#//Makes him feel like he's keeping little parts of them for himself

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

can you see the stars in your dreams (and do they have a lot to say about me) - Part 19

Or: a secret Admirer AU

PART 1 || PART 2 || PART 3 || PART 4 || PART 5 || PART 6 || PART 7 || PART 8 || PART 9 || PART 10 || PART 11 || PART 1 || PART 13 || PART 14 || PART 15 || PART 16 || PART 17 || PART 18

Steve makes a noise of pain, and Eddie pulls back like he’d been burned. With how hot his face feels, he might have been. Eddie holds his fingers up to his own mouth. His lips hurt enough when he touches them that Eddie’s sure it’ll go down in history as the worst kiss in Steve Harrington’s life.

“Um,” Steve says, voice high and wobbly like he’s going to cry.

Eddie’d almost rather die than have Steve see him right now, but he needs to see the look on Steve’s face to ascertain how the hell he can fix this. So, he reaches up, fumbling blindly until the van’s interior light clicks on.

He blinks, momentarily blinded by the spots sparking in his eyes with the sudden light. When he finally blinks them away and catches sight of Steve, his breath catches.

Steve’s pressed hard enough into the van’s door that it looks like he’s trying to become one with it, and his eyes are wide and panicked, fingers clenching the fabric of his jeans over his raised knees. There’s a speck of blood on his mouth and all Eddie can do is hope that it’s his own.

“I am so sorry,” Eddie rushes out, shuffling forward in his seat, hand outstretched to wipe off the blood, but when Steve flinches away, smacking his head against the window, Eddie flings himself back, palms raised in supplication. “I shouldn’t have done that!”

It’s only as something shutters beneath Steve’s wide eyes that Eddie realizes how many wrong ways Steve could be taking what he’s saying. “Not like that!” Eddie continues, words tumbling over each other in his rush to get them out. “It’s just you were saying all that shit like I don’t want to be here? And I panicked, and just sort of…did that?”

Steve doesn’t say anything in response. He just sits, frozen, eyes unfocused. Eddie really wishes he’d say something, if only so Eddie can stem the stream of bullshit flowing from his mouth.

“Only, I’ve never kissed anyone before, and you’re supposed to ask first, right?” he rambles, still panicking. “Oh my god, I just like, attacked you? I’ll take you home if you want, oh my god, why did I—”

“You want to be here?” Steve blessedly interrupts. Eddie takes gasping breaths, eyes laser focused on the little furrow between Steve’s brows. “Wait, that was your first kiss?”

Eddie feels whatever blood had drained from his face rush back as Steve squints across at him. He’s not crowded into the door, but Eddie’s not sure the way he’s leaning toward Eddie with disarming focus is actually much better.

“I mean—well, you see—I’ve just never—” Steve’s still staring at him unerringly so Eddie takes a shuddering breath and finally spits it out. “I’ve never been on a date, kissed anyone, any of that stuff.”

“Oh,” Steve whispers, a look Eddie can’t read dawning across his face.

“Yeah, oh,” Eddie replies, chuckling weakly when Steve just keeps staring. Eddie looks away, unable to hold the intensity of his gaze. “Sorry I blew it like that. I just sort of panicked, you know?”

“Oh,” Steve says again, a different intonation this time, still just as indecipherable to Eddie.

“Yeah, oh,” he mutters again, picking at a loose thread on his sleeve, unable to look at Steve.

It’s silent again—Eddie wishes it was dark, too. He wants to go home, drag his comforter back into his room and hide beneath it until he forgets any of this ever happened. He might be under there for a long, long time.

But then there’s cool fingers against his chin, and when he jerks his gaze toward him, Steve’s golden brown eyes are very, very close to his own, his lips even closer with the way his breaths are puffing against Eddie’s open mouth.

“Can I?” Steve asks, making it clear what he means as he looks down at Eddie’s lips.

Eddie gasps, body aflame with the power of his blush. “You—you want to?” he stutters out. When Steve nods, still holding Eddie’s chin, he responds, “okay, yeah, yeah, okay—” his affirmations only being cut off by the soft press of Steve’s lips.

