thank you, my Arabella.”

•••

Noelle: AO3 saw this first teehee :D [inspired by the song Arabella of Arctic Monkeys]

Thank u for reading!!! 🥹

©noellerain

[b1rds3ye]

Radio Silence

The mission required you to separate from the rest of Task Force 141 but when the operation is compromised, all he can do is listen to the panic through the comms until everything goes silent.

Pairings: Captain John Price x GN!Reader, Simon “Ghost” Riley x GN!Reader Reader Aliases: Breeze (Callsign), Bravo 1-5 (Squad-Member Code) Genre: Angst (open-ended), Drama Warning: Descriptions of violence/crashes, blasphemy/religious references, (probably) inaccurate military terms Word Count: 3k (~1.5k each)

Captain John Price

The captain was not a superstitious man, but when you’re on the battlefield, you take all the good fortune you can get. With age he’s picked up a range of small habits and lucky paraphernalia to get him through the mission; an aged penny in his left breast pocket, a four leaf clover stored in another, he finds himself reciting the lord’s prayer even though he’s not particularly religious (and if there is a god he’d like to personally go up and sock them across the face).

When you noticed his little rituals, you added on a good luck charm of your own - his favourite by far. A quick peck on the cheek followed by a teasing little “good luck, captain” in his ear. Price swears there’s something divine in your affection, it does wonders for his morale and efficiency. He thought nothing of it the first few times, but when he realised that this little gift of yours was here to stay, he started to reciprocate in kind when the others weren’t looking. His soul has become tainted over the years - if anything a kiss from him should be a bad omen - but your beaming smile in response convinces him that maybe he’s given you some luck your way.

And perhaps that’s why, after your ritual good luck kiss, he feels a little more than bothered when Laswell calls you away before he can reciprocate. You notice the slight furrow of his eyebrows and laugh, telling him not to worry and that you’ll see him on the other side. The hold you had on his arm disappears as you pull away, bidding him and the rest of the Task Force good luck as you join your own squadron. Price then returns to commandeering his own men, but the thought lingers in the back of his mind. Perhaps you need that extra little bit of luck today.

Price hates how good his intuition can be.

“Bravo 0-6, do you copy?”

With his squadron grounded and on the perimeter of the site, he stiffens at the tone of your voice. That’s not how you usually sound like over comms, that hint of uncertainty didn’t suit you.

“Loud and clear, in position of Site A.”

“Copy, we’re at the compound but… we’ve got company.”

“Al-Qatala?”

“No, looks like Al-Qatala is buddy-buddy with some mercs and- shit.”

“Breeze, what are you seeing?”

“How’d they get us surrounded…?” You mutter more to yourself than to Price but his blood runs cold regardless.

“Bravo 1-5 you are to fall back and wait for backup-”

He’s cut off by various layers of static but he’s learnt to decipher them. The deeper base of the rustle of fabric as you manoeuvre, the sharp trill of gunshots all overlaying the white noise of distant shouting.

“Price, our exits are blocked, they knew we’d be here, how’d they- Corporal! Fuck, stay with me! We’re dropping like flies here. Bravo-1, we’ve got no choice, we have to push through, full offensive!”

He hears the screams of nearby soldiers. While he’s grateful none of them are yours, he knows that the ride back to base will be a rough one regardless. He feels the eyes of his subordinates burn holes into him and the walkie talkie. Gaz, who was beside him, was the only one moving, animatedly talking to Laswell and filling her in on the situation.

“Bravo 1-5-”

There’s an audible sigh on your end that shuts him up.

Through the time it has taken for Price to become captain, he’s learned a lot the hard way. One of the most important things he’s learned is that earning Lady Luck’s favour is more crucial than any skill for the battlefield. Some of the best he’s ever seen has fallen because they pissed her off somehow, but he still never expected her to shun you.

“Just my luck…” your voice starts off quiet as you curse to yourself. A gulp breaks up your panting as you stabilise your breathing. Your next words are far too calm.

“I’m sorry, Price.”

“Sergeant.” Price’s voice was low, cautious. A warning. He knows how you fight, he knows you don’t do anything extreme unless the situation he calls for it, and once again he’s praying to the unknown that it hasn’t come to that.

“I said next time we hit the pub with the 141 that the first round will be on me but I don’t think I can make that.”

“Don’t talk to me like that, Breeze.”

“The merc company goes by Order of Ashes.”

Your words are becoming harder to hear as the explosions seem to be getting closer and closer. Gaz is becoming louder, literally screaming into his comms as he near begs for an evac for your squadron. The rest of his team is becoming restless. Price’s grip tightens impossibly tight on the walkie talkie, any tighter and he could probably crush the metal.

“Rain hell on them for me, yeah?”

Price starts calling for your name, only to be interrupted by a deafening static that has him reeling from his own technology. Inexperienced privates that surrounded him flinched at the sound while Gaz fell silent. Soon Price’s walkie talkie falls silent too.

He brings his hand up to activate communications again, a tentative check in.

“Bravo 1-5, do you copy?”

He waits for a moment.

“Fuck. Breeze? Do you copy?”

The next time he calls out to you is the first time he’s hesitant, to the untrained ear he sounded as strong as ever but to him he recognises how his own voice wavers. A gentle call of your actual name, the last resort.

Silence.

Price gives you a few more seconds to answer, each moment more damning than the last. Gaz sends a concerned look his way but words fail him. He’s a good sergeant but his inexperience is showing. He hasn’t fully mastered the poker face, not like Price has. 

Eventually he lets out a heavy exhale through his nose, counting each racing heartbeat it takes until it has marginally slowed.

Gaz instinctively straightened up, he didn’t need to see Price’s face to know his captain was transforming before his very eyes. Price adjusts his hat, looking at the rest of his team under the brim.

“Alright, we’ve got double the work and half the manpower. No time to lose, I want this site cleared within the hour, and then we're finding our other half."

With affirmatives all round, the soldiers get to work and so does Price. To the untrained eye, he’s calm, eerily so. As captain, Price can’t afford to lose his cool, it’ll bleed over and smother his team, blanket them in a tense atmosphere of panic and uncertainty. So he stays resolute, acting as the team’s anchor as he guides them towards the objective with precision.

The only emotion that breaks his facade is anger. Pure, unbridled rage that casts a frightening glaze over his eyes. His allies can see it as Price stomps towards the entrance of the site. Al-Qatala most certainly feel it as their lackeys are pummeled to the ground, bones cracking against stone and tiles. They’re not gifted the mercy of a quick bullet, but the pain of slowly bleeding out with broken bones, bruised bodies and limbs jutting out in all the ways they should not. Every bruising punch, every bullet delivered does little to quell the raging storm within him. It brings him closer to the mission objective but it doesn’t bring him closer to you, and that’s the only thing that matters right now. There’s no hostages, no chance of salvation for his enemies. Any form of good will in Price was taken away when you were taken away from him. He hopes whatever god that sees the carnage he’s inflicted knows that it is only a taste of what to come if he ever meets that poor sod.

