#would i count myself as a moot

[getoswhore]

hello bella

oh hi bella, where have you been loca 🤭

[ponderingmoonlight]

JJK men with a big-chested reader

Pairings: Nanami x reader; Geto x reader (nsfw); Yuji/Sukuna x reader; Gojo x reader

Word Count: 4,4k (she's big)

Warnings: THIS IS A FIC WITH A BIG-CHESTED READER! so if this triggers you, don't read it (especially in Sukuna's part, you might get triggered when having smaller boobs so just do me a favor and don't read it instead of leaving a sassy comment), boob play in Geto's part so nsfw, in general harassment but big old fluff from your faves, not proofread bc I have my final exam tomorrow - hope you enjoy! 🤍

Special thanks to one of my moots for letting me turn her cleavage into a cover for this fic - you look STUNNING + thank you to everyone who sent me their experiences for this!

Since I'm not big-chested myself, I'm calling all my big boobie girlies to leave me a lil review about this fic - it would literally help me so much 😭

Click here to get to the small-chested version

Nanami Kento

You sigh to yourself, too exhausted to even stand up straight anymore. Today was like a trip to hell and back. All those fucking curses, the death, the horror. You rub your tired eyes, the stinging pain in your back reminding you more than urgently that you have been up for way too long.

“You look tired, darling. Go change and get into bed with me.”

Oh, that deep voice behind you, the voice you learned to love to the moon and back. How did it even happen that a man like Nanami Kento was seeking interest in you? What was it that made a man like him even look your way? You’ve known each other for quite some time, seeing each other on missions from time to time. But when you began to work at Jujutsu High, everything changed so fast that you couldn’t keep up. And now you’re sitting here in his bedroom, watching in awe as he crawls into bed with nothing but his boxer shorts on.

You would love to get out of your uniform right now, But most importantly, you urge to take off that soaking wet bra that has been bugging you since afternoon. You have no choice, though. With a large chest like yours, it simply isn’t possible to leave the house for missions without extra support. You glance at him while he reads in his book, your gaze falling to your chest.

This isn’t exclusively about missions and you know it. Even though you’ve been together for a few months now, you were never brave enough to show Kento your breasts. Not without a bra, let alone completely naked. Just the thought of him seeing how your big breasts fall down when they slip out of their bra shells, the look on his face when he realizes that you don’t look like those large-chested models with their boobs standing like mountains. Yours definitely don’t. And you fucking hate it.

“I know that look on your face. You are uncomfortable, aren’t you?”

His soft voice rips you out of your pondering immediately. Fuck, he caught you again.

“No…I mean…Yes, kinda…”

You can’t lie into his gorgeous face, not even when the truth makes you feel so uncomfortable. Oh, how much you wished you look the way he deserves it with delicious female curves that suit his flawless appearance. But as soon as you look down, you just know how awful your boobs will look when set free. So you’ll do what you do every night: wait until Kento is asleep to finally take off your bra only to set an alarm in the morning to get up before him and put it back on.

“I always wondered why you are waiting until I sleep to take off your bra and put it back on before my alarm goes off.”

You can’t help but stare at him, mind racing while your palms start to get sweaty. Fuck, how did he even notice? No, why did you ever think he wouldn’t? Kento cares about you like none other, never pushed you to take off your shirt, never failed to ask you how you’re feeling.

“Listen, darling.”

He gets off the bed and kneels down in front of the chair you are sitting on, gently taking your hand into his.

“I just want to make sure you feel comfortable around me. Am I the reason that you don’t want to take your bra off? I can see clearly how uncomfortable it makes you feel.”

“No!”, you blurt out immediately.

Calm down your tingling nerves, this is ridiculous. You stare blankly at your hands intertwined with his.

“I mean…It has nothing to do with you, it’s me.”

“How is this about you, love? There is no reason for you to feel uncomfort-“

“I’m afraid.”

You swallow hard. Are you oversharing? Will he laugh at you for something so ridiculous? But what if he sees you naked at some point, his gaze dropping to your chest only to be greeted by your large hanging chest? You can imagine the look of disgust on his face, how he turns away from you, how-

“Hey, look at me darling. Look at me and tell me what’s wrong”

He cups your cheek gently, forces your haunted eyes to look at him, to stare into his orbs filled with sincerity. There is no way out of this, you can’t lie into his gorgeous face.

“When I take my bra of my breasts just…hang. It’s even visible through my t-shirt…”, you mumble, cheeks redder than the devil.

Thick silence hangs between both of you, his gaze still as soft as before. What is going on inside his head? Is he secretly laughing at you, does he even care about what you have to say?

“Let me make a few things clear.”

He lifts himself off the ground and pulls you up. You squint your eyes, mind racing over why on earth he made you stand up. Is he going to leave, to laugh?

“First of all: I love you just the way you are. I love your gorgeous smile, the way you walk, the way you talk, the way you carry yourself. And I love your breasts-“

“You didn’t even see them yet.”

“I don’t have to in order to know that”, he continues.

“Nothing makes me sadder than seeing you uncomfortable each and every night before going to bed. Of course, I don’t know for sure, but I imagine it to be really painful after some time. Isn’t it digging into your skin?”

Oh, you think about the countless times the sweat underneath your bra made you almost go insane, the red streaks that visibly show where the wire cut into your skin all day.

“It kinda is…”, you confirm with low voice.

“Don’t do this to yourself. I adore you just the way you are and I am dying to see you laying comfortably in your t-shirt next to me. So please, would you allow me to take it off for you?”

Your eyes widen in pure shock. Is this a bad joke, is he just teasing you? No, this is Nanami Kento. And the way he gazes at you with nothing but affection gleaming in his eyes tells you that he’s telling the true, that this is what he wants right now. But are you ready to expose yourself like this? What if he’s still disgusted after saying all those nice words?

You let your head fall against his chest, breathe in his delicious scent. A voice deep inside you tells you to stop, to just relax inside his arms. This is the man who chose you out of all people, who stood by your side no matter what. Kento proved more than once that he loves you dearly, never made you feel the slightest bit bad about yourself.

“Go ahead…”, you mutter against his chest.

His hands wander up your back gently, make shivers run down your spine until he reaches the clasp of your bra. Your heart simply stops when he unclips it through the fabric of your shirt. You fade into darkness as soon as his hands wander up to your shoulders, slide down the thick straps and pull down your bra until he finally lands on the floor.

Slowly, he takes a step back and picks it off the ground.

“You will never have to wear this again when you are home with me, okay? Not when it makes you feel so uncomfortable”, he gently speaks out.

You stare in awe while he carefully places your big bra over the chair and returns in an instant to pull you close against his chest.

“Come on, let’s go to sleep.”

“Yeah”, you mumble, body slowly but surely getting flooded by warmth.

“Going to bed sounds good…”

Geto Suguru

You feel hot but at the same time cold, turned on but at the same time scared. This is it, the moment you’ve been waiting for. At this very moment, none other than Suguru Geto is laying on top of you, kissing you so passionately that you forget how to breathe.

What an overwhelming feeling it is to call him your boyfriend for a few months now. Such a kind and loving man, always looking out for you, giving you the time you needed for this to finally happen. You couldn’t believe your own ears when whimpering that you want him, that you are ready.

But are you really ready for showing him that part of your body? The part that began too grow way too early in your life, the part you’ve always got picked on by all the other girls.

“Look, there she is! She looks like a cow ready to milk!”

“That cleavage…She’s literally begging for it, what a bitch.”

“Ew, are those pimples on your tits?”

You know you are better than that, that your big breasts just belong to you and that you should love yourself just the way you are. But with none other than Suguru laying on top of you, his hands slowly but surely coming dangerously close to your breasts…

“Wait”, you breathe out, haunted eyes making Suguru stop in his tracks in an instant.

“Did I do something wrong? If you don’t want to, we don’t-“

“No, this is great. I- … I waited so long for this. But I just wanted to let you know that…”

You swallow hard. Are you acting ridiculous, destroying the moment with your behaviour? Suguru’s chocolate brown orbs don’t show a hint of annoyance. Instead, he gently strokes your hair while waiting for you to move on.

He deserves to know it

“I might not have the nicest boobs. They are big, but not well formed like the ones of those models. I tend to sweat a lot underneath them, my skin breaks out from time to time and my nipples might be-“

“Stop that right now, (y/n).”, Suguru gently interrupts you with a grin.

But it doesn’t look like the grin of the girls who picked on you for years. No, this grin is filled with warmth and loves, fills you with what feels like confidence. After all, he said that he loves you just the way you are over and over, right? Still, he didn’t even see your boobs. What if he changes his mind?

“There is absolutely nothing, and I mean NOTHING about you that isn’t ‘nice’. I don’t care about what the chest of random models looks like, to be honest I don’t care about anyone but you. And you are everything I want, you are everything I see, you are everything I love.”

His words make you tear up in an instant, send your whole body into space. As long as you can remember, no one ever said really nice things about your breasts and therefore you. You were either insulted or sexualized. But that force of a man on top of you…He just looks into your eyes that are filled with nothing but warmth. This man means every word he says.

“Well, that’s cool”, you mutter without even thinking about your words, lost in the sheer sight of his sincere eyes.

There is no one in the world you want to show your boobs more. Like in trance, you pull up the hem of your shirt and let it fall to the floor mindlessly.

“Are you okay with me touching them?”, he purrs against your ear.

A silent whimper escapes your lips while you simply nod, whole body on fire where it touches his. Painfully slow, he lets his hands wander down your hair onto your shoulders, trace the line of your collarbones until he reaches…

Your breasts.

What an unknown feeling. But oh, what a sensation as well. You arch your back out of instinct while he massages your breasts, the feeling of his fingertips against your still skin alone simply driving you insane.

God, who would have thought you’d ever hear Geto Suguru moan against your ear by just looking, touching, squeezing your boobs? His eyes are darkened by lust, the way his heart pounds against his ribcage echoes through your very own body.

“You look absolutely gorgeous. I can’t stop looking at you, (y/n).”

You feel like flying, fainting, losing your balance. There is no doubt in the fact that this man adores you the way you are, that your constant fear of him not liking your large chest was more than unfounded.

“So…you don’t mind the way my breasts look?”, you whimper underneath his bittersweet touch.

“More than that, I adore you”, he replies in an instant. “And now, let me see you in your full glory.”

Yuji/Sukuna

You’re back feels like it might break every minute, shirt dripping in sweat in the sheer heat of the summer sun. You just want to get out of here, away from those disgusting people, back into your dorm. How stupid it was to leave Jujutsu High on your own for a little stroll through the city. Without the protection of Maki or Nobara, without any good friend who shields you from all the unwanted looks your large chest attracts. While most people think it must be a blessing, it definitely is a curse to you 80% of the time.

Just like right now.

“Come on, I just asked for one grab!”, a guy shouts after you.

Out of instinct, you pick up your pace, not even daring to turn around. What did you even do to catch his attention? You gaze down at your breasts that uncomfortably bounce up and down in the way too tight bra you are wearing today. No, you did absolutely nothing wrong. It’s just these disgusting people who seem to see nothing but the size of your chest.

“Why would you want to touch her? She looks like a cow”, the girl next to him comments along with an ugly laugh, making your heart sting in an instant.

“What a slut”, another voice mutters.

“Oh, I didn’t know you are out today! How are you, (y/n)?”

Your heart almost stops inside of your chest, hands beginning to tremble in an instant. No, not him. Not right here when these people are chasing you. If there’s someone you don’t want to hear those things about you, it’s Yuji Itadori.

“J-just…l-leave”, you stutter.

“Huh? But I just met you! Would you like to watch a movie with me?”

“Look, the cow brought her friends!”

“Do you think he’ll get in her pants today?”

“What a lucky bastard, I’d love to touch them just once…”

Yuji’s face drops in an instant when realizing their words are directed towards you.

“Hey, there’s no need to be rude”, he begins but gets stopped by uncontrollable laughter immediately.

You want to die right here on the spot, disappear from the surface of earth. As if being treated like this wasn’t enough, why does it have to be Yuji who witnesses it all?

“Step aside, loser. Let me handle that.”

Sukuna leans forward in his throne, thick anger rising inside of his chest. You, the one who caught his eye when he first saw you. You, with the immense powers. You, with a dangerous mind that could end wars. Who are these people to talk to you in this manner?

“Are you crazy? I definitely won’t let you out right now”, Yuji replies in an instant.

“You aren’t able to help her brat, now get lost!”

“I won’t let you-“

Enough.

“Now who exactly do you losers think you are, huh?”

That voice, that aura? Your mouth feels dry like the desert in an instant, eyes widen in pure shock. No, this is impossible, Yuji is in control over his body, this can’t be-

“With tits like yours, I would be jealous of someone gorgeous like her as well”, he spits at one of the girls following you.

“And you.”

With a swift motion, he grabs on of the guy’s wrists roughly. Just a little more pressure and it will snap.

“P-please. Don’t!”, you shout after him.

Urgh, why does your begging voice make his grip loosen in an instant, what is it about you that made him switch with this brat anyway?

“Were you really just trying to touch her chest? Thinking just because she has a big chest, you are allowed to touch her, to sexualize her, huh? You humans disgust me with your simple desires”, Sukuna continues.

“If it wasn’t for her unshakable character, I would kill every single one of you right on the spot. But for now-“

In the matter of seconds, all their arms hang in unhealthy directions, visibly broken by the sheer force of none other than Ryomen Sukuna.

You want to scream at him, want to run away, want to get away from this place. But on the other hand, a warmth fills your chest. Did the king of curses just stand up for you, protect you from their rude comments?

“Get going”, he barks at you.

“This was unnecessary”, you mumble.

“And give Yuji back.”

“You should be thankful, (y/n). They will worship you for the rest of your life.”

“No, they will be scared of you for the rest of their lives”, you clarify, hands still trembling.

“So what? Nobody gets away with insulting you over your perfect body. Especially not over the size of your chest. How ridiculous…”

You can’t believe your ears, eyes darting towards him in an instant while you turn redder than a tomato. Did he just say that you are…perfect?

“You didn’t mean that”, you breathe out.

“Oh god I’m so sorry (y/n). Did he hurt you?”, the familiar voice of Yuji cries out.

Calm down your tingling nerves, your pounding heart. Sukuna’s gone. Sukuna…stood up for you. Sukuna said you have a perfect body.

What?

“N-No”, you stumble.

How are you supposed to get over this?

Gojo Satoru

Finally. You sit in front of the bar, excited by the smell of alcohol and cheap perfume that hangs in the air. After working your ass off for what felt like an eternity, you decided to use your day off right. You put on the dress that fits you best, packed your purse and went into the first bar you’ve seen.

Damn, when was the last time you were out on your own? With all your friends being out of town for vacation, this definitely is new.

“Not bad”, you mutter to yourself, eyes roaming around people making out, heartfelt laughter and a group of women sipping on their cocktails.

A cocktail, exactly what you need today.

“Hey, I’d love to order something”, you speak out when the waiter finally comes cross you.

What a lucky day, they even have your favourite cocktail in store. You’re usually not the type of girl to go out on yourself, but these last months, you truly learnt how enjoyable time can be with yourself as your only company. You smile to yourself. Yeah, this is definitely something you could get used to.

“There you go”, the friendly male announces and places the glass filled with joy in front of your hungry eyes.

You gift him the sweetest smile you have before taking a sip. Oh, this tastes absolutely amazing.

“I’ve never seen a woman like you alone in a place like this.”

Your heart drops to the floor in an instant, hands holding onto your glass tightly. Ew, a man is certainly the last thing you want to hear right now with the bartender being the only exception. Instead of even looking his way, you just take another sip of your well-mixed cocktail, the music blasting out of the boxes might make him think you can’t hear him and leave.

Honestly, there aren’t many things that creep you out more than men approaching you. Since you’ve reached puberty and your breasts starting to grow bigger and bigger, it almost felt as if you weren’t a person anymore. With rare exceptions here and there, most of them only talked to you because of one thing:

Your boobs.

Is the man sitting next to you one of them?

“Hey, I’m talking to you, gorgeous.”

Your whole body tenses up in an instant, eyes darting towards him by the sound of his harsh voice.

“Excuse me, I’m not up for a talk”, you bite back.

While you did meet genuinely nice men and have some male friends, the one sitting next to you certainly is one of the other categories. God, how much you hate it, being looked down at and reduced to the size of your breasts. You can’t even count how many times you’ve got commented on them, how many men and women just shamelessly stared at your bust instead of your face while talking to you. It’s safe to say you have enough of all of this.

“A woman who presents what she has like that is up for a talk and far more than that. Why would you come here dressed like a slut if you don’t want me to talk to you?”

Your breath gets stuck in your throat, all thoughts vanish into thick air. This disgusting guy with his beard filled with crumbs and breath stinking like the cheapest beer is definitely up for no good. You, dressed like a slut? You wear a basic black dress, the only one your boobs didn’t fall out when trying it on. What the hell is this creep talking about?

“Just because my boobs are big doesn’t mean I’m a slut. Watch how you talk to me”, you bite back.

“I talk however I want to a bitch like you. Are you up to go somewhere more…private?”

The scene that lays itself out in front of Gojo’s eyes is hard to bear. He doesn’t even know the woman in the black dress sitting in front of the bar, let alone the guy sitting next to her. But just one look into your disgusted face is enough to know that something isn’t right. How you cross your arms in front of your chest, your eyes filled with horror, the way you scoop backwards with every word this man says. Are you okay? He shouldn’t let other people’s business bother him. Fuck, wasn’t he here to get his mind off saving everyone all the time? Nah, he should enjoy his evening, drink that new whiskey they offer, just relax and-

You aren’t even able to comprehend what is happening next to you. He stretches out his hand, ready to touch your breasts without consent when another pair of hands stops him mid-air.

“I think the lady said no. Don’t ya think it’s a little over the top to go into a bar and touch a woman’s boobs?”

His voice might sound playful, but your blood freezes inside of your veins by the power he radiates. Just one glance into his face tells you he is like no men you’ve ever met.

“I…She…She said she wanted it to!”, the crumble beard tries to defend himself.

“I said what? Are you out of your fucking mind!? I told you to leave me alone and you harassed me!”, you clarify in harsh tone.

Oh, how much you’d love to break his nose right now, to give him a taste of his own medicine. But the white-haired man seems to have the same plans.

“A guy like you wouldn’t end up with her anyway. That lady has class. And you, my friend, are just a disgusting pervert. Are you touching other women too without consent? Isn’t your first time, huh?”

With a swift motion, he begins to twist the man’s hand around itself. He whines out in pain in an instant, face twisted just like yours before when he talked you down.

“Let me go!”, he cries out in visible discomfort.

“This is what you get for treating a lady so badly. You can be glad she even looked your way.”

When he gifts you a sly grin, you can’t help but blush. What is it about this man that feels so different, so damn inviting? He seems like no other men you’ve met before. And the fact that he just called you lady…Why do your knees suddenly feel weak?

“Now repeat after me: I.am.sorry.for.disrespecting.you.”

“I will not apologize to a girl who’s dressed like a slut!”

A loud crack makes the already muted room go completely silent, the violent scream coming out of this man’s mouth when his wrist breaks like spaghetti echoing through the room.

“Wrong answer”, the white-haired man purrs.

“Hey, would you mind just taking the trash out?”, the barkeeper questions.

“Did you hear that, dirty boy? Let me show you the way!”

“Are you alright? I didn’t even notice he was harassing you. I’m so sorry”, the bartender speaks out towards you.

“Oh, it’s okay.”

You aren’t even able to give him a real answer, eyes glued on the white-haired man who carries your harasser out like trash.

Like in trance you get back on your feet and follow him out into the cool air of the night.

“Have a nice evening!”, he friendly shouts after the man who sprints down the streets like a coward, as fast away as possible.

“You definitely scared the shit out of him”, you comment.

“He definitely deserved it. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m used to shit like that”, you reply with a huff.

“But normally, they aren’t this disgusting.”

“I hate to hear that. You seem like a genuinely badass and nice person. You didn’t deserve his words.”

“Not as nice as my knight in shining armour who stopped him from touching my boobs.”

He lets out a heartfelt laughter, bright blue orbs set on you.

“Hey, what about me escorting you back home? I’m totally in the mood to beat up any other men who gets in your way.”

“Only if you let me join, though”, you challenge him.

“Definitely a deal. Hey, what’s your name?”

“(y/n)”

“(y/n), huh? Cool name, suits you right? My name’s Gojo Satoru. Nice to meet you.”

He stretches out his hand in front of you, inviting you to take it. You can’t help but smile at his sheer excitement. No, you just have to take his warm hand into yours and shake it.

“Let’s get you home, okay?”

Tags: @arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @hellkaiserinphoenix  @lauv4chuuya @shadowfoxey @starlightanyaaa @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen @magalimachete @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut  @mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @chuyasthighs0 @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @wxwieeee @lovelyluna1 @froufrousnowman @tomiokathedepresso  @gojosrealwife  @coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi @weebotaku21 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain  @risuola  @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper @baku2345 @polarbvnny @ruixrei @bam-bam-bam-bame-blog @lavenderdrxp @localhehecat @alicerhr @kayleegomez @belovedvamp @wifenanami @chilichopsticks @dlwlrmas-world @oikawarz@darkstarlight82 @satoreo @luwumii @kentocalls @cheesemachine44 @maya-maya-56 @jinririz @getou0309 @ieathairs

Dividers by @saradika 🤍

[chronically-ghosted]

vivarium

rating: explicit 18+ pairing: ezra x f!reader word count: 8K summary: you request a vacation for your birthday. With the rain and a few drinks, you get a lot more than you asked for.  warnings: alcohol drinking, minor age gap (less than 10 years), oral (f!receiving), fingering, smut, possessive!Ezra, dom!Ezra, one booty smack, dirty talk for real, smut, pining, a bit of angst, referenced/implied orphanhood, made a religious sex pun and i'm so proud of myself a/n: so @morallyinept requested this and it turns out when I write for a boy for the first time, it can’t be less than 7K – whoops. i've gotten ezra requests from some moots before, so i hope this lives up to your expectations! **massive thanks to @toomanytookas for editing and providing the initial validation so i don't post in a mouth-frothy haze. I've never had a beta like you before and I genuinely feel like I've turned over a new chapter in my fic writing. thank you!

🤍Masterlist 🤍 Ezra Masterlist 🤍 AO3 Link

💜come see what else we've done to celebrate 1K followers

Your feet in the clear blue water, the humidity like a wet tongue on your skin, you scratch a nail under the tab of a mustard yellow can, crack it open, and drink. The bite of alcohol dulled by the carbonation, you take several pulls, drawing out the mid-afternoon buzz from two other cans and whetting your mouth in the heat of the jungle day. You lean back on your elbows into the sponge-soft grass, and let out a massive sigh. 

A few feet ahead of you, on a repurposed inflatable reentry tube, your long-time privateer partner chuckles, the sound deep in the back of his throat as he floats by. Thick fingers and exposed heels dragging along in the crystal water, he greets the yellow sun like an old friend – arms wide, chest out, a lazy smile on his face. A damp rag – supposedly clean – sits over what you know to be dark-earth eyes, every other inch of him relishing in the inevitable sun tan. 

“I see your aaahhh, pet, and I raise you a mhmm.” The rubber squeaks as he adjusts, tips his scarred chin up to the cloudless sky and rests his head back. “Kevva said there’d be days like this, but I think the old hag mighta left out a thing or two.” 

You grin, the wet heat of Banu 8’s lowlands drawing sweat droplets onto your hairline at the back of your neck, settling thick behind your ears where it co-mingles with the drunk haze loping around in your brain. You watch Ezra with his bare arms, hairy legs, and prominent nose turned towards the divinity he’s so fond of invoking and the thought crosses your mind – again:

Shit, he’s so fucking hot. 

Oh, bad thought.

You drop your gaze, pressing the cold aluminum lip of the can to your mouth, drinking quicker than you probably should, anything to distract you from your partner as he obliviously floats by. 

For our sake, you silently beg the hungry little creature that whines and snaps at the image of a shirtless Ezra, please fuck off. 

While Ezra whistles a vaguely familiar tune, terribly off-key, you scoop up the cool lagoon water and dribble it over your hot knees, then your thighs, dampening the rims of your make-shift shorts just enough to cool them without leaving them vulnerable to a permanent state of moisture due to the high humidity. You flick the last drops of the water onto your chest, your white cotton bra choked to your skin. A final effect, you press the cool can to the thrumming pulse on your neck, closing your eyes with a relieved grunt, taking the time to enjoy the sensation of the cold metal against the rapid beat in your throat. 

From the water, you hear an unsettled grunt and you open your eyes to find that same shirtless Ezra staring at you, the rag now curled in one hand against the rubber float. He swallows, looks at something past your ear, and again tries to adjust in the sticky rubber float without flipping himself over, his hands falling into his lap. 

“Neptune, dear, would you do us the favor of tossing over one of those cans? I’m parched. I think my lovely skin is drying out.”