It’s soft and dry, pressed chastely against Eddie’s own. Eddie shudders, mimicking the minute movements of Steve’s lips against his own. It’s a revelation to feel Steve’s lips on him, even more so when he feels Steve’s mouth quirk up against his own, like he’s happy to be kissing the bumbling fool Eddie’s become.

Eddie laughs, just a little against Steve’s mouth. It turns into a groan halfway up his throat as Steve threads his fingers through Eddie’s hair, using his grip on the back of his head to pull Eddie closer to himself. As Eddie gasps, Steve brushes his tongue into Eddie’s open mouth, barely delving in before pulling it back and sucking Eddie’s bottom lip.

Steve leaves his lips wet as he pulls back. Eddie tries to chase his mouth, drunk off the feeling of it, but Steve’s fingers fist in the back of his hair, holding him in place. The feeling zings through Eddie from his scalp to his palms, that gentle pull hitting him like electrocution as he gasps back to life.

When he opens his eyes, Steve’s still close, smiling smugly at Eddie. It’s all King Steve without the bite. He wants more, hopes Steve keeps him around long enough that he can see it all.

“You said stargazing?” Steve asks, eyes twinkling brighter than any star in the sky.

Eddie laughs, something bright and bubbling filling his chest as he watches Steve laugh along with him, eyes crinkling almost shut, hand still clutched in Eddie’s hair.

He hopes, ardently, desperately, that a second date is on the table, no matter how disastrously this one has gone because right now, in this moment with Steve’s buoyant laughter echoing in his skull? Eddie’s obsessed with him.

“Yeah, big boy, let’s go.”

***

Steve leans against the cold metal of Eddie’s van and watches as Eddie bounces around in the light of the van’s headlights, helplessly endeared as Eddie fusses with the edges of his blanket until it finally lays wrinkle-free in an empty spot in the clearing. He rushes back to the van a few times, holding snacks and drinks behind his back like Steve won’t see them the moment he drops them to one side of the blanket.

He fusses with it all, too, making sure everything’s lined up just so. It’s so unlike Eddie that Steve might think he’s stalling if he wasn’t beaming the entire time. To finish it off, he grabs a smaller folded blanket and lays it perfectly parallel with all the snacks. Only then does he turn back to Steve.

“My lady,” he says, bowing low and gesturing down to the blanket at his feet. “Your chariot awaits.”

Steve laughs and follows his directions to the middle of the blanket, feeling absurdly guilty about his shoes on it. He drops, crossing his legs beneath him. Once he’s rushed over to the van to turn his headlights off, Eddie follows his lead, sitting close enough that their knees just barely overlap.

Steve blinks away the spots in his vision from the change in light before looking up at the sky. It’s bursting with stars, and the moon’s full enough to illuminate their clearing so that Steve can see the shadows of Eddie’s dimples as he smiles at him.

“So, I was thinking we could smoke a little?” Eddie says, pulling a joint out of the pocket of his vest with a raised brow. “But if you don’t want to, we can just relax.”

Steve grabs the joint from Eddie’s hand, letting his fingers brush against Eddie’s before plucking it free and putting it in his own mouth. Eddie stares, mouth parted, hand still held out despite now being empty.

“Well? Got a light?” Steve asks around the blunt, leaning a bit toward Eddie as he comes back to life and fumbles in his vest pocket like he’s on some sort of time crunch.

Eddie flicks his lighter and watches avidly as Steve sucks in until the cherry catches and burns. He inhales, trying for cocksure and suave, but it’s been a long time and instead he coughs a cloud of smoke right in Eddie’s face.

Steve rolls his eyes as Eddie throws his head back and laughs. “Yeah, yeah, yuck it up,” he says around each little, sputtering cough.

“Sorry,” Eddie replies, but he’s still laughing as he plucks the joint from Steve’s fingers and takes a much smoother drag, using his free hand to pat Steve on the back like he’s burping a baby. “Been a while, Stevie?”

Steve’s eyes are streaming, but he feels light enough that he could float away on the smoke as Eddie smiles across at him, joint still in his mouth.

