#this is from : love circular saw blade

[tonixe]

"Whats your favorite scary movie?"

n.o.t.e.s - 🌊Randy is seriously underrated, like give him some love <3

w.a.r.n - 🌀 penetration, oral (m receiving) p in v, creampies, non-con to dub-con, protected sex.

p.a.i.r.i.n.g - 🌠Randy Meeks x Ghostface!female reader

w.c. - 1.7k

The phone ranged throughout the Meek's residents. Randy was home alone, the perfect time for you to sneak up on him and ruin his geek logic.

It was the perfect time to use your new voice changer to suit your character; it was easier than the boys. It was a more feminine, high-pitched voice, but it was still tangible to hide your identity and gender; it was sexier. It suited your character. Billy and Stu were questioning the change, but you managed to persuade them.

It was the perfect time to at least kill him but in a way that he'll never forget; you were gonna wear black lingerie over the already black cloak, and the mask would be better soak in his dork blood.

You hid a hunting knife to a butcher knife inside your cloak, turning on your voice changer.

As the phone ranged, you saw Randy pick it up, muttering a "Hello?"

"Hello, handsome!" you said seductively through the line as you saw him puzzled by the simple that came out of your mouth.

"Who's this?" Randy asked curiosity evident in his voice.

"Your secret admirer," you said, as you played with the phone cord, "My secret admirer?" he repeated your sentence.

"Your more handsome than you think, baby~."

"Is this a prank, Stu," he dismissed whatever you said as you saw him got angry through the window from his stance.

"I'm not Stu, darling."

"I swear to god Stu, if this a fucking prank, I swear"

"IM NOT FUCKING, STU DUMBASS," you yelled through the phone, "I'm more than that, Randy."

"Whatever, I'm just gonna hang up the phone-"

"Hang up the phone, and I'll slice your throat open just like fucking Casey."

"Wanna play a game?"

"Do I even have a choice?" Randy muttered

"You don't, baby~" it was amusing seeing Randy in fear; it made you feel arousal.

"I'll make the genre about Horror movies, since your such a horror geek"

"Question 1, What is Danny's nickname in the shinning?"

"It's Tony"

"Wow, You really do know your stuff."

"Question 2, In Sleepaway Camp, What was Angela original name?"

"Peter"

"Oh my, I can see why they can you such a geek," you giggled,

"Okay, Last Question Mister, Where am I?"

"Wait what?" you heard the fear evident in his voice, "Where am I Randy~"

"How the fuck did you know my name?" he asked as you saw him looking around him and in the rooms.

"Answer the fucking question, Randy."

"I don't know where you are, psycho. Whatever it is, I'm calling the police"

"They will never make it in time, babe."

That was the last time you said before hanging up the phone. You pulled down the generator, cutting off all the light sources in his house. It was an eerily sight; you saw his face plastered with fear.

The perfect opportunity to kill; everywhere was dark, pitched black.

You grabbed your knife, doubled, wheeling both of your weapons, walking down the hallway; it was obvious that your little Randy was hiding.

You walked into the living room, wheeling your knifes in a circular motion. "Come on, Randy~."

"Where are you?" you spoke through your voice changer; turning your body around, you heard his heavy breathing. Stepping forward near where he was.

"I found you, Randy~," you said, throwing one of your blades at Randy before he dodged it and started running off. You pulled off the thrown knife that landed in the wall, forceful with your leg.

"Come on, Randy. I don't like to play with my toys before killing them~" you cooed out. You followed him upstairs, quickly looking around at the surrounding before destroying some doors.

"Come on, Randy. I don't wanna fuck around, just come out and fight like fucking man," you yelled, your voice getting erratic by the second. You started chopping down the doors, turning around before your lungs were contradicted from oxygen, as you turned your head around to see Randy; he was close to unmasking you before kicking him in the knee, taking him by surprise, and then kicking him in the face.

Successfully getting him on the floor, straddling him with your legs, before swinging your knife at him, before he dodged your violent strikes, kneeing you right in the abdomen, making you fall on the floor, dropping your weapons.

Holding your abdomen, groaning in pain. "Y-you bastard" Before you regain your balance, He pins your arms on the floor.

His heavy breathing on your cheek, you straddled him between your legs, trying to get him off you. "I-i'm going to fucking kill you," you barked at him.

"Not when your in fucking jail," he yelled out.

"Like hell," you manage to knee him, picking up your weapons and straddling him forcefully, "Im going to make sure you'll have a horrible death, putting up your guts like Christmas lights, bitch" holding up your knife over your head.

Before you could, you felt something hard on your nether regions. You were taken back and lowered your weapons. "You're getting hard off of this you sick bastard," you said with a smile in your voice.

He didn't respond to your teasing; you saw a faint blush on your cheeks.

You hooked your weapon back on in your cloak. "If you do a favor for me, I'll keep you alive," you lean in, whispering into his ear, grinding down on him.

He remained silent, the tension between you both growing by the second before he hesitantly shook his head.

"Good Boy~" you cooed at him

You slide back, pulling down his pants, getting a glimpse of his hard cock and wet stain staining his briefs. "You really did get hard off of this" you teased.

His face was red, pure red.

Before pulling down his briefs, his length sprang up, his precum dripping down his shaft. He was medium size, not average though, but overwhelming big.

"I wasn't expecting this from a virgin, big though~," you said, cocking your head to the side getting a glance at his red face and whimpering.

"Close your eye, Randy, don't peek. You don't want me to kill Ran" Your comment seemed to bring him back, as he immediately closed his eyes from the threat before you wrapped a blindfold on his face.

You took off your mask, laying it on the side. Combing back your hair with your fingers. Jerking him down and up, his whimpering coming out of his lips. The pace of your hand was unbearably slow as more whimpers and moaning came out of his lips.

More precum was drooling out from his length before you started playfully licking the tip of his cock. Sucking on the tip, swirling your tongue around it.

Before you took him inside your mouth, swirling around before bobbing up an down on his cock, holding his hips down.

"F-fuck" he moaned out.

You forced yourself down, gagging on his length. Your eye is watering before withdrawing. Your saliva connected to the tip of his length before unbuttoning the top of your cloak, unclasping the top of your bra.

Putting your boobs between his length, holding both sides of your tits, lapping at his length, sucking down on him, before jerking him off with your tits. You glanced up from him, and through your eyelashes, you saw him gripping the carpet, the feeling between your legs pulsing.

His legs were trembling, and you felt his cock twitching inside your mouth before you felt hot, salty liquid flowing into your mouth, before swallowing down his cum.

As Randy groaned out from his orgasm. You still felt his length still hard after his orgasm. "God, your still hard?" you smiled.

You took off your panties, positioning yourself over him as you sink onto his length. As his cock split you open, Randy groaned from tightening cunt.

You placed your hand on his shoulders, riding down on him, as you rocked your hips on his. You bit down on your lips, hiding your moans from being audible. Leaning down on holding his shoulders, biting on his neck, your bites blossoming into fresh love bites.

"D-damn," he groaned.

"You feel better when you are inside of me," you purred; you felt his hand around your hips, and your hips and his collided as he plunged his dick inside you.

As his pace turned erratically, feeling his balls slapping onto your ass as he thrust in, as you broke out from biting your lips as your moan ranged out. Feeling twitching inside you, you felt your orgasm near, his hands gripping onto your hips, forcefully thrusting inside you.

You felt warm liquid pouring into you as your sense of relief washed over you, seeing white.

His groaning and your moaning came in sync, as you took out his limp length from you, his cum escaping from your cunt. "God, you did well" you cooed, as you put on your panties back on.

Buttoning on your cloak, wearing back your mask, Crouching down to his level, "I guess you broke a rule; you had sex~" you smiled as you took off his blindfold from him; his face was still fully red; you got up and broke the window jumping out of the house, giving him a wave.

Randy's face was still red, as he just thought what he just did.

Walking down the school hallway wearing your backpack, going to the area where your friend's group was, near the lockers. "Wassup guys," you said gleefully.

You saw Billy glaring at you, maybe because you went off the plan; Stu was busy flirting with Tatum. You glance to the side, seeing Randy plastered with a smile, "Whatcha smile for Ran?" you ask, cocking your head.

"Did you finally get a girlfriend~" you teased, pointing at him.

"Kind of" He rubbed the back of his neck; after he said, everyone got silent just staring at him. "Randy got a girlfriend; how much did you pay her" Stu teased.

"Nothing, dipshit," Randy snapped, getting a laugh from Stu. "I'm surprised you got someone, Randy," Tatum said with a surprised face.

"Surprised as to what he does in his free time," Billy muttered, earning him a nudge from his girlfriend, Sidney.

There was tension in the air as you broke the ice, "Well, it's good that Randy is finally being a man," you said as you ruffled his hair. You glance to see him with a red hue on his face. I guess he still remembers that night.

[octuscle]

You have been posting transformations with these long haired guys and I think it's really hot.

I started losing my hair this year and I'm only 23. I'd love to become a huge bodybuilder with that sexy wavey shoulder length hair. I'd love to be a towering meathead in tight speedos and long hair.

It's incredibly frustrating to be just 23 years old and already feel old. You never had the body of an athlete. But you could be pretty proud of your full head of hair. Until it started with the circular hair loss at the back of your head. You tried all kinds of things. But it only got worse. You tried caps. But that looked silly. Now you wear your hair extremely short. Could look cool… If your features were more angular…

It's your first summer vacation since you lost your hair. The first debacle was that you didn't apply lotion to your head. Your scalp was cancerous red and burned like fire. After a week, it was somewhat better again… But now your hair has grown back and you've forgotten your clippers. Your routines simply haven't adapted to the situation yet.

You feel incredibly ugly among all the beautiful people anyway. Maybe at least a fresh buzz cut can save you a little. When you came back from the beach yesterday, you saw a hairdresser on the way to your hotel. The next day, on your way to the beach, you go there.

It's an old-fashioned salon. The hairdresser is still sitting in the corner reading the newspaper so early in the morning. He greets you in a friendly manner and asks you to take a seat in the shiny chrome chair. He puts the cape on you and asks what you want. You smile painedly and say there aren't many options. In your experience, hairdressers always like to talk about soccer. So you add with a grin that you would like Brian Hoyer's hairstyle.

"Brian Hoyer? Las Vegas Raiders? Good man!" The hairdresser is in his element. He asks if you would like a free shave as the first customer of the day. You gladly agree and sit back, relax and enjoy. The hot towels open your pores, your face is soaped, the sharp blade skillfully runs over your cheeks, the after-shave is refreshing. And the hairdresser has been talking the whole time without a dot or a comma. First about football, then about Las Vegas, then about the government. You're so relaxed and in a trance from the facial massage that you couldn't care less. Even if the rest of your vacation isn't perfect, this visit to the hairdresser is a highlight.

"So like Cole Holcomb, boy?" asks the hairdresser. You nod, still deeply relaxed, the back of the chair reclined far back. As expected, the long hair cutter starts. But it feels different. Normally you feel the blades closer to your scalp. No matter, you are in the hands of a professional and enjoying yourself. Especially as the hairdresser doesn't stop talking for a second. You don't notice when he starts working with scissors, you're not irritated that he's using a hairdryer, you don't get suspicious when he kneads hair wax into your curls. "So, boy, a Cole Holcomb for once. What he'd look like if he had your strong curls, boy!"

Bloody hell! Fuck, fuck, fuck! You're driving through the Mullet. Strong, healthy curls. But what a shitty haircut. You look like a redneck. And that with your untrained fat body. The hairdresser ignores your horrified expression. He removes the collar, brushes the loose hair out of your neck and sweepingly removes your hairdressing cape. For a brief moment, your eyes go black. It's the first fainting spell of your life.