When his side of the operation is done and the squadron is now leaving the site, Price returns to his comms. He needs to address the other half of the mission, you. Suddenly his tongue feels thick in his mouth as his throat tightens. His collar is suffocating.

“Bravo 0-6 to Watcher-1 do you copy?”

Laswell’s voice rings out.

“Affirmative. We’ve already dispatched birds to Bravo-1’s location, we’ll do what we can and sort out that compound.”

“Do me one more thing. Find me everything you can on the ‘Order of Ashes’. I want names, locations, families, the whole fucking mile.”

“Can do. … Is this for Breeze?”

“Breeze wanted me to rain hell on them…”

Price’s voice is low as he puts a cigar in his mouth. He lights it up, even when the cigar smokes he keeps the lighter on. His eyes narrow at the flickering flame, fixated on it for a moment longer. He’s never been a particularly superstitious man, but he’s asking for Lady Luck to be on his side once again. For the slim chance that you’re somewhere out there, breathing. He’s never been worthy of her favour, but you damn well are so surely she’ll put that into account. She’ll consider that you still have a lot to do, you still have a good luck kiss that Price needs to return. He puts his lighter away.

“... and I intend to deliver.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Ghost preferred his quieter missions. Others feel safer when in a team but more people mean more variables, and more variables mean more fuck ups, and heavens know he’s had enough of those. For Ghost, the less, the better. And yet, when it came to 141, and in particular to you, he’d pick company over going solo in a heartbeat.

Reconnaissance missions were a personal favourite, they were quiet, less violent if done right and often required only a few people. Of course his first person of choice is you, even if you’d always call these missions an “impromptu date” and then chastise him for not planning something more extravagant just to rile him up.

Even now, when you two were starting on opposite sides of the target site a good few kilometres apart, you were connected through communications. He’d listen as you ramble about anything and everything on your mind when the mission gets quiet. It was endearing, it was soothing. Ghost never thought he’d find someone like you with the power to give him a respite even when on duty - or if he ever deserved such a thing. And yet here he was, sitting against a wall, waiting for further instructions from Laswell as you started the purely hypothetical debate on who in the 141 would best survive the zombie apocalypse.

“Honestly, with a mask like yours you could probably blend in with the horde. 10 out of 10 you’d last your entire life like that.”

“Surrounded by brain dead morons? Already have that.”

He heard your laugh that you tried to mask as an exaggerated scoff.

“How long do you think I’d last?”

“One hour at most.”

“Oh come on Ghost, have a bit more faith in me.”

“All Bravo to Watcher-1, we’re awaiting further action, copy.”

As Laswell replies, Simon can already imagine your offended expression as he changes the topic.

“Bravo-1 this is Watcher-1, you are all clear to close in on the perimeter. Do not engage, just tell us what you see.”

“Watcher-1 this is Bravo 1-5, I’m already seeing hostiles.”

Ghost stills, his hand reaching back up to the comms. You’ve always managed to keep it cool but he heard how your sentence ended with a slight waver. It was too early for speculation, but the alarm bells were already going off in his head. The enemy should be clustered within the site, nowhere near where you currently are.

“I’m counting a dozen men, a couple of trucks and- that’s looking like some impressive cargo.”

There’s some extra static as Ghost finds his pace increasing. He won’t be able to reach you soon, but it doesn’t stop his legs from moving towards the site.

“They’re moving quickly, they’ve got an agenda.”

“Stay frosty, Breeze.”

“Got it, Simon.”

Your voice is more of a whisper now, almost blending in with the static. Was the enemy that close to you already?  Usually, he loved when you used his actual name. Everyone calls him ‘Ghost’ even off-duty, but you were proper enough to at least always call him by his callsign in battle. You were getting spooked and he was too far away to even try and comfort you.

It was a strain to unclench his balled fists. He wasn’t going to have a mission go wrong, at least not one that involved you. He’d be damned if something took you out before him, because he refused to return to a life where you weren’t yapping his ear off.

“Breeze, head back to exfil.”

“Fuck, they’re heading this way.”

If you found a good place to hide, Ghost could reach you before any enemy did. He had to.

“I’m heading towards your position. E.T.A 20 minutes.”

“Ghost, my spot is now crawling with hostiles. I know you’re a one man army but I think you’re pushing it this time.”

Your laugh was different this time. It wasn’t as hearty as the one he heard before, it was a weak wheeze. Half-hearted, the sound of a bitter and quiet defeat. He could hear your rugged breathing against the end of the mic. If he was actually with you, he’d stand beside you in moments like this, letting you put your body weight on him discreetly as he anchored you to the world. His gloved hand instinctively curls as he imagines himself holding onto your arm.

“Breeze, stay with me. Focus on the objective.”

“You owe me a proper date after this, Ghost.”

“Then make sure you get back in one piece-”

The comms are disrupted with a voice that Ghost can’t recognise, with you returning an indistinguishable shout and a curse. He can’t help calling your name into the comms, only to hear the static of indescribable commotion, bodies shuffling and the harrowing crack of broken bones and limbs. It escalates into a deafening crescendo spanning only a few seconds before the grand finale of a thump of a fallen body. The transmission ends with a damning click. He stops in his tracks before he returns to the comms.

“Breeze? How copy?”

The line has gone dead. Ghost slams his fist into the nearest wall, but it does little to quell the pain from within.

“Bravo this is Watcher-1, what’s your status?”

Ghost pauses at Laswell’s request, he wants you to be the one who replies on his behalf, you usually do. Never did a moment feel so heavy, outweighing his military gear and weapons, almost bringing the hulking man to his knees. His hand reluctantly comes up to activate his walkie talkie. He takes his sweet time, giving you the chance to interrupt. When he finally speaks, his voice is slow as he draws out every syllable, every pause a desperate invitation for you to speak up.

“Bravo 1-5 is M.I.A.”

Laswell is silent on the other side. Ghost lets his head tilt back until it rests on the wall beside him, the guilt made his skull too heavy. With that sentence alone he felt like your executioner, as if he just brought the possibility of you being gone into reality. The only thing he can hear now is the slight rustle of grass against the wind, a backdrop to the rhythmic bass of his pounding heartbeat. This was a typical ambience for solo missions, and Ghost was used to being alone.

But lonely? He had forgotten how it felt ever since you barged into his life. And now that the feeling has returned, he forgot just how utter shit it feels.

“We’re sending immediate backup to their position. We’ll meet you there.”

But by the time he and the squadron make it to your position, there are only the remnants of a battle left in your wake. A few unrecognised bodies are slumped against the walls, furniture is overturned, and dried blood paints the floor as a macabre dye. Most - if not all - of this must have been your handiwork, and if it was any other circumstance Ghost would feel proud, but you’re not beside him for him to praise you. That being said, there is no sign of you, and that leaves him optimistic, but the other soldiers seemed to think differently.

“You know, they say Al-Qatala never takes prisoners,” one jittery private said to another.

“What’re you trying to say? I've seen the Sergeant. Breeze is tough.”