Neptune. His favorite nickname for you. You never got any real explanation from him as to why you got that name, other than after you’d officially joined his crew, you told him you came from a blue planet in a far off system. But that was often the way of things: Ezra did something and you didn’t question why. From that simple truth, you learned about how to repair and rebuild the entire electrical system from a drop pod. You learned, in excruciating detail, the parts and mechanics of a thrower, so much so that you could almost identify the model number at a glance. You learned about which corporate dig sites to avoid, which made for easy marks, and which would draw the eye and ire of entities hardly worth the trouble. 

Being out on your own since you aged up out of the orphanage had not gone the way you hoped and life had not been so kind as to teach you any other way to survive. Ezra had found you in the back of a red spice market, cornered and slurping down the last few of your credits from a muck bowl that you had vastly overpaid for.

For whatever reason, he offered you a job on the spot, despite you having nothing to offer him. and no experience in anything except cleaning prophylaxiams and staying out of the way.

And yet, he has been far kinder than life, or anyone else, had ever been to you. 

As a result, loyalty was only a fraction of what you felt for him. What had begun as overwhelming adoration had grown hot to the touch, slippery between your fingers at night, and perhaps – what you feared most of all – obvious. 

Yet when Ezra looked at you with a smile on his face, it was only comradery he wished to share with you, certainly not his bed. He shared it with practically every other bi-pedal humanoid you came across, but not you. And this you had to accept. And you did. 

But being a little drunk made it that much harder to remember where to keep your hands to avoid being burned.

“Sure, Ez.” You tuck your legs out from the cool water and dig around in the canvas bag at the base of the white nut tree. Most of the ice had melted into the bright green grass around the lagoon, but a few of the cans were still cold. You’d probably tease Ezra later for skimping on the insulation bucket the provisions store the port offered, but he had been so eager to get to the camp ground after spending an “exceedingly exorbitant amount of time stacked up against human drivel on public transportation”. One lopsided grin, and you’d give him the world. 

“Ez–,”

He lifts the rag, glancing at you over his shoulder, hands cupped as the can flies through the air. The cold metal presses against the overheated skin on his chest and he hisses. Eyeing the can ruefully, he cracks it open and drinks deep. You busy yourself with sliding to the edge of the pool again to keep from watching his throat move. 

Ezra finally pulls back, smacking his lips, with a pleased groan. He wets the rag again and dramatically flops it over his eyes. Hidden from his view, you watch the roll of water down his temples, his neck, his chest. 

“Name anything better than this, Neptune, I beg you. Free from obligation or assignment on commission. Where my only moral imperative is to drink as many of these as I can and remind you how beautiful you are. Which . . .” he tilts the bottom of the can towards you, head still tilted back on the raft and dripping rag covering his vision, “fantastic, by the way.” 

Having stifled your blush while under his watchful gaze about three or four other times today, without him looking, you flush so hard and fast you go lightheaded. Beautiful, he said. You drink more carbonated alcohol to choke back your rising heart, your eyes skim over the curve of his nose, a drop of sweat as it peaks on his forehead. You can’t linger over him too long; he has a six-sense about you – unable to know what you’re thinking but that you’re overthinking all the same. 

“Was this worth the trip on public transportation, Ez?” Your ankles stir the water again. 

“I could do this all day,” he sighs contently, bringing a warm smile to your face. “And definitely all night.”

Maybe you’ll both be so sun-drunk later tonight, you’ll fall asleep together on the pallet on the floor. Of course, by nightfall, someone will have to come to their senses and you’ll be tucked back into your separate sleeping bags, but maybe, as a present you couldn’t possibly ask for, you can just nap together.

With the bottom plush of your lip stuck between your teeth, you rim the metallic edge of your can with your nail, ankles spinning slow circles in the water. 

“Thank you, Ezra,” you say quietly, “for the best birthday I’ve ever had.” 

It began as a sort of joke one night on the volcanic hotspring moon of Wulkan after a twelve hour shift hunting through the black ash in search of fire pearls. The job was rather rushed, and Ezra had his reservations going into it, but fire pearls were a near certainty and you both needed a boost after a jump exchange had gone a little cockeyed. Sweat dripping from his temples, the provided water packs in the harvest suits doing just enough to keep him from passing out from heat exhaustion, he extended the skein of hydro-electric towards you across the narrow lane between your cots and asked you if you could be anywhere right now, any system, where would you be.

“Somewhere so cold I freeze my tits clean off,” you said with a sigh and wiped your own sweat-drenched forehead. You could smell yourself after two days of sweating profusely, but your stench in comparison to the rest of the crew, including Ezra, barely registered any more. You took a sip as Ezra laughed.

“A grievous crime against humanity and all its luscious gifts, but I get your meaning. Anywhere else?”

“Water.” This was said with more conviction, so much so it turned Ezra’s head towards you. “The few memories I have of my home planet and my parents, we were always near or in water. An ocean, maybe. I’m not sure. But I remember being really, really happy and I think being near water . . . it would make me happy again.”

You handed the skein back to Ezra, something unreadable in his gaze. He took it back from you, his fingers dark from the ash that clings to everything. On the other side of the tent, the rest of your crew and other teams mill about, yelling, with cutlery clattering as the camp gets ready to slow for the night, a graveyard shift picking up in just a few hours. 

Ezra’s eyes are as dark as the ash you’ve been shifting through the past two days.

“Then you shall have it, Neptune.” He said, quietly. “I’d give you the fucking galaxy if I could.” 

Those words often came to you in the crevice between sleep and wakefulness, when your mind was idle and the reins that tightly bound your affection for him loosened without a conscious grip. When you thought you weren’t being watched. 

The flat of his foot hooking behind your ankle breaks you from your reverie. Cast into shadow by the wide, rubbery palm leaves above your head, he looks at you curiously. 

“That look of deep consternation is giving me a headache. Spill.” 

With a faint smile, you gently bump his knee with your own. “Nothing, Ez. I’m just glad we get to take a break from it all. I can’t remember the last time I . . . the last time we’ve just had nothing to do.” 

He cocks his head as his gaze crawls up your ankle, your shin, to your knee. You think it might linger on your thigh before it bounces to your face. You tighten your grip on the hot, expansive feeling behind your ribs and stare back at him.

“Then that’s a black mark against me, as the leader of this clan.” His mouth curls, eyebrow arching as he talks, knowing that statement has been a point of playful contention between you two for years. “A good overseer knows when to crack the bullwhip and when to let it rest.”

“Well, a better overseer knows when to demand that her team rests, because sometimes they have no idea what’s good for them.” 

His foot rotates behind your ankle, his toes brushing against your calf, bringing your attention to your own body part in the water. Your legs are hairy, nearly as much as Ezra’s, and you haven’t shaved your pits in possibly a decade. Ezra once brought home a professional nightwalker, one from the Upper City, to the derelict flat you’d been sharing for two weeks as you offloaded your haul to the under markets. You never forgot how smooth her skin had been, shaved clean and smelling of moon lilies. That scent permeated the small space for weeks afterward. Even now, just the sight of moon lilies makes you nauseous. 

His aversion to you runs much deeper than physical aesthetics, even if you can’t help but wonder sometimes if becoming as smooth and hairless as the nightwalker might change his mind.

“Observational to a fault as always, Neptune.” The ball of his foot rests briefly between your legs before he pushes off from the spongy lip of the lagoon’s edge. He floats back into the sun, his head shaking slightly, a smile drained of amusement on his lips. He inhales as the sun crests over his forehead and he glances up at the blue sky. “I have no idea what’s good for me.”

Something about his tone, the way he turns away from you, scratches a very raw place inside of you – a place that fears and obsesses over abandonment. You wouldn’t survive it if he abandoned you, if he left you to fend for yourself one day. Logically, you know he would never do that – he has sworn up and down to your face that that notion is fundamentally ludicrous to him – but the anguish of him silently rejecting you from his bed again and again and again makes that fragile place inside you bleed red. 

You stand up, swipe another can from the bag, and move towards the waterfall. 

“I’m taking a hike.”

You feel his eyes on the backs of your thighs as you march towards the gentle incline.

“Be safe, Neptune,” he calls softly.

For a fleeting second, you wish he had made you stay.

The first fat raindrop splashes against your cheek and wakes you from a humid, irritated nap. You’re scowling by the time you open your eyes to several more wet droplets as they splatter against your neck, your forehead and you sit up, even more frustrated than when you fell asleep. The last sticky tendrils of dreams snap and pop as you pull yourself onto your feet, back hunched and arm held high against the steamy sprinkle. A crack of lightning, then a growl of thunder, and the sky splits open, drenching you in seconds. With a snarl of your own, you snatch up the empty can from the grass next to you and make for your camp down the hill. As you crest the top, you see a figure standing outside the tent, back tense and hand raised as if searching through the twilight gray downpour. 

Normally, the thought of warming up beside Ezra in your yellow tent fills you with something inexplicable, the grime and load of the day melting from your shoulders, but your buzz from earlier has thickened, made worse by the heat, the emotions in your heart all gummed up and smashed together. The sight of him cranks up your irritation high in your ears. With a huff, you concentrate on a smooth slide down the hill without breaking your ankles and not the fire rising in your gut. 

But the rain and the distance apart has only stoked his own outrage.

“Where the hell were you?” He snaps as you yank back the velcroed tent flap. He is dripping from head to toe in jungle rain as he follows closely behind you into your small space. You ring the water from your hair into a corner and scowl up at him. 

“I fell asleep. The rain woke me up. I came back as soon as I could.” 

His eyes narrow, water rolling off his bare shoulders as if he still stood out in the downpour. The droplets pat pat pat against the tarp floor as he snatches up a fiber towel and dries himself off, scowling all the while. 

“I searched for you, calling your name up and down this fuckin’ jungle and I didn’t hear a peep. What if something had gone wrong? What if you’d been hurt?”

“Then I would have fucking dealt with it, Ezra.” You stomp to your feet, neck hot from his patronizing gaze. Hands on his hips, you feel like you’re being scolded. “I can take care of myself.” 

One dark eyebrow arches mockingly, the scar on his cheek twisting in his scowl.

“And you expect me to lay about, twiddling my thumbs, while I wait for you to return or until you deem it appropriate for me to fret over your corpse?” 

That patch of blonde hair is a shade darker, drenched and pressed flat against his forehead. His bare chest is littered with scars and divots where chunks of flesh had been torn away. His skin is a reflection of the hard life he lives. You doubt you’d look any different if you’d seen yourself in a mirror. 

“We are partners, Ez,” you grind out between locked teeth. “Equals, alright? I am not your little sister for you to fuss over and you are not my keeper.” 

At that, the indignant swell of his chest deflates and the anger in his eyes flickers before fading out. 

“You are beyond capture,” he mutters, eyebrows down but gaze distant. “I’d never dream of keeping you, Neptune.” 

Again, it’s his phrasing that hurts most of all. You glance away, the backs of your eyes growing hot and tight, drying out despite the sticky moisture warming the inside of the tent. But then his hand around your elbow startles away the tears forming in the corners of your eyes. 

“You are the most important thing to me in the entirety of this world and the next,” he says softly, earth eyes searching your face. “I came on too strong, I know that, but the idea that you’d ever be gone from my side for any amount of permanence . . . well, it’s been a lifetime since I’ve felt fear like that.” 

His frown goes belly-up, a hopeless smile on his face. “I wasn’t aware I even still could.” His calloused thumb brushes your skin, skin that nearly catches fire from the rough drag of scar tissue, before he lets his hand drop. Your own curls into a fist at your side, a tremor rattling the bones of your wrist in an effort to keep from reaching up and touching that moon-shaped scar you dream about at night.

“I’m not going anywhere, Ez. You taught me enough to survive in a world like this. But you’re going to have to trust me.”

That smile goes wan, sickly. “That’s the problem, dear heart, I trust you with my life.” 

He swallows, as if suddenly bashful to make direct eye contact with you. He clears his throat before rummaging around in his canvas bag for dry clothes. He yanks a black, sleeveless shirt on over his head before setting up the materials for a flameless pocket fire. 

“Since my dreams of showing you something called a barbeque have been quite literally rained out, we’ll finish off the rest of the dredge pack tonight. But come first light, I’ll fix you breakfast so succulent, the smell alone’ll make your mouth water. How does that sound, Neptune?”

He barely slows to breathe as he seamlessly switches topics from breakfast to another meal made at camp without looking up or stalling in his prep for dinner, hands almost disconnected from the humming of his mouth – one so methodical, the other like a channel rat on fire. 

“– and the thing was no one was really sure enough what a squatter egg looked like when it goes bad. But being out in a cramped hold-out for two weeks where it was so dark, your own ass and someone else’s had no demarcation, well, there wasn’t a single peep of dissimilitude . . .”

Words strung together so quick and so melodic, it was always incredibly easy to fall into a sort of easy trance around Ezra. Sounds and syllables just sounded right coming out of his mouth and after a while, that trance became a state of repose, Ezra’s own sense of calm filtered to whoever was also in the room. But not to you, not right now.

After spending immeasurable time with less than half a space between you in cramped tents and in claustrophobic dig sites, you could read the tension on the lines of his body as well as the lines on the palm of your hand. 

“Neptune? You with me?”

Ezra glances up at you, always aware of you and your movements like the twinge on a spider’s web, a signature smile that has always seemed to shine a bit brighter for you plastered over his face. The anger was the only thing holding you up and with it gone, you can feel your bruised heart twinge as it folds over itself. 

“Yeah, that sounds good. I’m gonna switch out of these wet clothes before we eat, okay?”

He hums, nodding, eyes fixating on the steadily boiling water in front of him as you turn away to the other side of the tent, by your pallet and traveler’s pack. As further evidence that he feels nothing but companionship for you, you feel his eyes remain nowhere near you as you strip off your shorts and bra for a sun-warm suit. Then again, you’d like to think it’s kind of scandalous to be changing in front of him, but you’d both seen each other naked more times than you could count – there is no modesty in foxholes. The space between your hips and your thighs feel sticky from sweat and the slick rain, the curve of your spine warm and flushed. The zipper is loud in the silence. 

You’re braiding your damp hair away from your face when he sighs and the noise makes you look back at him.

“Answer me honestly, if you’ve ever cared for me a tick. Do you regret it?”

His eyes are sorrowful, worried, brow fixed down. Ezra is not, and never has been, a man prone to melancholy. His wrists rest loosely over his knees, gaze deep in the bubbling bone broth. The rain outside taps insistently at the tarp. 

“Regret what?” 

“Coming with me and taking on this life. It’s not an easy one,” he says quietly. “I should have offered you another choice, that day in the market. But one look at you and I . . . I was willing to trust you with my life, Neptune – far, far too soon. Even at my best, you make me irrational.”

You watch him, his broad shoulders moving, as he scoops up the hot, dark liquid into two bowls, and joins you by the entrance to the tent. You pin back the flap as he settles, the scent of humid rain immediately flooding your mouth, the pattering sound now twice as loud. Wordlessly, he hands you a spoon before digging into his own bowl. 

The heat of the soup burns away all the silly, impossible things sitting on your tongue. You sit in silence, his presence never rushing you to answer before you are ready. As you eat, you stare out at the dark lagoon, where you had both been only hours ago, the clear water murky beneath the downpour. 

“No, Ezra, I don’t regret it.” He stills, as if surprised you’re answering him now, mid-meal. He lowers the bowl to his lap, eyes trained on you. “You saved my life, more times than I can count.” 

Your words loosen the rigid lock of his shoulders. He grins. “As you’ve said, you would have been just fine without me.”

Your vision goes blurry. You pin him with such a stare, you watch the blood rush from his face.

“But it would have been only half a life.”

“Don’t kid about that, Neptune, it’s not –,”

“I’m serious.” You put your bowl down and rub your eyes with your sleeves. Of all the ways he hasd seen you bare and naked, he’s never seen you this vulnerable. “I don’t wanna do any of this without you. I want you, Ezra.”

“You have me, dear heart, you have me.”

“Not like that and you know it.” You watch as understanding rolls across his face. His lips part, eyes wider. He swallows and you stare at the ceiling, cheeks suddenly wet and hot. He said he’d never leave you, but what if this is the thing that finally does it? Could he work with you, knowing just how deeply you love him, and not feel an ounce of disgust? “You told me once sex is just a way to pass the time, but never, not once, have you ever even tried to pass the time with me.” 

He swallows, deeper this time, jaw locked, his eyes fluttering with the force of it. He brings his knees to his chest.

“Because it wouldn’t just be passing time with you.” 

In that moment, you’re grateful for the rain, for the sound of something to fill the silence. 

You stare at him, cross-legged in front of the open corner of this yellow tent, abandoned bowls growing colder, but he sits with his leg up, knee to his chest, as if to ward you off. Ward off whatever is growing in your gaze, under the flat bone over your heart in your chest. But whatever is stifling the air in your lungs, is warming his eyes past the point of comfort, barrelling towards expletives and the crass, the lewd and depraved. You cannot go back to having him look at you any other way. 

That look loosens every line in his face when you crawl into his lap, your knees around his hips. The backs of your thighs go damp, even through the suit, pressing down onto his still-damp shorts, and you think his breathing has quickened.

His massive palm hovers near your cheek, unwilling or unable to pull you forward or push you back, his oak eyes searching your face for signs of discomfort as if he had somehow dragged you across the tarp floor. 

“Neptune,” he mumbles as he focuses on the curve of your bottom lip, “this is unwise. You don’t know what you’re asking for.” 

You can feel the hard curve of his shoulders as you follow the lines of his arms and settle them on his collarbone. Nothing has happened that can’t be undone – not yet. Your perfect, vicious Ezra hasn’t pressed you flat on your back like you thought he would at the hint of sex. You could return with your dignity tomorrow morning, this moment never spoken of again, and he’d let you have that. The shake of his elbow with his palm against the tarp is the only indication that something might be unsettling to him. 

But it is your birthday after all. Maybe he’d let you have this one thing. He doesn’t know you’ll die without it.

“If you don’t want this . . . if you don’t want m-me, then say something. Push me away and I’ll never bring it up again.” You cup the sides of his neck as your hips shift forward, closer to him. The air in your lungs tightens, breath coming in shallow pants. Only then does he drop your gaze and fixate on your encroaching heat. “At least then I’ll know.” 

There. Out loud. It’s been said, heard above the deluge of rain against the tent and the jungle outside. 

His palm finally settles on your cheek. It brings a sense of wholeness to you like you’ve never known. Your eyes flutter shut at the sensation, a breathy exhale pours out of your mouth. His thumb catches the plush curve of your bottom lip and he draws it towards your chin, his own mouth open, enraptured. 

“Sweet thing, how have you not always known?” 

His mouth is humid against yours, as if he swallowed the jungle while looking for you, his thumb releasing your lip to capture with his own. The tip of his pointer finger massages the hinge of your jaw, just below your ear, and he manipulates your head until your mouth parts like he wants.

His tongue skims your upper lip, a tentative exploration into the unknown rewarded with a low groan that is warmed by the heat coiling low in your hips. You taste his tongue, a hot glide inside your mouth, and you feel his arms slip around your lower back, his inhale of breath sharp across your face as he brings you closer. He bites your lips roughly, the spark of pain and pleasure crackling across your face as if you’d brushed a live wire. 

His fingers wrap around your wrist, prying you from the back of his neck, just for a moment, his eyes heat-soaked. You suck your teeth, mouth open and seeking, and the hand around your jaw drops to your collarbone, the breadth of his palm nearly suffocating your throat.

The briefest pressure – the slightest touch – at the pulse at the bottom of your neck and your hips rock forward into him as he flattens his other palm to your ass, clutching you to him and pinning you to the pallet.

His teeth scrape against the curve of your ear, pinching the cartilage between his incisors, while his hands frantically search up and down your waist. His weight smothers you, his stomach breathing into yours, the flat plane of his chest rubbing your nipples raw against your suit, an unfocused lurch to his hips every time you tug on his hair. With every breath, every time you try to savor his touch, the taste of his mouth is like a wave, dragging you forward, wrapping a dizzy chain around your throat and squeezing.

Ezra’s greatest weapon has always been his mouth, that silver string spinning faster the longer he captivates you, spell-bound. Now he uses to decimate you in entirely new ways. 

The suck of his lips against the moist flesh below your ear distantly distracts from the afterburn of his unkempt beard against your jaw, your cheek. His lips alternate patterns of reward with a plush kiss and punishment with a stern nip when you try and stifle a moan. The edge of his shirt is damp from resting against his shorts when you slip your fingers underneath to palm the small of his back. He stills when you run your fingers around to the front of his trunks. 

His hand curls around a clump of hair at the base of your skull, his eyes darker than volcanic ash. The steady heat of his groin against your thigh is a sensation you’ll chase for the rest of your life.

“You know what happens when you touch a man there, Neptune?” He’s breathing hard, you both are, and the way he snags your hair in his fist has your head twisted at an odd angle, but you’d be damned to a Kevva-forgotten corner of the cosmos before you drop his gaze. You nod and that moon-shaped scar on his cheek twitches. “I know I didn’t teach you that.”

“L-learned it – somewhere else – Ezra.” Your mouth isn’t working properly, your lips swollen from his kisses, the slight pain in your scalp making it difficult to focus, while your cunt tightens hungrily. “Had to.”

“Yeah? Why’s that?”

“Because you wouldn’t give it to me.” 

He leans back, his forearm tense and corded where he has you by the hair, a seemingly disinterested scowl on his face. But by the throbbing length pressed up against you, so far from where you need him the most, he is anything but. 

“So you’re saying this is my fault?” Without breaking eye contact, his chest raised inches above yours, his fingers snag on the blue zipper by your collar and your breathing nearly stops. He hums to himself, eyes following the path of the zipper as the material separates, click by click by click. When it reaches your belly button, he stops. 

“Ezra –,” it’s a whine and you can’t even chastise yourself for it. And neither, it seems, can he. 

Head tilted as if curious about the label of a box beneath colorful wrapping, he dips his wide hand beneath the edge of your suit. The heat that radiates from his palm against the curve of your stomach has you writhing underneath him, your knees drawing up to his hips, trying to catch any relief. 

But he takes his self-satisfied time. Callouses of a hard-won life snag and drag over the soft paper-thin skin that covers your ribs as he maps you in one hand. When he cups your right breast in his palm, the noise you make is a sob of gratitude. 

“You let another man besides me do this to you?” 

The snarling pit of your own thoughts slows as some awareness realizes he’s speaking to you. 

You swallow, clutching his bicep, begging for forgiveness before even opening your mouth to answer. 

“It didn’t mean anything, Ez, it wasn’t you – it meant nothing to me–,”

“But you let someone else touch what’s mine, hm?” That lazy, slightly irritated look on his face, he rotates his hand, squeezing the cup of your tit again, before sharply pinching your nipple. 

“Ezra–,” you choke out and his thigh shifts between your legs, just close enough to feel the heat but nowhere near close enough to grind against. His thumb rotates the raised flesh slow enough to capture and catalog every sigh it draws from you, his eyes catching between his hand and your relaxed face. 

He wears the same expression he does when sitting in the backs of blackmarket tea shops and smoky alebins. When the prospect of striking gold becomes all he can think about.

“Strip.” He suddenly commands. He lifts off you just enough for you to wrench your arm through the armhole, all the while keeping a rough palm on one breast, and then the other. You watch him massage your flesh and your ribs tremble with an unsteady breath. Only when a slightly cool breeze meanders over your bare shoulders and chest do you realize that the tent flap is still open, your head inches from the edge. A perfect and unimpeded view to anyone who wants to watch him hungrily grope your tits. Embarrassment peaks sharply, despite his hand pressing you into the tarp, you wrench your neck back and look over your shoulder through the window of the open tent as if you need to confirm that you are giving the jungle a floor show.

“Ez– shit, the flap–,” 

He finds that the skin beneath your breast had grown sticky and slick from sweat, the humidity still oppressive even with a breeze. He bends his head and licks that same sweaty path and your attention snaps back to him, nails curling against his scalp, his warm breath a high-intensity balm to your roughly-played-with nipples. 

“Not a soul in sight, Neptune,” he murmurs lazily into your ribcage, his nose running up and down the valley between your tits. “And if there were, let them learn a thing or two.” 

His teeth nip the swell of your stomach as he crawls down your half-naked body. Without his heat and hands, the tenderness from his attention on your breasts ratchets up to an ache, a minor preoccupation before he hooks his fingers around the rest of the jumpsuit and tugs. 

You are naked beneath him, swollen chest rising and falling, your knuckles scraping against the pallet as you search for something to grip with all your might. You smell of lagoon water and hot jungle air, of muggy photosynthesis and algae. The smoky scent of the black ash of that distant planet never really left Ezra and the dampness of the rain seems to stir it up. He towers over you, dark and breathing heavy. Smoke and brimstone.

He gropes your ankles, then your calves, hands gliding over the thick hair there – now grown soft in length – as he slowly spreads your legs, with a light you’d never seen before in his eyes. 

“Neptune, I revolve around you.” 

A wave of anxiety lurches up your throat when he brings his mouth to your cunt, the cloying, imagined scent of moon lilies threatening to tear you out of the moment – he won’t want you wild like this – but it’s forcefully yanked back down with a single stripe of his tongue. His previously casual, authoritative persona cracks when he buries his face into your unkempt curls and lets out a deep, overly pleased moan.