Yes, on the first day you had to get used to the new situation a little. All the leering and admiring glances on the beach, in the open-air gym and in the bars and clubs in the evening. But thanks to Stevie, you are perfectly shaved every morning and no matter how hard the party was the night before, he massages every wrinkle out of your face.

In fact, you didn't even know who this Cole Holcomb was. But now you follow him on Instagram. And he follows you like a few other 1,000 people.

[aphrodisiac-siren]

Paramour

Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Summary: When the succession of the Driftmark throne is put into question, Rhaenyra returns to the RedKeep along with her children, her husband Daemon and his daughter by the late lady Rhea, Y/N Targaryen, who is once again reunited with her childhood friend Aemond who she had grown distant with over the years.

Friends to strangers to lovers??

Part 1.

Y/N ran her fingers along the cool stone walls of the Red Keep, looking around at the place that felt so familiar and yet so foreign. This was the place where she was born, a place that once used to be her home. It held a place in her heart, though not as dear as it once was, especially after the incident with her cousins.

Jace had insisted that they have a look at the training yard. “Come along” he smiled as he whisked Luke and the older girl away from the halls within the castle. 

The courtyard was bustling with the nobles of the court, who had gathered to watch some of the knights train. Meanwhile, Jace had found interest in the weaponry placed on the table, real weapons that he’d never gotten a chance to train with whilst they lived here. The boy had a glint in his eyes as he examined each blade before something in the far distance caught his attention.

“It's still here!” he beamed as he went to further inspect a dent in the wall.

“How.. interesting” Y/N looked at him with a confused expression. Jace was a simple boy, finding joy in the smallest things yet she did not understand how a mere dent in the stone architecture brought him this much happiness.

“This was when I tried to swing Ser Criston’s morning star” Luke explained with a chuckle when he saw his cousin’s judgemental gaze upon his brother “I almost took my own head off. It was no surprise that it left the knight rather cross with me for stealing his weapon whilst we were still training with wooden swords”

“Ah” Y/N simply acknowledged.

Growing up at the Keep, she wasn’t as close to Jace or Luke nor did she get along with some of her other cousins, the queen Alicent’s children; with the exception of Aemond. They both seemed to bond over their fathers’ absence in their lives although, unlike Viserys, Daemon did love his daughter dearly. It was simply his exclusion at court that created a rift in their relationship which was further accentuated by his marriage to the lady Laena. Even though she loved her father, she had chosen to live in the Red Keep when he took residence with his new family away from King’s landing. She had grown rather fond of her friend, the prince Aemond, who was constantly outcasted by his nephews and siblings on the account on not having a dragon of his own.

But ever since the ‘accident’ that resulted in the loss of his eye and a rather heated argument between the king, Rhaenyra and Alicent; Rhaenyra had left to reside on Dragonstone where she’d married Daemon after the passing of his wife. This time Y/N had no choice in the matter pertaining to her residency. With the ever-growing animosity at court, Daemon did not wish to leave his daughter alone with those vipers.

And now, years later she was back to the place that she once called home. Granted it was only for a matter of a few days or until however long it took to settle the matter regarding the succession of the Driftmark throne. 

“Oi Y/N” Jace waved his hand in her face, in an attempt to snap her out of her daze “there’s an interesting dual happening, let’s go look”

The girl followed after them as they pushed past a circular crowd formed around a certain pair. The boys stared at Criston and his opponent with impressed looks, clapping with the others when the knight threw a fatalistic swing of his mace-and-chain that smashed the shield of his opponent, sending wooden splinters flying.

His opponent threw his broken shield to the side, finding no use for it as he effortlessly managed to deflect the attacks Criston directed at him before he too switched from defence to offence. In a matter of few minutes, he had Criston yield while he pointed the tip of his blade at the knight’s throat. 

Jace and Luke’s impressed expressions vanished the moment the skilled fighter circled around to reveal his face, half covered with an eye patch. Whilst both boys exchanged nervous glances, Y/N eyes were still fixated on him as she examined his facial features. He had grown so much and if it weren’t for the eye patch that set him apart, she might not have recognised which green brother he was. He was tall, really tall and his pearlescent hair cascaded past his shoulders as opposed to the shorter hair he maintained as a boy.

“Well done my prince” Ser Criston complimented “you’ll be winning tourneys in no time”

“I don’t give a shit about tourneys”

His voice sounded so different yet familiar, Y/N thought.

She grinned in amusement at his blunt comment. As children, Aemond often bragged to her about how he would partake and win tourneys and used to constantly ask her to promise him that she would grace him with her favour when the time came.

“Nephews” he greeted, catching them by surprise. They did not expect him to recognise them “Have you come to train?”

Aemond was merely taunting them, grinning ever so slightly at their nervousness. His gaze then shifted from the boys to the pretty girl stood next to them, who once used to be his pretty girl.

“Princess” his tone comparatively softened when he addressed her as the crowd began to disperse “what a pleasure it is to be reacquainted with you”

“It is lovely to see you too, my prince” the girl offered a smile, knowing well that this was simply a farce he was putting on in front of the other nobles present around them. As cold as he was, he never forgot his manners.

Their little reunion was interrupted by Vaemond’s arrival to court. The man marched in through the gates, throwing a dirty glance at Luke which both Y/N and Jace did not appreciate. They had grown rather protective of him over the years.

“We should head back” Jace mumbled, not wanting to be in the presence of his uncle any longer. The tension between them was getting almost unbearable. Luke nodded in agreement, following after his older brother but Y/N stayed put, letting them know she would find them in a bit. They seemed hesitant to leave her be but eventually walked away without an argument. It would be useless anyway, the princess was hard to persuade.

Aemond silently watched the boys leave while Y/N remained in the training yard. He wondered if he should be the one to say something but he did not know what. She beat him to it.

“You’ve grown” she stated the obvious, taking a few steps closer to him “I scarcely recognised you, to be very honest. You look nothing like the boy I bid goodbye to before I left”

“Does the princess not like the man she sees?” Aemond asked, quite obviously jesting with her but his stoic tone with the lack of any expression made it seem like he had taken offence to her statement.

“No, that’s not what I was saying. You’re just different” Y/N quickly rushed to clarify. He was indeed different in so many ways that did not solely include his appearance. He stood tall and confident with his broad shoulders back. His arms no longer hung awkwardly at his sides nor did he nervously fiddle with his fingers like how he used to. But the biggest difference was the absence of his warm smile, that he always gave her when they were friends “not a bad different, just.. well..”

“Still struggling with putting things into words I see” Aemond commented on her inability to convey what she was thinking “you’re still the same in that aspect, safe to assume”

Aemond too wished to point out that she looked equally different but he did not wish to state the obvious. Besides, he was afraid she might ask him what he found different about her and the first thing he had taken notice of was her cleavage that her dress allowed to peak through without compromising her modesty. Then he noticed her long platinum hair that tussled down to her waist with a dainty pearl tiara that elegantly sat atop her head. Her facial features were more pointed and her lips were full. The only thing that stayed the very same were her mesmerising lilac eyes.

Gods she was beautiful.

“You’re rather good with the sword” she stated with a sheepish grin and Aemond almost smiled at the earnest compliment. A simple ‘thank you’ escaped his lips before silence engulfed them.

Y/N wanted to talk to him some more but by the looks of it, Aemond didn’t seem as interested. Why would he? They hadn’t spoken in years and after he’d lost an eye to one of her, now half-brothers, she doubted he even enjoyed the small talk they just shared. She politely took her leave, giving him a curt nod before she turned away.

As much of a stranger she’d turned into, Aemond wanted her to keep talking. They used to be so close as children, why was it difficult for them to converse just as effortlessly now? There was still that certain calming sensation her voice provided and even though Aemond was bitter about her leaving and never again speaking, he wanted the conversation to continue despite him not making any effort to carry it forward. 

In truth, he did not know what more to say. He had to admit, he was terrible when it came to communing with the ladies, at least the ladies who did speak to him instead of running away at the very sight of him. His injury had left him maimed and undesirable to many. With him constantly being treated like an outcast, a monster, he had developed a very cold and distant demeanour, never again letting down his guard for anyone. This change in his personality made it rather difficult for anyone to court him.

Y/N departing to look for her brothers only made him more bitter. She was always the one leaving him; be it the capital or the training yard.

His huge ego wouldn’t allow for him to ask her to wait any longer at the yard but his sense of entitlement to acquiring whatever he wanted wouldn’t let her walk away either. Again. 

“Princess” he called out without moving from where he stood. The girl turned to look at him, her hair swaying elegantly with her movements as she waited for him to continue but Aemond froze, his voice getting caught up in his throat though he still managed to maintain his calm exterior. If the few ladies at court found his appearance revolting, what made him think that the beautiful Y/N would want to be seen with him? Perhaps that’s why she had cut off all ties with him.

Furthermore, he was sure she stayed to talk only out of the obligation that he once used to be her friend. Besides, her main reason behind her visit was to settle the matter pertaining to her half-brother’s throne on Driftmark, not to rekindle her friendship with him.

Sensing his sudden reluctance to speak, Y/N was the one who broke the silence.

“Apologies my prince, I must head back and find my family” She politely told him from a distance “but perhaps we could continue our conversation later, with a walk through the Godswood before supper?”

Aemond breathed out with content.

“I would like that very much, ñuha dārilaros“ my princess.

[64yrsold]

i like it when you sleep

“Sweetheart!” he uncharacteristically yelled, voice absent of panic or fear. I turned the corner of our sunny living room, finding him in the kitchen with two frosty bottles of beer.

“What?” I asked, leaning against the wall. I crossed my arms, watching him grab the bottle opener. The beers sweat on the counter, his fingers slipping against the glass as he opened them.

“Come here,” he urged, annoyance threaded in his voice. He looked at me, mouth pouted and brows furrowed.

“I’m busy,” I shrugged, now resting my head against the wall.

“I’m going to kill your boss,” he groaned, a bit too seriously, “Come here right now.”

“Busy,” I sighed, covering my smirk with my hand.

“If you don’t come over here this minute,” he said slowly, flicking a bottle cap at me, “I will come over there.”

“Okay,” I grinned into my palm, watching the cap skitter to my feet. He saw the crease in the corner of my eyes, letting out an exasperated grumble.

“I’m serious!” he cried, holding a bottle in each hand. I admired the way his long fingers curved around the bubbling bottles.

“Well, why would I go over there if you’re just going to come over here?” I frowned, blinking.

“You,” he set the bottles down, walking towards me purposefully, “Are doing that on purpose.”

“Doing what?” I clasped my hands in front of my chest, watching him glower as he stalked forwards.

“Being annoying.”

I pouted, “I’m not.”

“Come have a beer with me,” he whispered, placing his hand on the wall beside my head. His round, amber eyes were convincing, the way they moved between my eyes slowly. The way they pulled heat up into my cheeks.

“I’m working,” I breathed, looking up at him, trying to avoid staring at his parted lips. He stared down at me, eyes moving slowly over my face. Admiration.

“Come have a beer with me,” he repeated, nudging my cheek with his nose to bring his lips to my ear, “I’m happy to beg you.”

“You won’t convince me,” I turned my head away from him. “And I don’t like beer anyways.”

His hand teased at my hip, thumb finding the small ray of skin peeking from my hemline, “Are you lying?”

I smiled quietly, unsure of what to say. He was breathing into me, enshrouding me with heat and the smell of his shampoo. His jaw buzzed against mine.