“A bit,” Steve replies, cheeks heating as Eddie’s fingers brush against his lips as he puts the joint back into Steve’s own mouth, tip now wet with Eddie’s spit.

“Nice and easy, now,” Eddie says. Steve follows his instructions, taking a small, shallow breath in, fighting against the spasming of his lungs as he lets the smoke leave his mouth and float up into the night’s sky. He’s rewarded with Eddie’s quiet murmur of, “good boy.”

Then the asshole takes the joint back, raising his eyebrows tauntingly as Steve shudders.

“Shut up,” Steve mutters, no heat behind the words as he flops back on the blanket and looks up at the stars. “Now show me some constellations, Munson.”

Eddie laughs, dropping down so their sides are pressed together, heads close enough that Eddie’s hair tickles Steve’s neck. Eddie takes one more drag before offering it back to Steve. Steve’s enough of a lightweight now, that the few hits he took have him floating a few feet above his body, so he shakes his head. Eddie reaches over to stub it out in the grass without complaint.

“Okay, see those three stars?” Eddie asks, pointing up into the sky. Steve squints, nodding when he finally locates three stars that seem brighter than the ones around them, forming a wonky sort of triangle. “Well, that constellation’s called, How The Fuck Should I Know?”

A barking laugh bursts out of Steve as he turns to stare at Eddie, incredulous. “You planned a stargazing date and don’t know anything about stars?”

“Well, I thought it would be romantic!” Eddie cries, gesturing wildly enough that one of his hands smacks into Steve’s chest lightly.

Steve rolls his eyes. “Doesn’t even know anything about stars,” he repeats teasingly.

“Well!” Eddie sputters, wrapping his arm around Steve’s shoulders and shaking him around on the blanket as he laughs. “Wayne thought it was a good idea.”

Steve stops laughing, unease curdling in his gut as he asks, “you told your uncle about me?”

Eddie sits up, wriggling his arm from beneath Steve suddenly enough that he flops bonelessly onto the blanket as Eddie peers down at him, eyes wide and manic beneath the moonlight. He latches both hands onto Steve’s shoulders like he’s trying to keep Steve stationary.

“I didn’t mean to!” he blurts out before biting his lip. “It’s just, I tell him everything, and he knew I was upset, and asked what was wrong, and it just spilled out!” One of Eddie’s hands lets go of Steve’s shoulder so he can gesture wildly, like they’re playing charades and he’s depicting a clown pulling a ribbon from his sleeve. “And then he told me that he thought I was gay, can you believe that?”

And honestly? Steve can. But Eddie looks riled enough, and Steve just wants to go back to the calm intimacy of minutes before, so he grabs the hand still propping Eddie up with his own shoulder and yanks it out from under him.

Eddie goes sprawling, landing half on Steve’s chest where he wriggles around like a worm until Steve wraps his arms around him and holds Eddie tight to his own chest. Eddie shutters, then slumps, tucking his head beneath Steve’s chin with a groan.

“First Chrissy, then Jeff, and Robin, now your uncle?” Steve mutters, tightening his hold on Eddie when his words start him squirming again. “Who’s next, the pope?”

“Robin knows?” Eddie asks, breaths puffing against Steve’s sensitive neck. “That explains so much.”

“Hey, Rob’s great,” Steve defends, unsure what Eddie’s weird tone means. “I’m going to spend the rest of my life with her.”

Eddie snorts, but burrows his face further into Steve’s neck, planting a little kiss on the skin there. “You’re so weird.”

“Coming from you?”

“Oh, baby, you had me beat like three deranged decisions ago,” Eddie teases, but Steve barely hears him, too busy replaying baby, baby, baby, over and over again in his head like a cheap record.

“Shut up,” Steve mutters.

Eddie fights against Steve’s restricting arms until he’s propped up, smirking down at him, his curly hair curtained around them. “I’m serious! First, you write secret letters? And to me of all people?” Eddie crows. Steve wishes desperately that he could think of a way to shut him up before this gets even more embarrassing. “And the Chrissy of it all, Stevie, what the hell were you—mph!”