“I’m just saying, even if we can’t find their body they’re probably d-”

“That’s enough,” Ghost snaps his head to them, eyes alight with a rage usually reserved only for his worst enemies. His voice is near unrecognisable, more akin to a growl than any human sound. He will not tolerate anyone speaking ill of you or doubting your capabilities as a soldier. He tells himself he does it for your honour, nothing more, nothing less. He disregards the selfish need for you to return to him as it wittles him down to the bone and contorts his face to a scowl concealed under his mask.

The soldiers hurriedly salute before exiting the room, leaving the lieutenant alone, shoulders and chest heaving before he moves to continue the search.

The team returns empty handed, but that means nothing to Ghost. Even as he’s issued new missions he does not falter. He fights with the same brutality, killing his enemy before they can kill him because he needs to return home. Return home so he can organise a covert mission of his own - retrieving you. No matter the rank or squadron that separates you, no matter if you’re shipped out to the other side of this godforsaken earth, you two are a team. Combat has hardened Ghost into a brutally honest man, many would call him a pessimist, but a stubborn voice in the back of his mind refuses to believe that you’re gone. You’ve always been a tough nut to crack, if you weren’t you wouldn’t be dating him. He’s seen you stare death in the eyes only for you to stand back up beside him. And so he faces forward and doesn’t look back. Because until he has to rip off the freezing metal of a dog tag from your neck, he swears on his stone cold heart that you’re still out there. Maybe a little tattered, perhaps even broken, but living.

Call of Duty Masterlist

[guillotinebypierre]

Joy was a woman on a mission. She was having issues with her relationship. Crush was horrible in bed and he was lacking in certain areas.

She was frustrated, sexually frustrated, and being that she was surrounded by attractive people all day due to her job as an idol, she lusted for other people.

One person in particular had caught her attention, though.

Y/n L/n. Also known as THE IT boy of kpop, the nation's celebrity crush, Korea's husband, every person's wet dream. He had many aliases.

Y/n was a soloist, someone 5 years her junior, but someone who practically the whole nation of South Korea thirsted over.

What made her believe that she had chances with him, you ask? Y/n had publicly stated that he only got into Kpop because of Red Velvet and when further asked upon it revealed that she, Miss Park Sooyoung, was his bias.

That and the fact that he was on his way to her studio right now in order to record a collab song with her.

Little did he know that Joy had a different kind of collab tape for them to create in mind.

Suddenly her phone buzzed, pulling her back from her train of thought.

"Ms Sooyoung, Mr L/n is in the lobby. I sent him up now."

After thanking her manager and telling her that she'd call if she needed anything, Joy opened her camera and did last minute 'fix ups' for her appearance.

*Knock Knock*

"Come in Y/n!", Joy screamed.

The door opened, revealing Y/n who wore a basic but very stylish outfit and a smile that made Joy all hot and bothered.

"Hi Noona, thank you so much for having me", Y/n told her with his husky voice while walking towards her.

"Aish we haven't even started and you're thanking me already", Joy replied while pulling him into a hug, making sure to press her breasts into him.

"Still it's an honor to make music with you noona. You and the rest of your group are the reason I'm here today, this is like a dream come true.", Y/n replied while taking his jacket off, revealing his big arms and veiny forearms and hands.

"Well let's get to recording then!", Joy replied while smiling.

Throughout the recording session Joy made sure to tease Y/n. She "accidentally" dropped her phone a few times, making sure to arch her back and show Y/n her ass while grabbing it again, dropping things and asking Y/n to pick it up for her, giving him a good look at her panties or bending down in front of his face and showing him her cleavage.

She also made sure to be as touchy as possible, grabbing his thigh or his arms before laughing when he told her a joke or sitting really close to him when helping him mix.

-time skip to when they finish the song-

"Woah noona I really don't know how to thank you.", Y/n told her while smiling.

"It's fine Y/n, seeing you this happy is more than enough for me.", Joy replied while looking at him.

"No really noona I feel like I have to repay you for this", Y/n replied with a serious expression on his face.

'It's now or never Sooyoung. May as well try it now.'', she thought to herself

"You know, there is a way with which you can repay me, if you insist.", Joy said while standing up and walking towards the door, making sure it was locked.

"I insist noona.", Y/n instantly replied.

"Well, you know Y/n, your noona has been having a few...problems...that have left her very frustrated recently. And she feels like you could help her relieve some stress.", Joy said in a sultry tone while climbing on Y/n lap

"B-But noona what about your boyfriend.", Y/n replied while looking her in the eyes.

"I don't give a shit about him, baby. Right now all I want is for you to fuck me.", Joy replied before grabbing Y/n's face and kissing him roughly.

His hands instantly made their way to Joy's ass, grabbing and massaging it, making her moan into the kiss in the process.

It was like all of his shyness and second guessing went away the moment Joy grabbed his face because now he was starting to become the dominant one.

His tongue slid across her bottom lip, asking for entrance, which she naughtily denied.

Sooyoung smirked into the kiss, not wanting to give in without a fight but also wanting to see what he'd do next. However, she didn't expect him to suddenly spank her ass.

This move surprised her, causing her to slightly open her mouth, which gave Y/n the leeway he needed to stick his tongue down her throat.

While all of this was happening, Y/n started to take off his partner's clothes, one piece at a time.

He struggled with her blouse, so much so that he just ripped it off her body- literally.

"I'll buy you another one noona", He said after quickly taking his lips off of hers to take his shirt off.

The atmosphere was just as heated as it had been while recording, only that now it wasn't due to work focus.

Y/n moved down from her lips to her jawline, then her neck, sucking on it, making sure that she'd get hickeys.

Meanwhile Sooyoung was in heaven. Her face showed a look of pure ecstasy, eyes rolled back into her skull and mouth agape, head tilted towards the roof.

Y/n travelled further down and took of her bra, now kissing one of her nipples while pinching and playing with the other one.

They didn't care that they were sitting on the audio mixer and risking potentially damaging it, at the end of the day either one of them could replace it if needed.

Y/n continued moving down, now itching closer and closer towards her hot core. He kissed her stomach, making sure to lick and suck all around her abs before diving down and giving her inner thighs the same treatment.

He looked her in her eyes before pulling down her now soaked panties with his mouth and finally diving into her.

Y/n masterfully used his mouth, latching onto her clit while using two fingers to pistol in and out of her soaked snatch. He slightly curved them, hitting her sweet spot and making his lover combust on the spot.

Not having had enough and wanting to make sure she was paid back for her feature on his song, Y/n continued stimulating her, now adding a third finger and also using his second hand to play with her nipples.

The wave of pleasure came down crushing Joy like a tsunami once more, resulting in her second orgasm in quick time, making her thighs, which were resting on Y/n's broad shoulders, violently shake and tremble.

Y/n took a step back and gave Sooyoung some time to recollect herself while also cleaning his face with tissues.

"Let me treat you now Y/n", Joy said while pushing him back onto the chair.