“Hm?” he prodded, humming the sound into the bone of my shoulder. I was slipping, chest unbuttoning with each of his sighs.

“I’m lying,” I swayed, his palm now rubbing into my side, loose, circular crayon scribbles.

“Will you come outside with me?” he kissed the base of my neck, drawing out the sentence into a low groan. He crowded me into the wall, a comfortable weight restricting my breaths.

“I shouldn’t,” was my weak reply, my head lulling against the wall as his mouth moved up my neck. My skin cooled in the wake of his lips, sticky with his needy saliva. He met my eyes, lips shining pink for me.

“Pretty please?” he grinned, knowing he had won. I counted his long eyelashes, tempted to brush a thumb through them.

“Sure,” I conceded, heart swelling into my throat as he pulled me into a thankful embrace. His fingers pressed into the sore spot beside my shoulder blade, kneading sweetly as he rocked me slowly.

“You’re tricky,” he mumbled, “I have to do all my begging with my mouth.”

I only giggled, lightheaded and swollen with gooey, sappy love. My blood was syrup with the stuff, pumping slowly to my hands, which were aimless on his back. He squeezed me tighter, as if trying to interlace our ribs. I wouldn’t mind.

“Let’s go, sweet girl,” he kissed my cheek, tugging me swiftly and placing a beer in my hand, “The sun’s setting for you.”

[glorixuspurpose]

The Missing Link

loki x black!daughter!reader

“So…all of you are Lokis? Even that one?” He asks, pointing at the girl, who scowls at him and smacks his hand down. 

“Yes…no…not really. We’re related..sort of, but obviously, I’m not him. He’s my-” She stops herself mid-sentence. “Wait, if you’re not a Loki, then why are you here, let alone with them? What was your nexus eve-”

  “Stop yelling! You’re gonna alert him!” Kid Loki shouts, pointing at the dark cloud in the sky. 

 They continue to walk until they reach a circular door in the floor, presumably a bunker. Classic Loki opens it.

 “Well?” Loki asks, still waiting on the girl’s answer. 

“I killed him.” She finally answers, as she descends into the vault. 

Something in his mind told it that it couldn’t be true. That girl looked familiar, too familiar, and he’s not one to forget faces.

“Wait, that can’t be true..” He mutters.

“Why can’t it be true?” She asks, mimicking his accent, as they all walk down to an area with a semicircle of chairs, with a small pool in the middle, probably for the alligator.

 She was starting to get annoyed. “Why not?”

“Because…er..well, what’s your name?” He asks. 

“Y/N.” She ever so quietly responds. 

“Y/N…”He repeats to himself, as if trying to memorize it. 

 “Then…that can’t be true because..I’m your father.” 

Y/N uncrosses her legs. “Woohoo. You finally figured it out. The last time you saw me was when I was more or less 5 years old, and Thor took you to see me. Honestly he was more of a father than you were, and honestly more than you ever will be.”

   (time skip bc i can barely remember this episode lol)

“Sylvie…and Mobius? You guys came here?” Loki asks. 

“Well some of us, not by choice, but for the most part, yeah.” Sylvie stays silent, then walks off.

 “And who might you be?” Mobius asks Freya, as if she were some random little kid that approached him. “Y/N.” She bluntly responds.

             (another time skip, woohoo!)

A/N: And now for the good part.

 “Why did you tell me that your nexus event was killing me?” Loki asked, as they sat in the grass.

“Quite the questionnaire, aren’t you?” You jokes, subtly breaking her ever so permanent poker face with a slight smirk. 

“You might as well have been dead anyway.” 

Loki frowns. 

“Well? What was it?” 

She fully smirks. “I don’t remember.” 

Loki’s hopeful face returns to a frown, then he creates himself a blanket, wrapped around him.  Y/N chuckles. 

“Of course you would do that.”

 Loki sighs. “Do you really not remember?” 

“I wouldn’t be a descendant of the God of Mischief if I didn’t tell a lie now and then. Of course I remember.” 

A gust of wind blows, and causes Freya to shiver, and her teeth to chatter. 

Loki alters the blanket so it’s wrapped around the both of them. 

 “You didn’t have to do that.” 

“You seemed cold.” 

“Is this some kind of stupid scheme to get me to tell you?”

“What? No!” 

 Y/N tilts her head so it’s leaning on Loki’s shoulder.

“Tell me about my mother.” 

 “Oh…wow. Okay,” Loki says, taken aback by the sudden question. 

“Well, she was a smart, strong, beautiful, and independent woman. She really never needed me. She had powers, just like mine–and yours– but she liked to use these fans with blades on them…and she liked to cut me with them.” That earned a chuckle from Freya.

 “She also loved the color purple. It was her absolute favorite, and she would wear it pretty much everyday. She also adored grilled cheeses ever since we first went to Midgard. She really could’ve had anyone she wanted.  I have idea why she chose me. Considering that, if it weren’t for me, she might have still been alive.”

 Loki subtly wipes his eyes with his shoulder. 

“What do you mean?” She asked.

“I thought I was saving her, but obviously I proved myself otherwise.” 

“Saving her?”

“Well you see, there was…let’s just say, a battle, and..she was hurt. I was out of my mind to think that this would work, but I turned her to stone. I thought that..because I did that, it would heal when I turned her back. I saw it work before..and I knew how to turn her back, but it was too late.”

 “I wish I could have spoken to her…even if it was only for three minutes. I…” She looks behind her. “I think she wants to talk to you.” She tell him, pointing to Sylvie. 

 “I think she can wait.” Y/N creates a watch and checks it. It’s only just going backwards. Really fast. 

“This watch is not useful, but I’m sure she’s been waiting long enough. I’m always gonna be here. There’s no leaving.” 

 Loki stands up, making the blanket disappear. 

“Except you can leave, because you’re coming with us.”

[not-your-fucking-kacchan]

Aizawa x adult! Quirkless! Reader (romantic)and reader comes home with a few injuries on they're arms and legs so they stumbling

-Shuu

ofc shuu <3

Masterlist <3

Warning: Mentions of violence, blood...

Aizawa x Reader - Wounded

You breathe shakily as you stumble through the door of your shared home with Shouta, your hands shaking violently and your legs unsteady.

You were jumped on your way home and left beaten in an alleyway, and you can only sob quietly as you stumble and drag yourself home. It hurts so badly, and you can only thank whatever Gods you can think of that you escaped with your dignity.

Blood ran down your legs in little rivulets from the slices on your thighs, left by the blade of one of your attackers who had basically mauled you when you struggled. You're covered in dirt and grime and blood is smeared on your thighs and knees, along with your arms anf your face which is now swelling around the bruise on your cheek. You couldn't even call your boyfriend because your phone was taken along with any change that could've been used for a payphone.

Tears stream down your face and mix with your blood and mascara, leaving dark teartracks down your face, which is one of the first things Shouta notices as you walk through the door, the first thing being your scared hiccups from the other side of the front door. He had come to let you in because he could hear you struggling with the keys, your hands were shaking so violently that you couldnt hold the key still. But as he got closer he heard your shuddered breaths and your little sniffles.

As soon as you saw him you were straight away in his arms, cuddling him and crying into his shirt.

Rage quickly bubbles up inside of your lover as he sees you like this, so broken and afraid, and after that comes the absolutely crushing guilt that came because he didn't know. He wasn't there with you when you needed him the most and he would never forgive himself for it.

The next few hours or so were used to patch up and disinfect your injuries and bathe together. Your loving partner ran you a warm bubble bath and cuddled you all throughout it, petting your hair and stroking your cheek with the rough pad of his thumb in little circular motions.

"I'm so sorry I wasn't there... Does it still hurt as much?"

You shake your head in response, shifting in his grip and making space to kiss him on the lips very briefly, the show of affection and understanding cutting through the tension in the room like a knife.

"None of that, now... it was scary-... 's fucking terrifying- but it's over now. It happened and it wasn't your failt. Shit happens. I'm okay..."

Shouta lets out a heavy sigh as he looks you over once again, his long hair wet and shining under the light in the bathroom, just begging you to touch it, and you do, running your fingers through soft strands and finding comfort in your lover's quiet groan.

The night is spent watching movies with him as he gives you a massage and lays butterfly kisses over your skin, brushing your hair for you and leaving his down because he knows how you like to braid it and play with it. He's so thoughtful, and he takes such good care of you. It makes you want to marry him, and you entertain the thought for a while as it becomes a serious possibility in your mind.

You had just never thought about marriage before, really. You were happy where you were and remain to be happy there, so you never really thought about the 'next steps' or anything. But being married?...

You look at his ringless finger longingly, pressing your cheek to his chest and holding his hand while he moves a little braid out of the way, the hippie braids suiting him in a way that you didn't really think about when you first did it.

You could get used to this.

[soracities]

hi, wishing you luck in finding the source of the arabic quote and hoping you can help me with this one? it’s been stuck in my head for ages. when I search it all the results are ocean vuong poems but none of them include the quote, and then there’s one tweet from a bot account with the exact quote but no credit 😵‍💫

anyway it’s something like this:

I love you // I say your name all the time when you’re not around // just to put more of you into the world

yes, it's from "Love, Circular Saw Blade" by C.T. Salazar, you can find it in this zine (pg 18 / 19) x

[tokusaatsus]

Hello, hope you are doing well! May I please Request Kohaku with a reader who is sorta shy and often clings to him when they are around a lot of people?

☆—OUKAWA KOHAKU

I feel like Kohaku is not used to being a shield. He finds it’s easier to be the sword. It’s how he’s been raised–to be nothing more than a tool for attacking, something to cut and tear, to bleed and hurt.

Not something that can be utilised to defend, to protect.

But whenever you duck behind him in crowded areas, hiding your face between his shoulder blades, he feels like he can use the knowledge that has been forced upon him for something good.

Honestly, he finds it rather strange how you can be so independent when standing up to your annoyingly overbearing seniors (like the Magician guy from fine and that vampire) but retreat into your shell the minute you leave the premises of the dorms.

Still, despite how he may tease you, you know you can trust him to hide you from the world whenever you need him to.

“Feelin’ shy, are we...?”

If you’re taller than him, he’ll attempt to stretch out to his fullest height so he can cover you as best he can, stance wide like he’s getting ready for a brawl. It’s not much, but you appreciate it all the same.

If you’re shorter than him, he’ll let you cling to him and put an arm around you, tugging you close so your face is level with his chest.

He’ll glare at anyone who tries to approach you until you feel brave enough to come out of hiding, and even then he’ll keep a look out for anyone he thinks might exacerbate your unease.

He’d probably be really worried the first time this happens–by which I mean he’d stiffen up and put you behind him so he could defend you more easily, his eyes scanning the area for threats even as he keeps you in his peripheral vision, for anything that could make you act so nervous. Though once you explain to him that it’s nothing bad, you’re just anxious around so many people–that it’s nothing to be overly worried about–he calms down.

Feels a little embarrassed about his overreaction, but you assure him that you appreciate how he immediately went on the defensive at the first sign of your distress.

Now that he’s used to it, he can easily tell the difference between when you are actually in distress or just anxious.

He’s really sweet about it.

Will distract you by talking about his day, or something cute he saw that reminded him of you, really just anything that he can think of while he takes you to a less crowded place. Crouches next to you and rubs your back, the soothing circular movement grounding you until you feel calmer.

Hugs you afterwards and tells you, ya did good, Y/N-han.

When you thank him for putting up with you, he rubs the back of his neck sheepishly.