Your back bends and he’s gathering up your limbs in his arms to pin them down, nearly resting his forehead on your pubic bone. A few more licks, some deeper than others into where you drip for him, and your thighs start to shake. His fingers around your thighs squeeze roughly against your flesh and pull you further apart. 

Between the flush of slick seeping from you at an embarrassing rate and the wiry hair kept natural out of a certainty no one would see it, he must be drowning or choking, his tongue flicking and sliding, nose prodding your clit just enough to spread the sparks of arousal up through your spine. Feeling as though you’re losing your grip on reality, you sink your hands into his hair, thumb rubbing back that blonde patch, and tug. The moan he shoots into your cunt as he rocks forward into your touch has you whining helplessly. The tarp squeaks where he rubs his hips into it. 

His arms curled around your thighs, your hips shake with restraint against every lap of his tongue until he flicks your clit and your hips grind up against his obliging mouth, a sunspot of pleasure flaring brightly. But all too soon, Ezra lifts up onto his elbows, his hands smoothing across your stomach and he pops his mouth up from your wet folds. With an irate gasp, the swell of bliss fading, your gaze snaps down to plead with him, but he shakes his head.

Wordlessly, he takes one hand from your thigh and wipes his mouth clean with a swipe of his fingers. Then, with his eyes wide, the skin around his mouth loose, he crooks two fingers at the top of your mound before sliding them down where his mouth was seconds ago and presses them inside of you. That simmering in your low belly roars back to life and you toss your head against the unforgiving pallet, eyes slamming shut. He growls at the obscene sucking noise your cunt makes as he plucks at you, in and out. 

“Oleaginous,” he hums, so quietly, it might have been for him. He tongues your clit lightly, pushing his fingers as deep as they can go, watching you thrash. “Mine. Understand?” You remember that tone of voice from when he had you dissecting throwers on a workbench in front of him. You nod, eyes fluttering open, balancing on the precarious edge of release. 

You want to obey his every word. 

His thumb twists up, opening your clit to him and within a whispered breath of “good girl” he sucks your bundle of nerves and launches you into orbit. 

Your entire body goes stiff from the force of it, only to crash back down into his waiting hands, your voice wavering on a high-pitched, girlish wail that shrieks above the sound of rain. Waves of bliss lap at every nerve ending and your vision goes fuzzy for a minute, the only sound you can register is the pounding of your blood in your ears.

And then you register the steady, wet plunge of his fingers still dragging in and out of your pussy.

“Was that mine?” 

Your clit tingles from overstimulation, but you’d rather die than have him stop – you want to answer, if only you could pick up the pieces of your voice. You can only nod, whining. He presses a wet kiss to your inner thigh, the skin there smeared with your release.

“You did a bad thing, letting someone else touch what’s mine.” He scolds, rubs that spot inside you that makes your eyes roll back in your head, holds his finger to it until it burns. You cry, his punishment evident. “Now you have to apologize, Neptune.” 

You nod again, mouth wrenched open as he drags you back and forth across pleasure and pain. 

“Y-y-yes, Ezra,” the words are bone dry, cracked between your teeth. “I’m sorry.” 

Pure wickedness strikes those earth eyes and scorches them a singed black. 

“Unfortunately, atonement is a fickle thing,” Ezra tuts, dragging his lips across your thigh in a mockery of a kiss, “and I’m not quite ready to offer absolution. Despite your offerings,” he wipes his mouth with a stroke of his palm, “this godhead remains rigid.” 

You whimper. He grins with a mouthful of teeth.

Ezra pulls back onto his knees and shuts your thighs, his hand palming your ass as he indicates that you should turn. Your entire lower half still feels like jelly – no one has ever made you come that hard with just their mouth before – but you obey. You stagger onto your hands and knees in front of him. 

His wide palm appears beneath your chin.

“Spit.”

You do.

That spit-wet hand cups your still wet cunt, middle finger rubbing briefly against your clit, before it disappears. You feel him move closer, hear his slick hand pump himself a few times with a grunt. Hot lips drag up your spine, interspersed with the nip of teeth, and when he lays across your back, his hands overtaking yours and threading your fingers together, his bare chest presses up against the skin of your back and you shudder. 

He noses your temple, his throbbing cock coated between your folds. He bites at your jaw and follows your line of sight through the open tent flap. 

“Breathtaking, isn’t it? All that moisture, dripping and running over smooth rock and fern. All that heat coagulating in spaces it shouldn’t fit. All that . . . open field, for anyone to just wander into. Take a look around and smell the air. Could they smell you like I can, Neptune? The way you leak for this cock?”

As he hums filth in your ear, his hand settles again at the base of your throat, thick fingers squeezing just enough to threaten, before sliding down to your swinging breasts, rough palms catching your swollen nipples, then arching down your stomach and between your legs. 

He plays slowly with your clit; barely enough stimulation and he knows it.

“Ask for forgiveness.” He croons in your ear. The breeze returns for a moment, and between the heat of him mounting you like a feral animal and the hesitant touch of outside air against your sweaty chest, you shudder with a groan. 

“I’m sorry, Ezra. I’m so–,” his middle finger increases its pressure slightly and the words shatter in your mouth, “sor-ry.” 

“And for what?”

He continues to rub between your folds and the minute hitch in his breath is more intoxicating than anything he’s done so far. This is affecting him just as much as it does you. He kisses your jaw then tugs on the skin with his teeth. 

“For letting a-anyone but you t-touch me.”

Ezra presses his damp forehead into your shoulder, panting, your correct answers soaking the neurons in his brain. Your reward is the faster stroke of his finger. 

“And why was that a reprehensible thing to do?” His hips rut into yours, the scrape and rub of his cock between your slick lips and thighs almost enough to set you off. 

“Because it’s yours – I’m yours – f-fuck, Ezra, I’m yours, I only wanna be yours,” you sob. 

He’s suddenly gone from above you and the loud crack of his hand against your ass cheek deafens you for a minute, the sting skittering up your back and down your thigh. 

“Good fuckin’ girl.”

Your elbows shudder, the weight of his tone, his hand nearly forcing you onto your chest with your ass still in the air. You wanna be so good for him. 

He’s breathing hard and his skin is warm and damp where you feel his thigh press against the back of yours. There’s a measure of restraint he’s showing and it makes your heart pound in anticipation. You swing your hips back at him, as if you could catch yourself on his cock. 

“I wanna show you I’m yours,” you cry, nails curling into the pallet. “Please, Ezra, please!”

His broad hand settling on your spine draws a hiccup out of you, a sob. 

“Breathe . . . Good girls get what they need.” 

On an exhale, his blunt tip spreads you apart and he shuffles closer as he thickens inside you. His loud, unabashed moan overwhelms yours, when you think you might just be devoured by him. His hand, the one at your hip, squeezes you, silent reassurance. You can feel the knuckles on his other hand against your slick lips as he feeds himself into you.

“Neptune, talk to me. How,” your cunt tightens around his girth at the sound of his voice coaching you along and he grunts, as if suddenly dizzy, “h-how do you feel?”

“Amazing, Ez. Please keep going don’t stop I can take it–,” 

He obliges; something’s reconnected the wires in his brain enough to tell him to move. He huffs before sinking deeper and your eyes roll back in your head. He bottoms out and waits again, letting you both catch your breath. 

“Spent a hundred moons thinking about this.” The puff of breath against your shoulder is the only warning you have before he presses his mouth to your skin. His hand free of your clutch, his thumb softly rubs the muscle of your neck. He kisses you and kisses you and kisses you, wherever he finds bare flesh. “Would wake up in the night, with you a few feet from me, looking like divinity made sin, made real, but I wasn’t worthy to touch you. You got me all tongue-tied, Neptune, all mucked up in the head. A silly boy,” he purrs.

You glance over your shoulder, unsure which Ezra is going to meet your eyes, but wanting all of them. The man you feel most safe with in this world and the next greets you and you reach back and squeeze his hand. He chuckles softly, and with it, comes a gentle roll of his hips. You gasp, airily, your gaze slipping from his face to his chest, to the steady breathing in his stomach, and then to the growth of hair that fades as it reaches up his low belly. How many times did you sit across the room from him with your fists in tight balls, watching as he regaled exploits of riches and wonder, all the while thinking about how thick his cock is outlined in his suit – you’re so blinded by breathy dreams of what the musky scent of his cock must taste like that you miss that he’s pulled out farther, halfway now, and you are completely knocked senseless when he thrusts back in, a beat faster. 

“Later, Neptune. I’ll let you suck my cock later, but right now I’ve gotta ride this pussy to oblivion.” 

Your thighs quake at his promise, cunt squeezing him, and he huffs, picking up speed.

“I felt that. You really like sucking cock that much?” 

All you can answer him with is a whine. Your knees are starting to ache from the barest cushion the tarp provides, the palms of your hands sore, but you can’t find it in you to remotely care. With every stroke, he fills you up to a breaking point before riding you back out. Moaning gratefully, you finally drop onto your elbows, your cheek scraping against the pallet with every forceful thrust behind you. He tilts your hips up higher, on one knee to fuck down into you; he’s searching with his cock for that spot that made your brain numb. 

Like a flood, you feel bliss roll down your spine, his hands on your lower back pulling you up another peak, and you gasp, at the edge of a very, very long drop, the sounds in the tent as sticky and wet as the rain outside.

But Ezra’s sounds are loudest of them all. Grunting. Hissing. Moaning like he’s fucking the best pussy of his life. You open one eye, glancing over your shoulder and the sight drops open your mouth. Hips pumping forward, skin dewy with sweat, he breathes like a freshly broken-in stallion, relieved that something finally bested him. Chest full and tight with muscle, flushed pink with roaring blood. Stomach torqued with tension. His rhythm is caught between his hands pulling you onto him and his cock thrusting into you. A frantic beat that bounces wet and hot, mouth agape and eyes rolling shut, his head drops back between his shoulders. You push back slightly and he stutters, the hand on your hip tightening. 

“Not gonna last, Neptune–” he grits, his jaw locked tight. The image of him actively staving off an orgasm for you to finish first has been imprinted on your brain for the rest of your life. 

“J-just a little harder, Ez.” 

He obeys, submitting as you had for him, sweat curling around his neck and down his chest. 

As release barrels down on you, those mahogany eyes catch and hold yours in a second that lasts through infinity. They promise you things that you didn’t know you asked for, those eyes, made vows only your soul could hear. You see, in that instant before you are swallowed whole, that he’d die at your feet, if you asked him to. He’d give up every worldly treasure he won through grit and his teeth if you needed it or wanted it. If it made you happy.

His Neptune – in the crushing grip of your gravity. Willingly caught in the trail of your comet as you fill up his night sky.    

“Yeah, that’s it, right there – Ez-ra!” 

His face blown out in near ecclesial bliss is the last thing you see before your vision goes white. Your heart pounds in your ears so loudly, it's the only thing that exists for an instant. And then you shatter with a perfectly soft cry, bliss breaking across you like a heavy wave, and you succumb to exhaustion. 

Behind you, he groans, fucking you faster through it, snarling something entirely incomprehensible. 

You think you might say his name, you don’t know what your mouth is doing, but whatever you say, it breaks him and you are dragged through another low shock, the flood of cum deep into your achy cunt enough to contract your walls again, his harsh groan stuffing your ears just as full. 

The rain is barely louder than your desperate attempts to breathe. 

The tarp crackles as you slump forward onto your stomach, Ezra dropping to his side with half his body over yours. Panting raggedly, his hand curls up to the base of your neck, a reassurance of his presence and commitment when words have failed him. 

You lay like that for a long time.

And then, when feeling starts to return to your limbs, you turn your head, your nose rubbing against his. When you breathe hotly across his face, he grins a satisfied grin that splits into a chuckle. You laugh with him too, curling up into his chest, his forearm is sticky across your spine, and he kisses your forehead.

Staring up at the tarp, together you listen to the rain. 

In the long drawn out, buzzy silence, his nails scratch the base of your skull. And then, like he remembered something vital, he picks his head up and looks at you.

“Do you want this to change things for us?” 

“Yes.” You cup the muscles of his thick neck. “Yes, Ezra. I want this to change everything between us. Please.” 

He smiles, unguarded and open. 

“Wild horses never stood a chance . . . especially against these tits.” He nips at the swell of your breast and you laugh. “I had no plans of letting you go in any case . . . but we are bound from this day forward. You know that, don’t you?”

You nod. A stroke of heat passes over his eyes and  Ezra leans forward to kiss you, his hand on your cheek pulling you in close, as close as you can be, two sticky bodies, cum-dried and tingling.

“And if we’re going to spend every year of our lives together, I have a question for you.” he pushes away a stray strand of hair stuck to your face, nose tip to nose tip, “did you have a good birthday, Neptune? Are you satisfied?”

With a giggle that has his eyebrow arching playfully, you kiss his cheek.

“I already told you. This was the best birthday I’ve ever had.” 

+

[cry4mina]

Take Me Back To Eden - The Summoning (Part 5)

(Nayeon x Fem!reader) & (Mina x Fem!reader)

Take Me Back to Eden - Choke Hold - Part 1

Take Me Back To Eden - Granite - Part 2

Take Me Back To Eden - Aqua Regia - Part 3

Take Me Back to Eden - Ascensionism - Part 4

Word Count: 8.1k

Fluff/Angst/Suggestive

Summary: Y/N leaves Nayeon's apartment and gets a phone call from an unexpected person, resulting in a hang out session that quickly develops into a series of unexpected events.

TW: Cursing, teasing, momo is there for a second, mina is here, references to sex, making out for sure, abusive behavior (nayeon is crazy yall) a dream sequence thats a little wild, choking, crime, uh....jihyo is upset? its a lot lmao

A/N: We are taking an interesting turn in the story lmao. Per usual we are thanking the moots bc they listen to me rattle ideas off constantly and keep me sane while I stress myself out lmao @saiiidahyunee @nr1chaedickrider @miinatozakiii and @neoplatinum. <3 I also did not proof read this one as much as the others bc I don't have as much time on my hands now, so sorry if it seems a little off but thank you for reading either way<33

--

“Mina?” perplexed immediately at the idea of the quietest person you were acquainted with calling you, especially at a time where you were completely overwhelmed. 

“Momo told me what happened and I asked for your number… I hope that's okay.” She's so soft spoken it almost shocks you to hear her say this many words at once.

Slowly coming to a halt at a red light while putting your phone on speaker and replying “Yes, that’s totally okay…uhm, sorry, I’m…a little all over the place right now.” mind flashing back to the struggle of processing what possessed you to let your guard down around Nayeon…again.

This was the first real conversation you were having with Mina, always around each other but saying few words, with the exception being pleasantries and small conversations about video games that had just been released or what lego sets she was currently building. 

There was a comfort there, an almost silent respect for who and how she was. Calm, quiet, collected in the face of new company. Shying away from conversation but always aware of everyone around her. 

The members of Twice, especially Momo, always teased her about being so silent. It was always in good fun, but there were a few times you stepped in to tell her to lay off Mina and to respect that she was on the quieter side instead of pushing her to the point of speaking when she didn’t want to. 

It’s almost like she can hear the hesitancy in your voice and your eyes searching around you as you try to figure out what to say to break the awkwardness that was brewing. You weren’t exactly in a stable mindset at the moment, for multiple reasons and weren’t exactly sure what the phone call was for. 

“I know we don’t really know each other too well but…uhm, I know we have some common interests and that you could probably use a friend right now…so I figured I would call and see if you wanted to get a coffee or something…or maybe just sit on the couch and play videogames or…  something.” half way stumbling through the sentence, showing a little nervousness as she spoke. 

Myoui Mina wants to hang out? The same Mina who barely speaks up during group activities, is asking to spend time with you? Not that you would oppose her company but it seems so out of character for this to be happening. 

“That sounds…really nice. I’d love to. Would you…want to text me your schedule for the next week or two and we can plan it from there?” Smiling back at her through the speaker attempting to hide the disbelief that overshadowed most of your other feelings.

“Sounds good, I’ll text you.” sounding a little panicked, she hangs up as quickly as she calls.

She was right, with you two having a few hobbies in common, it was unfortunate that you hadn’t hung out before. Nayeon was always so “protective” over you that there were certain members she wouldn’t let you hang out with alone. Jihyo, for obvious reasons, Sana, and Mina.

 You didn’t pretend that you understood why she was so adamant on you not hanging out with Sana alone until now. Hindsight is 20/20 and Nayeon was worried that you would find comfort in the arms of someone else the same way she did. The puzzle suddenly solved, the behavior that you used to view as protective, now unmasking itself to divulge its true form. Control.

 You were simply a bragging right to Nayeon and nothing else. “Look how amazing she is, that she did this for me.” always bragging about you to her members, especially when Jihyo was there. Motive is only clear now, as you unfold the intricate details and analyze her behavior from your memories. 

Possessive, controlling, and selfish. The behavior she showed you was very well disguised but small moments reveal the truth. Her covertness was easily picked apart now that you were close to having all the information when a loud horn blares from behind you. Looking up to a Green light, hitting the gas pedal quickly as you continue on the way home, trying not to get too wrapped up in your head. 

Your phone starts vibrating again, being sure to check the name before you answer this time. Momo’s name lights up on the screen, “Speaking of the devil” huffing because you wanted to sort out this wearisome information you were pulling apart in your mind. Deep breath as you slide to answer the call.

“Hey Momoring, what’s up?” Putting on a cheerful sound in a bid to drown out the overstimulation you were experiencing, but Momo could always see right through you, being one of the people who knew you best. 

“Y/n, where are you??” sounding a little baffled, and reflecting concern as she spoke.

“Uhm…” leaning forward to catch one of the passing street signs.

“Passing 72nd about to get on the highway…is everything okay?” showing worry for the way she spoke, wondering if you should change routes and go to Momo’s instead of home. 

“I’m fine but I’m coming over.”  hearing the car door slam, keys jingling, and the ignition start over the speaker. 

“Let yourself in if you get there before me.” squinting as you reply, wondering if there are any visible marks on your skin or how disheveled you look, Momo would be sure to notice and say something. 

“Perfect, I’ll see you soon.” Momo curiously laughed as the call ended which got you wondering why she was rushing over to your place as you merge onto the highway. 

Driving on the highway at this time of day was easier than anticipated. Allowing you to get lost in your head as you continued on the path to home. Flashes of Nayeon underneath you rewind in your head, disgusted by your actions and stirring in your seat, revealing your sweater sticking to your back.

More flashes of her scraping roughly down your back as you attack her neck with your teeth, grazing them along her throat lightly, pinning her to the mattress, fucking her face and then just leaving afterwards. Using her as an allegory for taking back your freewill that you didn’t know you were missing. 

__

The new apartment was brighter and warmer than the last, welcoming you back home when stepping through the door. The living room to the left and the kitchen straight forward, you happily look at the space you’ve decorated for yourself. 

Most of the colors were different shades of gray. Black and white accents with hints of green displaced here and there, mostly by the plants you purchased wanting to have some semblance of life in the rooms, Nayeon never watered the plants so they always died but you were determined to integrate the things you once loved back into your life. 

Two matching gray couches lay diagonally from each other with a long black coffee table filling out the space in between, your favorite bamboo candle in the middle of the table, a tv remote, and a few books scattered around the table, illuminated by the fireplace to the right of the seating arrangements.

 A large flat screen mounted on the wall and a credenza underneath, holding the gaming consoles you bought for yourself when you moved in.

Nayeon was never one for video games and did everything in her power to keep you from playing them, even on your phone. Always distracting you when you were in the middle of a match, always standing in front of the TV in something lacey. Sliding her hand down the front of your pants while kissing your neck, as you tried to play your handheld. 

Not minding it too much at first, she has an extensive lingerie collection and you loved to admire her in all of them, but all of your own hobbies got pushed to the side as time went on. A tactic to control that you didn’t recognize sooner.  

Momo was already on your new couch, making herself at home when you arrived, walking straight to the living room and placing your collection of things down on the coffee table loudly, glaring at her like you had just seen war.  

Looking up at you from her phone, she audibly gasps at the state of you. Hair completely tousled, tired eyes, light marks all over your neck, and your sweater on backwards. Mess was a really nice way to put it.

“I know what you did!” shrieked out of Momo's mouth while you’re turning beet red and fidgeting with your sleeves silently. Puckering your lips and trying to escape the awkwardness you feel as she gawks at you openly, despite your embarrassment.

“You look so red right now! I didn’t know if I believed Jihyo when she told me what happened but now I can safely say she was telling the truth” belly laughing at the idea of Hyo getting a taste of her own medicine and Nayeon being exactly who she showed herself to be. 

“What did you just say? You talked to Jihyo?! It only took me like 10 minutes to get home and she’s calling people about it?!” surprised at how quickly the news traveled through the grapevine, wondering who else she called to tell. 

“A pissed off Jihyo works fast. Told me that she walked into Nayeon’s apartment with you leaving, neck covered in marks” pointing at your neck, tongue between her teeth as she bites back a laugh, “and Nayeon, naked in the bed absolutely covered in bruises. Hyo said that she could barely get her talk…I take it you put in some work, no?” Poking fun at you while she laughed so hard she slaps her knee.

Hands flying to cover the unease on your face while collapsing into the couch adjacent to the one Momo was on, belly first, letting out a long whine. This was going to be a big deal and what were the rest of the members going to be told when you stop showing up to functions with Nayeon? Would Nayeon tell them the whole truth or just that you weren’t together?

Hating the idea of what you said to Jihyo when you left the apartment, knowing it was out of anger and halfway wanting to apologize for your actions but brushing that feeling off quickly. Needing to solely focus on yourself instead of trying to make anyone else feel better. Heavily empathizing with what Hyo might be feeling currently.  

“Wait, so this just happened…like less than an hour ago?” quizzically asking like Momo didn’t already know the answer just to bring you back from whatever was going on in your head.

“Less than that actually” muffled by the couch and your hands while you spiral into an entire inner monologue about why, when you feel like it should’ve never happened, letting out a sigh and showing signs of stress.

“Jihyo is absolutely the angriest I’ve ever heard her, it’s kind of funny to know karma is almost instant for her. She did mention that she wanted to talk to you and asked if I had heard from you…I told her no but she didn’t believe me.” Momo interrupts herself to change the topic of Jihyo in all of this back to you.

 “I mean…what happened anyway? You were anti-nayeon for the last few weeks, did something change or?” questioning your motive as she sees you distressed.

“Oh I know she’s mad and I don’t know, - I just went back to get the rest of my stuff and she was following me around the house,” sitting up and leaning back trying to relax. Stinging on your back, another reminder of the story being told, as you move trying to get comfortable while halfway wincing. Momo cocking her head to the side as you suck air between your teeth

“What was that?” 

Eyes widen for a second, “Nothing!” expeditiously spoken.

“She fucked your back up again, didn’t she?” Half laughing again as you attempt to continue what you were saying. 

“Anyways, she said she wanted to talk so I turned around and she just looked me in my eyes and kissed me…I didn’t really know what to do because I mean-” scooching to the edge of the couch and putting your elbows on your knees and holding your chin as your eyes dampen.

“It’s Nayeon…I know I shouldn’t care, and I’m trying not to but even if the last 3 years weren’t real for her…” choking on your words as they come out unfiltered. “It was real for me.”

More tears falling, this was a mistake. Reopening the wounds that were still healing as you sat with yourself, taking in the knowledge that people were upset with the choices you made didn’t sit well, even if those people were involved in hurting you.

Sad eyes sitting on the couch diagonal to you, realizing that intentions weren’t to hurt anyone else, as she watched. Momo wished she knew what to do in the face of this or knew what to say to comfort you, there was a feeling of sorrow in her, a space held for her best friend’s troubles. 

“Jihyo also said that you had something interesting to say to her before you left” smirking and biting her lips, trying to suppress a smile. Bringing it up knowing it would make you laugh and momentarily forget the anguish you were almost drowning yourself in.

“Oh, did she?” replying with a snarky tone, unable to remember most of the encounter with Jihyo due to adrenaline, being angry with Jihyo for sleeping with your girlfriend behind your back, and wanting to get the fuck out of there before Nayeon could try to talk to you again. 

“I don’t really think she will be much use to you tonight but you can try and, oh, I hope you like the way I taste.” Momo shouted back at you, cackling as she held her stomach leaning as far back into the couch as she could, pulling the sides of your mouth up as she continued.

“That is so out of pocket, but honestly, hilarious!” bellowing out at you as you start to giggle at the statement made, knowing that she was trying to make light of the situation but also appreciating that you said something so petty. 

Originally feeling bad for saying anything, jaw tightening for a second as  “An eye for an eye” wasn’t normally something you believed in and it wasn't really your plan to go and sleep with Nayeon, it kind of just happened. 

“Hey, is it okay if Dahyun comes here after her schedule? She apparently got that call from Jihyo too.” 

“Of course, you don’t even have to ask!”

A phone clattering against the table as it interrupted your conversation, vibrating twice before stopping. Reaching for it to see an unfamiliar number on your screen and a list of times and dates, a schedule? Mina’s schedule.

“Hey, I forgot to mention, Mina called me today” nonchalantly mumbled to Momo over the tv show she had put on in the background. 

Gasping loudly, sliding her fingers through her hair, eyes bewildered while leaning closer, “She CALLED…you?” comes out of her mouth so quickly, surprised your ears could even break down what she said. 