She crawled towards his lap, making quick work of his belt and with one swift motion took off his pants and underwear.

She was- quite literally- hit in the face with Y/n's cock.

"If I knew you were hiding this all this time I would've asked you for a feature sooner. No wonder they call you 'every person's wet dream' ", Joy told him while stroking his now fully erect dick.

"Baby can you take your phone out please?", Joy continued telling him while sucking his balls.

"How about you film this so I can show Crush how he should actually treat me in bed?", She told him while innocently smiling at him.

"Is it filming?", Joy asked

"Yeah noona", Y/n's voice could be heard from behind the camera

Not wanting to spend more time talking, Y/n grabbed a handful of Joy's hair in a messy bun and pushed his 9 inches down her throat. Her head bobbed up and down while loud gagging noises could be heard all the while Sooyoung displayed a large grin on her face.

She used one of her hands to play with her dripping pussy while the other one was used to play with Y/n's heavy balls.

Meanwhile Y/n was now the one whose face depicted pure ecstasy. Much like Sooyoung had done prior, his eyes were rolled back, his mouth was agape and his head, too, was tilted towards the roof.

He pressed Joy's head down on his dick, making her take as much as she could and held her there, only getting her back up after she tapped his thighs, indicating that she couldn't breathe anymore.

She came up gasping for air, her make up already smudged and chin full of a mixture of saliva and precum. She stroked Y/n's large, veiny rod while smiling at the camera before speaking.

"Hey baby. I have been very much frustrated with you and your performance in bed recently. You have not made me cum in years and your tiny dick is nowhere near enough for my pussy. This is why I called a senior of mine for help, you see, his dick is more than enough for me"

Joy smiled at the camera before sucking again, this time switching between deepthroating and sucking on the tip, swirling her tongue around his head.

"Noona I'm close where do you want it?", Y/n's husky voice could be heard from behind the camera again.

"I want it on my face, make me your slut baby", Joy replied before taking his cock into her mouth once more.

After a few minutes she felt him pulsating inside her throat, which meant he was close. Sooyoung took him outside of her mouth and started stroking him while playing with his balls.

"Come on baby, give your dirty noona what she deserves. Paint my face white with your hot, sticky cum. Make everyone know how slutty I am. Claim me as yours. Show that weak excuse of a boyfriend that I have how a real man treats his partners. Give it to me baby", Joy said while speeding up her jerking.

And just like that, Y/n erupted. Thick spurt after thick spurt, streak after streak shot out of his dick until all the semen from his balls had been splattered across Joy's beautiful face.

"Thank you so much baby but your noona still isn't satisfied. Lay that phone away and come pound this pussy please", Joy told Y/n

Y/n threw the phone away and made his way towards Joy, who was scooping up the cum on her face with her fingers and eating it.

He motioned for her to stand up and bent her across the audio mixer before sticking his hard cock inside her soaked pussy and ravaging her insides.

It was like her pussy was made for him as he felt every single fiber of her insides contracting around him. Her insides, hot as hell itself clung onto his cock and sucked him even further into her body.

He slammed into her body, making the whole table shake and her screams get stuck inside her throat, just like he had been moments prior. With every stroke he gave it was like a ripple effect went through her body, creating waves of pleasure that cursed from her core all the way to the neurons of her brain.

Y/n was crushing Sooyoung's insides, giving her the joy she had been missing with her boyfriend.

Any thought, any doubt, no matter how minuscule long gone, the thought of this situation being wrong long thrown away as no matter how wrong it was, it felt so right to them.

Joy's face once again displayed ecstasy, driven by lust, almost animalistic in the way she gave into her primal instincts. She didn't care whether or not they were caught, she didn't care if anyone passed by the studio and heard her screaming Y/n's name. All she cared for was that Y/n continued giving her the hardest back shots she had ever received.

Y/n, too, was in heaven. Joy's pussy was like nothing he had ever felt before. It evoked sensations in him that were foreign up to this point. It was like she was a fountain of dopamine, a gift that kept on giving.

The way her breasts swayed with every single stroke, the way her peachy butt jiggled with every thrust, the way she moaned his name, the way she sucked on the fingers he put inside her mouth, the way her walls clamped onto him whenever he smacked her ass, everything about the older woman in front of him screamed perfection.

Realizing he couldn't keep up with this much longer, he used one of his hand to play with her clit while using the other one to grab a handful of her hair and pulled it, making her look up at him.

He sloppily kissed her, sucking on her tongue and feeling her moan into his mouth. She came quickly and came hard. Her legs trembled and she almost fell to the ground if Y/n hadn't held her waist. Her pussy creamed his dick and her juices dripped down her legs. She tightened around his shaft, making it almost impossible for him to thrust in and out of her.

His cock started pulsating and Y/n felt a familiar sensation broil up inside his core. He knew he was close.

"Noona I'm close where-" "Do it inside me, baby. I'm on the pill. Just paint my insides white.", She interrupted him.

Y/n continued fucking her, his strokes becoming sloppier and more drawn out.

With one final stroke he buried himself  as deep inside her as he could, gripping onto Sooyoung's waist for stability until he finally, with one loud moan, dumped all of his semen inside her womb.

Streak after streak left his dick, erupting inside her walls, almost mimicking the earlier scene. He painted her like a canvas and stayed inside her for what felt like eternity. It was so much that it started dripping out of her and down her legs.

After a good minute of staying inside her and hugging the woman, Y/n extracted himself out of her, leaving a steaming hole that leaked his cum.

Y/n fell onto the chair behind him, soon being joined by Sooyoung, who desperately needed to catch her breath.

"Noona"

"Yes baby?"

"What will you do with that video?"

"Oh I'll send it to him before breaking up."

"But won't he use that to blackmail you? Or send it to someone?"

"He's not stupid. It would hurt his pride too much if more people knew he had a tiny dick that can't satisfy his girlfriend. And if he for some reason does decide to send it to someone I'll just sue him."

The two lovers looked at each other before laughing, both at the absurdity of the situation they were in and at the fact that they had just turned a recording session for music into a different type of recording session.

"You know Y/n, I can still walk", Joy started before crawling onto his lap again

"How about you change that?", She finished before grabbing his face and kissing him again.

--3 months later--

"Korean Rapper 'Crush', who had been dating Kpop Idol and Red Velvet Member Park Sooyoung, better known under her stage name 'Joy', just released his new album 'Rush Hour' with the lead single 'Fuck You' containing direct disses and name dropping Kpop mega star 'Y/n L/n'. How will the nation's celebrity crush respond to this?-"

Y/n was back in the studio with Joy. This time not for a collaboration but for the recording of his response to Crush's diss. He wanted title it "Fuck You Too" and was just finishing recording the last few lines.

"-oh and just for good measure, you should ask your new girl how my dick tastes.", Y/n finished the track.

"That last line will definitely open up some wounds baby", Joy said while laughing.

"Well, he started it. Maybe I'll sample you saying he has a tiny dick on the next song if he decides to respond to this, who knows", Y/n replied while giving her a kiss.