“It’s not really like I’m puttin’ up with ya. I love ya, and I’m happy to help ya out. Seein’ ya scared makes me feel…icky. As long as you’re feelin’ safe ‘nd calm, then I’m happy.”

☆—notes!

WC: 511 words

kohakyun ily <33. he is my baby. i hope u enjoyed this anonnie! currently hating myself for taking SO LONG to finish this (2 weeks qwq) but i hope this was worth the wait? (im sorry it could never be worth the wait sobs pathetically pls forgive me im on my KNEES OTL)

[bloodblanks]

tili tili bom [eyeless jack x reader] — chapter iv.

Taken to the grim reaper’s realm, Y/N is met with both beauty and danger.

co-written with the lovely dawn_citrinitas! ♡

author's note: this fanfiction will not contain much, if any, dark or explicit content, but nonetheless,

please read at your own discretion.

<- previous chapter

“Alright, whatever. Let’s go,” the reaper spoke, taking the first steps in a direction unknown to the girl. It wasn’t like she necessarily needed to know where exactly they were going, though. She was satisfied just following the charming demon that walked before her. 

As she took her first steps in this foreign land, Y/N could feel the wispy blades of scarlet grass tickling her ankles as well as the parts of her feet that her slippers did not cover. She giggled under her breath as she continued walking, eyes wide and gleaming, taking in her surroundings. 

As the duo delved deeper into the enchanting forest, she noticed an abundance of unusually stunning, exotic plants inherent in the demons’ haven. 

The first thing to catch her eye was mushrooms. The fungi were blue with a green tint, giving off a slight glow reminiscent of a neon sign. From underneath the turquoise hats, lace skirts of the same colour could be seen, covering their thin and light mushroom legs. The mushrooms were scattered in all directions; under the violet bushes, on the graphite bark of the trees, in explosive clusters that bloomed over every corner, it seemed that an entire colony of fungi had occupied this place. 

While the mushrooms were fascinating, they didn’t manage to hold Y/N’s attention for long as she tilted her head upwards, her eyes instantly locking onto another magical sight. With her eyes now raised up, she could see what appeared to be flowers. They were also blue, although a darker shade, closer to navy than the previous bright teal of the mushrooms. Still, they shared a similar luminosity, with the flora emitting a soft light. The petals of the individual flowers were shaped like bells, faintly reminding her of the common bluebell she’d often spotted in various locations back in her own world. 

The flowers hung from many of the trees surrounding them, their weight supported by the mauve vines they were dangling from. Illuminating their path through the ominous forest, she thought they seemed like lanterns, lit in mass for a festival of sorts. It wasn’t just the combination of the appearance of the bell-shaped flowers and their luminance that made her think so; it was also the sheer size of them. They were colossal. Despite the height they hung from, she could tell they were enormous, perhaps even twice the size of her own head. 

The demon and the girl continued on their path, with brief pauses in between as Y/N observed the exotic flora and fauna of this new realm. 

After having seen both the mushrooms and the oversized bluebells, she noticed a pattern when they stopped near what resembled a shrub. The shrub itself wasn’t too eye-catching, being simply a bunch of lilac leaves protruding from ashen black branches; however, what the small bush produced was extraordinary. 

She could only assume they were fruits, as she couldn’t think of anything else to even come close to these foreign, round balls—both the shape and colour reminded her of blueberries. Only here, the local berries followed the pattern of being blue and glowing, like both the flowers and the fungi she’d already seen. Similar to the flowers, they were pretty big, with each berry being the size of a small watermelon. 

However, the uniform azure halo of the fruits was broken by bursts of neon pink light. The light came from the next bush over, and while the leaves were similar, the berries produced by this plant were instead a blinding flamingo pink. Like the ‘blueberries’ she saw, these fruits were of great size, although their shape differed. Rather than a smooth, circular form, they were instead composed of multiple smaller beads, much like the raspberry she knew. Under the weight of the fruits, the black branches of the bushes were fastened down, covering the fruits with periwinkle foliage. 

Behind the multiple bushes of seemingly ordinary demon berries stood a lone fruit tree, thin and lanky. It had the same dark bark she was slowly getting accustomed to seeing. However, there were very few leaves on the tree, just a few poking out from where its fruits grew. They, too, were glowing, although the light seemed far eerier, with the fruits being a shade of crimson similar to the untamed grass she trod upon. They were a bit smaller, closer to the size of an apricot; they came in sets of two and felt like multiple pairs of eyes peeking out from the darkness of the forest, staring straight into the depths of her soul. 

The walk was long and silent. Admiring the local flora and fauna, it was almost as if Y/N had teleported into the future with how fast time flew by. She had only noticed it when her legs complained, with a dull, aching strain on them from the hours of continuous walking. 

Maybe I should ask for a break, the girl thought. She didn’t want to be bothersome; the demon certainly didn’t seem to mind the walk, but her body was already in poor condition from her illness and extended hospital stay. (Surprisingly, the cockroach-infested white prison didn’t have a gym for her to stay fit in.)

“Mr. Reaper?” Y/N spoke quietly and carefully, attracting the attention of her companion. 

“Yes?” Mr. Reaper responded, not bothering to turn and look at the person who had just broken the enchanting silence. 

“Is it okay if we take a small break?” the girl asked, her second question not any louder than her first. She didn’t really turn to look at him, either. Instead, her eyes were wandering about the surroundings, fearing a negative response from the reaper. 

“Sure,” the demon shrugged, coming to a slow halt. “Why don’t you write in the meantime?” he suggested, finally glancing at the young girl. 

Y/N, too, stopped. She hadn’t really put much thought into the whole writing thing, not since her initial conversation with the reaper, and she had just blurted out the first thing in mind then. Now that she thought about it again, she could feel her usual hesitations return. 

“To be honest, I’m not so sure about me writing,” she confessed. “I’ve always wanted to, but I don’t think I’ll be good enough to write anything worth reading.” 

Her words were nothing but the truth. Indeed, she had written a lot as a child, outstanding stories about fantasy worlds with all her childlike imagination. But long ago had she abandoned her foolish dreams, and any of her former writing skills—that she wasn’t even sure she had—certainly had gone to rust and decay over the years of disuse. Surely the quality of her work now would not be worthy of even being called reading material. 

She watched as the eyeless man walked over to a nearby tree, setting down his scythe and leaning against it. 

“I’m going to be frank with you,” the demon started, “you’re dying.” Those words caught her slightly off guard, further piquing her interest in the charming but odd man across from her. 

“You’ve only got so much time and nothing to lose,” he finished. His words were indeed blunt, lacking any preludes or attempts to console her, but it was a refreshing change from the sugarcoated words of the hospital staff. It wasn’t that the reaper cared whether the childhood dream of his dying companion came true or not, or at least that’s what he liked to think. Still, he couldn’t help the slight tug, the hint of longing that he felt when he looked at her. 

“I guess you’re right,” Y/N answered in a drooping voice, proceeding to sit on the scarlet grass close to where the reaper stood. As harsh as it was, he had a point. The only thing she had to lose at this point was time, and in her position, time was a vital resource. Dying without even trying to make something out of her remaining time would be wasteful. 

The young girl opened her notes application, taking out her phone from her bag. She thought for a couple of minutes, and then her fingers started quickly tapping over the virtual keyboard. 

—

After finishing the first chapter of what she thought to be a failed read, Y/N tore her gaze away from the screen and towards the sky. The celestial canvas had noticeably darkened, and beyond the soft luminescence of the glowing navy flowers and violet leaves was a coal-black sky, the vermillion tones having seemingly dissipated into the barest hint of rust. It appeared that dusk had arrived. 

“Is it already past sunset?” Y/N inquired, her eyes still on the sky. 

“There is no sun in Daemon Regnum. Or any natural light, for that matter,” the demon replied measuredly, counting the leaves on one of the trees with his eyes. The explanation of such obvious things was tiring and bothersome for the eyeless man. 

“What’s the change of lighting, then?” she followed up with another question, now turning her gaze to the man. She couldn’t help but be fascinated by the new, unknown world in which she found herself. Plus, she was going to be here for quite some time; it was best that she figured out how the world she was in worked. 

“We have a mimicry of the sun.” The demon didn’t bother meeting the eyes of his companion. For him, these conversations were identical to having to explain to a child that the sky is blue and the grass is green, something so obvious to a reaper but utterly unknown to a human. 

“What do you mean?” the girl spoke gingerly, not wanting to irritate the reaper too much but still wanting to satisfy her curiosity. 

“We daemons have the ability to conjure fire. Our sources of light consist of individual flames that each daemon can create, or the big fireball in the ‘sky’, which is meant to mimic the sun. It’s active for sixteen hours each day.” The eyeless reaper spoke monotonously, not paying much attention to his interlocutor. 

“You have the same length of days as us?” She was far too eager to know about this world. 

“Yes and no. There is no day or night in Daemon Regnum, but we use the same schedule as mortals, anyway.” The demon continued talking in the same indifferent tone, silently hoping she’d be done with her questions soon. 

“Why?” the girl questioned. 

“We had it originally,” the reaper grumbled, still not bothering to look at her. 

“But how did you come up with this if you don’t even have a sun?” As soon as she finished her question, the demon suddenly snapped his head towards her. She knew that he didn’t have eyes, but she also knew that if he did, they would be staring daggers into her soul right now. She could sense it immediately. 

“Shut up,” the man spoke. His tone was as flat as before, but this time it carried a sternness that wasn’t there previously. 

“Sorry,” Y/N apologized, her voice softened, lacking the earlier vigour. She couldn’t tell what it was exactly, but she could tell that she had overstepped somehow. It wasn’t in her intentions in any way to actually upset the demon, and so she stopped her questions for the meantime. To her surprise, however, he continued to speak. 

“Anyway, multiple different daemons take turns conjuring the ‘sun’ as part of their job. It takes about a thousand daemons to conjure a fire large enough,” he explained. “The sun rests above the very centre of Daemon Regnum, above the castles. So the centre receives the most light compared to the outer regions, that’s why it’s so dark here.”

“I see,” Y/N responded simply to acknowledge that she had heard what he said, keeping quiet, not wanting to be more bothersome than she already was. 

The reaper then took a step forward, straightening his posture and leaning away from the tree, rising to his full height. He picked up his scythe, a signal for her to get up and going. 

And so, the girl stood up, shaking off a few blades of scarlet grass that had stuck to her legs. Meeting the eyes of the empty voids in his mask where her companion’s eyes were supposed to be, she put aside her wandering questions about the reaper’s behaviour and got ready to leave. She placed her phone back into her bag, throwing the strap over her shoulder and quickly followed behind the demon, who was beginning to make his way forth into the forest. 

Crushing the sinisterly red grass of the demons’ haven with her favourite slippers, Y/N moved forward behind the reaper through the noticeably darkened forest. While the occasional bellflower, mushroom, or berry provided some light, it was still not enough to distract from the ominous feeling the forest now gave off, drenched in ebony shadows. 

What was once majestic and royally coloured nature now transformed into something more eerie, more sinister. As if ghastly creatures with a craving for human flesh were hiding within the shadows of the coal-black trees that now wholly surrounded her. 

The slight fear that she felt only served to heighten the sensation of delight in the young traveller. Delving deeper into the forest, she noticed a dark silhouette of enormous size sprawled upon the ground. With each step that she took toward the mysterious pool of darkness, she could almost feel it beckoning her somewhere behind the trees and into the depths unknown. 

It was then that she realized the direction the demon was taking was almost, if not precisely, straight toward the mysterious cluster of ebony. 

Is he so tired of me that he decided to feed me to a terrible demon creature? As that thought came to mind, she eyed the reaper cautiously with a playful pout on her lips, knowing that the demon before her wouldn’t see it. 