“Yeah, weren’t you the one who gave her my number?” a little disoriented by the response, as if she was surprised Mina contacted you at all. 

“She doesn’t even call me and I’ve known her for a decade.” astonished that her adopted younger sister would reach out through a phone call and not a text… 

“We are going to hang out sometime soon. She just sent me her schedule so we could plan it.” looking back at your phone to “heart” the text Mina sent and replying for the following day in the early afternoon, making sure to save her phone number in your phone with a little penguin emoji.

“Mina is going to leave the house?” stunned as you spoke about your future plans with Momo’s favorite homebody. 

“I take it she doesn’t do that often either?” chuckling back at Momo while you open a delivery app on your phone and choosing a restaurant with a low delivery time. 

“I’m hungry, what do you want from the Thai place down the street?” asking as Momo grabs your phone to put her order in it.

“Oh, I’m sure you’re hungry after the evening you had!” teasingly from behind the phone as she finishes adding her meal to the cart, and handing it back to you.”

“Momo!”

__

Waking up anxious on the day that you and Mina were going to get coffee was not a great start, barely any sleep in your eyes with your hands shaking, rolling out of your bed around 10:30am. Grabbing your phone, you head to the living room without changing out of your PJs and plopping down on the couch. 

Turning on the TV and opening your phone to text Mina. 

Y/N: Hey Mina! I woke up a little anxious this morning and I know we have plans today. Would it be okay if you just came to my apartment instead of us going out? 10:34am

Y/N: Maybe we can have a gaming day or something? 10:35am

🐧: Sounds good to me. Send me the address whenever you’re ready for me to head over. 10:37am

🐧: Sorry you are feeling anxious. 10:38am

About 2 hours later, after showering and cleaning up the space a little bit, you sent Mina your address. Wearing something cozy but presentable, wanting to make a semi-decent impression as this was the first time you were hanging out with Mina alone. 

A small knock can be heard on the door, quickly walking over and opening it to reveal the small frame of Mina, backpack on, two coffees in her hands and a very shy look on her face. 

“I know you said you were anxious and coffee probably isn’t the solution for that but I figured I’d grab you one just in case you did want some.” softly explaining the two coffees before hellos can be said. 

“Come on in, make yourself at home and thank you! I’d love some coffee” as she hands you the cup and you take a sip. It’s exactly what you normally order. Just enough sugar to counteract the bitterness and a splash of cream. 

Whipping your head to face her quickly, “how did you know my order?” happily confused as you gulp a few times and head for the living room with her gracefully following, after sliding her shoes off. 

“I asked Momo this morning when you texted me. I’ve seen you drink coffee a few times when you were coming to hang out with us. I was worried you’d get a caffeine headache if you didn’t have some…” mumbled as you picked your spots on the couch, and turned on your console.

“It’s so sweet that you would think of me like that, Mina, Thank you.” genuinely surprised by the act of kindness. Someone you hardly knew went out of the way for you and that warmed you more than you anticipated. 

Mina’s ears went red while you thanked her for the coffee. Embarrassed and feeling like she came on a little too strongly, before you mentioned you thought it was sweet. Fidgeting with her hands, walls down for a second, a gummy smile let out from her as she sifts through your list of games, choosing a fighting game.

Astounded by how good Mina was at the game, you tipped your fake hat in her direction. She let you win a few times before really showing you how good she was, getting more competitive each round you played. 

Putting on a random movie and switching to handheld games on the switch you could play together, both of you sat for hours and talked about life, getting to know each other a little bit more. It was nice to spend time with someone and not have to talk about Nayeon. 

There was a familiarity with Mina, something unexplainable about her presence that made her so calming. Hoping that you might ignite a similar comfort in her, the anxiety no longer sat in your chest as you got to know her more. 

Learning a lot about her as she spoke of her family, life back in Japan before she was an idol, about how when her, Momo, and Sana went back for the Misamo debut, they went to her family's home and she got to eat her mom’s home cooked meals. Making mental notes of what her favorite dishes were and how she spoke so lovingly about the people she held near and dear to her. 

“So, Y/N, I’m getting a little hungry, do you want to go out to get something or would you rather order it here?” The body language she was exhibiting was interesting, half closed half open. Arms lay in her lap by her switch but her legs were tightly locked. Was she comfortable here? Did she feel nervous about opening up so quickly?

“Why don’t we go out?” Suggesting while standing up, fixing your sweat pants. Maybe she just needs a little fresh air so she can relax. Suddenly feeling the need to calm her the way she eased you out of your anxiety unknowingly. 

“Sounds good, there’s a new cafe around the corner, it’s a locally owned place. I think they serve Japanese food. Would you want to try that?” 

“That sounds great, actually. I’d love to, especially after you talked about your mom’s cooking.” Her expression thrilled as she ran to put her shoes on, doing a little happy wiggle as she waited for you by the door. 

You can’t help but chuckle at her. A glint of warmth refracting in your soul.

– 

The cafe was only a block away and it was a nice afternoon so you walked side by side, making sure that you were the one closest to the street. Taking in the scenery of the new neighborhood, little shops lining the road around you from markets to touristy stores, hands unintentionally brushing each other. 

“These shops seem cool, maybe we should come back another day and explore them.” Looking over at Mina as you speak, trying to pretend like your heart didn’t combust when your hands touched. The comment catches her off guard, shying into herself as you make the suggestion. 

“I’d love that” whispered back to you. That means there will be a next time and that sparks joy in you. 

Arriving at the cafe and getting a small table outside, ordering a bottle of Sake before ordering food. 

“Can I order for you?” Mina asks, shifting her eyes from the menu, this was a test. It was written all over her face as she studied your reaction. 

Squinting at her with a smile on your face, “if you’re up for the challenge,” biting back playfully. The second gummy slime shines off of her as she laughs at your terrible joke. “I think I’m up for the challenge.” competitively stated back with the corners of her mouth turned up. 

Leaning into the menu, reading it line by line as she zeros her focus in. Watching the way the wheels spun in her head as you see her fold the menu and put it on the table, softly smiling back at you with a sense of accomplishment.

The waitress scurried over with the tokkuri and ochoko set, the ceramic vessel was bulbous indenting at the neck and expanding back out again while the smaller cups had a golden brown rim with a gray-ish green hue, sitting on the tray neatly. 

“Alright, and here is the sake. Are we ready to order our food yet or do we need a little more time?” placing the rigged craft in front of you, and the smaller cups in front of each of you as her eyes flashed between the two of you to see who will speak up first. . 

“Yes. We are ready to order.” Calmly said as the dialect switched. Blinking a few times at Mina while she ordered completely in Japanese to the waitress, pointing at the menu and speaking with her hands. Nodding her head at the response from the waitress as she handed her the menus and turning her attention back to you. 

Gracefully grabbing the vessel with one hand, pouring your glass and another smooth movement, handing it to you as she placed the craft down on the small table. 

“You really wanted dinner to be a surprise, huh?” Playfully before sipping the sake politely and placing it down on the table.

 Picking up the tokkuri and trying to pour her a glass with as much class as she did, but failing when you looked up at her. Getting lost in her features as she watched you. “Was she always so…effervescent? High cheekbones, sharp eyes and a softness that was infectious an-“ Realizing you were still pouring, you abruptly stop almost spilling sake everywhere. Handed her the ochoko sheepishly after you had filled it a little too full. 

“Maybe.” peeking up at you through her bangs as she took a small drink, chasing it with a smile and a giggle, covering her mouth with her hand that was sleeve clad, and turning red as her cheeks raised up.

 Did she notice how you were looking at her? Oh god, I hope I didn’t just make things weird. A moment of panic in your body nags at you as she beams in front of you. Wow…she’s so pretty. Half mesmerized, half alarmed at your thoughts, your leg starts bouncing and fidgeting with your hands becomes your fixation, as they lay on the small metal table in front of you. 

Lost in thought as you try to push away the unwelcome intrusion of nervousness, when a small velvet hand reaches out and gently places itself on the anxious tick that’s visible. Your heart skips. Eyes locking as you peer up at her, stopping in your tracks. A chill runs through your body as you take in the pureness diffusing the unease like the rain washing away blood stains on the battleground of your mind. How did she do that?

Internally realizing that you might have a slight attraction to the person you’ve just begun to hang out with, you’re slightly panicked by the idea of getting close to someone again so soon after Nayeon. Unfortunately, this realization played out on your face softly enough for the person accompanying you to dinner to notice. 

“I’m sorry” uttered quickly as she pulled her hands away, moving your hands into your lap at the same moment.  “I didn’t ask you if you were a physical touch person, I should have.” Mina is looking down now, seemingly worried that she crossed a line she wasn’t supposed to. 

“No no- it’s fine, really. I do like physical touch…I’m just not used to it from anyone except for Nay-“ interrupted by the waitress bringing out your dinner. Slicing through the moment as she placed two similar dishes in front of both of you. Tonkotsu ramen topped with shiitake mushrooms, bean sprouts, bok choy, bamboo shoots, double the chashu, and a soft-boiled egg that’s split in half, golden yolk spilling into the array of rich colors.

Stunned as you look at the delicious meal in front of you, “Wow, this looks amazing! Did you get the same thing?” questioning as you finish off the last of the sake in your cup. 

Mina notices and immediately fills it again with a soft smile. “Almost the same thing, I remembered you don’t care for the fish cakes so I had them swap my chashu with them.” followed by her finishing off her sake to keep up with you.

Pouring of the drink for her, this time focusing as hard as your brain would allow so you could get it just right under the eyes studying your movements. “You knew that?” amazed that Mina remembered such a small detail about you.

“Yes! You came to the studio one day with Nay-…” hesitating to say her name as she knows the wound is still fresh but attempting to cover it with a drink from her glass, “Her, and we all ordered from a place similar to this one and I remember you said you didn’t like the texture.” 

Baffled was an understatement. Not only did this borderline stranger call you to check in and ask if you wanted to hang out, but she asked her friend what your coffee order was AND she remembered something that was such a small comment…

“It’s really sweet that you remember that, Mina.” both of you blushing as you continue to make small talk while finishing the meal. 

Table cleared and on your second bottle of sake, Mina finally is brave enough to ask about what happened between you and Nayeon. 

“Hey, Y/n? I know it’s probably a sensitive topic…but what happened between you and Nayeon? Momo told me that you broke up but she didn’t really mention why…” Alcohol gave her the confidence to ask the question you knew was coming all night. 

“Well..” hesitating to respond, not really knowing the answer. You knew what happened, but not why it happened. Mina could see the soft sadness on your face as you contemplated how to answer her.

“Long story short, she cheated on me. The entire time.” Mina eyes widened, mouth ajar, completely in shock and frozen at what you just said. 

“Oh my gosh, y/n”…I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine what you’re feeling,” reaching her hand out to place it on your forearm, rubbing her thumb against the softness of your sweater as she made sympathetic eyes at you. Feeling sorry for what you’d been through, what this meant for you. 

It was as if the goddess fell from the sky as she laid her hands on you. Physical manifestations of feelings developing as your heart pounded, breath quickened, and getting a little shaky. The sun beams through your veins as you feel the beams radiating off your face, a similar look on Mina’s. 

“I didn't tell you the worst part.” Softly while she’s still caressing your arm. “It was the entire time we were together, they tried to cover it too.” Confusion, anger, sympathy mixed together into the melting pot that was Mina’s heart. 

You didn’t expect her to be so emotionally available for you. Reserved was her middle name, why was she so open to physical touch with you? Ordering for you? Wondering if she was also feeling the fire that was kindling between the two of you.

“They?” Concerned tone wrapped around you tightly. It was almost…possessive. Body reacts by constricting your thighs together, you might like the possessive tendency a little too much.  

“Nayeon and…Jihyo, actually” 

Mina's face contorts into anger upon hearing the culprits names, hand still on your arm lightly squeezing now. Eyes wet with disappointment as she tries to hold back tears and comprehend how they could do that…to you of all people.

“I’m so sorry, my love.” Said so smoothly as if it’s always been what she called you. Pain sits behind her eyes, as she continues on “I can’t believe they would do that to you. You deserve so much better.”

Half wincing at her words, realizing they’re sprinkled with care that you weren’t used to, a sense of sorrow washes over you as you come to terms with your past relationship not being as healthy as you thought it was.  

“You do know that…right?” head tilted at the question even if she already knows the answer. 

“I don’t know anymore. This whole thing has been so life altering for me, it’s hard to have all these big feelings of love and anger at the same time.” speaking so candidly about the emotions you were experiencing, opening up to Mina about your internal monologue.

Continuing to drink the bottle of sake as the wind picked up a little, causing it to become slightly chillier. It was early November, so it was on the colder side. Shivering as you sat in the breeze, sun setting with golden hour brushing the scene around you and accentuating the beautiful brush strokes that composed the woman in front of you. 

The bangs sitting a little lower than her eyebrows that were perfectly shaped, long waves more breathtaking than an angry sea extending far down past her shoulders to her waist, glowing skin that made her look like the embodiment of light, you can’t help but fixate your eyes on her and you’re a little too intoxicated to care if she catches you. 

Standing up and stretching to go and pay the bill, Mina snatches it out of your hand and runs inside, beating you to it. Giggling a little harder than you should, when a small black compact car that was too familiar pulled up to the front of the cafe and parked. 

Before you could even realize why the car was familiar, two women stepped out and stopped dead in her their tracks. Im Nayeon and Park Jihyo. 

Jihyo looks like she's been crying, eyes swollen, lip still quivering as she stood next to Nayeon, who still completely covered in the imprint of your teeth and lips, clinging to her arm. Standing in silence, as the air stretches taut. 

“Why haven’t you answered my text messages?” Nayeon abruptly breaks the tension. Jihyo’s eyes widen as Nayeon crosses her arms and taps her foot angrily waiting for an answer. She really was going to do this right here and now. She always lacked patience, this was a perfect example of that.

“I don’t want to.” flowing from your lips with a sour face like you completely forgot what happened the evening before, sake getting to you as you retort with malice. “Maybe you should take the hint and stop trying” 

Scoffing at the comment, Nayeon shakes Jihyo off of her and walks up to you slowly while swaying her hips, like she always did at you when she was trying to get you to do what she wanted. Reaching you and placing her elbows on your shoulders as she twirls the hair cascading down your back. Skin burning under the weight of her touch, making you panic almost immediately. The disgust from before had returned in full force and it displayed on your face while she spoke. 

“Come on, baby. Don’t be like that.” hand now sweeping a piece of hair out of your face, looking up at you with those big doe eyes “I know you miss me, just come home. I’m sorry you are hurting from what I did. I’ve been punished enough.” repulsed by the pet names and the attempts to win you over again. 

Jihyo is uncomfortably shifting, sorrow now covered in jealousy as her lover tries to win back what was viewed as hers. Green was a lovely color on her but to wear it on her face the way she did, with no remorse, was a bold statement. 

“Nayeon, I don’t want to do this with you in front of your girlfriend,” making air quotes as you say the word, “or at all really. So forget I exist and we can both just move on.” Attempting to move out of her grasp as she took in your words, not liking the reaction she was getting, she grabbed your wrist to stop you from leaving.  

“So after 3 years, you’re really just going to leave me?” Slightly panicked, realizing you actually weren’t falling for her tricks anymore. 

“Yes.” Stoically cascading and washing over Nayeon, rinsing away the confidence to reveal crossness and a hint of fear, while shaking her grip loose from your wrist. 

“So none of it meant anything to you?” small drops of irritation on her tongue, thick like honey, while she studies your lack of want or care for her. Strikingly different from the person she used to know very well, never being met with walls built so carefully around you before. 

“I think that’s actually your stance on it” spit back with malice from the guard tower at the top of the castle you built around yourself to keep her out.

“You know what y/n, if you think that you can just come into our house and fu-“ shock runs through her as she sees a figure stepping out of the cafe. The shadows hand reach up to link with yours, giving it a tight squeeze. 

“Are you ready to go, my love?” Mina’s voice was a little louder than normal so both parties could hear after finding you in this tense moment. Her stance is defensive as she knowingly pokes the bear. 

Jihyo and Nayeon are both completely gobsmacked by Mina not only being out of the house, but also by being with you. Hand in hand.

 “My love????” Nayeon scoffed, tears building when she had an idea. “You can’t be serious right now, y/n. After last night, are you on a date with Mina? A member of my group? Do you not have your own friends to filter through? Did I not satiate you enough? …Maybe we should’ve gone one more round.” craftily leaving her mouth as she tries to cause discourse between what she thinks is a date…was it a date?

Jihyo doesn’t even try to step in or say anything, she just gets back into the car looking like her tears are about to fall again from being cast aside by the likes of you. Nayeon doesn’t even flinch at the sound of the car door, waiting for you to panic under the weight of the information just given to Mina. 

Mina snaps back boldly  “don’t worry, I’ll take care of her from now since you can’t satiate her, apparently.” Winking back at Nayeon while leading you down the road, back to your house, hands still together and Mina unphased. A small smirk appears on your face as you try not to laugh, not even needing to look at Nayeon's face to know that she was completely shocked by the comments made by Mina. 

Nayeon tried to follow the two of you as you repressed laughter, shouting to try to get your attention again “Y/n! I can’t believe you right now! After everything we’ve been through? And Mina, you bitch! I can’t believe you wou-” 

“Nayeon, get in the fucking car.” Jihyo grimaced while pulling the car up as she saw people starting to stare at the commotion. Nayeon rolled her eyes and got in. This wasn’t over yet, and everyone knew it.

–

Mina picks up her pace, giggling and tugging you behind her as she tries to get away from the disturbance plaguing you both. “I’ve never seen her so mad before, is she always that confrontational with you?” quizzically inquired as you both drunkenly sauntered back to the safety of your apartment. 

“To be honest, I have no idea. This is the first time I’m seeing her react in such a way. She used to be so sweet to me before I found out about…” hesitating to finish the sentence, but Mina knew where you were going with it and just nodded her head. 

“It must be really hard to feel like you don’t know her after all this time. I can’t imagine what that feels like. Someone like you shouldn’t have to deal with that at all.” boldly spoken as you reached your apartment.

“What do you mean by that?” Pressing into what she just said. “Someone like me?” 

“The betrayal she put you through is ju-“ starting as she catches your eyes while you squeeze her hand.

“Mina, no, what did you mean by someone like me?” looking up at her with a sheepish smile as you unlock the door and step inside, hands still locked and still feeling the effects of the sake as you both waltz into the living room and find your spots on the couch, this time a little closer than before.

“…I-“ alcohol fighting her logic, letting go of your hand as she whispers a honey laced memory into the quiet room while curling into herself, showing the shy nature again. 

“Do you remember when we first met? You went out of your way to talk to me, even if the other girls were trying to pull your attention. You even asked me about things you knew I liked to get to know me a little better and paid attention when I answered and the kindness you showed to all of us, even if some of us were a little apprehensive or even defensive…and then seeing the way you were with…her. I was astounded at the level of compassion and care that you gave to her, and to know what she did to you makes me view her very differently.” afraid to look you in the eyes as she opened up her chest, showing you a vulnerability that you’d never thought to see from her. 

“I knew how important you all are to her. I wanted to make sure we all bonded because I thought…she was going to be the person I ended up with. Even if she isn’t, I’m glad it happened because she gave me Momo and now you. I feel like you were a sign from God” Grinning back at her, blush spreading through her cheeks as she smiled brightly back at you. 

Both of you still feel the effects of the sake as you throw a random movie on to relax and unwind. Sitting so close together on the large couch that your arms are brushing against each other. She lifted the arm that was touching yours and placed it around your back and on your waist, you leaned into her and comfortably you both laid down, intertwined in each other. 

Your head on her shoulder as she lays in her back, arm wrapped around your waist drawing small patterns with her fingers. One of your hands lightly placed where her ribs connect and legs intertwined as you slowly drifted into the most comfortable nap you’ve had in months. 

—

Everything was pitch black. Eyes shifting in and out of darkness as you try to calibrate to your surroundings. A small metal table sits in the distance, the only thing that is illuminated and you can make 2 figures sitting around it, it looks like they’re talking but you can’t be sure. 

Walking as quickly as you can through the shadows approaching the table, you try to shout out to them but nothing comes out. Reaching up to your throat, you hold it while you try to scream. Feeling the vibrations through your hands but not a single sound cuts through the air. 

As you get closer to the figures, their details are revealed to you slowly. Shoulder length light brown hair facing the woman with long dark wavy hair. “Nayeon? Mina??” mouth trying to spit the words your lungs can’t bear to speak when Nayeon slowly turns her head to you, and says “oh, Y/n it’s about time you joined us” voice contorting, almost as if it’s overlapped by another. You’re forced to your knees by something you cannot see, and immediately smell sulfur, as Nayeon lifts your chin with one finger. 

She stares into your soul, eyes completely black, as her face starts contorting and twisting, dripping off her skull. Wincing and looking at Mina to see her smiling back at you, illuminated in light.

 A sense of calm washing over you, only for a second when you feel your mouth fill with blood. Still on your knees, you spit out what’s flavoring your mouth and all of your teeth come with it. Screaming in silence as you watch Nayeon get up and stand above you, grabbing your neck with both hands tightening as she holds you over a cliff edge, storm crashing around you and hisses in the distorted voice “you’ll always be mine.” Dropping you straight down into the ocean, you try to regulate yourself and swim up but it’s pitch black, swimming until you choke on water and snap awake startling Mina who was silently sleeping underneath you. 

Hyperventilating heavily as you try to shake off the feeling of the dream, crying as you shake. Mina is immediately by your side, wrapping her arms around you and comforting you. 

“It’s okay, I’m here. You’re safe with me. Don’t worry, I’ve got you” as she rubs your back in a circular motion to try and regulate your breathing. 

Your sweater feels very constricting as a thin layer of sweat covers you, you part from Mina and start pacing as you take the hoodie off leaving you in a sports bra. Following your movements with her eyes, as you walk around aimlessly, tears falling as you try to breathe. 

Mina stands up and catches you by the wrist and pulls you into her, comforting you with a hug. “You’re safe with me. I won’t let anything bad happen to you.” 

Body unclenching as she spoke and held you close to her. A warm surge of calm pumped through your veins as you sniffled, pressing your face into her neck. 

Pulling back to look at her, you can see the concern mixed with something else in her eyes. Something you’d never seen before. Your faces are close enough to feel each other's breath as she looks into your eyes and then down at your lips, your eyes following the same motion. 

Leaning in closer, lips brushing against each other before fully committing, you both shyly decide this is the path your friendship is taking. Her arms slide from your lower back to your hips slowly, pressing her fingers into your hips and pulling you towards her as your mouths find each other. 

Her lips so soft, tasting of the alcohol you consumed and the tension that had been building all day. Her flavor was the taste of the divine, effervescently consuming you as she coded your flesh and bones with her scriptures.

Slow and passionate, at first, slowly picking up pace. Hands exploring each other's bodies as you familiarize yourself with the sounds she makes when you tangle your fingers in her hair. She takes control, which is something you never let happen, but it’s different with her. You actually feel safe with her. 

Mina grabs your waist again and pushes you down on the couch, keeping your lips connected and she swipes her tongue across your bottom lip asking for entrance, given without hesitation. Her hands leave your waist as her mouth travels to your neck, biting down lightly as you whine into the silence of the room. She stands and removes her sweater, revealing a sports bra and her well toned abs, igniting a fire within you. 

Kneeling between your legs, reaching for you to get you closer to her, pulling your body as close as it would get to her. Kissing picking up again, as you feel her wrap her arms around you, toying with the clip of your bra as she threatens to undo it. 

“Is this okay?” asking softly as she scatters soft sweet kisses across your face. You nod your head yes but before she can undo the clip, a loud crashing startles both of you.

“What was that?” Mina spoke up, obviously bothered by the interruption but also concerned as it sounded very close. 

“I’m not sure” you were still focused on her before she got up and turned around, heading towards the front door to see what was going on. 

“Y/n, you’re going to want to see this.” Mina says with a tone of worry. You run over to her to find a rock with a note tied around it shattered through the glass window next to your door.  

“I’m going to call the police, please be careful, the glass is everywhere.” running to the living room to get her phone, and you stand there shirtless looking at the crime scene. Wondering how she found you, if she followed you back from the dinner you had with Mina. 

Stepping carefully around the shattered sharpness scattered across the entrance way, you reach over to the note and slightly open it, gasping at the contents loud enough for Mina to hear from the other room. 

“She’s mine” scrawled on it, in a familiar red ink. 

Take Me Back To Eden - The Apparition - Part 5.5

[flem17ng]

Pretty girl: KCC x reader

keep on pretending, pretty girl

note: here it is! I may have made myself cry writing this

summary: Kyra is straight. She has liked boys since she was little. She had boyfriends all through high school. She is straight. At least she thought she was... but then she met you.

warnings: internalized homophobia kinda, Kyra being a cutie, angst (Sorry), the effects of the lesbian master dock, happy ending (Because i Ilove ya'll)

word count: 4.8k

"Kyra!" you yelled from across the dance floor, "come dance with me!" She hesitated for a second before moving towards you. It wasn't normal for her to think twice about dancing with her best friend but recently she had been getting weird feelings every time she saw you, or was near you... especially when she was near you.