Eddie goes blessedly silent as Steve plants one on him, opening his mouth just enough to hear Eddie make that delightful groaning noise again. Steve wraps his arms around Eddie’s waist, pulling Eddie down until his full weight is atop Steve, anchoring his stoned brain back into his body.

Steve bites at Eddie’s lip, once, twice, before soothing it with his tongue and pulling back, high again off the pitiful groan Eddie lets out.

“I finally found a way to shut you up,” he says softly, but he’s smiling and running his hands up and down Eddie’s back as he pants.

Eddie groans, flopping off Steve, body still pressed up against his side. “You’re evil Harrington,” he mutters, reaching out to take Steve’s hand and squeeze.

Steve reaches for Eddie’s chin again, this time pointing it back up to the sky.

“You see those stars there?” he asks, pointing up and to the left of them. “It looks sort of like a weird rectangle with legs and a swirly neck?”

Eddie squints up, gaze unerringly facing the way Steve’s pointing. Steve watches close enough that he sees the moment recognition lights up his eyes. “That’s Leo.”

At that, Eddie whips his head around to stare at Steve suddenly enough that he breaks Steve’s hold on his chin. “Are you kidding?” Eddie demands, but he’s grinning now. “You gave me all that shit, and you ‘know the stars?’” He throws quotations around his words, making it clear that he’s mocking Steve.

For his part, Steve shrugs, still lying down and grinning right back as he replies, “I learned all the star signs to impress girls. And boys, now.”

As Steve reaches out to tuck a dangling lock behind Eddie’s ear, Eddie stares back at him, no longer grinning. “I’m a Leo.”

“I know.”

Eddie whines, “you’re going to kill me,” and drops back to the blanket, curling into Steve’s side.

“Nah,” Steve replies, uprooting Eddie just enough to reach over and grab the folded blanket to drape over the pair of them, cutting the chill in the air by halves. After all, they’ve got a high to wear off before Eddie can drive him home like the gentleman he promised to be. “What fun would that be?”

***

Steve’s asleep—Eddie can tell by the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath Eddie’s head and the way his breath whistles out of his nose. Eddie doesn’t wake him up. This moment feels too precious, this feeling bubbling up in his chest too new to disturb it, especially after the disaster that was the beginning of the night.

It’s just, Eddie’s never been on a date before, and he hadn’t accounted for the way the popcorn would make his hand too slippery with butter to even imagine reaching across the distance between them. And Steve had been very clear: he wanted to hold hands. And it’d all spiraled out of control from there.

He’s never buying popcorn again.

But, now he’s resting against Steve’s side, head propped up on Steve’s chest, hand clutched in his even though it leaves his arm at an awkward angle. And he’s contending with feelings he’s never experienced before.

It’s like there’s moths attacking his heart and lungs before fluttering down into his stomach, tickling his insides, making his whole being damn-near squirm with the foreign feeling.

He feels almost sick with it—is this what everyone means by lovesick? It’s awful, it’s spectacular. He wants to wake Steve up and tell him about the moths and their fluttering, see if he feels it, too.

But, Steve sighs, and even in his sleep, his arms reflexively pull Eddie tighter against himself, and Eddie lets himself bask in the warmth of his embrace until he falls asleep.

He wakes, his entire body cold and shivering convulsively.

It takes another shake to his shoulder to remember where he is and who he’s with. He opens his eyes to Steve’s face hovering over him, his hand shaking Eddie’s shoulder.

“Wha’s it?” Eddie murmurs, reaching up to rub clumsily at his eyes.

“We fell asleep,” Steve replies, voice gravely in a way that hits Eddie right in the gut. “Come on, man. It’s freezing out here.”

Eddie groans, but dutifully drops his hand from his face to grab Steve’s, letting the other boy pull him upright. It takes him a minute to reorient himself with the concept of standing upright.

By the time he’s upright, Steve’s stacked the uneaten snacks back into the bag Eddie’d brought them in, and is halfway through folding up Eddie’s blanket.