As they neared the silhouette, the reaper changed the trajectory of the path to walk around the shape that she had been eyeing. The slight swerve of the road led them to an area with slightly fewer trees, just enough for her to be able to see past the ashen trunks and violet leaves. 

She felt the tension that she did not know to previously be there leave as she saw the shadowy form for what it truly was—a lake. At least, that’s what it appeared to be. 

The girl reached into her bag, hand fishing around for a second to retrieve her phone. After taking it out, she turned it on, using the phone’s built-in flashlight to better illuminate what she was looking at. The luminescence from the phone contrasting against the rapidly darkening sky reflected off of and revealed what appeared to be a translucent pink body of water. She wasn’t so sure if it was pink or if it was the phone lighting was perhaps confusing her sights, but she saw an undeniable rosy tint to the water pooling tranquilly before her. 

If only it were ‘daytime’ or if there was proper light, the sight before her would resemble something out of a fairytale storybook, illustrated with the magical scenery of what she imagined would appear to be an oddly translucent, pastel pink lake, complete with shimmering lavender pebbles that spanned the entire bottom of said lake. The pink waters blended its edges with the scarlet grass that carpeted the forest floors, the colours ever so enchanting. 

The young traveller paused there, wanting a better look at the details of her new surroundings. The light, calm murmur of water echoed through the dark forest, a calming sound to her ears. 

“Wow,” she breathed out, intoxicated by the sight before her. The demon, too, stopped beside her, turning his head to his companion and chuckling to himself at the presence of the pure enthusiasm on her face. 

“Roseus lacus. One of my favourite things in Daemon Regnum.” Without waiting for an avalanche of questions, the eyeless reaper explained, side by side with the girl frozen in admiration. 

“The water is beautiful,” the young lady muttered under her breath, still in awe at the sight before her. 

“It’s not really water,” the demon continued to explain. “Water doesn’t exist here in Daemon Regnum. We have substances similar to water, but not what you humans know as H2O itself.” His gaze spanned over the large body of water, also examining it. 

“So this is like a replica?” Y/N asked, turning her head to the charming reaper, pleased to hear his explanation of the lake, despite not having asked herself. Perhaps he finally realized that his silence did nothing to deter her. 

“To some extent. The roseus lacus is my favourite of all the ‘lakes’ we have here. Not only are they extremely uncommon, only a few existing throughout the entire realm, they also have a sedating effect on the mind. Not sure how it works, but there’s one closer to Adytum that many daemons enjoy relaxing in.” The demon continued his monologue, his tone calm, matching the tranquillity of the lake. While she couldn’t know for sure with the blue mask that concealed his face, she could hear the glimpse of a smile in his voice. 

“Can I try?” The girl couldn’t imagine what the sedating effect would feel like for sure, and therefore she set about trying to figure it out empirically. She wondered if it would feel like what some of her medications did for her or something entirely different. 

Despite the fact that she was afraid of lakes and rivers even in her own, much more familiar mortal world, it wasn’t every day that she was given the opportunity to plunge into mystical pink waters. She didn’t want to miss this opportunity. 

“Go ahead,” the reaper spoke, nodding his head towards the mysterious lake, making it clear that she could try out the miraculous properties of this water. 

Y/N approached the rocky shore of the lake in just a couple of jumps, and standing at the very edge of the lake, she took a deep breath, casting her fears away to the back of her mind. 

Sliding off her slippers, she carefully placed them on the soft crimson grass, not wanting to accidentally ruin the only shoes that heroically protected her feet from the abundance of dry branches and thorny nature that strove to prick her. 

With her bag and jacket placed down next to her slippers, the young traveller gingerly stepped into the beautiful waters before her, but as soon as the tips of her toes landed on the periwinkle pebbles beneath, she felt a current run through her body. 

With each tiny nerve of hers pierced by a thousand even more miniature needles, the current came along with a jarring jolt of pain that her brain barely had the time to register before it shut off, her unconscious body splashing into the rosy depths. 

next chapter soon...

[autismlookslikeme]

Scars - Stiles Stilinski

Five times someone noticed Stiles’ scars and one time he noticed someone else’s.

Warnings! Lots of mentions of injuries, none are very graphic though. Brief mentions of abuse, kinda alluded to more than anything else.

Also definitely kind of a long one just fyi.

———

1. John

John stopped as he walked past Stiles’s door, just to say good morning. He paused, stayed silent. Stiles stood back to the door, changing his shirt. Just before he pulled his clean shirt over his head John caught sight of the scars on his back. On his right shoulder, a large and vaguely circular scar, with dozens of individual marks, circles within circles. On the opposite shoulder faded red lines cross crossed from his neck down past his shoulder blade. Smaller, far more faded scars littered his lower back. Sadness wound tight around John’s heart. How many more scars was Stiles hiding? When had his little boy become a battle hardened, scar covered soldier?

“Dad!” Stiles jumped when he turned and caught John staring. “What are-” but John just stepped into the room and pulled him into a tight hug. Then held him tighter still. Stiles was stunned for a few seconds before wrapping his arms around John and holding him just as tight.

“I’m sorry.” John said. But . . . sorry? Sorry for what? Sorry that Stiles youth had been taken from him? Sorry his innocence had been stolen? Sorry he had been forced to stagger beneath the weight of knowledge he shouldn’t have to carry? Sorry he’d had to grow up faster than he should have? Sorry. Sorry he couldn’t protect him from the dangers of the world around them.

“Sorry?” Stiles asked. “Sorry for what?” John just held him closer, one hand on the back of Stiles’ head. “Dad? Is everything ok?” But rather than stumble through an apology he knew Stiles would claim wasn’t necessary and never accept he said something else long over due.

“I love you.”

“I love you too. Are you sure everything is alright?” John huffed a laugh and let Stiles go.

“Yeah. Yep, everything’s fine.” he nodded, “I just, needed you to know that.” He gave Stiles a pat on the shoulder and a smile. Stiles gave him a skeptical gaze in return.

“Ooooookay then.” And with that Stiles stepped around him and disappeared down the stairs.

“I’m sorry you were forced to be your own protector because I wasn’t there.” John whispered to himself before following Stiles down to the kitchen.

———

2. Lydia

She watched Stiles push the sleeves of his flannel up his elbows while he talked to Derek and Scott and for the first time took notices of the scars cross crossing up his arms. Most were extremely faded, but they were there nonetheless. It made her conscious of her own scars, both physical and mental. She brushed her fingers across the ghost of a bruise around her neck.

With so many physical scars she knew he must have just as many, if not more, mental ones. She wanted so badly to ask how many more he had. To know his scars better than he did, but at the same time if she wasn’t ready to divulge that information how could she expect someone else to do so?

When he sat down beside her she casually looped her arm through his and brushed her fingers across the scars on the inside of his arm. Hoping he knew everything she couldn’t say in front of so many others. Hoping he knew that his scars marked him as survivor and nothing less.

———

3. Scott

Scott stood in the shallow end of the pool waiting for the others to join him. He grinned as he watched Mason grab Corey around the waist and throw him in before jumping in after him. He saw the look in Malia’s eyes and smelled the excitement wafting off her as she approached Lydia and grinned before giving her a shove into the pool. Lydia came up sputtering, glaring daggers at Malia, who only laughed in response.

“Stiles! You coming in?” Scott smacked the water, splashing it up the side of the pool and over the edge. Stiles was in his trunks, but still had his shirt on and didn’t seem too keen on taking it off.

“Nah. Not right now.” Scott frowned. He put his hands on the edge of the pool and went to hoist himself out, but stopped when he caught sight of the scar running diagonally up the back of Stiles right leg. It took him back to a different summer. A summer so many years ago that it felt like another lifetime.

The summer Stiles learned to ride a bike was the same summer Scott learned to roller skate. They went through a lot of bandaids that summer and left a lot of blood on the pavement between their houses. There were many crashes and an embarrassing amount of tears looking back. But one crash in particular came to Scott’s mind when he saw Stiles newer scar.

They’d crashed into each other and went down hard. Stiles drove a rock into his knee. Scott remembered the blood and he remembered calmly helping Stiles into the house where he found the first aid kit, pulled the rock out of Stiles knee, cleaned up the wound and bandaged him up. When it eventually scabbed over Stiles had a hard time resisting the urge to pick at it when he wore shorts. Which led to it scarring. And even now that same scar sat across his kneecap, looking so much smaller than Scott remembered.

It made Scott conscious of how much had changed. It made him conscious also, of the fact that while Stiles body held the proof that he was a fighter, a survivor, Scott’s own body no longer did. And while he knew it was kind of a ridiculous thing to be sad about, that didn’t change the fact that he was jealous of Stiles for bearing the marks of hard fought battles.

———

4. Malia

Malia let her eyes wander the expanse of Stiles’s chest and stomach. Pale, freckled skin marked with faded scars. She ran her fingers across his scars and felt him shiver. It had taken a lot of coaxing to get Stiles to take his shirt off. But taking off her own had done the trick. What puzzled her most was his reasoning. Embarrassment was kind of a foreign concept to Malia.

“I don’t think your scars are ugly.” She said after tracing them for several seconds. “It makes you seem so. . .so human.” She watched her own claw nick her wrist and heal instantly.

“I think that’s why I hate them.” Stiles confessed. “They’re a constant reminder that I’m weaker than you. Just a fragile human.”

“Well, you are.” Malia said, brows furrowing. “But you remind the rest of us what’s at stake. Or at least, you remind me. I think I need the reminder that some things take time to heal and even when they do you can’t forget they happened.” She really traced his scars again. “Do you have any others?” Stiles laughed and pulled her down into a kiss before rolling them over so he straddle her.

“You should explore and find out.” Malia would happily spend hours mapping out Stiles scars. And although she would never admit it, she would often compare Scott’s blank canvas to Stiles’ colorful portrait of scars.

———

5. Derek

“Is it-” Derek started, then seemed to think better of it. They were sitting together on the couch in Derek’s loft. Despite having started out at opposite ends Stiles was now almost plastered to Derek’s side.

“Is what?” Stiles asked, throwing his legs over Derek’s.

“Never mind.”

“C’mon big guy, tell me what’s on your mind.” Derek raised his eyebrows.

“Big guy?”

“It felt like a ‘big guy’ moment. Now stop stalling.” Derek sighed and looked at the ceiling like, ‘why me?’ before meeting Stiles eyes again. His ears were turning pink.

“Is it strange to look down and see a permanent reminder of the pain someone else caused you?” He spoke softly, as if afraid of offending Stiles.

“What d’you mean?” Stiles shifted to see him better. Derek gently grabbed Stiles’s arm and pushed his sleeve up.

“To see this scar and know exactly who hurt you and when. Isn’t that kind of strange?” Stiles pondered it for a few seconds.

“Strange isn’t the right word.” He finally said, laying his head against the back of the couch and staring at the ceiling. “Sometimes I wish I didn’t have them, that I didn’t have to be reminded of all the times I almost died or the times I hurt someone else, but at the end of day a lot of them aren’t symbols of weakness. But strength, y’know? Like I made it through something awful and maybe I still carry the marks from it, but all they are now is proof that I’m stronger than I think.”

“What about the others?” Derek asked, taking Stiles’s hand in his own. Stiles closed his eyes.

“Some are reminders that I’m more of a monster than any supernatural creature I’ve ever met.” Derek frowned.

“You’re not a monster.”

“D’you have any idea-” Stiles’s voice cracked, “any idea, what it feels like to be disgusted by your own body?” The sorrow and guilt rolling off of Stiles was almost overwhelming Derek.