The club was crowded with sweaty couples, all twirling together in time to the pounding music. Kyra finally reached you and you danced. some mindless pop ballad that neither of you knew the words to. You watched her dance, one hand in the air, grinning like a maniac and giggling. She was absolutely gorgeous like always.

"how much have you had to drink ky?" you asked with a smirk as she moved closer to you.

"huh? nothinggg" she slurred, proving her point moot. You knew she was drunk, she only got touchy when she was drunk and now she had a hand on your waist was was slowly dancing into your personal space. Maybe if you were smart you would confront her about this, but you weren't. On the contrary, you were utterly and completely in love with her. So instead you pushed her off you gently, grabbed her hand, and subtly started pulling her towards the door. You weren't smart but you were wise enough not to let her get ahead of herself. Your best friend was straight, you knew you had no chance, it would be torture to let yourself pretend while she was like this.

"come on ky ky, let's get you home" You opened the club door for her and let her walk onto the street.

"it's so pretty tonight!" she exclaimed, looking up at the Sydney city lights before turning to you, "you are so pretty tonight" she giggled. You tried to ignore the way your heart stuttered at her words and her drunken smirk. It helped to remember that she didn't mean it. Kyra walked towards you with a cheeky grin, placing her hands on your shoulders.

"you are the prettiest girl in the world! you know that right" she laughed. you just frowed and looked at the ground.

"come on. You're drunk. I'll get you an Uber." You took out your phone and started typing when you felt her lean forward and press a quick kiss to your cheek. You wished it was easier to fall out of love with someone, but it wasn't. Especially when that someone was Kyra. Kyra with her perfect teeth, her tanned skin, and her warm eyes. Kyra who sent you 'good morning texts' and knew your coffee order off by heart. Kyra was standing on a street in Sydney on a Saturday night with the prettiest smile. Kyra who was straight.

When the Uber finally arrived Kyra pouted. "I don't wanna leave you," she whined and you smiled at her before paying the Uber driver and giving her a quick hug.

"I'll see you tomorrow. Text me when you get home ok?" She nodded and gave you a drunken wave before getting into the car and driving off.

***

Kyra woke up with a headache and three text messages.

2:45am:

Y/N: Get home safe?

6:30am:

Y/N: hey ky. I dropped some painkillers at your door! I hope the hangover isn't too bad :)

tinder: you matched with Tom G! Message him to get a conversation started.

Kyra groaned. The odd feeling in her chest was back. It was like a flipping fluttering feeling that seemed to appear only with you. It would be a pleasant feeling if it wasn't mixed with the plummeting sensation of dread, confusion, and (weirdly) guilt. She clicked on the notification from Tinder first. The guy wasn't bad-looking, he had similar hobbies. But as Kyra looked through his photos again, she couldn't help but think he looked a little bit like her best friend... she closed her phone. She didn't have training that day so there was no reason she would have to bump into you. It wasn't that she didn't want to spend time you you! But she knew she got ahead of herself when she was drunk. She says things she shouldn't, and she gets touchy. She knows this because she does it on purpose: always acting more drunk than she is, leaning into you, batting her eyelids, and knowing she'll get away with it. She knows you won't call her up on it.

Maybe she would meet up with that Tom guy anyway. Why the hell not? She was young and single, and straight and so was this guy. She was sure of all those things! So why did she feel so horrible when she opened up her phone again, ignoring your texts and tapping on the Tinder app?

Kyra: Hey x

Tom G: Hi :)

***

"Y/n you can't just let her do this to you" Ellie groaned as she took another large gulp of her coffee. It had been a few weeks since the club with Kyra and ever since, she had been cold and distant, making up lame excuses about seeing some new guy. It was a cycle that was familiar at this point: Kyra was your best friend, you were her pretty girl, she gets drunk, she flirts, she gets cold, hooks up with a few guys, and then comes back to gossip about it. Unfortunately, Ellie had been there to see it all.

"Look I know! but I just can't help it ok! When she wants me I..."

Ellie's expression softened with understanding. As much as she wished she could snap you out of it and point you in the direction of literally any other woman, she knew it would never work.

"you know my opinion on this. Drunk words are sober thoughts and all that." she shot you a sad smile.

"Yes well. her sober thoughts right now are all about some guy called Tom." you rolled your eyes. Stupid Tom and his stupid XY chromosomes. You chewed your muffin with an aggressive frown. Ellie shook her head letting you finish your bite so you could continue.

"And besides. Yes! maybe she is gay. but she certainly doesn't know that does she. What's the point Ellie?" you sighed. "she only wants me when she's drunk. in the morning it's like nothing happened"

"Look I don't know what you want me to say! You need to get your mind off her. Go hook up with someone" Ellie rolled her eyes. She was terribly supportive but there was only so much delusion she could take in one morning.

"See I would... but she's asked me to come round for a movie tonight" Ellie just groaned. You could never pull yourself away from Kyra, no matter how much you tried. It wasn't like you did try though. you drank the rest of your coffee, feeling suddenly like a bum on a bar stool.

"You're too young to look so hopeless! You're attractive, and queer in Sydney for god's sake!" She laughed, giving you a playful slap on the arm. You knew she was right even if you would never tell her she was. Your phone buzzed.

Ky 🤍: can't wait to see you! I have to tell you about Tom ;)

"Jesus Christ I'm pathetic" You covered your face with your hands dramatically.

"Correct! Now finish your muffin so we can pay and leave please."

***

Kyra rushed forward into a hug when you arrived at her door a few hours later. She was dressed in a loose pajama top and shorts and her hair was in a messy bun with strands out to frame her face. You wished you could greet her with a kiss, or run your hands through her hair... Instead, you returned the hug, handed over the bag containing ice cream and snacks, and walked into the apartment like a friend would.

"I missed you!" Kyra shouted from the kitchen as she put the icecream in the freazer, "I feel like i havnt seen you in forever"

You swallowed back a remark about kyra ignoring you for days and choosing some guy over you and instead followed her into the kitchen with a grin.

"I missed you too Ky! How have you been?" you knew better than to bring up your last outing to the club. She would brush it off with a joke or get cold like she always did.

"Well... Tom took me Bowling the other day! It was so romantic" She giggled, grabbing her phone to show you a picture of the two of them at the bowling lane. You swallowed hard and nodded supportively.

The night wore on relatively the same: you talked and laughed and gossiped about your friends. Kyra was only about 2 wine glasses in when she started feeling weird again. Maybe it was the way your hair was sitting or the way the light was hitting your face... Either way, she needed to be close to you. On the couch she cuddled up to you, resting her head on your chest while some movie played on mute in the background. When she closed her eyes and listened she could hear your heartbeat under her head, slow and steady. The movie, a rom-com, must have been coming to an end as the two characters finally got together in a scene that might have been heartwarming if either of you had been playing attention to the plot.

"Y/n?" Kyra asked suddenly.

"hmm?" You had let yourself relax a little into the sofa as the night wore on and now rested a hand on top of her head gently.

"I dont want Tom to be my boyfriend" she whispered, so quiet you almost didnt catch it.

"I thought he was romantic? and smart and handsom?" you asked, looked down to were kyra lay with her eyes squeezed shut on your chest.

"I don't know i..." Kyra opened her eyes and looked up, your faces suddenly very close together. "I don't want him to be close to me like you are" She admitted, her voice sounding vulnerable.

"He woldnt be! It would be different. He would kiss you and all that." you responded confused. Kyra had had boyfriends before, she knew what that relationship entailed.

"But I want to do that stuff with you!" She smiled moving her face even closer so your noses brushed. You felt your heart drop. You had hoped the evening wouldn't take this direction mostly because you wanted to save yourself the pain.

"Kyra..." you breathed. You knew this is when you should pull away, push her off you, and tell her to sort herself out. Instead, you just squeezed your eyes closed in hopes that she could sober up and stop playing with your feelings. "You know it hurts me when you do this Ky..."

"I don't want to hurt you" She whispered and you could hear the cheeky smirk on her lips. You could feel her wine breath on your own mouth. God why was it so hard. You opened your eyes, only to find her still close enough to touch. Her eyes sparkled and her cheeks were flushed from the alcohol. She was looking at your lips and you knew the kiss was coming before she even leaned in.

It was sloppy and one-sided. You refused to kiss her back despite how much you wanted to, despite the way your heart raced at the feel of her warm lips on yours. She tried to deepen it when you placed a hand on her shoulder and pushed her away softly.

"Enough. Time for bed"

"But you taste so good" Kyra giggled with a pout pulling on her rosey cheeks. You swallowed and shook your head. You had let it go too far, you needed to stop, you needed to leave before you did something stupid like let her kiss you again.

"Tom wouldn't mind me kissing you silly" She laughed finally rolling to the other side of the couch to let you stand up. You felt your eyes sting a little. You wouldn't cry in front of her, you wouldn't let yourself be comforted by her.

"I don't want you to kiss me Ky. Just go to bed now" You didn't wait to see her pout at you because you knew your resolve wouldn't last if you did. Instead, you turned on your heel, grabbed your bag, and headed out of the apartment.

***

9:45am

Ky 🤍: Oh man I drank way more than I thought last night! I can't remember anything from after we turned on the movie lol

You rolled your eyes when you saw the notification. At this point, you could predict the fallout of every possible flirty Kyra situation based on her first text of the day. She wasn't a lightweight, she knew how to hold her liquor so the part about not remembering anything was nothing short of a blatant lie and you knew it. Maybe a year ago, hell maybe even a month ago, you would have let her get away with her bullshit, but not now. Yes, you loved her but you loved her when she was just being herself, not some character she pretended to be. Maybe that's what made it so painful: not because of what she did when she was drunk but because deep down you knew that she knew exactly what she was doing while she was doing it. She knew what she was doing when she kissed you, she knew what she was doing when she told you she wanted to be with you...

You needed space, no matter how much it hurt. So you ignored her text. And her call that came later. And her offer to get coffee the next day.

1:05am

Ky 🤍: I miss you pretty girl ;)

That notification was soon replaced with:

Ky 🤍 Deleted one (1) message

A few days latter and kyra stopped trying to call. Part of you was thankful... But most of you just wanted to cry. It was self preservation mostly and Ellie agreed it was the right thing to do. But you couldnt help but feel you would loose your best friend if carried on ghosting her.

10:30 am

Ky 🤍: Tom asked me to be his girlfriend btw.

That was when you really did cry: Hot heavy tears that seemed like they would never end. The tears brought with them a horrible emptiness and you mourned not only your friendship but that delusional part of yourself that still believed that one day Kyra would realize you were there for her all along.

11:00 am

Y/n: Thats great Kyra! sorry I've been off grid for a while :)

You hated yourself as soon as you pressed send. But it was Kyra, and no matter how bad it hurt you were there for her. It wasn't her fault you had a silly crush on her after all. You bit down another sob that threatened to break free. here you were again, making excuses for her.

11:05 am

Ky 🤍: SHE'S ALIVE!! come to the bar tonight to meet him? pleaaseee

Y/n: I'll be there.

***

"Y/n I didnt think we'd be seeing you here tonight" ellie called from the booth that was already very full with the rest of your group. Ellie shot you a knowing look as kyra shot up from her seat to great you with a bear hug.

"Well... I needed to meet the mystery man didn't i?" you tried for a smile but it came out all forced and wrong.

"Come on! Sit next to me. I already got you a drink" Kyra shot you a winning smile as she turned back to the table. You couldn't help but smile at the spring in her step.

Tom sat on her otherside seemingly unaware of the subtle tension between his new girlfriend and yourself. Maybe the tension was in your head you bagan to think...

But then you felt a cool hand rest on your thigh and you knew it wasnt. Kyras hand was hidden by the table but you could feel it: Resting on your bare leg, slightly too high to be friendly. You ignored it at first, taking another sip of your coke, laughing at something sam was saying.

But then she gave your leg a squeeze and you felt your breath hitch. Her fingers absent-mindedly began fiddling with the hem of your dress. You shot her a look but she wasn't even looking in your directing.

Already you caught yourself making her excuses: she was nervous, she was a little drunk and did not realize what she was doing, and she was a touchy person by nature (this was true).

"You are my favorite. You know that don't you" You flinched when you felt her hot breath tickle your kneck. You had been so engrossed with your thoughts that you hadn't even noticed her leaning towards you to whisper in your ear.

"Please get off me Kyra," you said, a little loudly making Ellie and Sam look at you with concern. Kyra's smirk dropped into a genuine frown.

"What?" She didn't sound drunk now. You turned to face her, a knot forming in your throat. You couldn't hurt yourself like this, not when her boyfriend was sitting at the same table. Not when you had spent every day since you were 14 falling in love with her.

"I said, Get off me" You pushed her hand off your thigh and stood up suddenly. It was too hot in the bar, too crowded. You turned and almost ran towards the door, needing to get away from Kyra's shocked face, Tom's stupid smirk and drawling voice, and Ellie's pitying expression. No sooner had you exited the bar did you head her run after you.

"What the fuck was that about Y/n?" she shouted, looking disheveled and shocked. You could have laughed.

"What was that about? I could bloody well ask you the same thing. Has it ever occurred to you once, that I'm more than just your drunken experiment" you yelled back, "I mean really Kyra! We're experts at this little dance by now."

"What are you talking about?" you really did laugh then, only to stop the hot tears waiting to burst.

"you get drunk and you want me. I'm your favorite, I'm your pretty girl, I'm the most beautiful person in the world. And then the next day I'm what? nothing? your best friend?" The tears start rolling now, making it hard to breathe but you need to get this all out. It's been welling in your chest for years, building pressure and heat and now you need to let it go.

"So what is it ky? Do you love me like you say or is it just the wine? or sorry, is it Burbon today I didn't ask." you knew it was cruel, especially as you saw the understanding in her eyes. "I'm done with this. I'm done with you. I can't keep wasting my love on you when you can't even return it." Your cheeks felt hot despite the cool breeze and your heart raced.

"Y/n he's not my boyfriend... he asked but I said no," she said quietly as if that was a balm.

"Who cares Kyra? because if it's not him it's some other man. It's anyone but me. or at least until you get a couple drinks in." Kyra was definitely sober now if she wasn't before. Her expression was somewhere between guilt, anger, and hurt. You wished you would hold her, kiss her, and make it all better but it wasn't possible.

"I do... I do love you like I say when I'm... drunk," she muttered to the floor. "I just- I need to figure it out. being with Tom it's like-"

"pretending. It's pretending Kyra." there was no anger left in you now, just sadness. Kyra loved you but she wouldn't face up to it without being knockout drunk and what was worse? you had wasted all your love on her.

"Y/n I love you though"

"Stop. You're being mean" a sob escaped you, "Just keep on pretending. I can't wait around for you to figure yourself out." You took a couple steps backward, suddenly feeling deja vu from the last time you found yourself outside a club on the street with Kyra. She must have had the same thought because she looked up at the city lights, the colours bouncing off her wet cheeks. Before she could look back at you and break your heart more, you turned and walked up the street, hoping she had the sense not to follow you.

***

You didn't talk for months. 3 Months and 2 weeks to be exact but who was counting? Kyra broke up with Tom that night without hesitation. She knew what the weird feeling she got when she was around you know. She had been so scared so so long it felt weird to put a label on the emotion. She loved you. Was in love with you to be exact. And as far as she knew, you hated her. All she could think about was how broken you had looked as you shouted at her. You looked so tired and hopeless and it was all because she hadn't realised how she was affecting you. It was just fun, drinking a little as an excuse to be close to you. She knew kissing you at her house that day was a mistake but it's all she wanted to do.

"Kyra you messed up mate. You're really in the doghouse." Sam stated from the other side of the couch while Kyra cried yet again. All she seemed to do now was cry.

"Is she dating anyone?" She asked. sam just shook her head and didn't answer. She had already told both of you that she wasn't going to be the middle man of this mess.

"I know it's hard to face up to these feelings ok? But remember what she told you? You need to figure yourself out before you try to make things right."

"It was hard for me too" Kristie rubbed her back as she entered the room, "I mean things are pretty uptight where I come from and I just wanted to fit in. I know that isn't quite the issue for you but-" she shrugged "For me it helped to remember that life is too short to give a shit about whether you like a boy or a girl."

"I like girls" Kyra stated (It had taken a long time and a lot of girls in red music videos to realise it but now she was dead certain), "But I don't just... I love her." She deadpanned, looking up at Kristie. "That's so scary..."

Sam shrugged again, "It's scary sure, but from the sounds of it she feels the same"

Kyra snorted, "Well maybe she did before I fucked it all up."

"Look man, she isn't going to be the one to reach out to you. No matter how much she loves you, that girl is stubborn as hell. You need to be the one the make amends." Kyra nodded.

She loved you and she knew that now. She loved the way you teased her for her bad jokes, she loved the way you smiled and sang in the shower. She loved to way you squinted your eyes when watching a movie. She missed you. And she knew now that she was a damn fool for thinking any differently.

***

The past few months had been rough to say the very least on the matter. You had taken Ellie's advice and gone out to a few clubs, hooked up with women whose names you can't remember, and tried your best to forget about Kyra. Every other morning you seemed to be waking up in a bed that wasn't yours, and every morning without fail you felt a deep hole in your chest like something had been wrenched out of place. You wanted her, yes, but you needed security more and that was something she wasn't able to give you. Not if she wasn't even able to admit she was gay.

That morning, exactly 3 months, 2 weeks, and one day since you last saw Kyra you felt as though you might finally have forgiven her. Sure you were upset and hurt and embarrassed, and you were sure as hell done making excuses for her; But at the end of the day, Kyra was your best friend and, if your recent escapades had taught you anything, she was also the love of your life.

The knock came at your door when you were halfway through your third cup of coffee for the morning. It startled you enough to leave you swearing and rubbing your hand where you spilled the drink.

"Coming!" you yelled, dropping the cup off in the kitchen before padding barefoot towards the door, expecting the mailman or a delivery. When you opened the door to see Kyra you were glad you had already put your mud down or you would have dropped it again.

"Kyra?" her name felt weird on your tongue, "What are you doing here?"

"I came to see you," She said simply, stepping in and shutting the door softly behind her.

"You could have texted"

"No, I- I needed to talk to you"

"Well. You're talking now" You couldn't help but be a little aloof, you had no idea where to conversation was going to go. Kyra took your statement as permission to continue.

"Can we sit please?" You nodded and led her over the the kitchen where she sat on one of the bar stools. You stayed standing, leaning your hip on the counter.

"I'm sorry" she blurted before you could say anything, "I'm sorry for treating you like shit and for ignoring your feelings, I'm sorry it took me so long to figure myself out. I'm sorry I pushed all these guys in your face like I had something to prove to you. Most of all I'm sorry I didn't tell you how I felt sooner because maybe we wouldn't have gotten into this mess in the first place." She took a breath and rubbed her palms on her thighs nervously.

"The truth is that all those times I flirted with you and stepped over the line... I was not drunk at least not like I acted to be. It was a confidence boost I needed to say what I was thinking, what I am always thinking. I've realised now that I've loved you for years, maybe longer. I knew I felt different towards you than I did others but it was so scary."

You nodded, feeling a knot of emotion form in your throat. Here she was, after months of not talking, saying all the things you had been longing for.

"And I know that it's going to take some time to trust me again" Kyra looked into your eyes now, feeling more confident, "But Y/n I love you so much it hurts. I'm done pretending ok? I'm yours." She smiled softly, "If you'll have me that is."

You watched her fiddle with her fingers for a second before opening your mouth.

"Kyra you have no idea how long I've been waiting to hear you say that." She smiled at you and your heart skipped its familiar beat at the sight. "You're right, I'll need time but..." You stood up straight and walked towards where she sat, "I want this so bad Ky."

You stepped in between her legs and cupped her face between your hands. You watched her eyes go a little wider and her cheeks go pink. You felt her heart speed up under your fingers and for the first time, it was you leaning in to kiss her. Her lips were soft and warm and minty. Her breath was hot and clear against your skin. She wrapped her arms around your waist and sighed against your lips making you giggle. You ran your fingers through her hair like you always wanted to and pulled back slowly. Kyra's eyes were still closed, a small smile on her swollen lips.

"You're the prettiest girl in the world Kyra. You know that right?" Kyra opened her eyes and smiled her perfect smile and your chest filled with a wave of warmth. You would take it slow with her, careful... but in that moment it was everything just to be near her and she felt the very same.

You leaned forward and wrapped your arms around her tightly. You just needed to hold her, to keep her there so she wouldn't leave. As if she read your mind, Kyra moved your hair and planted a small kiss on the side of your neck.

"I'm not going. I promise" she whispered and pressed another feather-light kiss under your ear. Maybe you were a fool, maybe you were an idiot, maybe you were just stupidly in love with this girl. Whatever it was you knew she was telling the truth. Kyra Cooney-Cross was done pretending.

[sstormyskyess]

Hello lovely moot! Can I send a request? Need some more Gaz content please, there’s not enough as we well know. How about something steamy, stolen kisses and an intimate moment when the rest of the team are busy elsewhere. Gotta keep it quiet so no one catches you in the act and blows the secret. Happy with your choice of reader gender identity but top Gaz please 🖤🖤🖤

Undercover

author's note: hi beloved moot and fellow gaz lover!! i will always write gaz content til the day i die, i will populate the gaz x reader tag myself if i have to 💜 thank you for the request!! [and apologies for the wait, finals season is kicking my ass 🥱]

cw: smut, semi-public sex, fingering, unsafe sex [wrap it before you tap it!]

word count: 2100+

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick / Fem!Reader

Gaz had been getting on your nerves for the past hour now. He must be pent up from the last mission; there would be no other reason for him to be practically begging for your attention when he had plenty of other things to focus on. Mainly, the mission brief that was currently being held. The one that would be dictating the strategies you would be employing for the next mission.

But instead of taking in that crucial information, Gaz was squeezing and kneading at the meat of your thighs under the table. You shoot him yet another glare but his eyes remain forward, albeit unfocused. Your face was warming up exponentially, despite the cold winter air drifting in through the door.

“Soap, Ghost. This is need to know, follow me.” Price nodded to the door and all three of them left the room, leaving just you and Gaz in the makeshift meeting room that had been fashioned in the safehouse. Your gaze snaps to Gaz, a frown on your face. “What is wrong with you?!” You whisper-yell, your face heated up all the way down to your shirt collar.

He puts his hands up defensively, a cocky smile playing at his features. “I don’t know what you mean, sweetheart.” You groan, rolling your eyes and rubbing your hands over your face to calm yourself down enough to not strangle him half to death on the spot. “Were you paying attention to the brief at all?” You groan, exasperated by his antics.

Any further protests you were planning on raising were swiftly cut short by Gaz’s lips on yours, his tongue sliding across your bottom lip. You latch your hand to his shoulder, gripping tight and trying to push him off, your frustration fighting to keep your desires under control. He only deepens the kiss, leaning over you and pushing you back against the table. Ultimately, the heat between your legs won out, your body letting him lay you on the old wooden table, covered in important documents that most certainly weren’t meant to be tampered with or damaged in any way.

You let out a little whine into his mouth as his hands started to palm at your chest through your clothes, the soft plush of your breasts squishing under his touch. His hands slip into your sweater, pushing your bra upwards to get better access to your warm skin and perked up nipples. It doesn’t take long for him to lean down and shove his head under the hem of your shirt and wrap his soft lips around one of your hardened buds.

You gasp, grabbing onto his head through the thick fabric making up your sweater. “Gaz, they’re right outside!” You squeak, wiggling in his grasp. He just continues his cruel machinations, pulling you closer even though he was already practically laying on top of you. “I guess we better stay quiet then, yeah?” His voice is muffled by both your skin and the cover of your sweater over his head.

He holds your hips tight to stop your squirming before his fingers start to unbuckle your belt and slip the hem of your cargo pants down. They get shucked off, falling to the ground in a heap, leaving you in only your sweater and your underwear. Your legs instinctively try to close to stave off the cold air against your dampened panties, but Gaz catches them before they can.

He licks his lips at the sight of the wet spot your pussy had created on the soft fabric covering it up, a near ravenous glint in his eyes. He had to force himself to calm down, though; he didn’t have time to bury his face between your legs until your legs were shaking. That would have to wait for later. But he needed you, now.

You let him pull your panties to the side and glide his fingers along your slit, a shiver going down your spine at the feeling. “God, you’re soaked, love.” He smiles to himself, slipping one of his fingers inside, another fitting in beside the first quickly. You bite down on your bottom lip, barely able to suppress the needy moan that bubbles up at the way his digits wormed their way into your tight heat.

He starts to pump his fingers in and out, your hips twitching upwards in response with a sharp inhale. “Fuck—!” You slap your hand over your mouth to keep yourself quiet, your eyes darting to the door for fear of the other three returning and seeing you in this position. Gaz would have none of that, he decided before he grabbed your chin with his other hand and turned your eyes back toward him. “Eyes on me, darling, c’mon.”

Your breath hitches at the hungry look he gives you. You look him over through the fog slowly clouding your brain, taking note of the straining of his pants trying to hold his aching cock back. You’re brought back to reality when his fingers press against that spot that only he can reach, your back arching off the table. The spongy flesh melds around his middle and ring finger, a sharp jolt of pleasure shooting through you. You whine, wiggling under his touch. “Gaz, just hurry up!”