“Is it morning?” Eddie asks, squinting up at the sky accusingly as dawn’s light filters through the trees.

Steve laughs. “You’re cute when you first wake up.” Eddie stands there, brain now fully offline, cheeks heating even in the cold. “Now, come on! It’s cold as hell out here.”

The sound of his van’s passenger door slamming as Steve climbs inside sends him running; he climbs into his freezing van and turns the key in the ignition.

“The, uh, heat’s on the fritz,” Eddie mutters, embarrassed, as the van sputters to life. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Steve replies, and when Eddie glances at him, he’s smiling over at Eddie even as he wraps his arms around himself.

It’s a quiet drive, more out of sleepiness this time rather than the awkward journey of the night before. Steve reaches out to play whatever’s in the tape deck—Metallica this time, and he bops his head along to the beat while Eddie taps the steering wheel.

He pulls into the Harrington’s driveway, and puts the van in park and lets the engine idle.

“Well, I had fun,” Steve says, smiling as he unbuckles his seatbelt. “Thanks for the ride.”

Steve’s already out of the car and walking up to his front door by the time Eddie’s tired brain catches up. He’s out of the van in a shot, forcing his cold legs to move fast as he calls, “wait!”

Steve pauses, hand still on the doorknob, halfway through the door. But he turns around, and waits as Eddie rushes up to him, already breathless from his short dash.

“A gentleman always walks his date to the door,” Eddie says quietly, conscious of listening ears, even this early in the morning.

Steve beams, clearly ready to play along as he curtsies like one of the fine ladies in the movies and replies, “well, you’ve done your gentlemanly duty.”

Eddie shuffles his feet, anxious now about all the other things that usually follow the end of a date. “Uhh—well—can I—?”

Steve waits indulgently while Eddie sputters over all the things he wants, all the things he can’t figure out how to say. It’s okay, Eddie planned for this, so he reaches into his vest’s pocket, and pulls out a folded piece of paper, passing it to Steve like they’re in class.

Steve looks down at it, smile growing as he asks, “what’s this?”

“Open it,” Eddie replies, but he already is, smile only growing as he reads what’s on it.

   Second Date? Yes ☐ No ☐

   First Kiss? Yes ☐ No ☐

“I, uh, didn’t think we’d have already done the whole first kiss thing?” Eddie rambles, the longer Steve spends just staring down at it. “But, it’s customary at the end of a first date, right? I mean not that I have any experience. But, in the movies—”

“I probably have morning breath,” Steve graciously interrupts, holding a hand over his mouth like he’ll be able to contain the stench. But he’s smiling down at the note, Eddie can see the edges of his upturned lips between the gaps in his fingers.

And that’s decidedly not a no, so Eddie crowds Steve until he stumbles through his open front door. Eddie takes a precious moment to close the door to obscure them from view before he cups Steve’s cheeks in the palms of his hands.

“I can’t tell you how much I don’t give a shit about that, Harrington,” Eddie murmurs right before he presses his lips against Steve’s, gently this time because say what you want about Eddie, but he can learn from his mistakes.

It’s slow this time, languid. They’re both tired, and cold, and this date has gone on hours longer than it was ever supposed to. But it’s just as good as their second first kiss. Eddie’s mind goes blank—there’s nothing past the heat of Steve’s lips, and the way those foreign moths squirm within him as arms wrap around his waist. 

Eddie pulls away first this time, pecking Steve’s lips once, twice, thrice, when he groans a complaint. “Now, now, I’m trying to be a gentleman,” Eddie replies, hoping Steve doesn’t notice how breathless he sounds.

Steve pouts, but pulls back, Eddie’s note still clutched in his hand. Eddie stares at it, gut churning much more unpleasantly as he asks, “uh, and the other question?”

“Hold that thought,” Steve replies, and then he just—walks away.

Eddie stands at the threshold of the Harrington’s big, empty house as Steve disappears from view. Luckily for the health of Eddie’s heart, he reappears a few moments later, the cap of a pen in his mouth as he scribbles quickly on the page before handing it back to Eddie.

Eddie looks down at it, smile blooming as he sees the little X’s Steve had written in next to the Yes’s of both questions.