“More than you could ever imagine.” Stiles shifted and turned his back to Derek. He lifted his shirt to show the scar from the bite from the lamprey on Donovan’s hand.

“I will never be free of the knowledge that I chose to kill someone, Derek! And I have to live with that choice for the rest of my life!” Tears slid down Stiles cheek and he was quick to brush them away.

“Stiles, killing in self defense isn’t the same thing as murder.” Stiles let his shirt fall back down, but didn’t turn to look at Derek again. Derek gently grabbed his wrist.

“The days it’s hardest to believe that are the days I’m glad I have my other scars.” Stiles whispered. He finally shifted around to face Derek again, eyes rimmed with red. He lifted the front of his shirt to show a large vertical scar almost in the center of his chest. “I cheated death. More than once. And I never want to forget the weight what it really means to be alive. Or they weight of what it means to take a life, no matter what they may have done.” He let his shirt drop again and ground the heals of his hands into his eyes.

“I’ve heard that scars tell a story. Since I don’t scar I wasn’t sure how true that was,” Derek started. “And I’ve never wanted scars of my own, but anyone can tell you’re a fighter. A survivor.” He pulled Stiles back to his side. “Some ghosts haunt you forever. Even if they lose their voice, you’ll spend the rest of your life seeing them out of the corner of your eye. But I promise,” Derek pressed a kiss to Stiles’s temple and felt him relax against him, “you’re not the only who’s haunted.”

———

+1. Stiles

“Why can’t you just fucking do what you’re told?!” Scott spat. For the shortest of seconds Stiles saw Derek’s expression change. But as quick as it appeared it was gone again. However distress continued to swim in Derek’s eyes as Scott berated him.

“Knock it off!” Stiles finally yelled. Scott turned to him, eyes flashing red for a second. Stiles stood his ground, fist clenched, brows raised. “Fuck off with your alpha bullshit!” Derek took an almost imperceptible step away from Scott. Stiles liked to consider himself an observant person. Most of time. Research was his thing after all. But he’s not sure how he missed this.

Malia stepped up behind Derek and rested her hand on his shoulder. He flinched and pulled away from her. Stiles didn’t have a werewolf’s ability to hear heartbeats or smell chemosignals, but he could tell Derek was anxious and distraught. Derek closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Stiles snapped.

“Everybody out! Now!” Everyone looked taken aback by Stiles second outburst and such a small amount of time. “Get out!” He yelled again. Hesitantly everyone headed for the door of the loft. Scott was the last to go, he growled and kept his red eyes on Stiles. “You too. Out!” Still looking annoyed Scott left, slamming the door behind him. Stiles glared at the door for several seconds before turning back to Derek. Derek was facing away from him, bent over the table, hands clutching the edge of it so tight his knuckles were white.

“Derek?” Stiles asked; stepping up behind him and tentatively rested his hand on Derek’s shoulder. Stiles knew, of course, that werewolves don’t scar, but he met Derek’s electric blue eyes and in a moment of stunning clarity realized that maybe Derek was just as scarred as he was, his just weren’t visible to the naked eye. Tears collected in Derek’s eyes.

“Don’t touch me.” He whispered, voice so soft Stiles didn’t hear him.

“What?”

“Don’t touch me.” Derek said louder. Stiles pulled his hand back like he’d been burned. Stiles felt so stupid. Who had done this to him? Derek’s fists clenched and unclenched. His eyes flickered from they’re natural color to electric blue and back again. He closed his eyes and clenched his jaw.

“Der-” Stiles cut himself off as Derek roared and shoved everything off the table. He grabbed the edge of the table again, sinking his claws into it, and his shoulders started to shake.

“It’s been eleven years, Stiles. Eleven! And I still hear her telling me I’m not enough and I need to do better.” Derek said, “I can still feel her hands on me, feel her tongue on me.” He choked back a sob. “I just want to be rid of her! Why-” his voice cracked, “why can’t I get rid of her?”

“I wish I could tell you.” Stiles thought about his own ghosts. Allison. Aiden. Donovan. The countless people that died while he was possessed by the nogitsune. How many did Derek have? How many that he’d never let anyone see before? “What I can tell you is that you don’t need to be embarrassed or ashamed of your scars.” Stiles stepped a little closer. “And I’m sorry that no one’s taken the time to get to know your scars and your ghosts. But if you’ll let me I want to take the time and learn them, until I know them better than you do.” He rested his hand on the table beside Derek’s. Derek turned and grabbed Stiles, pulling him into the tightest hug he’d ever had. He pressed his face into the crook of Stiles neck and cried. Stiles wrapped one arm around Derek’s waist as best he could and wound the fingers of his other hands through Derek’s hair. And then he said something he wasn’t sure Derek had ever heard before. He made a promise he would keep until his dying breath. “As long as I’m around you never have to fight your demons alone.”

[siphoklansan]

So I'm drawing something for your bday, right. And I don't remember how Leona looks like from memory. So I have a pic for reference and WHY is his smirk so annoying, I'm so sorry. I gave up on drawing him after the hair. But I'LL FINISH IT, TRUST. I WANNA FINISH IT. DW.

Anyways, how are you? (feel free to be completely honest) Hope your birthday will be tons of fun, you deserve it!! Sending you tonsss of love <33 Lastly, unrelated but what's your fave color?

HELLLOOOOOOO I CANT BELIEVE I DIDN’T REPLY TO THIS HELP😭 BUT I SAW YOUR LEONAHOK ART AND UHGRUJRGKFPGIJF I DIED FROM CUTNESS I LOVE IT SO MUCH THANK YOU TARUUUUU🥹🫶💓💗💗

Omg so relatable he has an infuriating smirk istg (affectionately, but sometimes his smirk making me wanna thriw hands /hj) AND HIS HAIRRRRRRRR IT’S SO NICE BUT UGH I CANT DRAW IT RIGHT😭 you did a WONDERFUL job drawing it!!! I have this curse where I can’t draw my faves right (ex. Blade hsr, William moriarity the patriot, Dazai and LEONA)

I’m not doing so well recently, but my birthday was SUPER FUN! My sister made me a dessert I’ve always want to try since I was young. It’s called บุหลันดั้นเมฆ (Bulan Dun Mek) it means “The moon pushes the cloud”! It’s a REALLY old Thai dessert that traces all the way back to the reign of the second king :00 The dessert is small, circular, and is blue with orange in the middle. Like a night sky with the moon! The blue part is made with butterfly-pea! (sorry for rambling, but to finish it off I cried when my sister gave me the dish 🥹)

AGJUFGJKOEFJUI CAN’T PICK A FAVORITE COLOR TOT but I think green is pretty nice!! As well as purple🕺✨ wby Taru?<3333

[ayunakatsukiwolfhashira]

Information About My Demon Slayer Oc

𝐀𝐲𝐮𝐧𝐚 𝐊𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐢 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐨𝐥𝐟 𝐇𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐚

BACKSTORY

Ayuna was born with wolf ears and a tail which was highly unusual and the doctors discovered that she was half werewolf. She was born with a unique set of eyes that were red colored. Her hair was as dark as a starless night that faded into a bright red, she stood at 5 foot, but unfortunately suffers from Imposter-Syndrome and many other mental disorders. Her parents were always super supportive of her and her little brother would be kind to her. One day, Ayuna fell in love with a blond boy with rainbow colored eyes that had strange writing on them but whenever asked about it, he would say that he was born with it. He was kind to her and only after a month, they started dating but little did she know how much her life would change because of this boy. After a year of dating and gaining her trust, when no one was looking, he kidnapped her and that’s when Ayuna saw the real identity of this boy, or shall I say, demon.

    Douma told her, if she ever tried to resist or escape him, he would kill her family. She lived in captivity for half a year being abused and in fear. One day, Douma discovered where her family was and slaughtered them in front of her. She was devastated and blamed it all on herself even though she had no idea this would’ve happened.

One day, the police managed to find them but Douma fled so he was not arrested but Ayuna was set free. A young lady took in Ayuna and cared for her and while Ayuna was helping her with the groceries one day, she overheard people discussing about Demon Slayers and she knew that that’s how she would avenge her family. She trained herself brutally for 5 years day and night, she did agonizingly long and tough excercises and starved herself of food and water for 1-3 days at a time. She passed through Final Selection flawlessly and after a couple months of becoming a slayer, she ran into an Upper Moon, fought and killed it which resulted in her becoming a Hashira

PERSONALITY

Ayuna is cold and emotionless, she is short of words and harsh to those lower than Hashira level. She puts on a serious and strong facade to cover up her biggest insecurity which was becoming a faliure.

LUNA BREATHING TECHNIQUE

• 1st Form: Crescent  Moon — The tip of the blade of the user’s katana glows a bright red and the user slashes infront of them with quick speed and strong swipe and a tail of red follows the glowing tip of the blade.

• 2nd Form: Wolf Claws — The tip of the user’s blade glows red and as they slash, their swipes turn into three slashes that appear like a wolf scratch

• 3rd Form: Tail Swirl Dance — The user jumps into the air, turns themselves upside down and rotate their whole body in a circular motion with their glowing red blade out, the blade glows red from the tip down to halfway of the katana, red slashes follow the motion of their tail and blade slicing anyone and anything in its path.

• 4th Form: Wolf Bite — The user jumps high into the air and swiftly move their tail to reveal 12 kunai dashing downwards in a V shape towards the enemy and the kunai sink into the flesh of the enemy.

• 5th Form: Wolf’s Paw — The user holds their katana out infront of their chest with their right hand, moves their left hand towards the bottom of the katana that entirely glows red, and push with a great amount of force as the silhouette of a wolfs paw appears and blocks incoming attacks.

• 6th Form: Spirit Of The Wolf — The user crouches in a wolf like posture with their blade behind them and once they announce what form, their blade glows a bright red halfway down the blade and the enlarged silhouette of a wolf’s head appears towards the end of the blade and when the user strikes the enemy, the wolf head will take a chunk of the enemy’s flesh out.

• 7th Form: Full Moon — The user dashes forward with their blade glowing halfway and they raise their blade above their head and slash forward as red ripped-like slashes appear and move vertically, similarly like Water Breathing Water Wheel.

• 8th Form: Tail Whip — The uses jumps high into the air, moves their tail to reveal all 18 kunai lining up and mimicking the movements of the users tail and destroying and slashing the enemy and around them.

• 9th Form: Wolf Pack — The user swipes their blade at a sideways angle and as the slightly glowing blade passes, red outlined silhouettes of 5 wolves join the user in attacking the target.

• 10th Form: Camouflage — The user slowely spins their glowing red katana in a circle and while the katana is spinning, the image of the user slowely fades and is replaced by the user in wolf form and once they strike something, in the blink of an eye they are back to human form.

11th Form: Lupus — The users whole blade glows a darker red than usual and dark crimson sparks and drops drip from the blade as dark red slashes circle around the blade and when the user stabs or slashes the enemy, the enemy starts paralyzing and won’t be able to move giving the user the chance to kill the enemy. 

• 12th For: Blood Moon — The user jumps abnormally high into the air with their entire blade glows a dark crimson red and crimson sparks and slashes circle around the blade with a lot of crimson droplets falling as the user spins forward at a super sonic speed with a circle of glowing crimson slashes surrounding the user and when the user strikes, the force rumbles the ground and destroys anything that is in it’s path.