He sat on the chair, yes, that chair, before sighing and throwing his head back. He closed his eyes and ran a hand through his hair, oblivious to the fact that Sooyoung had just locked the door.

She walked towards him and sat on his lap before talking.

"You know baby, how about we reminisce a little bit ourselves? I'm not frustrated anymore but I've still been a bit stressed the past few weeks with our comeback and whatnot. You think you can do your noona another favour baby?", Joy said while running a finger across Y/n covered abs.

"I think I have something in mind that could help you out noona", Y/n replied before kissing her.

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

[multi-lefaiye]

the eden linnaeus powerpoint

we did it, gang, we climbed this whole mountain.

inspired by @vacantgodling, here are the slides for my eden linnaeus powerpoint <3 because i love him.

i had a lot of fun making this, so i hope y'all enjoy <33

tagging the Eden Fanclub/people i think would be interested in this: @anexor @skitzo-kero @vacantgodling @invaderskoodge @paradoxspir1t

@drawnecromancy @astral-runic @void-botanist @vampiresdrinkfruitjuice @chaieyestea

slide transcriptions under the cut!

SLIDE 1:

A Guide to Eden Linnaeus

Or: I’m kind of unhinged about this purple boy. And now you will be, too!

by @/multi-lefaiye, your local purple tief enthusiast.

[Image ID: A heroforge model of my character Eden Linnaeus, a purple-skinned tiefling with white hair, a van dyke beard, and black horns. He is shown from the chest up, smirking as he looks to the right. End ID]

SLIDE 2:

Who is Eden?

Eden Linnaeus is the character I play in my fiance’s D&D campaign “Into Darkness We March,” which has been going since 2022.

The basic premise of the campaign is that a group of characters from vastly different time periods have all been revived in modern day, and they’re looking to put a stop to a terrible curse slowly rotting their world from the inside out.

Also, all of these characters fucked up big time in life and were struck with the curse, too! :D

The curse is based on the concept of the seven deadly sins, so each character has an associated Sin. I’ll get into that more shortly.

Anyway, even though Eden was originally made for this campaign, I’ve become so attached to him that I’m keeping him as an OC outside of it as well.

Something about a purple demon boy can just be so personal

SLIDE 3:

Eden Linnaeus is the son of a famous necromancer and a powerful cleric. However, his father, Abdiel, abandoned the family when Eden was very young, leaving him to care for himself, his younger brother, and his dying mother, despite being only a child at the time.

As he grew older, Eden came to deeply resent his father, the rejection and abandonment leaving him feeling worthless and lost. And after his mother’s death, he silently vowed that he would get revenge, that he would punish his father for leaving him behind. He would prove to everyone, especially that deadbeat sack of shit, that he’s not worthless. In fact, he’s the best. And he won’t rest until Abdiel lost everything.

This ambition drove Eden for many years, leading him to become an accomplished and respected magic user. However, it also destroyed him slowly, leading to him pushing away everyone who still cared about him until he was completely alone. Which was fine by Eden--who cared if everyone abandoned him? He’d prove them wrong, too. Fuck them.

But in the end, Eden never had the chance to really prove himself. When he was 28 years old, shortly after finishing his phD, he died in his lab, alone and forgotten by history.

Then, just over 600 years later, Eden came back… and he’s not wasting this second chance.

SLIDE 4:

Basics - 1

Name: Dr. Eden Linnaeus

Yes, he has a fantasy PhD.

Nicknames / Aliases: Ivaebhin (Kader only), Ed (Michael only), Jericho Ferebey (rarely)

Age: 28

Gender: Male

Eden is trans, as a note. He’s got that autistic tboy swag.

Orientation: Gay

Class: Artificer / Warlock

Sin: Pride

Eden’s sin is pretty self-explanatory. For much of his life, he’s been motivated by an intense, all-consuming need to be the best in every situation, better than everyone around him. Even if it destroys him.

[Image ID: A drawing of my OC Eden, shown from the waist up and facing the right. Eden is holding both hands up and smiling at a ball of magic floating above them, depicted as purple with a gold outline and a smiling face in the center. He's wearing a red jacket with a popped collar, a golden necklace, a black t-shirt, and a pair of red fingerless gloves. The background behind him is dark purple with gold accents, and his name is written across the bottom of the image.]

SLIDE 5:

Basics - 2

Species: Tiefling

Languages Spoken: Infernal (native), Common (fluent), Elvish (fluent), Sylvan (proficient)

The version of Elvish that Eden knows is rather archaic compared to modern Elvish, but he still understands modern Elvish decently.

Education: He has a fantasy PhD in alchemy, lmao.

Deepest Fears: Fire, extreme body horror, his body or mind deteriorating, being overshadowed by his father.

Fun fact: Eden can’t stand the smell of cooking meat for the same reason he’s afraid of fire :D

[Image ID: A drawing of Eden sleeping on the floor, with straighter hair than usual and without his facial hair. His eyes are closed and he's resting his head on his arms. The whole drawing is tinted a light purple. End ID]

Outdated art, but still cute!! This is from before I settled on his horn design and decided how curly his hair should be. And before I gave him facial hair.

SLIDE 6:

Appearance

Purple skin, with patches of scales on his face, shoulders, and hips

Curly white hair that grows past his shoulders, usually in a ponytail, and a van dyke beard

Black horns, with a crack in the left one

5’3” (approx 160.02 cm)

Multiple ear piercings and an eyebrow piercing

Various scars, most notably on his arms and face

Details on next slide :3c

Right hand slowly turning dark grey

Little spikes on his tail, especially at the base and near the tip

Usually wears a lot of red and black

[Image ID: A fullbody drawing of my OC Eden Linnaeus, squatting and facing slightly left. Eden is wearing a dark shirt under a red jacket, dark pants, red fingerless gloves, and knee-high boots. He has a small smile on his face, and his tail is curled slightly around him. The background is dark purple, with a yellow gradient starting from the center. End ID]

SLIDE 7:

Notable Scars

A black handprint on his right side.

This scar is from the time his father almost killed him during a magical duel when he was 19.

Jagged scratches across his face.

From the creature that killed him, lashing out and slashing his face in fear.

Long scratches along his arms.

How he actually died :(

A crack in his right horn, and a ring of scar tissue on his tail.

These are from the same event so they go together. Eden cut these parts of him off for a ritual, but they grew back immediately when the ritual was complete, leaving just the scars behind.

[Image Description: A drawing of my OC Eden Linnaeus,, shown shirtless from the waist up with one arm raised and his hand resting on the back of his neck. He wears a red and gold compression bra and black slacks, and he has multiple gold piercings. Notably, he has a black mark on his right side shaped like a handprint, his right hand is covered in a dark mark, and he has scars on his arms and face. The background is a block of dark purple with gold accents and a gold question mark next to Eden. End ID]

SLIDE 8:

Personality

Eden is a very stubborn, egotistical jackass much of the time. He’s better than everyone around him and not shy about telling them that.