Gaz simply smirks, finally undoing his belt and pulling the zipper of his pants down with his free hand, the outline of his bulge visible behind the fabric of his boxer briefs. You gasp when he pulls you toward the edge of the table, your core pressing up against his clothed cock. He grips your hips tightly, grinding into you and putting delightful friction on your clit through your underwear.

He takes a little while longer to work you open, his fingers spreading your walls open. You clench around them, a tiny whimper leaving your pursed lips. “Gaz, c’mon..!”

“You think you’re ready for me?” He taunts, his smug face making a wave of frustration roll through you. “Yes, I’m ready! Hurry, please!” You whine at him. He shakes his head, laughing quietly. “Alright, alright.”

He lets go of your hip to fish his cock out of his underwear, stiff and leaking at the tip. You bite your lip at the sight, watching him intently as he pumps himself a few times and milks a few more drops of his pre-cum out. Your eyes dart between that delicious sight and his face, feeling your cheeks warm.

You hardly notice his fingers sliding out of you and the head of his cock lining up with your pussy, gliding through your folds. Before you know it, he’s pressing into you, stretching you open. It rips a moan from your lips, a moan that’s just a little too loud.

He jerks up to put his palm over your mouth and continues pushing himself inside. The rest of the moans you let out are muffled by his hand, and he chuckles imagining how loud you would be if he let you sing for him out loud. Maybe later tonight. “You know how much I love your voice, but you have to stay quiet, sweetheart.”

You shoot a glare at him, your eyes shouting at him, ‘If you didn’t want to get caught, why did we do this in the first place,’ but your wordless complaints are stifled when he starts moving his hips. Your back arches at the pace he sets off the jump; it’s obvious he was done playing around now, something about being enveloped in your wet cunt fully awakening his desires.

You cry out behind his hand, putting your own hand over his in an attempt to subdue your own voice more than it already was. The tip of his cock kisses your cervix over and over, the pressure in the pit of your stomach building up with each thrust. He leans over you, hands firmly planted on the table, hitting a different angle than before. A better angle.

Kyle grazes across your sweet spot, your entire body jumping in response. You practically scream his name into the palm of his hand, your eyes rolling back. “Fuuuck…” He groans at the way you tighten around him, his hips stuttering before continuing his quick pace. You whine, hips canting upwards to meet his thrusts.

Your eyes widen when he removes his hand while you were mid-moan, your own hand slapping over your mouth to replace his. He doesn’t let it stay there for long, though; he takes your wrist and pulls it away from your face, leaning down to put his lips on yours in a heated kiss. You let him slip his tongue into your mouth to dance with your own, covering up your lewd noises.

The table legs scrape along the floor with every one of his thrusts. You claw at his back through his shirt, tugging on it. “Gaz—” You have to bite your lip to stop your words from devolving into a moan, before continuing, “S-Slow down, they’re gonna hear us—!” You squeak when all he responds with is a particularly rough thrust.

“D-Don’t care if they hear, fuck—need to feel you cum on my cock, c’mon, do it,” He mutters and starts pulling you into his thrusts, groaning at the feeling of your pussy clenching down on him as you neared your climax.

He takes a moment to lean back and look over your body, a slight sheen of sweat gracing your skin and your eyes glassy. You feel his cock twitch inside you and your hips jerk; you stifle your whine, wrapping your legs around his waist and pulling him closer, desperate to finally cum.

“Christ, love,” He pants, his fingers digging into the plush of your thighs. “You’re so fuckin’ tight—” He bites into his fist, groaning into it. His hand shakes as he drags it to your clit, rubbing quick little circles into your sensitive nub. Your hands fly up to cover your mouth and muffle the string of moans that leaves you as your orgasm finally hits.

Gaz braces his hands on the table’s surface, nearly collapsing under the overwhelming feeling of the walls of your tight cunt fluttering as you cum. It only takes a couple more pumps of his cock for him to finish, his cum sending a pleasantly warm feeling through your body and eliciting a moan from you, not caring about the volume anymore.

Your breath shudders as you try to regain your bearings, your mind a bit fuzzy. His chest rises and falls with heavy breaths, You suck in a quick breath when he pulls out, your cunt oversensitive from his relentless onslaught he laid into it. He smiles and leans down to kiss you sweetly, his hands caressing your sides.

You sit up after a few moments, noticing that Gaz had pulled your panties back in place. You grimace and sigh when you feel him leaking out of you, which is bound to get the seat of your pants wet. You hoped at least you’d be able to escape somewhere to change soon.

“Are you satisfied now?” You grumble, sliding off the table and attempting to hide the way your legs were shaking. He just chuckles, kissing you on the cheek with a smile on his lips. “I am. At least until later tonight.” He plants another kiss behind your ear. “Thank you, love.”

You roll your eyes and playfully push him away, smoothing down your sweater and pulling your cargo pants back up, but not before Gaz grabs a handful of your ass and squeezes. He laughs when you squeak and swat his hand away, your cheeks puffed as you frown. “Stop that! And put your dick away, they're bound to come back in here any minute now.”

He does as you ask and tucks his softening cock away, zipping up his trousers. “Looking forward to later tonight, sweetheart,” he says with a cheeky little grin.

Soap leans against the wall next to the door to their makeshift briefing room, chuckling quietly to himself. Ghost and Price were less than amused, but they could at least acknowledge the absurdity of the situation. They left for five minutes and you and Gaz managed to get into each other’s pants within that short span of time.

“Remind me why we aren’t going back inside?” Ghost grumbles, arms crossed. Price shakes his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m not interested in seeing my sergeants shagging like dogs in heat, Simon.”

Soap hides a louder laugh behind his fist, taking a second to compose himself. “Come on, L.T., no need to ruin their fun.” He barely held back the overpowering urge to reach over a few inches and jiggle the door handle just to spook the two of you. Just barely. Ghost rolls his eyes. “Should’ve picked a better time to have their fun, then.” He huffs.

“It’ll be fine. I can tell them off later.” Price chuckles at Ghost’s drawn out, dramatic sigh and patiently waits for the sound of squealing table legs to quiet down.

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

[inchidentally]

x. com/ln4norris/status/1785872795974652036 thoughts on this?

this is one of those instances where so many ppl have this wildly different take on smth and honestly myself and the moots I talk to didn't even… realize it could be taken any other way ??

I think part of this is also bc some ppl are pretty new to landoscar so I'll put more effort into replying to this than I normally would bc I genuinely didn't and still don't see this as being some dramatic thing that Lando said!

but for better reference, I've actually compiled the full clips from the person who posted them in their stories originally with two clips of Lando and Carlos separately saying how their F1 buddies are NOT the same as their actual private life friendships bc I think it helps contextualize what Lando is talking about here.

I think the funniest misinterpretation about this is ppl taking these Shared Activities as indicating deep and meaningful friendships and that therefore Lando doesn't have anything deep or meaningful with Oscar… just bc no padel or golf ?? lasjfgsjla

"we don't do as many things away from the circuit [as Lando does with other drivers like Carlos and Max]"

like. in what world is that him saying anything but … that ?? it's not deep ??

esp when it corroborates what Lando said in that clip about how his relationships with the drivers he’s friends with depend on shared activities and that they’re not his actual close friends the way Max F and all his buddies in London are (he even says in the video above that his friends are mostly in London not Monaco!) and Carlos corroborated the same thing!

so for one thing, the reason he's fine with saying this is because he doesn't see it as some huge thing that he doesn't happen to have with Oscar ?? bc it's not some deep meaningful thing that he hangs with other drivers sometimes outside of F1! they're buddies sure but they're not his private life friends. that's normal and healthy !!

but the other thing that's honestly funny is ppl deciding to misinterpret this as either Lando being a callous asshole to Oscar or again, taking rpf too seriously and thinking "yaayyy I can pretend Lando is secretly in love with/has a deep bond with/is fucking [insert driver here] and hates Oscar"

and like Carlos, Daniel and Lando literally have identical bromance formats with each other and other drivers which makes the whole rpf competition thing so hilariously dumb?? they all do the common hobbies thing, the playing gay for laughs thing, the posting every interaction to social media for fan engagement thing, the roughhousing physicality thing - all with at least 3-5 other drivers. and when you count up the like rpf ship points that these people use to say which one is "better" then m@xiel shits all the way on dand0 for bonding and being mutually invested and charl0s absolutely dunks on carland0 for gay physicality and mutual affection and norrib0n comes along and reminds ppl that Alex remains a hero to Lando and Lando still gets starry eyes over him in a way he never will for Carlos or Daniel etc etc etcccc

all of which still end up paling in comparison to the actual, deep relationships these guys have with their girlfriends and with their private life friends! the idea that Lando will ever love a male friend the way he does Max F is like going to a rakes lying down park and stamping around to get hit in the face repeatedly like why would you bother to be that stupid bffr

[sidenote that I am SO glad for Lando to say smth like this video if it drives those fans away from landoscar. no joke. we do NOT want them here and we do NOT want them treating Lily the way they treat Heidi and Rebecca and treated Luisa and Isa. please stay in carland0 and dand0 and whatever else with that l@rry stylins0n misogynistic, closeted gay men as a fetish shit]

the reality is that if Lando was just meh about Oscar and disinterested in spending any more time with him than he needed to then why would he even point this out ? why would he bother to point out - with even kind of an exasperated pout in his voice - that Oscar isn't interested in anything they can spend time together doing if he… doesn't want to spend time with Oscar anyway ??

exactly asfgsajgflagf

and for ppl who are new, literally the reason a lot of us are so Compelled is precisely bc Lando and Oscar don't follow the cookie cutter bromance format and their respect and interest in each other doesn't rely on common activities or playing into fan PR. they're literally the anti-PR partnership not bc they hate each other or have drama but bc every member of their team says how much they've bonded as drivers and that every time we get content of them together they're beaming at each other and seem to have all these cute little in-jokes and softness. but none of it is for show! none of it jumps off the screen or has them knowingly trying to bait fans!

their entire dynamic is for their own benefit alone and both of them have said how happy they are to have their future together settled for so many years. and the whole vibe of landoscar fandom is that we were all fine with the idea of them just being work friends! then Silverstone happened and the Austin filming happened etc etc. and now we're all watching it and writing fic and making gifs and edits bc landoscar is gentle and gradual and sweet and boyish and genuine.

it's been this gradual little dance between two guys who each have a unique preoccupation with each other but they don't do any of the usual blokey things to force a friendship. Lando's fixations on Oscar's name and his hair and how he's taller and bigger than him and the weirdly horny verbal burps that come out aren't something he does with any of his other driver friends. Oscar is so chilled about other drivers and doesn't even do the whole hero worship thing, yet his internet history about Lando is it's own extremely unique thing that has carried over as his teammate in a way he's never been about another driver.

they don't roughhouse or make fun of each other or push each other's buttons for fun and they don't even raise their voices around each other ?? everything is so gentle and not macho at all ! Lando strangely feels awkward and looks right at Oscar to explain why he diverted to visit Daniel with Martin as a spontaneous unplanned thing even though Oscar wasn't even in Australia anymore when that happened and Oscar didn't even feel like it needed to be explained! Oscar learns and adapts to what Lando feels sensitive about and needs some help with and sometimes even keeps an eye out for his physical well being.

and I think something that has kind of been missed entirely is that the context for the latest video was Lando saying how he's always been the youngest or least experienced in a driver friendship dynamic and - as he's said many times before! - he finds the idea of having to be the older experienced leader not at all comfortable!

which leads to smth a lot of us have always found the sweetest part of the 814 dynamic, the fact that Lando realized early on that he doesn't have to Try with Oscar and he can just exist in his feelings with Oscar and Oscar does not push and he does not get annoyed or weird or offended! and that means that Lando is yes, free to be the full range of bratty to sweetheart and everything in between bc Oscar will just smile at him and be patient. but !! it also means that unless Lando uses his words or takes charge, Oscar will remain in that quiet patient position in their dynamic and won't presume to take charge.

so Lando wishes Oscar would be the older one and take the initiative and now he's in a pickle where he's saying they only don't hang out bc Oscar won't share an interest with him and you can see for a second he knows what he's saying isn't true bc they all talked on a fan stage about a padel competition between Williams and McLaren and he remembers inviting Oscar out to golf at the last minute one time and that Oscar only declined bc he doesn't know how to play and didn't want to hold everyone up but ugh !!! like that is SUCH a Lando situation to get himself into and to somehow be mad at Oscar about <3<3

but ever since Oscar arrived with very little fanfare and decided not to draw too much attention to himself until literally recently, when the Alpine drama was finally firmly behind him, he's been so intent on showing his deference to Lando and even as lately as the place swap in Melbourne that he fully understands the driver dynamics within the team and respects it. and the thing is that Oscar genuinely is so happy to wait and see what Lando wants or needs that it would never remotely occur to him to push or insert himself into Lando's social life unless invited!

so yes, being a fan of landoscar is just like this! it'll never be the PR friendly bromance or the l@rry stylins0n conspiracy theory.

and yep weirdly enough for how so many ppl are taking it, this video for us is so sweet bc Lando's publicly muddling around about why won't Oscar do a mutual interest with him but also already having admitted that he's not good at taking the role that he needs to and pulling Oscar along into his social life the way Carlos, Daniel, Max etc have always done with him - all while Oscar is oblivious and doesn't think anything is even wrong ! and oh boy, Oscar being too literal and not being the type to be pushy ends up assuming he's doing the right thing by not trying to invite himself along to anything with Lando!

like, this is how it goes! if you want the whole bromance catering precisely to your ship needs OR you're hunting for huge drama and simmering resentments that turn into huge drama then this is NOT the place for you lasfgalfg

don't get me wrong I eat up the bromances and the doomed drama partnerships too but I just don't find them worth writing all these stupid posts about like I do w landoscar bc those partnerships are what you see is what you get. apparently what gets me going is The Yearning and The Miscommunication.

[prince-kallisto]

Crowley: A False Prophet and the Unholy Trinity

HEAR ME OUT, HEAR ME OUT. @overly-niche-twst makes amazing and funny memes, but as you all should know, even the memes aren’t immune from my theories. But the connection of Crowley and the “false prophet” hit me like a train. A false prophet? In a game where the religious symbolism runs rampant? And when digging into research, I was SHOOK at what I learned. I swear this is the worst rabbit hole I’ve ever gone through because of a MEME 😭

In Biblical lore, a prophet is someone who receives a divine message from a supernatural source and must share the message with the rest of humanity. This message is often referred to as a “prophecy.”

I’ve talked about Levan potentially having prophetic powers on here several times, but as a little recap, Lilia seems to hint at Levan’s uncanny foresight. Either he’s just an incredible master strategist, or Levan has powerful magic (perhaps Unique Magic, or just really good at astrology) related to seeing the future. For example, he SOMEHOW knew that Lilia and Malleus would attend NRC 500 years in the future, and taught Lilia and the other Fae a common language with humans in hopes of reuniting the Fae and humans in the future, like at NRC.

What makes me feel certain about this theory is that ravens in Greek mythology were related to Prophecy, because they were believed to be the bird of Apollo, the Greek god of prophecy. And Levan seems to be twisted from Diavolo, Maleficent’s Raven (unconfirmed but seems likely with info so far)

Technically, if the gift of prophecy was Levan’s UNIQUE Magic, it could count as a “supernatural” source, right? And if he taught and guiding the Fae with the information he saw from the future, Levan could technically be considered a prophet.

But what is a false prophet, and why do I believe Crowley is one?

(Disclaimer, I am not religious myself and am using Biblical texts from a purely analytical perspective. If you know better on this topic, want to add something/correct me, please let me know! Sorry for putting so many links here too haha, there’s just too much to talk about in one post!)

A false prophet is someone who falsely claims the gift of prophecy, or is speaking from the supernatural source of evil, typically the Devil. According to Biblical lore, the false prophet will present themselves as benevolent (Crowley “I am so kind” is that you) and weak, but have great power and evil. What I found very interesting was this line from the Bible:

“Beware of false prophets, who come to you in sheep's clothing but inwardly are ravenous wolves.”

I’ve made theories regarding Crowley’s true nature many, many times before. My moots tease me for using this Rook screenshot so many times, but I genuinely believe Rook understands Crowley’s character.

Anyway, the TRUE enemy is one who watches from the periphery with a smile…something that Crowley always does. Always watching, but never seemingly acting. He lets everyone’s guard down by being useless, unreliable, and ridiculous, but he definitely has something up his sleeve. In Biblical lore, the wolf is considered a malevolent predator who feeds on the innocent. Like young and impressionable students, perhaps? I think it’s very interesting that Crowley refers to students as his eggs or chicks, like children that he’s “raising.” But a baby bird is one of the many symbols of innocence, and Yana Toboso herself has cryptically said how the repeated egg theme in TWST is a representation of how “Eggs are a good symbol of things that can never go back to how they were, once they have been broken.”

But what about the False Prophet? Well, I’ve recently made an analysis on how Crowley encourages the Overblots in every single book. As a little recap, he’s the one who suggests the magic duel against Riddle in Book 1, the Hall of Fame to Leona in Book 2, signs a contract with Azul in Book 3, abandons Yuu and also stirs Jamil’s hatred by making Kalim housewarden in Book 4, etc etc. He’s constantly leading these students astray in a very subtle manner. But I think he needs the Overblots to happen so Yuu can save them, so he can get the Overblot Crystals.

Additionally, Lilia mentions how historical narrative have been “twisted” to suit someone’s agenda. And judging from how everyone thinks the Disney Villains were sources of good to look up to, the manipulation from Crowley may be more literal than we think.

And if Crowley is leading these people astray for a greater purpose/higher power, this technically makes him a False Prophet. It goes even deeper when you consider his cryptic words throughout the books, as if he is seeing the future. He knows where the students are when they’re talking about important things, he knows when STYX will break in…and as I mentioned, ravens are connected to the gift of prophecy.

And guess what? The False Prophet, according to Christian lore, is part of the Unholy Trinity. TWST has a slyly repeats the theme of three, and which can noticed in NRC’s logo that may represent the past, present, and future. BUT THATS NOT WHY I WAS FREAKING OUT-

Because what does the Unholy Trinity consist of?

The DRAGON

The ANTICHRIST

And the FALSE PROPHET

In a previous theory examining religious symbolism with Meleanor and the Virgin Mary, I also concluded that Malleus Draconia is a representation of the Antichrist, especially because of the star imagery in TWST. Meleanor even refers to him as an “evil star” that would curse humanity.

But now I’m doubting this- I think I had it all wrong. Not about Meleanor being the Virgin Mary, but about who represents the Antichrist. But let me go over what the implications of the Unholy Trinity means first.

Edit: actually I never claimed Malleus was the antichrist at all in that post LMAO, I confused myself with the different names for Lucifer/Devil/Satan 😭😭😭 so technically I was right all along with claiming that Malleus is Lucifer in that post🤪🤪🤪🤪 I won’t edit out this mistake to avoid confusion in the reblogs

The Antichrist and the False Prophet are referred to as the “first and second beast,” who obey the DRAGON. But the Antichrist, aka the First Beast/Beast of the Sea, is described as “emerging from the abyss”

MALLEUS’ TITLE IS LITERALLY THE RULER OF THE ABYSS. IM GONNA- BABXBSB

Edit: I’d like to add that the Bible describes this Abyss as an unfathomably deep, dark, and boundless place, often compared to the ocean and chaos. And recently in Book 7, Silver almost succumbed to the darkness…where there was no light, no people, nothing except darkness and blot. That is TWST’s version of the Abyss, and Malleus is the ruler of it! This religious symbolism has to be intentional

I think the Antichrist actually GRIM. A supreme representation of evil thats said that appear at the END OF THE WORLD/APOCALYPSE. And if we recall the prologue, we see Grim in a horrible monster form in a shattered Mirror Chamber. An amalgamation from the Overblot Crystals, which is literally the condensed version of the Overblot, a representation of purely negative emotions.

And based on what text describes the First Beast as, he has “seven heads, appearance of a leopard, feet of a bear, and a mouth of a lion. The dragon gave him his power, his throne, and great authority.”

What’s even more interesting is that there’s an “Angel of the Abyss” known as Abaddon. His description intrigued me, as “king of a plague of locusts resembling horses with crowned human faces, women's hair, lions' teeth, wings, iron breast-plates, and a tail with a scorpion's stinger” Since this character is up to interpretation, some religious scholars say this character is the Antichrist. Again, it’s a wild amalgamation of features that sound like Grim.

The Second Beast/Beast of the Earth, aka the False Prophet, is said to rise from the earth (a metaphor for Hell perhaps) and force the world to worship the antichrist. That’s one of the definitions of the false prophet, as one who seeks to lure humanity astray alongside the Devil. Is this some crazy foreshadowing for what Crowley will do in the future?!

And once again using Biblical texts, this second beast “spoke like a dragon,” referring to his arrogance and connection to the Devil. It reminds me of Levan’s title as Ryūgan Duke Levan,” or 竜眼公レヴァーン , aka “Dragon-Eyed”

Anyway. Back to the Dragon, it’s also referred to as the Serpent. Serpents in biblical lore are incredibly important- but are also very symbolic in TWST. I’ve made an post analyzing the serpents in NRC’s logo before, but as a recap, they’re also one of the symbols of rebirth in TWST. I’d like to add that snakes also considered symbols of Wisdom, which is fitting for “Sages Island.” Some religious scholars also consider the lying serpent in the Garden of Eden to be the “first false prophet.”

But the Ancient Serpent specifically represents the “Devil/Satan/the Dragon.”

The reason why I’m doubting Meleanor being the “Dragon” in this Unholy Trinity is because the Dragon attacks the WOMAN OF THE APOCALYPSE, AKA THE VIRGIN MARY 🏃‍♂️🏃‍♂️🏃‍♂️ IS MY MELEANOR THEORY COMING TRUE?!? ( I’m just being delulu but please humor me)

But what’s even more interesting is that again in Revelations, it’s said an Angel with a “key to the Abyss and a chain” locks up the Ancient Serpent for 1000 years. Hm?? Malleus literally said that everyone would sleep for 1000 years in his Overblot. What’s interesting about the Angel is that he has the key to the ABYSS…is this Angel meant to be Silver?!? Silver, who has a glowing ring protecting him from the darkness, and heavily connected to a magical sword??? So he the Angel with the “key” to the Abyss, aka Malleus?

So if Crowley is the false prophet…there’s a high chance he’s behind the Overblots. And remember: the False Prophet will force the world to worship the Antichrist. Is this to foreshadow how Crowley will make the Twisted Wonderland world fall because of Grim?

So let me recap what I think this means:

The Dragon- Malleus

The Antichrist- Grim

The False Prophet- Crowley

The Angel- Silver

The Virgin Mary- Meleanor

And you know what, let’s just throwing in the idea that Yuu is the Lamb that opens the Seven Seals, which marks the beginning of the apocalypse, and the Seven Angels/Trumpets are the Overblotters, WHY NOT. A theory to elaborate on for another day…perhaps it will be a series connecting the biblical apocalypse to TWST?

🏃‍♂️🏃‍♂️🏃‍♂️ANYWAY IF THE UNHOLY TRINITY THING IS INTENTIONAL IM GONNA SPONTANEOUSLY COMBUST

To Joy, I got really carried away with this theory, apologies if it sounds confusing, I did NOT mean it to go this far 😭😭😭 but I swear, that was a muse moment, your meme made ALL my brain cells connect for once and I feel like I’ve unearthed something important 🫡

Of course, let me just say that these parallels are not perfect (e.g Malleus being the Dragon despite Meleanor being the Virgin Mary) and some of these characters may better fit other Biblical figures better 🫡 But since I’m focusing on the Apocalypse part, I think that is idea is working, and I’d really like to delve deeper into research!

[chvoswxtch]

hi court!!!! I devoured your frank castle fics, you just capture him so fucking perfectly!!! soooo, i’m usually pretty extroverted and outspoken and I feel like I see a lot of frank x shy reader. I was wondering if you were interested in potentially writing this request: frank and a pretty confident and extroverted reader (on the shorter and curvier side bc I’m self indulgent) who maybe feels a bit insecure because of a lack of romantic partners and whatnot and maybe they’re friends and something happens and frank just wants to show her how attractive he really finds her…

maybe this sparks some inspiration? i would love to read it, but either way I am obsessed with anything frank or matt you write!!!

ps: thank u for the follow now we’re moots and i’m so fucking excited!! xxx sending so much love your way

hi angel baby d!!!

first of all, thank you so much for your sweet words. i'm also so fucking excited to be moots now!!! as a short curvy girl myself, I happily self indulged on this with you. thank you so much for the request, angel. I wasn't sure if you wanted it to be spicy or not, so I left it open ended. but if you want a spicy follow up, i'd be more than happy to write it. ;) please enjoy this valentine's treat from me to you, love. ❤️

I know y'all didn't think I was gonna leave out my frankie girlies on valentine's day. everyone say thank you @neverlandcity. ❤️

warning: swearing (bc frankie), mentions of alcohol, & allusions to spiciness. word count: 1.7k

[part two]

pretty.