————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

Facts about Luna Breathing

Luna Breathing derived from Wind Breathing and was created by Ayuna Katsuki. She was inspired to make Luna Breathing after turning from a human to a werewolf, she used her new skills to create one of the most complex breathing styles of all time. Ayuna is the only slayer that can fully master Luna Breathing because she is the original creator and she is a flexible werewolf. Others werewolves can learn Luna Breathing and become a Luna user but they won’t Master it as perfect as Katsuki. Regular slayers are only able to learn of couple of forms such as the ones that don’t include wolf features.

RANDOM STUFF I DECIDED

I titled her the Wolf Hashira instead of Luna Hashira because I felt like she neededa more intimidating title to match her and I wanted to make an oc because I was bored :p

If you have any questions or want me to write certain things about her like how she interacts with the other Hashiras don’t hesitate to ask me!

[marshmallow-rainbow139]

A Hot Day At The Beach ⛱

Summary: You know what they say a hot day makes people go crazy.

Pairing: Armin Arlert x Annie Leonhart

Tags: Smut and fluff in the end

...

After a month of meetings and travelling non-stop with no time to rest, Armin finally got a break. So he and Annie decided to go to the beach to relax.

They went to the most private part of the beach and settled down very quickly.

“Can you pass me the sunscreen?” Annie said, from her towel.

"Sure," Armin said, reaching for the bag on his side.

He grabbed it, and when he turned around to give it to Annie, he almost dropped it.

Annie had taken off her shirt and shorts, revealing a black bikini that fit her like a glove.

He recalled the first time he saw a photo of a woman in a bikini. He and his companions came upon it in a magazine belonging to a Marleyan soldier. When they saw a woman who was scarcely clad and in a very provocative position, their jaws dropped to the ground.

Captain Levi confiscated the magazine. But the picture of the woman was seared into the back of his eyes, and it had tightened his jeans. He didn't do anything and simply gave himself a case of blue balls since he didn't know what to do because he was sharing his room with the guys, and he'd rather jump into a pure titan's mouth than be caught with his hands in his pants.

Seeing her in that black bikini made him turn into a hormonal teenager once again.

“Can you put sunscreen on my back?” Annie asked, rubbing her arms.

“Ah… Yes.” Armin grabbed the bottle and he was glad that Annie couldn’t see his burning face. He could lie and say that it’s because of the sun, but Annie is smart.

Annie put her hair over her shoulder to give him a clear view of her back. Armin gulped at the sight of her back.

Something about her being exposed in public in broad daylight with an outfit that left nothing to the imagination created a tickle inside him.

He rubbed his hands after squeezing a generous amount of lotion into them.He starts on her shoulder blades and rubs the substance in circular motions. Annie let out a low moan when he started to rub a spot with his thumbs.

“Right there.” She moaned.

That made his eyes wider. She would whimper like that in the privacy of their bedroom and with his head between her legs.

He continued to rub her back. He loved the feeling of her firm back against his hands.

“Done.” He said, but his hands were still touching her. He only disconnects when she turns her body around to give him a peck on his lips. If she had looked down, she would have seen the tent that was forming around his shorts.

“Thanks.” She said, getting up from her towel and stretching. "Going for a quick swim."

She started walking towards the water.

“You look beautiful.” He said it without thinking.

Annie stopped in her tracks and looked over her shoulder.

“Thank you.” Annie said with a smirk. “I bought it last week when we started planning the trip. It’s the new fashion. Do you like it?” She said, turning her body towards him and putting her arms over her head, posing like the woman in the magazine.

“I like it.”

Annie smiled and blushed a little. She turned and went into the water.

Armin let out a big sigh and flopped down onto his towel.

He took off his clothes and rubbed the sunscreen on his skin.

He looked at the ocean. The tide was calm, so the waves weren’t too rough and he could see Annie perfectly. Well, he could see her blonde hair going in and out of the water and sometimes her feet when she dove back inside.

Armin lay down on the towel and read the book he brought for the trip. His erection had calmed down, but when he remembered Annie’s curves, he felt a twitch in his swim trunks.

He takes deep breaths and focuses on the words that were written in the books. 

When he could no longer register the words, he gave up and decided to take a nap. The waves were a good background noise to fall asleep to. 

The feeling of cold and wet skin against his warm one jolts him awake with a sharp gasp. He opens his eyes and sees Annie's head on top of his shoulder, making patterns on his bare chest. Her feet were touching his legs, and he could feel the sand that clung to her wet skin.

He relaxed again and enjoyed the feeling of her cold skin cooling down his warm skin. He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer.

He was almost falling asleep until he felt Annie getting bolder with her touches.

Her slender fingers moved to his nipple. With her index and thumb, she pinched it. Due to her cold fingers and stimulation, Armin felt goosebumps forming on his chest.

She removed her fingers and planted her hand flat on his chest. Slowly, she started moving downward. Armin breathed heavily through his nose. Annie lifted her hand from his belly and grabbed his crotch.

“Annie!” Armin shouted. Surprised by her boldness.

She didn’t say anything. She got up and straddled him, lowering her head and kissing him. Her lips and skin have a salty taste to them.

He rises and kisses her harder, putting his tongue in her mouth. Annie moaned into the kiss and rubbed his growing erection. Armin grunted.

He is feeling brave.He put his hand behind her and tugged at the string of her bikini. She let him and when it was loose, she removed the fabric. Her nipples were hard, either because of the cold water or her excitement.

Armin lowered his head and took one into his mouth. He ducked and bit it gently. Annie threw her head back and moaned loudly.

She ran her fingers through his hair and guided him to her other nipple. He gladly gave it the same treatment as the others. 

She moved her hips steadily and rubbed herself in such a way that her clit was getting stimulation.

Feeling that they had enough foreplay, Annie removed his mouth from her breast and got up. She quickly disposed of her panties and Armin, without needing to be told, did the same with his swim trunks.

Annie spread her knees and placed them on each side of his waist. Armin grabbed his cock and her waist. He rubbed his tip on her slit, and she moaned when it made contact with her throbbing clit.

"Armin, please." She said.

Her voice, so intoxicated and so enchanting, almost makes him lose his mind. He inserts the head in and grunts through his teeth. She was hotter and wetter than he thought. He grabbed her waist with his two hands and pulled her down until he was fully inside. She let out a high-pitched moan, so unlike her, as she felt her walls being stretched with his cock.

Annie put her hands on his shoulders and pushed him down into the towel. He grunted. Her being dominant has always made him feel more aroused. She moved her hands to his abdomen and started moving.

She bounced up and down slowly.

The sight of her moving, her breasts bouncing, her nails digging into his skin, her moans, her tight and wet around him, the sun behind her making her hair glow like a halo, almost made Armin feel light-headed. 

Armin wanted to increase her pleasure.

He bent his knees, grabbed her waist and started thrusting faster. She gasped at the sudden change in pace and leaned forward. He moved her waist so that her clit was rubbing against his pelvis. The stimulation made her cry out his name.

He continued pounding against her and quickened his pace when she tightened around him.

"ARMIN!" She shouted and then cummed.

She slumped on top of him. He continued pounding into her. Tears fell down as she felt overstimulated. He kept going until the coil inside him that had tightened him snapped and he emptied inside her.

They breathed heavily and their faces were red, hopefully because of their activity and not because of the sun.

After regaining her breath, Annie started laughing. She raised her head and put her chin on his chest.

"I should wear a bikini more often if it gets you in this kind of mood."

"Please do."

She chuckled and laid down on the towel. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

Annie opened her eyes and looked at her side. She saw in the distance a big boulder shaped like a shoe covered in algae.

"Huh." She uttered when she recognized that boulder.

"What is it?" Armin asked.

Annie got up and looked at him. She adjusted the strap on her shoulder and picked up their daughter, who was sitting between them. 

The five-month old was wearing a cute orange body swimsuit that had ducks imprinted on it and a white hat to cover her head from the sun.

"I believe this is the place."

"What place?" He asked curiously.

"The place where we conceived Abby."

He frowned, confused, but let out a gasp when the memory came back to him. He blushed and laid down, facing away from them. Annie chuckled at his actions.

She looked at her daughter and tickled her stomach. The baby laughed.

"Your first time at the beach is in the same place where daddy was gawking at mommy like a dummy all because of a bikini."

"Daddy remembers mommy not being capable of putting her hands off him."

Annie gave him a side eye but smiled.

She got up and nudged Armin with her foot.

"How about we give Abby her first swim?"

Armin nodded.

They walked to the ocean and stood in the wet sand. Annie kneeled and lowered Abby until her tiny feet touched the sand. The little girl curled her toes and looked in fascination  at how her toes disappeared. 

A wave appears and brushes her feet. Abby lets out a shriek at the cold sensation. She lifted her feet and started crying.

Annie chuckled and brought Abby to her chest. "Oh, it's okay, sweetie." She comforts her.

Abby calmed down and sniffled a little.

"Hey Abby! Look at this." Armin said while cleaning something underwater.

He straightened his posture and showed her a seashell. "It's a seashell. You have a lot of them in your room."

Abigail looked at the object with curiosity and grabbed it from her father's hand. She turned it around and looked at it. She was about to put it in her mouth, but Annie quickly grabbed her wrist. 

"No." She firmly said. "It's not food."

Abby whined. 

Armin chuckled.

[eddies-puppet]

𝙇𝙤𝙨𝙩 𝙄𝙣 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙁𝙞𝙧𝙚 | 𝙎𝙥𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙚𝙧 𝙍𝙚𝙞𝙙

Chapter 4: Casa Di Rossi

Warnings: Drinking, Discussion of Alzheimers and schizophrenia

Word count: 1,677

Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

————————————————————————————

"Ciao bella," Rossi smiled broadly as he swung open the front door to his home. Placing his hands on Becca's shoulders, he placed a kiss on both her cheeks before pulling her inside.

"Dave, this place is incredible," Becca exclaimed.

"Grazi," he grinned. "Let me take that," he said, taking the bottle of wine she'd bought with her. "Go join the others, the garden is just through those doors," he pointed to the glass double doors across the room.

She made her way across the large kitchen/diner, her footsteps echoing off the marble floor. She looked around her as she went, decadence was an understatement! Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, mirrors and art adorning the walls.

She paused in front of one of the mirrors, straightening her hair and making sure her make-up was still as it should be. Her hair was falling in loose waves around her shoulders, and she wore a black and pink A-line swing dress that was cut lower on her back, showing a large tattoo between her shoulder blades, a wolf's face with colourful flowers and butterflies around it, extending up the back of her neck.

She felt like those butterflies might be real and currently fluttering around in her stomach. It had taken her by surprise, this nervous feeling.

She had spent the last two days working with Spencer. Yes, he was handsome. You'd have to be blind not to see that. But there was something else that she couldn't put her finger on. A spark between them. It was unexpected, and in a way unwelcome. Her attraction to him was distracting, and she had too much to focus on with the case without the added frustration.

Plus, they lived on opposite sides of the ocean and a holiday fling wasn't really her style. It would pass, she told herself, taking a deep breath and heading out through the glass doors into the garden.

She paused again, her mouth falling open in awe. The garden was something else, twinkling with fairy lights and candles.

The team were sat around a large circular table, talking and laughing amongst themselves. A blonde lady rose from her seat and walked towards her, smiling kindly.

"You must be Becca. I'm Krystall, Dave's wife. It's nice to meet you," she said, holding her hand out towards Becca.

"Lovely to meet you Krystall," Becca smiled, gently shaking Krystall's hand.

"Go sit down, I'll get you a glass of champagne. Dave saved you a seat by Emily," she smiled before walking towards the house. Becca made her way to the table, biting nervously at the inside of her cheek as she realised the empty seat was also next to Spencer.