… However, under that, he is incredibly, deeply insecure. Eden believes wholeheartedly that he has no inherent worth as a person, and people won’t stay with him if he’s not The Best.

He cares so so deeply about those close to him, but he struggles to accept that they might care about him, too.

Very logical, very low empathy. Articulate and intelligent.

Extremely passionate and excitable, loves to learn and share information.

Lowkey highly self-sacrificing.

[Image ID: A drawing of my OC Eden Linnaeus, shown from the chest up with a tired, disgusted expression on his face. His hair is pulled back into a ponytail and he's holding a cigarette in one hand. End ID]

SLIDE 9:

Key Relationships - 1

Dr. Abdiel Linnaeus is Eden’s father, who left when Eden was only six years old. For most of his life, Eden has been haunted by the shadow his father left behind, fueling a burning resentment for the man who abandoned him. Before his death, Eden dedicated his life to destroying Abdiel’s legacy, desperate to punish the man who hurt him, and also to prove that they have nothing in common.

As much as Eden hates to admit it, he and Abdiel are very similar. Two sides of the same coin, one might say, with very similar sins weighing on them.

Eden wants to destroy Abdiel only a little more than, on his worst days, he wants to destroy himself.

Hannah Linnaeus is Eden’s mother, who died when he was twelve years old. He remembers her very fondly, so much so that he puts her on a pedestal in his mind. Though Hannah tried her best to be a good mother, she ultimately failed to protect Eden, too, and left him deeply, deeply broken and hurt. Many of his insecurities stem from Hannah, and how she compared him to Abdiel at nearly every turn in an attempt to convince him to forgive his father.

Hannah loved Abdiel, even though he left her, until the day she died. And for that, more than anything else, Abdiel deserves to burn, as far as Eden is concerned.

SLIDE 10:

Michael Linnaeus is Eden’s younger brother, who Eden had to raise almost entirely alone, despite only being a child himself. For most of their lives, Eden and Michael were extremely close, and Eden has always been very protective of his brother.

This made it hurt all the more when, as an adult, Michael decided to forgive and reconnect with Abdiel. Eden couldn’t understand why Michael would forgive the man who’d abandoned them, and this sparked a long, drawn-out falling out between the brothers.

By the time Eden died, he and Michael had stopped speaking entirely.

Kader Al-Masri is Eden’s childhood best friend and first romantic love. The two met as young children and became fast friends, and as Eden’s family fell to pieces, Kader’s family stepped in to help out and take care of the Linnaeus brothers. And as Eden and Kader got older, they developed romantic feelings for each other, and they started dating as teenagers.

In the end, they broke up before they left for university, because neither of them wanted to try long distance, but they always thought they might try again someday.

Eden always thought they’d get married someday. But, things don’t always work out that way. Kader found someone else, and his friendship with Eden fell apart when Eden reacted badly to the news.

SLIDE 11:

Family Tree

[Image ID: A simple depiction of my character Eden's family tree, from his grandparents to himself and his brother. On his mother's side, his grandparents are listed as 'Mg. Ansel Ferebey' and 'Jeriah Ferebey.' On his father's side, his grandparents are listed as 'Noa Linnaeus' and 'Sylaris.' His mother is listed as 'Hannah Linnaeus' and his father is listed as 'Dr. Abdiel Linnaeus.' Finally, he and his brother are listed as 'Dr. Eden Linnaeus' and 'Michael Linnaeus' respectively.]

Michael went on to marry and have children of his own as an adult, but Eden never met any of his nieces and nephews, so I didn’t wanna list them here.

SLIDE 12:

"Mini Eden," AKA Eddie

Eddie gets his own slide, because I love him so much.

Baby boy. Baby. Baby bastard.

Eddie is a homunculus, an artificial being created from part of Eden’s soul.

He also has all of Eden’s personality traits turned up to an 11, for better and for worse.

He’s rude, loud, and whiny, but he’s deeply protective of Eden. In many ways, Eddie is basically his son, not that Eden would admit that.

About the size of a gerbil. Soft and warm and furry.

[Image ID: A drawing of my character Eddie, a small, bat-like creature with purple fur and a lighter underbelly. He has a mop of curly gold hair and yellow eyes, as well as darker horns. Eddie is wearing a red vest and his hair is pulled back into a ponytail. He has a vaguely humanoid face and is smirking as he glances to the right.]

SLIDE 13:

Magic Color-Coding:

As a fun treat for myself, Eden’s different spells are color-coded based on the source of the magic powering them. When he uses these spells, they manifest in these colors.

Innate Tiefling Spells: These spells come from Eden’s demonic heritage on both sides of his family tree. Many of them are associated with fire in some way, and as such, these spells manifest in shades of red and orange.

Artificer Spells: Eden’s artificer spells are those he learned growing up or during his time at university, and he knows them inside and out. They don’t feel magical to him anymore, often manifesting as silver or a very light grey.

Warlock Spells: His warlock spells, meanwhile, are an unknown, terrifying new power granted to him by a being whose motives he’s uncertain of. He’s still learning them, and on some level they frighten him deeply. As such, these spells manifest as a very dark purple, almost black.

Cleric Spell: All of the characters in this campaign, regardless of class, have one cleric spell, gifted to them by the goddess Phara. These spells in some way reflect the character’s true souls and intentions. Eden’s cleric spell, Shield of Faith, manifests in gold, with touches of blue to represent the goddess’s influence.

[Additional Details: The color names mentioned in the above text are the colors mentioned.]

SLIDE 14:

Associations

Animal: Lion

Color: Gold

Zodiac: Leo

Flower: Laurel

Tarot: Knight of Wands

Song: Faust, Midas, & Myself - Switchfoot

Misc. Associations for Symbolism: Kintsugi, the sun, Icarus, stars

[Image ID: Two screenshots of Eden as he appears in my save of Baldur's Gate 3. In the left one, he is shown with longer hair that's shaved on one side, his eyes closed as he smiles. He has silver piercings. He's wearing black and red armor and has a gold staff strapped to his back. In the right one, he's shown with different piercings and shorter, spikier hair, his eyes glowing green. Here, he wears leather armor, and he has a black staff strapped to his back. End ID]

Two different screencaps of Eden in BG3--one with short hair, one with long hair. Unfortunately both with wayyy straighter hair than he should have, but none of the curlier options feel like him either, so this is as close as I could get.

He’s such a model to me.

[avocado-writing]

Crossed Paths

Part 1 of 4

| Tangerine x Reader

| Canon-Typical Violence, Excessive Use of Swears

| Eventual NSFT

| 1.2k Words

A/N: Reader is English, because I wanted to write an English reader x Tangerine.

Part 2

                                                             *

The two of you first clock each other in the crowd.

To be honest, he doesn’t really stand out much at first. Sure, he’s handsome, but handsome doesn’t mean interesting. It doesn’t mean relevant. To be honest, handsome means a distraction, so you know that you should look away.

You don’t, though.

It’s quite by chance that your eyes meet. Two people standing still in a crowd in the thronging mass of Mexico City at rush hour. He’s leaning against a lamppost, reading a newspaper, and happens to glance up. You’re stood still to receive a call from your handler in the only spot you can find to get reception.