From the moment he met you, Frank hadn’t been able to shut you up. He always knew exactly what was on your mind because you had no problem speaking it. For someone so small, you sure as hell had the confidence of someone his size, and the attitude to match. He was certain it looked comical every time he had to haul you out of a bar over his shoulder when you tried to pick a fight with some asshole three times your size. Other times though, he just sat back and watched with a grin. After all, sometimes those shitheads earned it.

If there was one person in this entire world Frank was scared to death to piss off, it was you. But, he got lucky in that your patience with him seemed to be limitless. As much as he had tried to keep you at arms length when you two first met, you weren’t having any of that shit, and very quickly had won him over. You very easily became one of his favorite people, and overtime he eventually got used to keeping up with you. 

But tonight, you were quiet. 

Frank couldn’t think of a time since he’d met you that you had ever been quiet. There was the one time you lost your voice from having a cold, but that didn’t stop you from furiously going through two entire notepads in a three day span. He thought he’d enjoy the silence, but honestly he had gotten so used to your voice that it was unnerving not being able to hear it. There was an immense sense of relief he felt once you could talk again, even if you did sound like you smoked forty packs a day for a while. 

You hadn’t said more than ten words since you showed up at Frank’s door thirty minutes ago with a full bottle of tequila that was steadily being depleted. He cocked his head to the side as he studied you, noting the intense look of concentration on your features as you sliced up another lime in perfectly proportionate wedges. 

“Did someone die?”

You immediately paused, whipping your head around to face him as your brows knit together in the center of your forehead in clear confusion.

“What?”

“Just wonderin’ if someone died.”

“Uh…not that I know of?”

“Then what the hell you bein’ so quiet for?”

“What are you talking about?”

Frank leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest, narrowing his eyes slightly as he studied your face.

“You’ve barely said a full goddamn sentence since you walked through that door, and you’re cuttin’ up that lime like you’re performin’ fuckin’ open heart surgery. Not to mention, that bottle was full thirty minutes ago.”

A scoff sounded from your lips as you squeezed the juice of one of the lime wedges into your glass and shrugged your shoulders.

“Yeah well, someone is a heavy handed bartender and likes their drinks strong.”

“You’re the one makin’ the drinks, sweetheart.”

Frank arched one of his brows with a smirk as you glared at him. Your lips parted as you went to retort, glancing between both of your glasses and the assembly line that you currently had going. You shook your head as you went back to fixing yourself another drink and flipped him off over your shoulder.

“Shut up.”

Frank rolled his eyes as he rubbed his palms down his face, eyeing you as you sat back down at the table across from him and sipped on your drink.

“Jesus, normally I can’t get you to shut the hell up and now I can’t get ya to talk to me? The hell’s that about?”

He could tell he was testing your patience by the way you narrowed your eyes and pursed your lips in displeased line.

“No one died, Frank.”

“Then what happened?”

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit.”

An exasperated groan left your lips as you set your glass on the table with a heavy thud, crossing your arms over your chest as you rolled your eyes.

“I had a shitty date last night and I wanted to drink about it. There. Will you quit being a dick now?”

Frank tensed up at the mention of the word date. 

Who the fuck did you go on a date with? Why didn’t you tell him? Since when were you dating? Wait…did you say-

“That bad?”

Your eyes instantly locked with Frank’s, and the emotion swirling around in them had him softening. You swallowed thickly and put your armor back up, rolling your eyes as you laughed dryly and downed another sip of your drink.

“I’ve had worse.”

As much as Frank didn’t wanna hear about you going on a date with some asshole, he did have a lot of questions.

“He uh…do somethin’?”

The nonchalance he had attempted had clearly failed by the smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth.

“Nothing that warrants you going all “Punisher” on him.”

Frank cocked his head to the side slightly as he stared at you, tensing his jaw as his fingers twitched in his lap.

Anyone even fuckin’ lookin’ at you the wrong way would warrant that.

The smirk on your lips quickly fell when you noticed Frank was seriously considering the validity of your words. You let out a deep exhale as you stared down into your glass, swirling the contents around slowly.

“Just…not his type I guess.”

“The hell’s that s’posed to mean? He say that?”

You held your hand up as Frank sat up a little straighter in his seat, shaking your head as you chuckled dryly to yourself.

“He didn’t have to.”

Frank’s face fell at the dejection in your tone, but he was impossibly confused. There was a layer of scarlet starting to burn on your cheeks, and you prayed Frank would think it was from the tequila and not from the embarrassing truth. 

“I…I’m just…not what he wanted, and that’s fine, you know? I just wish I would’ve stalked his social media before the date, because then I would’ve known better than to go. I mean…all his exes were these like super tall, thin, bombshell supermodel types, and that’s just…not me.”

There was a rage flowing through Frank’s veins that he hadn’t felt in a long time. As much as you were trying to play it off, he knew you were upset. He could see the way your eyes glimmered as you gazed down into your glass. 

“Whatever. He was boring anyway.”

“He sounds like a bitch.”

A loud laugh slipped past your lips as you spit out your drink, covering your mouth as you stared at him incredulously and tried to speak through your giggles.

“God Frankie, tell me how you really feel.”

No one had called him Frankie since Russo, and the first time you had, he froze. He hadn’t expected to like the way it sounded coming from your lips so much. He tried to pretend like it annoyed him every time you called him that, but he secretly loved it. It was something that now belonged only to you. He’d never let anyone else use it.

Frank shook his head as he finished off his own drink, setting the glass down on the table a little harder than he had to as he scoffed.

“Fuckin’ idiot was probably intimidated.”

“Intimidated? Frank, I can’t reach the top of my fridge without a step stool.”

“I’m not talkin’ ‘bout your height, smartass. I meant by you.”

There was an edge to Frank’s voice that stunned you quiet and had your giggles immediately disappearing. He seemed genuinely pissed off about something, and there was a flame flickering dangerously in his eyes. He stared at you quietly for a moment, seemingly trying to gather his thoughts. Shaking his head slowly, a tiny smile pulled at the corner of his mouth.

“You’re smart, I mean really fuckin’ smart. Sometimes too smart for your own damn good. You’re funny, and you ain’t even gotta try to be. You got the biggest goddamn heart out of anybody I ever met. I know you talk a big game and you’re ‘bout five feet and some change of pure sass, but you give a shit, ya’know? I mean you care ‘bout people, always goin’ out of your way for everyone and shit. I mean hell, you intimidate the shit out of me, and I’m a man. I can only imagine how much you terrified that little boy.”

Your mouth hung open as you processed Frank’s words. There was so much venom in that last sentence alone that you were nearly speechless. 

“I…you’re…contractually obligated to say that.”

“The hell I am.”

“Frank-”

“A boy wants a girl, sweetheart. But a man…a man wants a woman, yeah? And you, darlin’, are all woman.”

You’d be a fucking liar if you said you didn’t find Frank attractive. But you certainly never thought he would ever see you that way. You thought he tolerated you at best considering you practically forced your friendship on him. You weren’t sure if it was the alcohol simmering in your veins or his words buzzing in your ears, but there was something about the way he was looking at you right now that had warmth spreading throughout your lower half.

“I do.”

“What?”

Frank chuckled as a wolfish grin spread over his lips, nodding his head in your direction.

“You asked if I thought you were pretty.”

Your eyes doubled in size as your lips parted, blinking a few times to try and clear the drunken haziness that had started to cloud your judgment.

“Oh God…did I say that out loud? I don’t even-wait, what? You…you think I’m pretty?”

“I think you’re fuckin’ gorgeous.”

Frank tilted his head to the side slightly as he let his eyes wander shamelessly over your body, clearly pleased with your reaction to his confession. He used his boot to kick his chair away from the table a bit so that he could spread his legs out as he faced you directly. He gently patted his thigh with one of his large hands as he stared at you with a smirk spreading over his mouth.

“Now, why don’t you c’mere and let me show you just how pretty I think you are, sweetheart.”

[ghostinthelibrarywrites]

prompts! werewolves + arranged marriage + truth/lie revealed + on a cruise :D

Here's a Geraskier modern with magic AU! Warnings for mentions of past character injury and child abuse:

The cruise was Jaskier’s idea.

“We need a honeymoon, Geralt!” Geralt’s new husband told him barely five minutes after they’d exchanged their stilted, awkward wedding vows, and barely twenty minutes after they’d clapped eyes on each other for the first time. “This marriage may not have been what either of us wanted, but we still deserve a proper celebration.”

In retrospect, that should have been the first indication that something was off. No werewolf with a working nose would subject themselves to all the smells—never mind all the sounds—of thousands of people trapped together on a boat.

“You’re not a werewolf,” he says slowly, letting the words sink in. He and Jaskier are sitting by the pool on the top level of the cruise ship, surrounded by the scents of chlorine, sweat, and sunscreen as children shriek and parents shout around them.

“No.” His husband looks the picture of decadent ease, wearing indecently tiny, bright yellow swim trunks with a neon pink, flowered shirt that’s unbuttoned nearly to his navel, with a colorful, frozen drink replete with an umbrella clutched in his hand. Only the faint, sour scent of nervousness gives him away.

“But you’re a Pankratz.” That’s the whole point of this damn marriage, to seal a peace treaty between the Lettenhove and Kaer Morhen packs. The union between Geralt, the second son of Vesemir Morhen, and Jaskier, the fourth son of Alfred Pankratz, is supposed to symbolize the new union between their packs after decades of tension.

“In name only, I’m afraid.” Jaskier flashes a smile that’s only slightly strained at the corners. “I bear a startling resemblance to a human journalist who visited Lettenhove to do a piece on the pack about nine months before I was born. It seems I take after him in more ways than one.”

At the wedding last week, Geralt noticed that Jaskier looked nothing like his burly, fair-haired father and brothers with their humorless mouths and beady hazel eyes, but he thought nothing of it, assuming that Jaskier resembled his late mother. But if Jaskier isn’t even a Pankratz…

“This renders the treaty moot,” Geralt says. “Your father realizes that, doesn’t he? If you hadn’t told me, I would have found out in two weeks, when you didn’t shift at the full moon, and the treaty would be as good as over.”

“I imagine he fully realizes that, yes.” Jaskier looks away, smiling at a pack of children wrestling over an inflatable orca in the pool. “My father is many things, but he’s not a fool. “

“If he had tried this with Calanthe or Vizimir’s pack, he would be signing your death warrant,” Geralt says, then goes cold when not a single flicker of surprise crosses Jaskier’s face. Instead, the nervous scent grows stronger.

“Yes, Geralt,” Jaskier says lightly, taking a sip of his drink. “I assume that was the point. He marries me off to you, you rip me apart on the full moon when you realize that you were deceived, and then he has legitimate reason to declare full-out war on the Kaer Morhen pack. Plus, he gets rid of his wife’s inconvenient human bastard.”

Geralt closes his eyes. Suddenly, a lot about this past week makes a horrible kind of sense. “That’s why you wanted to go on this damn cruise, so you could tell me somewhere we’d be surrounded by human witnesses, far from my pack.”

“I do apologize for that,” Jaskier says. “I knew all the sounds and smells would leave you off-kilter, which I thought might give me a chance if I needed to defend myself. By the time I realized you weren’t the kind of man to tear my still-beating heart out, it was too late to turn back. Plus, after I booked the tickets, I learned that a truly alarming amount of people vanish from cruise ships every year. Apparently, it’s much easier to make people disappear at sea than I counted on.”

Geralt grunts. “I’m not going to make you disappear.”

“I know that now.” A gentle hand touches his wrist and Geralt opens his eyes to see his own reflection mirrored in Jaskier’s oversized sunglasses. It’s the first time Jaskier has looked at him since they started this conversation and suddenly, Geralt wishes his husband weren’t wearing those sunglasses, so he could see his eyes.

“Then why are you still afraid?” Geralt asks, because that nervous scent is only growing stronger, nearly overpowering the scent of Jaskier’s sunscreen and the strawberry-and-rum scent of his drink.

Jaskier grimaces. “Well, you have other options, if tearing me apart and dumping my mangled corpse overboard isn’t your style. My father married me off to you under false pretenses, after all.”

Geralt watches him for a moment. “You’re afraid I’m going to send you back to Lettenhove.”

“I doubt anyone could blame you if you did,” Jaskier says. “You wanted a proper werewolf mate and instead, you got a defective halfbreed who will never do your pack a damn bit of good.”

He says those last words in a cadence that isn’t his own, like they’re something someone else has said to him many times.

“What will happen to you if you go back to Lettenhove?” Geralt already knows the answer.

He can practically feel Jaskier’s gaze on him, even through the sunglasses. “He’ll find another way to get rid of me, I imagine. Or he’ll try to turn me again and see if it sticks this time.”

Something hot and furious rises in Geralt, not so much at the words, but at the matter-of-fact way Jaskier says them. He schools the rage from his expression, so Jaskier won’t think it’s directed at him. “Again?”

He remembers the scars he’s gotten glimpses of at various points in the past week—a slash across Jaskier’s thigh, a bite mark on his shoulder, the curve of claw marks on his side. He’s thought nothing of them. All werewolves have scars, but Jaskier isn’t a werewolf. He’s a human.

“My mother died when I was sixteen,” Jaskier says. “My grandfather passed away not long after. Once they were gone, there wasn’t anyone to stop my father and brothers from doing what they’d been threatening to do since I hit puberty and they realized I couldn’t shift.”

“They tried to turn you.” Geralt swallows back the bitter taste the words leave. There’s a reason turning humans is banned by all the major wolfpacks in the Northern Kingdoms, except in extreme circumstances. It’s a brutal process, one that requires bringing humans to the brink of death before biting them. Most of the time, it’s unsuccessful. Geralt only knows of one werewolf that was successfully turned: his younger brother, Lambert.

A woman walks by them, carrying a wailing toddler in her arms while another young boy trails behind, loudly protesting his innocence. “He said I smelled like cheese!” the younger child blubbers.

Jaskier chuckles and catches the mother’s eye. “Brothers,” he says and the mother smiles and looks up at the sky in exasperation before hurrying away to soothe her younger son’s hurt feelings.

Geralt can see the edge of the scar on Jaskier’s thigh peeking out from underneath his shorts. He wonders which of Jaskier’s brothers put it there, or if they just watched while his father did it. He thinks of a sixteen-year-old Jaskier, wide-eyed and baby-faced as he was hunted down and savaged by people he should have been able to trust.

“A friend of my mother’s helped me get away,” Jaskier says. “My birth father mysteriously vanished not long after my father realized who I looked like, but his sister lives in Oxenfurt. She knows someone who knows someone who was able to help me create a new identity. So I stopped being Julian Pankratz and lived for fifteen years as Jaskier. I finished high school, went to Oxenfurt, eventually got a job teaching at Oxenfurt, all as Jaskier. I thought my father had forgotten about me, right until my brothers showed up and shoved me into the back of a car to bring me back to Lettenhove and get married.”

“You should have said something at the wedding,” Geralt says. “My pack would have helped you. I would have helped you.”

“I know that now, but you were a stranger then, and a werewolf to boot. Before I met you, this—” Jaskier pulls aside the neckline of his shirt. “Had largely been my experience with werewolves.”

Geralt stares at the ridge of pale scars across Jaskier’s shoulder, a line of teeth marks in the shape of a wolf’s jaws. He can imagine it clearly: a werewolf pinning Jaskier to the ground and sinking their teeth into Jaskier’s shoulder, tearing soft flesh and crushing bone. He’s been on the receiving end of such wounds many times, but he’s a werewolf, not a breakable human. Jaskier is lucky he didn’t bleed to death. Geralt reaches out to trace one finger along the line of scars. Jaskier shivers at the touch, despite the heat of the day.

“I’m sorry,” he says. It’s inadequate, but it’s all he can offer Jaskier. “This shouldn’t have happened to you.”

Jaskier smiles a little sadly. “What now, Geralt?”

Geralt never wanted this marriage, was furious when Vesemir told him what the treaty with the Lettenhove pack would entail. A week ago, he would have jumped at the chance to declare the marriage void and to get back to his simple, quiet life. But what would that mean for Jaskier? He could return to his life at Oxenfurt, but how long will it take for Alfred Pankratz to target him again? How long before Jaskier is dragged away to be used as a political pawn again, or slaughtered outright? Without protection, Jaskier will never be safe from the Lettenhove pack.

“We’re going to spend the next week on this fucking ship,” Geralt says. “We’re going to go to the couples ballroom dancing class you signed us up for tonight.” His lips twitch at Jaskier’s snort of laughter. “I’m going to teach you how to play Gwent tomorrow, because we’re going to win the Gwent tournament on Sunday, so something will come out of this cruise. And then we’re going to go back to Kaer Morhen and tell Vesemir what your old pack is up to. And then we’re going to kill your fucking father.”

Jaskier stares at him, seemingly shocked silent for the first time since Geralt met him.

“Unless you don’t want me to kill him?” From what Geralt has heard, Alfred Pankratz deserves a violent death, but he did raise Jaskier. Perhaps there’s still some affection there.

“The treaty—” Jaskier croaks.

“The treaty was entered into under false pretenses,” Geralt says. “It’s void. And even if it wasn’t, I don’t give a fuck about the treaty or pack politics or any of that bullshit. Are you safe, as long as your father is alive?”

Jaskier swallows. “No.”

“Then he has to die.” Geralt realizes that he’s still touching Jaskier’s shoulder and quickly withdraws his hand. “Werewolf, human, it doesn’t matter. You’re my husband. I’m not going to let your father hurt you again.”

“And your pack?”

“They’ll help.” It’s a testament to what a clusterfuck the Lettenhove pack is that Jaskier doesn’t realize that, Geralt thinks. Of course Vesemir, Eskel, Lambert, and the rest of the Kaer Morhen pack will come to Jaskier’s defense. He’s one of them now for as long as he wants to be.

Jaskier stares at him for another long moment. Just when Geralt starts to wonder what he said wrong, Jaskier surges forward. Most of his frozen drink sloshes down Geralt’s front, but Geralt hardly notices, because Jaskier is kissing him. It’s the first kiss they’ve shared since the single kiss they exchanged to seal their wedding vows and it’s nothing like that quick, chaste peck on the lips. Jaskier kisses Geralt almost desperately, one hand fisting in the front of his t-shirt, lips warm and insistent against Geralt’s. When he finally pulls away, they’re both breathing hard.

“He made a mistake when he married me to you, didn’t he?” Jaskier laughs, sounding almost disbelieving. “He thought you’d be like him, that you’d do what he would do to a human he didn’t want.”

Emboldened, Geralt slides his hand up Jaskier’s face to take his sunglasses off, revealing those blue eyes, which are watching him with hope. He doesn’t smell nervous anymore, Geralt realizes.

Water splashes over their legs as a kid cannonballs into the pool and a lifeguard blows their whistle, the sound sharp and shrill. Neither Geralt nor Jaskier notice; they’re watching each other. For the first time, Geralt feels like they’re in this together. Maybe this won’t be a sham of a political marriage. Maybe Jaskier won’t just be a husband foisted upon him, but his mate.

“Well,” Jaskier says with genuine levity instead of the terrible, false brightness he’s carried with him for the past week. “I suppose if you’re going to suffer through ballroom dancing lessons tonight, I owe you a drink, don’t I?”

“Do they serve anything that isn’t pink and frozen?”

“Oh, please, don’t pretend you’re above pina coladas and strawberry daiquiris, just because you’re big and broody.” At Geralt’s flat look, Jaskier flashes a shit-eating grin. This is the Jaskier that Geralt has only caught glimpses of for the past week, someone full of mischief and life, someone that Jaskier has been keeping carefully hidden behind a veneer of false good cheer, probably in an effort not to piss off his new husband.

Geralt likes this Jaskier far better.

“Fine, I’ll get you a boring beer,” Jaskier says, rising to his feet with a sigh.

“Maybe some paper towels too.” Geralt pointedly looks at the strawberry daiquiri sloshed down his arm.

“But it looks good on you! Adds some color to your palette.” Jaskier’s smile gets wider when Geralt rolls his eyes. “Fine, a boring beer and some paper towels. I’ll be right back.”

Geralt watches him walk away, trying and failing not to notice how tiny those shorts are. He’s going to need to contact Vesemir as soon as they get back to the cabin, to tell him that Alfred Pankratz is up to something. And then when they dock in Novigrad at the end of the week, he’ll have to start planning how to deal with Pankratz once and for all.

But for now, he thinks he’s going to let himself enjoy his honeymoon, ballroom dancing and all.

Trope Mashup Prompts

Tag list: @kueble @mollymawkwrites @feral-jaskier @geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde @dawnofbards @thisislisa @mosaicscale @tsukiwolf42 @rockysstupidity @fontegagrilledcheese @kuripon @help-i-need-a-cool-username @julek

[heroesfan101]

Love & Lore's: Autumn Sweater Event

5 + 1 (The 5 times you borrow Miyuki Kazuya’s hoodie and the 1 time he borrows yours)

A/N: Hi y'all! Super excited to post this fic for @love-and-lore and their Autumn collab event. When the theme was announced as sweaters, this idea immediately came to mind. Hoodies count as sweaters right 😅 Please note this does include a female reader and pet names (babe, sweetheart).

Word Count: 2.4k

1. Running late to work

Monday. Most people’s least favorite day of the week. Weekends came and went faster than expected. And while Kazuya tried to get you to prep for the upcoming week during the weekend, you preferred spending your time with him and indulging in your hobbies.

It is also noted that he tried to get you to break the habit of leaving your jackets on the back of your dining room chairs. Both, however, were a moot point but soon would cause your downfall.

“Shoot I’m going to be late!” You curse under your breath as you scurry around the apartment in an effort to get your belongings together. Lunch, check. Purse, check. What am I missing? My business jacket! I have a presentation today, can’t forget that.

Checking your watch, your eyes widen in shock. Crap I have to hurry or I’ll miss my train!

Without a second thought, you grab the jacket from the back of a chair before rushing out the door, not even having enough time to wake your boyfriend up with a kiss like usual. Folding it over your purse, you rush out of the house, determined to make your train on time.

Luckily, you board the train and get to work right in the knick of time, much to your delight. However, once you settle yourself, your phone buzzes twice and you look to see a message from Kazuya including a picture.

“Good morning. If you wanted to give me something to wear, we could have talked about it. Maybe I’m not the only one who needs glasses, think you got a little mixed up.” You bypass his sleepy morning smile and your heart drops as you see him holding up your blazer. Your eyes flash down to your purse and sure enough you took his navy blue hoodie. A deep sigh escapes your body as you text back.

“I’m sorry Kazuya. Seems you’ve proven your point on being prepared for the week ahead -_-" ” With a bit of embarrassment, you ask one of your peers to borrow their blazer for your presentation.

2. Grocery shopping

Milk. Eggs. Bread. Tofu. Salmon. One by one, Kazuya and you start loading up the car with your groceries. You were more focused on how to pack up the trunk of your car until Kazuya stopped to look up at the sky, light and dark gray swirls reflecting on his glasses.

“Hmmm. We better move quickly. Looks like the rain is coming sooner than expected.”

“Say less!” The couple moves double time to pack up their items and start getting on their way home. While they’re able to get home in good time, the stormy weather was faster as the sky opened up as they parked.

“Scared of a little rain are you?” He teases as he shifts the gear into park.

“You know I’m not, I just don’t like getting wet.”

“Didn’t know my girlfriend was a cat.” Kazuya continues, causing you to narrow your eyes at him.

“Just for that I should make you bring in the groceries yourself.” You sass.

“Ah ah no need to be like that, sweetheart. I thought you loved me? What happened to doing things together?” He chuckles with a snarky grin.

“We could but not if you’ll be a jerk about it.” You pout playfully, causing him to laugh.

“You know I could bring it in myself, right?”

“I know but you know I love proving you wrong. Luckily, I’m already prepared.” Reaching past him in the back seat, you pull out one of his black hoodies. Grabbing the bottom of the hoodie, you work your body through it until it swallows you whole.

He laughs yet again, “Well alright then, partner. We’ll get a nice warm shower after this.” Both of you brace yourselves before rushing out into the rain.

3. Feeling sick

“Achoo! Achoo!” Your body seizes before relaxing again. The door to the guest room opens up and in walks Kazuya with a steaming bowl of soup. You sit up, reaching for a tissue to soothe your sniffling nose.

“Babe! You could have left it outside; I would have gotten it. I don’t want you to get sick too.” Kazuya shakes his head but it’s easy to tell he’s frowning behind his mask.

“It’ll be fine. This is just to make sure you eat some of the soup while it’s hot. I’ll be fine like this.” He assures you before setting up a tray so you can eat. Throwing your tissue away, you shift to the edge of the bed to see the biggest bowl of soup.

“Kazuya, this is a lot of soup. You don’t expect me to eat this in one go right?”

His eyes narrow before softening, “It would be ideal but eat as much as you can. It’s a family recipe.”

Your ears perk up at that, “Oh? From who?”

He grins, “From me. I got sick one time and created my miraculous soup. I was five times better the next day after eating it. All in one go might I add.”

You shake your head, “It would be from you,” but then a weak grin appears on your lips, “but if you’re sharing it with me, guess that makes me family.”