As the group saw her, they cheered and smiled at her. Emily stood up and pulled her friend into a tight hug before they sat down. Putting her clutch bag down on the table, she glanced at Spencer, finding him already looking at her.

"Hi," she smiled, her voice soft.

"Hi. You managed to find a dress," he said. She hadn't packed any nice dresses so Emily had taken her shopping when they finished at the office. "It's nice. You, um, you look nice," he stuttered. She looked him up and down. He wore a black shirt, the top two buttons unfastened, and a black suit jacket and trousers.

"You don't look so bad yourself," she smiled, one corner of his lips pulling up into a small smile.

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

Once they'd all finished their meals, the party had really gotten into full swing. Turned out that as well as being beautiful, Dave's garden also had an insane sound system and a makeshift dancefloor!

Garcia had connected her phone to the sound system, which was cycling through her entire, varied music library. She, Luke, Tara, Matt, JJ and Derek were all on the dancefloor, seemingly having the time of their lives challenging each other to show off their worst dance moves.

Emily, Hotch, Dave and Krystall were sitting on the veranda alternating between laughing at the rest of the team and talking about Dave's celebrity friends.

Becca and Spencer remained at the dinner table, the candles flickering in the cool breeze. Becca pulled a blanket around her shoulders, taking a sip of her wine.

"If you're cold, we could join the others?" Spencer offered softly.

"No, I'm fine, honestly," she smiled. "This is positively balmy compared to home," she giggled. "So, you were telling me about Max."

"There's not much more to tell. She's an amazing person, but we just weren't meant to be together. We're still really good friends though," he shrugged. "What about you? Do you have someone waiting for you at home?"

"His name is Jamie."

"Mm-hm," Spencer nodded slowly. "What does he do?"

"Not a lot to be honest, he's kind of a bum. He naps a lot, and he doesn't say much, so he's not always great company." Spencer looked at her silently, his brows furrowed with confusion.

"I'm kidding," she laughed. "Jamie's my nephew." He laughed, shaking his head. "No, there's no man. I was seeing someone up until a few months ago but it turns out he doesn't really understand the meaning of monogamy."

"I'm sorry," he said softly.

"Oh, don't be, I'm better off out of it," she smiled. "Tell me about your family. Do they still live in Vegas?"

"My dad does, but, uh, we don't speak much. My mom's in a care facility in D.C. I tried to care for her myself, but it, uh, it just didn't work out." Becca nodded. "She, uh, she has Alzheimer's."

"Oh Spencer, I'm so sorry," Becca whispered. "It's an awful disease. Was it sudden?"

"No, they spotted it in its early stages. She's been in facilities since I was eighteen, so she was in the right place for it to be found," he hesitated, taking a deep breath. "She also has schizophrenia." Becca raised her eyebrows.

"Wow, so you've really had a lot on your plate," she sighed sadly. He let out a chuckle.

"You have no idea."

"Sounds like there's a story there!"

"A story for another day perhaps," he smiled. She smiled back at him as she placed her hand over his on the table. She felt his muscles tighten beneath her touch, suddenly remembering Emily's warning when she'd first arrived.

"Sorry," she whispered, beginning to pull her hand away, but he placed his other hand on top of hers, holding it in place as their eyes locked, her stomach doing somersaults.

"It's ok," he said softly. Becca heard the music change and smiled.

"I love this song," she grinned, rising from her chair, holding his hand in hers and trying to pull him up. "Dance with me?" He shook his head.

"I can't," he laughed. "I have two left feet. Honestly, I don't even know how."

"It's not that hard when the music's slow," she smiled sweetly. "Please?" She begged. He exhaled sharply, puffing out his cheeks.

"Fine," he muttered. She giggled as she pulled him to his feet and to the dancefloor.

She picked a spot at the edge of the dancefloor, close to where Emily and Hotch were now dancing together, Emily giving her a broad smile as she saw her. Becca stopped and turned to Spencer, taking a step closer to him. Taking his free hand, she placed it gently on her waist and lay her hand on his shoulder, her forearm resting against his chest, and they began to dance.

"See? I think you're better at this than you think you are," she smiled up at him. She could feel his thumb tracing tiny circles gently against her waist as his other hand tightened around her own. They moved slowly together, Becca singing along softly. 'Baby I'm dancing in the dark, with you between my arms, barefoot on the grass, listening to our favourite song'.

"I don't think I've heard this song before," Spencer muttered. Becca looked at him open-mouthed.

"How have you never heard 'Perfect'?" He shrugged, smiling shyly.

"I don't really listen to that much current music."

"Clearly," she laughed. "I think you still need educating in certain areas Dr Reid," she smiled, noticing his jaw tightening as he swallowed hard.

As she looked up at him, his hazel eyes twinkling under the fairy lights, she felt his hand slide gently around to her lower back, pulling her closer to him.

Suddenly the mood had changed. The very air between them felt electric, her skin seeming to tingle beneath his touch. Resting her cheek against his shoulder, she could feel his heart racing and her eyes drifted closed.

Get a hold of yourself woman, she silently chastised herself. Way to keep it professional!

She opened her eyes to find Dave smiling at her from the veranda, his arm around Krystall's waist. He lifted his glass, giving Becca a small wink before she looked away, embarrassed.

She lifted her head from Spencer's shoulder, looking up at him once again. His full lips curled up into a small smile as his tongue flicked across his lower lip, his eyes wandering her face before coming to rest on her lips. She felt his arm tighten around her waist, pulling her body flush against his own.

Becca was sure that the world around them had simply ceased to exist.

As the music faded, replaced by a more upbeat song, the two of them stood, motionless, gazing at each other for a few moments, neither of them seeming to want to let go.

Becca felt a hand land heavily on her shoulder, turning to find JJ grinning at her.

"Come dance with us," she said loudly, gripping Becca's arm and pulling her out of Spencer's arms. She hesitated, glancing up at Spencer as he ran a hand through his soft hair, smiling at her.

"Go, have fun," he told her. "I'll get you a drink for when they're done with you," he laughed. She nodded, laughing as JJ pulled her towards Garcia and Emily.

[magickfromscratch]

I recovered a past life memory as a direct result of the initiation we did, and it is really giving me pause because of how STAGGERINGLY MUNDANE it was, and yet, how impactful.

Details of my past life and gruesome death under the cut.

After I “got psychic” and before I began any formal training (as opposed to what I learned from my parents), a thing I would routinely see on the astral, regardless of context, or who I was talking to, was saw blades, circular ones, flying toward my head.

I got used to it. I’d just dodge and continue a sentence like nothing had happened. I was like a young teenager. This was not a psychic attack. If you are attacking 14 year olds, you have problems, but also this was the 1990s, so…

It went away when I started working with deities and I never gave it another thought.

When I underwent that recent death-related ritual, the saw blades came back.

I'm older and more experienced, now. So I leaned into it, and tried to figure out what I was trying to tell myself. Impressions were as follows:

The powerful scent of freshly cut wood.

The impression of sitting on the floor, listening to a radio drama, and catching a commercial break.

A spinning saw blade coming loose and hitting me straight in the head.

But most impactful was a memory of quiet reflection. I sat there, in that spartan apartment, during a commercial break on the radio, reflecting on my life.

"Is this all there is?" I asked myself. "Was I born just to cut wood?" And I thought to myself that I needed the afterlife to be real, because otherwise my only conscious experiences, ever, would be doing this boring job I hated, paying the rent, eating tinned beans, and being lonely. That thought was just too despair-inducing to tolerate.

I begged me to remember that life, so that a little piece of Stanley could survive and be conscious of having become something better and more joyful.

And so, Stanley, thirty years after my first cognition of your death, here I am. I see you. This is what you became. You're a weird, funky, non-binary wizard. You got to write stories about vampires, and meet gods, and fall in love, and eat in five star restaurants, and travel. You got to see Europe, just like you always wished you could. And you had kids, finally. You almost got to be in the movies, even (we'll keep trying on that one). I have your reverse bucket list, Stan. I won't forget. Your dreams still mean something.

[akamikazae]

Love me Mercilessly Kakashi x Akami Chapter 26 Cedar-wood, Spars and Karaoke bars word count: 4.9k tw: nsfw(minors dni 18+) sex, very minor violence

Sasuke considers the person he wants to be versus the person he’s parents expected him to be. Finding an unlikely role model in Kami-chans perverted masked friend. Meanwhile Kakashi and Akami are struggling to find a new normal in their ‘relationship’

Since the deadline for Akami to submit her proposal had come and gone, Kakashi figured it was high time he returned his father’s typewriter to its rightful place in the mausoleum his childhood home had now become.  If Akami did in fact get the position–for which he saw no reason as to why she wouldn’t–he’d buy her a new one as a congratulatory gift, not at all as a ploy to get first picks on a new replacement for Team Ro. 

It was close to noon by the time Kakashi strolled over to Akami’s, it was a sunday and he knew Sasuke would be home so it would be in everyone’s best interest if he used the front door. He stood on the stoop and waited—knocking a third time to no avail, he was about to turn tail and cut his losses when he heard the commanding sound of her voice. 

In spite of his good natured intentions Kakashi hopped up to crouch on the top of the fence in the backyard. 

“Push and pull Sasuke, don’t just whip your arms around.” Akami said, coming behind him to guide his hands. 

“Dominate hand on top does what?” 

“Push”

“and the bottom?” 

“Pull” He said, striking swiftly at the post with his wooden waster.

“That’s my boy, use the entire sword, not just the blade.” She said, “again.”

Akami demonstrated a fighting form with one of her old Katanas. She bent her front knee, resting the sword on her opposite shoulder to bring the blade down quickly, stopping its momentum as it crossed her path. “Remember in a battle you’ll have an opponent, so don’t hurl your weight through the sword and overswing. You stop when you hit your target or else you could throw yourself off balance.” 

Sasuke nodded fiercely. Akami brought the blade up over her head in a circular motion, shifting her stance through her hips and slashing the sword in the opposite direction. She demonstrated again, slower so he could see that her grip on the hilt didn’t change, only the tilt of her wrists and elbows. Sasuke tried to do the same, but his movements were awkward as he was still unaccustomed to the feel. 

“That’s alright try again.” Akami smiled, as he looked at her unsure of his performance. 

Sasuke was preparing to bring his wooden sword up over his head a second time but was distracted by the scraping of metal as Akami withdrew her katana from its sheath, whipping it across the yard as if it were a dart. The Katana pierced the fence. The blade bobbed up and down just above Kakashi’s head as he jumped from his perch, landing in the backyard.

“Sage! Hatake, why’d you conceal your chakra?!” Akami screamed as Kakashi placed a foot on the fence to dislodge the blade she intended to skewer him with. 

“Just trying to keep you on your toes, Ketsueki.”

“And if I had hit you?!” 

“I guess it's good you’re getting rusty then,” he crossed the yard to hand her the sword. An act he immediately regretted as she turned the weapon on him, holding the tip to his throat with a scowl.  She hadn’t intended to kill the intruder, had she? Maybe she was a little rusty…did he even need the sharingan to avoid her attack?  

Akami pushed the blade closer to his throat as she toyed with asking him as much, but she felt Sasuke staring and remembered that he still didn’t know Kakashi had a sharingan. She sheathed her sword.

Kakashi gave Sasuke a wave and a closed eyed smile. Sasuke puffed his cheeks in acknowledgement and waited for Akami’s permission to begin again. 

“Go ahead Senshi,” she smiled. “There won’t be any more interruptions” she turned to punch  Kakashi in the sternum with the flat of her fist. 

“Nope, no interruptions” he groaned.   

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