He’s dressed well. A perfectly-fitted blue suit that outs him as a professional of some kind, but garish gold rings decorating his fingers that show he doesn’t come from money. Now he makes it, he wants to spend it. You smile. You were the same for a while, weighed down with jewellery just because you could afford to buy it for the first time.

People rush past, shouting over each other in such a clamour that you couldn’t make out individual conversations if you tried. And still the two of you stare.

An almost imperceptible smile quirks up the corner of his lips, as if him catching you watching is some triumph. As if he isn’t doing the exact same thing right back.

But instead of getting annoyed, like you usually would, a curious part of you decides to wink in response.

He seems surprised. He begins to fold up his newspaper, perhaps meaning to tuck it under his arm and start walking towards you.

Another man approaches him. From the way you watch them talk, they know each other. By the time he looks back, you’ve disappeared into the crowd.

                                                             *

As far as marks go, this one is pretty easy. Some rich American politician found diddling his finances and stealing from his constituents. Went into hiding across the border and took all the cash with him. Some people weren’t happy with his disappearing act, so hired you to track him down and make him pay.

With his life, of course.

The guy is squirrelled away in some shitty apartment on the top floor of a run-down estate. Really should have tried harder with the hiding spot, you think as you climb the stairs. Anyone could just walk in here and kill him .

Your brow furrows as you get to his front door.

It’s already been kicked in.

Tightening your garrote in your hands, you carefully shove it open the rest of the way.

And that’s when you see Handsome and his companion a second time, a gun in his hand pointed right to your mark’s forehead.

And then the two of you are staring at each other again.

“Huh,” you say, watching the way his finger hovers over the trigger.

“Huh,” he echoes, watching the length of wire in your hands.

“Who the fuck are you?”

The two of you snap towards Handsome’s companion, who’s making no effort to hide how confused he is.

“Business rival, looks like,” you say, nodding to the gun. The politician whimpers a little, but Handsome just rolls his eyes and smacks him with the barrel.

“Oh,” the companion sniffs, “That’s bad timing, I suppose.”

You shrug. Honestly you’re not sure if it is or not. You rarely get to meet other people in your line of work. And never men so good-looking, either.

Handsome hasn’t taken his eyes off you, but he hasn’t taken his finger off the trigger, either. That’s bad. You need to sort that out, pronto.

“You were reading the Daily Mail earlier, weren’t you?” you ask him. “You’re English, too, then?”

His companion slaps Handsome’s arm.

“The Mail? Tangerine, why were you reading that shitrag?”

Tangerine. That’s funny. You’ve heard worse aliases, but certainly much better too.

“It was the only paper I could find, alright?” he hisses back. 

“Look, don’t judge us on that. We aren’t Mail readers usually.”

As if you’d judge them for being Mail readers over assassins. You suppose you have to scrutinise the little details in this vocation.

“Look,” Tangerine says, smoothing back his hair with one effortless motion, “the way I see it, this doesn’t need to be some fucking palaver. We want this cunt dead, you want this cunt dead, we put a bullet through his head, it’s done with.”

It’s funny. He seemed so relaxed when you saw him in the crowd, but now face-to-face, you can see the façade start to slip.

You suck your breath in through your teeth, forcing a grimace to pass your face.

“Right, I do see where you’re coming from, but I like to do my job in a very specific way, and that’s why I get hired.” You indicate the garotte again. “A gun ain’t gonna cut it for me, I’m afraid.”

“We’re at a bit of an impasse then,” Tangerine states. 

“Please, I’ll pay you - ” the politician whines, but a quick kick to the bollocks silences him. 

“Shut up, this isn’t about you,” you snap. It is about him, you suppose, but only in the most direct sense. You turn back to the men, all business.

“Look, there’s a professional way we can settle this,” you state. They exchange a quick glance, and you see Tangerine readjust his grip on the gun.

“Go on.”

“Rock-paper-scissors. You win, you use the gun, I won’t stop you. I win, you watch as I do things my way.”

Tangerine’s mouth falls agape a little, a further gap in the front he’s putting on. His companion bursts out laughing.

“Fuck me!”

“Lemon,” snaps Tangerine, but his companion - Lemon, apparently - waves a hand, blasé. 

“Ah, come on. It’s a bit of fun, innit?”

Lemon grins at you, and you find yourself smiling right back. You like him. He’s a laugh. Tangerine on the other hand…

Well. At least Tangerine is just as handsome as his companion.

“Fine,” Tangerine relents, turning the safety on and passing it to Lemon. “Fucking fine. Whatever. Christ, she’s just as bad as you and your trains.”

“Don’t bring Thomas into this,” Lemon warns. Tangerine rolls his eyes but pushes no further.

“We'll go ‘rock-paper-scissors-shoot’, alright?”

His jaw clenches, annoyed. You watch the way it highlights the tendons in his neck. You wet your lips with your tongue.

“Rock, paper, scissors, shoot.”

Three minutes later the mark is dead on the ground as you unwrap the wire from around his neck. His face has gone a pretty shade of purple and you can’t help but admire it as you step off of his body. Tangerine has his arms crossed tightly over his chest and looks remarkably like a child having a sulk.

“Bad luck, lads,” you say, bringing out your phone to take a quick snap of the job now it’s been done. “You can always shoot him for catharsis?”

“Nah, you’re alright, love,” Lemon replies.

“Why don’t you use a gun?”

The question from Tangerine is unexpected, you really thought he’d remain tight-lipped. You consider your answer for a moment.

“Find it a bit impersonal, myself. If I’m gonna kill someone I want to see the light fade out of their eyes as I do it.”

You shove the garotte in your pocket and your phone down your bra. 

“It’s been nice, boys. Take care of yourselves.”

“You too, love.”

You leave the room, assuming you’ll never see them again.

Stupid to assume, isn’t it?

Score: One - Nil.

[cogentsummoner]

B A S I C S

Name: Clara Mistrun

Nicknames/Aliases:

Clara de Dzemael

Age: 42

Nameday: 8th Sun of the 2nd Astral Moon

Race: Ishgardian Elezen

Gender: Female

Orientation: Bisexual

Profession: Archon

P H Y S I C A L   A S P E C T S

Hair: Long brown hair, rarely worn up or tied back.

Eyes: Lavender

Skin: White

Tattoos/scars: Archon marks on her neck

F A M I L Y

Parents: The former Count and Countess of House Dzemael. Clara's father was distant while her mother was controlling and prone to negging. Both are still alive and retired from their roles, though Clara has never really cared to find out their status.

Siblings: The current Count of House Dzemael is Clara's younger brother. Clara wasn't particularly close to him, but regrets leaving him behind when she fled Ishgard.

Grandparents: Former Count Tarreson of House Dzemael and his late wife are her grandparents on her father's side. She liked her grandparents well enough, and is pleased to hear that Tarreson is doing well.