For once, you catch Miyuki off guard with that as his cheeks are a touch pink. You both had talked about marriage as a real possibility but were talking things slowly as to not rush things along. Normally, he’s the tease between the two of you but he doesn’t mind your teasing every once in a while. He chalks up this boldness to your weakened immune system.

“Yeah yeah yeah. Enough talk, time to eat. I’ll leave you to it.” He starts to go when you grab at his sleeve. He turns back around to see the prettiest pout on your lips.

“I know you have to go but for the record, I hate this. Only seeing you for a few moments here and there, it's not fair. Can’t I at least have something of yours to help me out?” Kazuya starts to tease you but just sighs instead. He’d have plenty of time to tease once you’re healed.

“Since you like hoodies so much you can have this one.” He grins before taking off his gray hoodie and handing it over. You take it happily and bring it to your face, eager to convince your nose to start working so you can at least catch a whiff of his cologne.

“Thanks Kazuya.” You smile, placing it on your lap before diving into your soup. His eyes crinkle softly before he leaves you with his soup and his hoodie.

4. Borrowing Stealing his gift

The door to the apartment opens, causing you to look around the corner from your spot on the sofa. “Hey, welcome back! How was it meeting up with Sawamura and Okumura?”

He chuckles, “It was fun. I swear Sawamura hasn’t changed at all since our time in high school. Okumura seems a lot more confident than before, surely because he had the best teacher.” Kazuya laughs, causing you to shake your head before noticing something in his hands.

“Oooh, what’s that? Is that a new hoodie I see? Red too?”

He holds it to his chest protectively, “Yes, as the amazing senpai I am, they got me a hoodie as a thank you. Also probably because I told them I’m living with a hoodie thief so you’re not allowed to touch this one.” Your face blanches, no he didn’t!

“I am not a thief! A borrower maybe but no thief!” You declare passionately, refusing to accept his slander no matter how true it was.

His eyes narrow at you skeptically, “Oh yeah? Where’s my black hoodie? What about the navy blue one?” He asks rapidly, letting you know that he’s apparently been keeping track but you’re quick to defend yourself.

“They’re all in the closet!”

And then he goes in for the kill, “On who’s side of the closet?”

You blush and look away, “That’s irrelevant.”

Kazuya laughs loudly, “Yeah that’s what I thought. Gotcha this time, sweetheart.” He walks by you with a grin as you decide to turn back to your tv show, knowing you’ve lost this time.

It isn’t until later when you’re sure that Kazuya is fast asleep, that you find the hoodie folded neatly on his side of the closet. Your hands gently pick up the hoodie and bring it to your face, admiring how soft it was. Yeah, I’ll have to take this.

In your admiration, you notice a piece of paper fall out of the front pockets. Picking it up curiously, you read the note in Kazuya’s handwriting, “Hands off my hoodie.”

Your eyes widen before scoffing at his note. Feeling crafty, you decide to switch out one of your red jackets with his new hoodie, even going so far as to put his note in one of the pockets.

Laughing evilly to yourself, you stash the hoodie in one of your drawers and slide back into bed beside Kazuya, satisfied with yourself. So much so, you don’t notice the grin he has on his face even in his “sleep”.

5. Ice cream spills

“This was a great idea! It’s always nice to get a workout in the park with you. Appreciate you taking it easy on me, babe.” You smile, deciding to catch your breath on the park bench. He smiles at you gently. Of course he wasn’t breaking a sweat but doing light workouts with you on the weekend was a nice way to spend time together.

“Of course. You did well and we passed an ice cream stand. How about I reward you for your hard work hmm?” Kazuya asks, knowing ice cream was certainly a weakness of yours. Immediately, your face lights up and before you can say the words, he smiles and heads off to the stand.

A few minutes later, he returns with two ice cream cones and hands you yours with a gentle smile. You thank him sweetly before diving in. And in the enjoyment of your ice cream, you spill some on your shirt.

“Seems you enjoyed yourself a little too much huh?” He chuckles, causing you to groan.

“Shut up.” You say playfully, before handing him your ice cream so you can remove your shirt. Luck favors the prepared it would seem and you already had a tank top underneath.

Folding up your shirt, you turn to get your ice cream from him, delighted to have your cold, sweet treat back. Unbeknownst to you, there was more than just your boyfriend's eyes on you.

Now normally, Kazuya isn’t a jealous person. He loves being able to show you off but only when he wants to.

Unfortunately, he’s too perceptive for his own good. Once, twice he noticed a few of the park joggers were enjoying the view and it wasn't nature. Tch, you heard the annoyed sound escape his lips.

“Something wrong?” You ask innocently. He hands you his ice cream and takes off his dark green hoodie.

“We were just working out. It’s not good for you to expose your body to so much air. Don’t want you getting sick again.” He says gently as he places the hoodie on your lap and takes the ice cream cones. A small smile graces your lips as you put on the hoodie.

“Thanks babe.” Cold lips press quickly against his warm cheek before going back to the ice cream. The next time the joggers pass by, he grins cockily.

“Show’s over.” Kazuya mouths to them.

1. The thief becomes the victim

Oftentimes, Kazuya has training camps all over the country to train as one does when they’re a professional athlete. While usually, you could rearrange your schedule to be close by, this was one of those times where he was going too far (aka outside of the country). This time, he would be away in America for an international training camp. So while you couldn’t be with him this time around, you both made sure to at least message or call.

It was halfway through his trip when you were able to hop on a video call with him.

“How’s the camp going?” You asked curiously, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.

“It’s going well. It’s been interesting to meet global stars and see them play. How are you doing?” He smiled, a little weary after a long day’s camp.

“I’m doing good. Work has been keeping me busy but I wish I could be with you instead. Don’t get a big head but I do miss you.” Kazuya smiles softly at that, the one true smile only reserved for you.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be back home before you know it.”

“That’s good. Still not soon enough though. That said, something weird must be going on.” You say as you shake the phone as you go to prop it up on your dresser, giving him a view of you from the waist up.

Kazuya raises an eyebrow as he sees you searching the bedroom, “What’s going on?”

“I can’t find my sky blue hoodie! I just got some workout pants that match the color perfectly and now I can’t find it. Did you see it when you were doing laundry?”

The corners of his lips attempt to straighten even though they curve up a bit, “Nope I haven’t seen it.” There’s a light tone in his voice that makes you slightly suspicious. Looking back at the camera, you see something behind him sticking out.

“Kazuya, could you move to the left for a second?” You request curiously, causing the mirth to show his eyes.

“Why? What are you after?” He asks playfully, but the second he moves an inch your eyes widen in disbelief.

“Is that my hoodie? The exact one I’m looking for?”

“Can’t be.” He easily denies. You roll your eyes and exclaim, “I know what my hoodie looks like!”

But then the reality of the situation sinks in, “Awww you miss me! It’s okay to admit it, Kazuya. I just didn’t expect you to steal my hoodie.” You sweetly tease him, making him blush a little as he tries to cover it up with a scoff.

“Of course I miss you, we do spend every day together.” You giggle, “Look at you being cute. I guess I’m happily in love with a hoodie thief of my own.”

He laughs, “Consider this payment for all the times you took my hoodies.”

“Sure sure, but I will always prefer you over your hoodies.” You claim causing him to smile.

“I sure hope so. You’ll have the real thing once I’m back home.” Kazuya promises, filling both of your hearts with warmth.

[disasterbiwriter]

Okay, so first, if you're not reading @sarabethsilver's Everglow, you absolutely should be.

Additionally, a hat tip to her because her Mo Willems name drop in the latest chapter inspired this goofy little headcannon that I just came up with: namely, Jess Mariano is anti Mo Willems.

Setting the scene: Rory is pregnant, Jess is supportive. No plot, just vibes!

Enjoy!

“Overrated.”

Rory’s jaw falls open. “Get out.”

“I’m just saying.” Jess gently lays There is a Bird on Your Head! in the pile to his left.

Rory snatches it up again and presses it to her chest. “Iconoclast. Contrarian. Meanie!”

“Excuse me, did you call me here to ask you to sort Cletus’s library or not?”

She pouts up at him from her spot on the floor. “I did. I think I also threatened you with violence if you didn’t stop calling my unborn child Cletus.”

“Did you? I must’ve missed that.”

“Jess,” Rory whines. “Mo Willems. He wrote for Sesame Street. You watched Sesame Street four times a day when you were little!”

Jess leans forward in the chintzy glider Luke and Lorelai brought over earlier that week and flutters his fingers towards the low modular bookshelves lining one wall of the nursery. “And you have two other Mo Willems titles on the shelf already. I let you convince me on Knufflebunny—”

“This is the new version, with the updated dedication to Trix!”

“—and begrudgingly accepted that We Are in a Book is a solid introduction to metaliterature—”

“Begrudgingly?!”

“—but I’m putting my foot down here. Do not let the weed of Elephant Gerald choke out the rest of your literary garden, Mother Gilmore.”

“Oh, okay, let’s just add a threat of violence for using the phrase Mother Gilmore to your account.”

He laughs and shudders. “Yeah, I kinda squicked myself out on that one too.”

“So, should we consider the rest of your argument moot then? I think we should.”

“Rory, you have no more space. Are you telling me with a straight face that you’re not buying any more books between now and when the kid finally makes an appearance?”

She starts to answer him, but gives a funny little strangled yelp instead.

Immediately Jess is kneeling next to her. “What?!”

But Rory’s laughing. “Nothing, nothing. They just kicked. Hard, too.”

She doesn’t wait for permission, rather grabs his wrist and presses his hand to the lower right side of her stomach. They mutually ignore the jump of their pulses.

They wait a beat, and then:

“Oh shit!”

“Right?!”

“Mia Hamm in there.”

She smiles. “Hand me the little notebook off the nightstand? There should be a pen too.”

He unfolds himself from the floor and crosses to the other side of the room. “Counting kicks?” he asks her as he hands her both items. “Isn’t it a little early?”

Rory squints up at him and flips open the cover. “And how would you know?”

He feigns offense. “Hey, I have known upwards of two pregnant people.”

“Soooo, your mom and… me?”

“Among others.”

She laughs and makes a note on the page. “Twenty-eight weeks is when they suggest you start, so I’m right on schedule.”

“What are you supposed to record?”

(In eight months, on the phone during one of her late-night feedings when she can’t sleep and he’s the only other one awake, he’ll confess he had been reading baby books for the duration of her pregnancy. But that’s eight months away.)

“Oh, you know. Number of kicks, time since the last movement. I’m also trying to track down what the stimuli might be.”

Jess nods. “Very complete.”

She waggles the notebook at him and grins. “It’s not every day you get to record baby’s first objection to a bad take on a book.”

“Oh for…” Jess rolls his eyes and grins. “So you’re just going to, what? Buy another bookshelf for this tiny room?”

She beams at him and holds out her hands. He hauls her to her feet. “See, that’s the kind of outside the box thinking I keep you around for, Mariano.”

[miseryoforpheus]

intro post <3

Hey there!

Im Jamie and my pronouns are They/She/he

Im a neurospicy minor (but I will swear and also am fine being moots with/talking to adults as long as no one is a creep to me it’s all good)

Uhhh welcome to my online diary :|

Happy to make friends if u want - feel free to DM me

online diary blog w lots of Neil Gaiman reblogs bc he’s my idol

Fun facts about me:

Umm ok (trying to think of fun facts now)

Im Italian but grew up in England, would love some more Italian moots <3

my favourite authors are Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett (but it’s been like that since before I read good omens lmao) also Rick Riordan and Alice Oseman

certified gravity falls child

if u couldn’t tell by the URL I’m obsessed with Greek and Roman mythology

nostalgic for a time I wasn’t even alive - late 80s and early 90s mainly but also like 70s

nostalgic for a time I WAS alive (barely but it still counts bc I do remember it) - the late 2000s

I did a quiz to see what Beatles band member I’d be and got Paul Mcartney

damn u rlly don’t realise how boring u r till u try and do an about me huh

Music I like:

Hozier, Olivia Rodrigo, Conan Gray, Harry Styles, YUNGBLUD, Beatles, Elton John, Queen, Renée Rapp, TV girl, bears in trees, Ricky Montgomery, NOAHFINNCE, MARINA, Fleetwood Mac

getting into:

Nirvana [used to love them a few years ago but then a mean girl made fun of me for it so I stopped listening to them but I’m starting again]

Dominic Fike Paramore

mother mother

MCR

the neighbourhood

The tags I will use:

Jamie answers asks - u guessed it this is for answering any asks

the most boring soap opera - my life stuff because my life is the most boring soap opera

MOTD - mood of the day which is just a lil thing I do

for the record:

I stand with Palestine 🇵🇸

please click here every day:

also free Ukraine 🇺🇦

aro and ace people are LGBTQ+ and this is an aro and ace and aroace safe blog

in general this is a COMPLETELY safe space

if u want anyone to talk to btw I’m always here to chat, can’t guarantee i’ll be able to help but I am always willing to listen literally any time we don’t even have to be moots or anything just DM me ok? Ily all take care of yourselves ok loves? <3

Also one last thing just for ppl that know me, I have no problem with u following this blog or anything but be warned that I’m not gonna filter my opinion at all on here bc I need a place to be myself and if u don’t want to see that i understand and idm just pls don’t take it as a personal attack or anything if u ever think something I post relates to you, I promise it’s not I just need to vent <3

My MOTD ratings:

0-2 > feeling really really really shitty

3-4 > shitty like I have too much sadness and anger and everything inside me and it feels horrible and yeah yk [reckless behaviour is strong here for me + pretty strong intrusive thoughts]

5 > normal. Numb. Yucky. Normal level of intrusive thoughts [for me at least, everyone is different]

6-7 > smol happy, probably was a bad day that got better

7-8 > :D

9-10 > fucking ecstatic

[bitchlessdino]

Milk Me (M)

Pairing: junhui x gn!reader (@huiranghaes)

Genre: good ol' smut

Word count: 800ish

tags: blow job, mirror fixation, lace ties, pet names, spitting, cumplay, dumbification of junhui

author note: the fact i wrote this all in the same day, patting myself on the back. Happy birthday bb <3, my first moot, the one that gave me a lot of the opportunities i have today, i love you so much. jenna you mean absolutly so much to me and i hope you spend your birthday feeling loved and around the people you care about (aka me and ig svthub and tumblr moots too 🙄)

Junhui. Wen Junhui. Junhwi. Moon Junhwi.

It didn't matter how you say his name since it would roll off your tongue perfectly every single time. However, as much as you love his name, he likes hearing your voice call himself something else just a little bit more. 

“Baby boy, would you be so kind to tell me what you see in the mirror in front of you?”

You adore his exposed skin, clustered with red scratches that dragged along his otherwise beautiful torso. Your fingertips caress his skin like a feather, light but noticeable, his soft chuckles escaping under his heavy breath. “I see myself…with the love of my life.”

You smile against his back, lips pressing to his shoulder blade. “That’s right. Now.”

Your hand lowers down, tracing along he valley of his toned abdomen and past that perfectly sculpted waist to cup the underside of his balls. You run your hand over him, pressing the length up against his stomach where you drink in the fiery red tip, the mouth watering girth, every pretty vein, and how it grows bigger the more pressure you place on it. You look at his ear, drawing your lips near, ghosting over his sensitive skin, “Now what’s that?”

“Your cock. The cock was made for you and only you.” he manages to breathe out, feeling the hairs of his neck stiff up.

“Right again. Now tell me what you want to do with it.”

A slow, sallow breath leaves his lips, “I want you to use it. Use me…Milk me please”

His arms achely restrained in pretty lace ties helped up in prayer position to his chest, lightly tugging at its knots.

“Baby boy is so demanding, but I’ll give you what you want,” you take him by the forearm and shoving him in bed in a sit up position.

You kick his legs apart, spreading wide with just enough space for you to sit between. Your head slips through the loop of his arms, his tied wrist resting against the back of your next. Your eyes glisten in anticipation, one hand on his shaft, and then another. 

You drop a slick, thick ribbon of salvia down, slowly coating the side of him before rutting him through your hands. Junhui feels the slick sensation of your pressure, whining in that pretty way he does. You lick at your lips before pulling on hand away and wrapping your mouth around the tip. Junhui feels an itching sensation all over, the anticipation slowly killing him.

“Angel, please.”

The vibrations of your chuckles on his cock sent shivers down his spine, and goosebumps up his arms. You do him a favor by pushing past the tip and easing down, your eyes locked with him. Your swirl your tongue around the circumference, running him through your cheeks and bob. Your bitten lips, thick and wet wrapped tight around him, Junhui couldn’t help but audibly moan. His show was just as good as the effort he was given and all he could think about was how he was the luckiest guy in the world.

His tied hands behind your head push up against your scalp, pressing you deeper, covering more surface area. His hips instinctively thrust up, unable to help himself as he essentially fucks the back of your throat. He throws his head back mindlessly, lost in the pure chaos in his head unexplained by sloppiest top you were giving him. The squelching filled his ears, hips bucking to the pace of your rhythm, and he tries regaining his sanity. “Mouth…good…”

He lifts his head back up parallel the mirror from previously. His eyes glare back at the relection, absolutely gutted by the scene it gives. Your body, so willing yet domineering, mouth fucking him with every fiber of your being. He fingers through your hair, addicted by the heighten uses of his senses, feeling himself so incredibly close.

“Fuck…close…mmh…”

At those words, you don’t stop, instead the opposite. Ignoring the burning sensation of your force, the push him down your throat faster, harder, ensuing a staccato pacing of his breath before a loud groan. He spurts in your mouth, the hot liquid running smoothly down your throat before you pull the cock to have it land down on your tongue. You push yourself off from the ground, your filty hand presses firm on his thigh for balance, and you connect with his lips.

Your tongue transfers the cum straight to his mouth, letting him revel in the taste of himself through you. He pushes your head closer, his chest heaving against yours as he ran his tongue in you, feeling himself still aching beneath despite having already came just now. You tease along his tongue before releasing his with a bite to his bottom lip. Your foreheads rest against each other, both of you noticeably tired.

You grin at him like you have all night, a chaste kiss against his nose before pronouncing, “Best birthday gift ever.

[whimsiandwild]

Come To Me: Part One

Pairing(s): Female!Durge x Gortash; Astarion x Wyll; Karlach x Shadowheart [mentioned]

Word count: 1202

Triggers: Some slightly gruesome Dark Urge thoughts from Tav but that's about it... so far.

A/N: It's Durge meeting Gortash for the first time; original I know. This is definitely going to be something I continue. Hopefully. Tagging a few moots who might wanna read.

@ixora111 @durgeteriormotives @feydstan

Tav had been pacing a hole in the dusty floor of their camp for the past hour, her companions bored of waiting.

“Darling, what’s the problem?” Astarion finally asked, gripping his friend’s shoulders to stop her in her tracks and force her to look at him. “The ceremony starts in less than a half hour.”

“I know,” she snapped, her brows furrowing in frustration as she let out a little huff. “I don’t know!”

“Very helpful,” he sighed with a roll of his eyes, taking her hand and leading her towards the city, the rest of their merry band following.

In truth, she really didn’t know what the problem was, but something was niggling at her, right at the back of her brain where her memories had deserted her. Ever since finding out that this Lord Gortash wanted them at his ceremony, she’d been antsy and on edge, filled with anticipation and almost a… a longing. It made her uncomfortable to say the least; she didn’t want to feel desperate to see someone she’d never met.

They passed through without issue once they eventually arrived at the fortress, Astarion and Wyll taking the lead on this one; the vampire always seemed to know when she was most anxious. Karlach was situated very much at the back of their little party, though the tiefling’s rage was palpable; this man would be lucky if he survived this with his head attached.

The closer they came to the dais at the front of the hall, she could clearly see Duke Ravengard, glassy eyed and unaware, and Astarion gripped the top of his partner’s arm as Wyll began to dart forward, the vampire giving a quick shake of his head before letting go; the Duke may be their mission, but there were too many witnesses right now to cause any kind of scene.

Beside the Duke, stood a tall man with dark hair and elaborate, expensively tailored clothes with his back to them, yet something stirred in Tav upon seeing him, something she couldn’t understand. And then he turned, catching her gaze, and she all but forgot how to breathe.

She watched the same recognition flicker across his face, except he was far more certain than she. He smiled as he approached them, the sight melting her insides to butter whilst simultaneously filling her with a hedonistic, terrifying desire to cut that grin into his face permanently.

Where had that come from? Yes, she’d had these strange urges ever since receiving the tadpole but never this strongly, and she was normally able to push them aside or to resist. There was something about this man… he was making her forget herself. Making her feral.

“If it isn’t my favourite assassin,” he purred as stopped before her, seemingly ignoring the rest of her little group. He did, eventually, glance at Karlach’s seething form and laugh wryly through his nose. “I must say, kitten, your taste in associates has truly deteriorated.”

“You fucking-!”

Karlach went to attack but was stopped by the tip of Tav’s dagger pressing threateningly against her throat, all three of her friends staring at her in disbelief as she stood in front of Gortash. Protecting him. Tav dropped the weapon like it had burned her. The man’s laugh bellowed around the hall as she rounded on him, her panic wild in her eyes.

“Still the obedient little attack mutt you always were,” Gortash smiled, stroking Tav’s cheek with his cold, metal fingers and causing her to jerk away.

“Who are you to me? Tell me!”

His face fell and he sighed, his hand dropping to his side as he shook his head.

“So, Orin wasn’t lying,” he frowned, gazing briefly to the floor. “Allow me to reintroduce myself. Lord Enver Gortash, soon to be Archduke of Baldur’s Gate,” He couldn’t stop himself flashing a treacherous smirk at Wyll before closing the distance between Tav and himself, bending down so his breath was hot against her ear and making her dizzy. “I’ve missed you, kitten.”

The silence that fell was unbearable as they made their way back to camp, Tav having to run to keep up with Karlach’s hasty pace.

“Karlach! Karlach, please! I’m so sorry!”

“You pulled a fucking knife on me,” she growled, the flames licking at her body threatening to engulf her, and Tav with it. “And you still don’t have a fucking answer as to why! You tried to protect him… what the fuck is going on with you, Tav?”

Before she could even attempt an answer, one she already knew she didn’t have, Karlach had stormed off, her hands balled into tight fists; Tav hoped Shadowheart would be able to calm the tiefling enough for Karlach not to accidentally damage something. Astarion threw Tav a pitying look as he and Wyll followed, neither of them really knowing what to say about the whole debacle.

Tav’s face fell and she let out a sigh of defeat as she reluctantly made her way, too, though not without sparing the fortress a final glance before she did.

Clutching the neck of the wine bottle, Tav took another hearty swig and stared into the fire flickering before her. Thing’s hadn’t gotten better after they’d returned; word spread fast around such a small camp; especially after she and Astarion had told the others of Gortash’s offer. They understood wanting to side with him until Orin was defeated, but why was Tav so convinced they should work with him? He was a monster who needed defeating; it was as simple as that.

Except, it wasn’t for Tav. She was no closer to understanding her connection to the man than she was before; she just knew she couldn’t let them kill him. Her mind wandered, visions of Gortash crying out as her dagger cut open his soft stomach, her eyes wild as she shoved a hand into the wound.

“Fuck!”

Shaking her head with a yell, she tossed the half finished bottle into the flames and put her head in her hands, gripping at her hair. What the fuck was going on? What was happening to her? Who the fuck was this man?!

A soft swoosh alerted her to a new presence and she was on her feet in an instant, the same dagger from her vivid vision clutched in her palm.

“Show yourself!”

A cloaked figure stepped forward, their hands held up to show they were no threat to Tav. Still, she didn’t let up her defensive stance. The stranger said nothing to her as he approached and lay a letter at her feet. Bowing, he was gone before she could register what had happened.

Her heart was racing, adrenaline not allowing her to let her guard down. Swallowing, she crouched, her weapon still held out in front of her, and she snatched up the letter. Flipping it, she saw it was sealed with wax, the insignia familiar to her. Taking a quick breath, she sheathed her dagger and opened the letter, curious.

Dearest Tav,

I know you have questions. Questions I am willing to answer.

Come to me, kitten.

I’ll be waiting.

Exhaling with a huff, her knees almost gave way. She couldn’t… could she?

[lem0nicle]

this will probably be a cringe post, but whatever, you never know💀

i will probably also regret posting this and delete it, but you never know

i am looking for moots!✨

and because i have no idea how these posts work and (i have a hard time making friends irl and online) i am going to indroduce myself here??

so i am lem0nicle (idk how to shorten this) and i am a minor (so please no NSFW) and on my blog i post mosty my drawings (i like to call them abominations)😅

i like💫

- star wars (like. a lot. been obssesed for years) - mostly i love the high republic!😌 (i even have an sw ig account guys😅💀)

- gravity falls and the owl house

- dc comics, specifically batman and the riddler

- mafia - i love the games (they come from my country!), although i only watched them on youtube and currently i am playing the original mafia😌 (i LOVE the original czech dub, it's hilarious)

- and fallout, even though i just watched the tv series and havent played any games. yet. (does this count?😅) EDIT: i started playing fallout games and man, I LOVE THEM SM

and probably more, but these are my current favourites :)

if any of these interest you i would be glad if you contact me!