“But it’s my turn to plan the next one,” Steve mutters, and when Eddie tears his gaze away from the note, Steve’s cheeks are dusted with a light pink blush that Eddie has to resist the urge to lick.

“I can live with that,” he replies, damn-near buzzing with excitement.

“I’m going to knock your date out of the park, Munson, just you wait.” Steve’s got a cocky eyebrow raised like he’s challenging Eddie to a competition and knows he’s going to win.

He’s such a bitch; Eddie’s obsessed with him.

“Good luck, Harrington. We both know I knocked this one out of the park.” Steve laughs as Eddie mimes hitting a baseball with a bat with the best form he can manage, trying to appeal to Steve’s jock sensibilities.

“You brought it back around,” Steve concedes.

“But, hey,” Eddie starts, finally breaking eye contact with Steve so he can slip the ring off his finger and hold it out to Steve. “It’s no letterman jacket, but something to remind you of me until our next date?”

Steve’s eyes are wide as he looks down at the ring cradled in Eddie’s palm, and his fingers tremble slightly as he scoops it up. Still, he doesn’t hesitate in trying out fingers until he finds one that fits—the blue gem shines brighter affixed to Steve’s thumb than it ever did on Eddie’s hand.

Steve’s cheeks are darker now; Eddie wants to reach out and see if he can feel the heat through his skin.

Steve swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing as he looks down at the ring on his finger with what looks like wonder. “Thank you,” he murmurs quietly before finally looking up and meeting Eddie’s eyes. “Good luck getting my letterman back from Chrissy, though. She’s obsessed with it. I swear I even saw Jeff wearing it the other day.”

“I’ll fight her for it,” Eddie replies, mostly joking as he throws a couple half-hearted punches just to make Steve laugh again.

“You do that,” Steve says, still smiling as he leans forward to peck Eddie’s lips one more time before ushering him out the door. Eddie’s lips tingle the whole drive home.

When he walks through the trailer, Wayne’s on the couch, watching a game of sportsball on the TV, a mug of coffee clutched in his hand. He looks up when Eddie enters, smirking as he catches sight of whatever look is on Eddie’s face.

“Still straight, Ed?” Wayne asks, before taking a sip of his coffee like the meddlesome bastard he is.

“Shut up, old man,” Eddie replies, walking past his laughing uncle to fall into his bed for a few more hours of much-needed sleep.

PART 20

[siddyyyyyyyy]

Unhinged two

Jason Todd x Reader

MDNI

(part one)

wc: 1.2 K summary: your roommate finds your messages you send your friend about him. warnings: suggestive content, no y/n used a/n: since some of you wanted a part two of this, I gladly made one. (this came out a little rushed as well, not proofread! sorry!!) Enjoy!!

The moment he left the room, you grabbed your phone and made sure to never open that chat again. You still feel borderline embarrassed and ashamed, realising how weird it is.

Sighing out, you calm yourself down and sip on your tea, hands trembling from your racing heart. After another exhale, you start to think of what to do.

You need to apologise. That‘s the least you could do with a situation like this, after… you can‘t even think about it!

From the silence that lingers around the whole apartment, it‘s clear that Jason is probably expiriencing a mental breakdown too. Now that you think about it, you can‘t really imagine how he feels like after finding out about your dirty thoughts about him.

You don‘t even finish your tea before you sprint off the living room, throwing over your coat and storm outside to get him a proper apology.

Meanwhile, Jason is concerned. He started to look for his therapist‘s number on his phone, but hesitated actually clicking on it. What, should he say that he read through his roommate‘s messages and now wants to kill himself because of the pure filth that was written about him?

No, surely no one will believe him, or at least make fun of him if they believe him.

The safest option would be to keep it for himself, or tell Dick. Yeah, the safest option would be to keep it to himself.

Outisde of his room, he hears the front door click open again, laying his phone down as he contemplates wether to go out or not. His thoughts get interrupted once he hears soft knocks against it.

»Yeah?« Shit, he should‘ve said he is busy.