In-laws and Other: Count Charlemend de Durendaire is actually Clara's brother in law, though they've kept no contact since the death of her husband and Clara's flight from Ishgard.

Also Grinnaux is her cousin, but we don't talk about that.

Pets: None, save her various carbuncles!

S K I L L S

Abilities:

Arcanima Master: Having studied arcanima for over 20 years, Clara is considered one of the foremost scholars in the field.

Math Nerd: Connected to her arcanima studies, Clara is very adept at math and loves it!

Culinarian: Listen, she immigrated to Sharlayan, pre-Last Stand. She had to learn to cook to survive.

Hobbies: Cooking, baking, reading, swimming, learning magic, exploring old ruins

T R A I T S

Most Positive Trait: Boundless curiosity. Even if it's not related to things she's interested in, if you have something new for her to learn, she will eagerly listen to it. It's also easy to get her into investigation mode if you know how to tempt her with a problem to solve.

Most Negative Trait: Holds grudges. Clara doesn't easily form grudges, but once they're there, it'll take divine intervention for her to let it go.

L I K E S

Colors: Greens- especially seafoam and deep green, light blues, and golden yellow

Smells: Vanilla, tea, the sea, bread baking

Textures: Soft fur, smooth marble, rough leather, chalk

Drinks: Tea with too much honey in it. If you gave Clara caramel milk she'd go fucking nuts for it.

O T H E R    D E T A I L S

Smokes: Nope.

Drinks: Socially, usually. Will occasionally have a drink or two on her own.

Drugs: Nope.

Mount Issuance: She doesn't really have a mount anymore, but she took very good care of the chocobo that she fled from Ishgard on for the rest of its life.

Been Arrested: Not yet!

Tagged by: @emevergreen

Tagging: uhhh - @praxvidence, @darkxyzdragon, and @verraisemacro

[skalidra]

Fourth something or other?

This is the next part of my Worth Counting series!

The name's gotta be a play on a Four or Fourth saying or line, because I locked myself into this naming scheme, but so far I have yet to figure out what that name is actually going to be. Thus, 'Fourth something or other'.

So far the damn thing is 8.6k and on sex-act one out of two, assuming my plans work out. I've been a little stalled out on it because sex is fucking hard to write Hehe but it's getting there, slowly. I think the rest should come Hehe fairly easily once I get over this hump.

This one is all Slade's PoV, featuring light breathplay and obedience/power-play.

Snippet:

Slade lies there for a few moments, considering, before reaching for his phone.  'Healed?' he taps out with his thumb. Current time, with the time difference… Should be something like three in the afternoon in Gotham. Kid should be up. Takes a couple minutes — Slade takes a glance at flights, while he waits — before he gets back a simple, 'Yes'. Good. 'Busy tomorrow?' Faster this time. 'No'. Kid's just as monosyllabic as he is in person; probably all wound up and nervous. He can practically imagine the trembling fingers and the sharp breaths even without seeing them. Slade grins to himself, tucking his arm under his head. 'See you then, kid. 2pm.' He swaps back to those flights, selecting one that works, booking it with a quick fill of a form under the name of one of his aliases. It's a long flight, but that's fine. It'll give him time to work out exactly how he wants to handle the kid, this time. Something slower, something a little more basic… He's got an idea or two.

(Post for the WIP Ask Game is here.)

[drowninginredink]

10 and 22 for the fic ask game [asoue]? :)

For 22? If I'm writing it, there is always going to be more angst than fluff. Especially in ASOUE. I mean, I've vaguely learned how to be fluffy in my adventures writing smosh fic (although I eventually got super sick of that fluff and my smosh WIPs have mostly gotten angsty again), but in ASOUE? No, if I'm writing for the "no happy endings" series, that's an excuse to go all in on the angst.

As for 10? Fuck it, let's share a whole 650 word scene from the Klaus/Lemony fic that I really like and should really go back to working on. God, talk about angst.

Klaus waited until they moved to a hotel room with a balcony to bring it up. By now, he knew that when Lemony was at his most melancholic, he smoked. Klaus wanted to save this particular observation for when Lemony was in one of his gloomier moods, and he didn't want to leave the hotel room to do so. It felt intrusive to follow Lemony all the way out the hotel doors. When Lemony was on the balcony, on the other hand, he’d never truly left. Klaus let Lemony get halfway through his cigarette before he stepped out onto the balcony. He tried to hide that he was checking Lemony’s progress, but knowing Lemony, he had probably still sensed that he was being watched.  It was a tiny balcony. There were no chairs or table, just a few feet of space and a railing for Lemony to lean over. Klaus didn’t bother to close the door behind him. He knew he should to prevent the smoke from tainting the hotel room. But closing the door was admitting to starting a conversation. Klaus didn’t want a conversation, not really. He just wanted to get the thought out of his head.  “We should have gone with you. That night, at the Hotel Denouement.”It was the first time Klaus admitted that he knew Lemony had been the taxi driver that night. Klaus hadn’t been able to see him, then, but the voice had stuck in his mind. It was calm, quiet, and gentle, the opposite of what one would expect from a man offering to spirit away wanted criminals. Maybe that was why the Baudelaires hadn’t gone with them. Its peace was too foreign. Their worlds hadn’t been calm or gentle for a long time.  Lemony didn’t answer with words, instead turning to face Klaus. He simply stared at him. There was no furrow of his brow, no facial expression to indicate agreement or disagreement. Just the turn of his head, to prompt Klaus to continue. But what was there to say, except the obvious? “If we had gone with you, Violet and Sunny would be here. And Beatrice would be with Kit. They’d all be alive.” “Or we would all be dead.” This time, it was Klaus who stayed silent, waiting for his partner to continue.  “I cannot know for sure what would have happened. I do know one thing, however; it is much easier to hide your identity when living alone. A large group is easier to track. Especially a group where one of the members is young and needs to attend school. We would not have been able to move and switch aliases frequently. I could have homeschooled Sunny, but even then, law enforcement take much more notice of children who move around frequently than of adult men. It would be difficult. I am not sure I would have succeeded.” Lemony finally broke eye contact with Klaus. He had to be finding the right thing to say, as if there were any words that could be comforting after such an admission. All Klaus’ weeks of waiting to broach the subject, and Lemony had already put it to rest. Klaus shouldn’t have been surprised.  Klaus slipped back through the balcony door, and closed it behind him. He returned to his seat, though not to his novel. He needed a moment to think. Klaus had gotten what he wanted. Lemony made sure that thought would leave his head. As was Lemony’s nature, he replaced Klaus’ speculation with the grim truth. Somehow, the life Klaus was living was the best way things could have gone, with his siblings turned to ash, and himself little more than a ghost. This existence of wandering from place to place, attached to Lemony's side, was the greatest life he could have hoped for.

GOD I just. Them. The codependence. The way they are both shells of themselves, living ghosts haunted by everything they've lost. They have no one left but each other, so even though Lemony is old enough to be Klaus' father, they cling in this relationship that isn't really romantic or platonic, just sexual and codependent and there.