»Can I come in? I, um… I need to apologise.«

A hint of shame comes through your tone, head hanging low behind the door. There‘s clearly nothing more pathetic than this situation. The silence that follows after only makes your nerves run higher, making your shift on your feet.

»‘Kay.«

Jason is great at pretending to be non-chalant. But it‘s an answer, at least.

So you walk in. And stop in the doorframe, boquet of flowers in hand, his favourite order at the local fast food restaurant in the other. A pathetic expression on your face. He has to stop himself from reacting surprised and both pleased at the action, remembering what happened just a few moments ago.

»So… about those messages. I won‘t sugarcoat it, I did send them, there‘s no excuse I can use. But I won‘t do that again and I don‘t actually think of you in that way. I just… had to describe to my friend how you look like.«

You shrug at the end, placing the smaller paperbag onto his nightstand and hold the boquet in both of your hands for now. It‘s difficult, embarrassing and devistating, saying something in hopes that he will forgive you and let you stay in the shared apartment.

Truth be told, Jason couldn‘t feel more touched by this, trying so hard to keep his composure. He fails either way, the corners of his mouth curling up ever so faintly as he shakes his head.

»You didn‘t need to bring me flowers for that, but… thanks? And, I won‘t look into your phone again. Ever.«

That‘s a relief, handing over the boquet of flowers anyway. He takes them, finally smiling down at them. That‘s not how he expected to receive flowers, he never thought he would get them at some point in his life anyway.

»There‘s also you favourite order, I‘ll leave for now, just… uh— don‘t kick me out.«

Now he has to chuckle, putting the flowers away before he takes a look into the bag of food.

»Oh, I won‘t. It would be boring without you, no?«

He muses as he glances back up to you, an amused and teasing glint in his eye. Of course… he will never let you live that down.

From then on, every time you were slightly annoyed over something he did, Jason simply pulled out the ‚Remember how you talked about me to your friend?‘-card and instantly makes you shut up. But sometimes, you ignore that and go on about the rant you were currently holding.

»No, Jason, I don‘t care, and this happened two months ago! You should be able to clean at least the counter after cooking or baking something.«

You track back to the current argument, waving frustrated to the countertop that has traces from flour and butter.

Instead of getting hissy too, he simply tilts his hxcead, boxing you up against said counter.

»Say again?«

You go silent, staring up at him with big, shocked eyes, standing there at a loss of words.

In short, his ego grew a lot bigger after the initial shock wore off. He started to use such tactics in harmless arguments, before he just used them randomly to tease you. And lucky for him, it worked every damn time. He is sure you already texted every single encounter like this to your dear friend – and he is dying to know if his theory is true – but he won‘t check your phone again, simply too scared at the same time.

On the other hand, you are secretly enjoying it. No, loving it. What do you mean your hot roommate flirts with you randomly for no reason? You would never trade that for anything else.

The same thing happens on a casual saturday, leaning over the kitchen counter as you scroll through some new recipes on your phone. Jason walks in through the front door, ever so silent that you don‘t notice him coming in, before you hear his soft voice mumble near your ear.

»Watcha cooking?« His hand rests on the counter by your side, dangerously close for your own comfort. But you wont back away or say anything against it, answering him back instead.

»Nothing yet. Looking through stuff.«

He hums in acknowledgement, resting his chin on your shoulder while he watches your phone too.

»Wanna cook something together, then? I brought some groceries.« His hand brushes against your side as he leans away, starting to sort through the bag and put the stuff away that he bought.

After an easy agreement, you both settle on making something simple for dinner, not wanting to waste your energy on something new.

Cooking with him would be relaxing, if his hand wouldn‘t linger around your back or waist every minute. You grew used to it after some time, but it still never fails to make you slightly distracted on your current task.

In general, you noticed that Jason became way more touchy with you after the incident, as well as teasing. You try not mentioning it and simply never talk about it in hopes this will never end, but he secretly wishes you would.

He made a single masterplan in his mind on ultimately asking you out once you start to mention his antics, but there‘s no luck so far. Okay, guitly as charged, he did talk about that with his brother Dick. He follows his advice half-heartedly, hoping for some miracle to happen at the same time until you notice his signs.

←MASTERLIST

[shysuccubusstuff]

Yandere! Mr. Scarletella:

Content: violence + stalking + voyerism + picture taking + masturbation + stealing + break of privacy + neutral reader + tampering with your food + noncon content + Stockholm syndrome. + mindbreak.

Summary: Human! Scarletella just wasn't able to stop himself from stalking falling in love with such an amazing person, God, he just loves stealing borrowing your stuff!

Note: So, I just had to write something about this amazing game, feel free to check it out and support the creator!!

SFW:

Yandere! Scarletella who fell in love since the first time he saw you around university, always being around those other guys... But he knew he just had to wait, yeah, wait for the right moment to approach you.

Yandere! Scarlatella who keeps randomly appearing on your classes from time to time. Oh, he isn't even in your course, but taking a few extra classes or even skipping some of his is no issue for him.

Yandere! Scarlatella who makes sure to get close enough so he can steal a few things from you while in class, sometimes it's your old pencil, other times he just takes whatever has touched your hand that class. That includes waiting until the university is closing to take your thrown away coffe cup (it still has your salive, so he has definitely kissed you, right?).

Yandere! Scarlatella who keeps on appearing on your daily life, you try to act as if the constant encounters are just mere coincidences, not like he even tried to strike up a conversation with you, so there must be no danger, right?

Yandere! Scarlatella who sometimes follows you back to your doorm. He always makes sure to walk quite far away from you trying to avoid freaking you out as he knows it would affect your daily routine.

Yandere! Scarlatella who climbs up the tree just to be able to catch a glimpse of your face while you're sleeping. You look so beautiful with your lips sligthly parted! ♡ You don't know it, but he has found a way of opening your window while you're sleeping. When he feels extra bold, he lets himself run his fingers through your soft lips feeling your warm breath is just enough to get him hot and bothered ♡.

Yandere! Scarlatella who begins to be feared by all your friends. They keep warning you about him, but it's not like you have any proof of what he's doing, such a shame :(( jk. He made sure to state his point, beating your poor friends to a pulp if he saw them getting a bit too close to you, he made sure to leave no visible marks, he doesn't want you worrying your pretty little head.

Yandere! Scarlatella who loses it after seeing that creepy long-haired guy far too close to you, if you wanted him to kidnap take you with him already you could've just said so dummy! Of course he wastes no time taking you from those filthy guys. You will be safe with him ♡.

Yandere! Scarlatella who breaks your poor mind after being trapped several months. Maybe being taken care of isn't so bad, right?

NSFW:

Yandere! Scarlatella who masturbates to your sleeping face, his tip being dangerously close to your lips. He can't stop imagining them surrounding his lenght...♡ He knows he has to keep patient but each day it becomes harder to act neutral.

Yandere! Scarlatella who takes photos of your clothed cunt for his collection. This collection includes many versions, from more tame ones (you smiling) to less... ethical ones (your sleeping face).

Yandere! Scarlatella who robs your underwear while you sleep. He just needs some... extra motivation. So he uses them, wrapping them around his cock as he keeps moving his hand up and down, making sure to stain your poor underwear with his sperm. He makes sure to clean them throughly before giving them back to you, although he sometimes wishes he could just cum inside the underwear you're currently using.

Yandere! Scarlatella who keeps on putting his own fluids on the stuff he feeds you. Most days he keeps it tame, deciding to introduce a bit of his salive on your food/drink, but when you behave extremely bad, he uses his cum, mixing it with your food together with some aphrodisiac, just enough to make you lose a bit of your sanity from not being able to masturbate.

Yandere! Scarlatella who keeps cameras all around his house so he can see you from different angles (all make you look like an angel ♡). He may or may not use those videos to masturbate, just maybe.

Yandere! Scarlatella who begins to use your mouth to release himself as a reward. You were just so eager to be touched! He just knew you were in love with him! It has definitely nothing to do with him being the only human contact for over six months! You let him use your mouth as he wants, forcing his cock into your throat, those sinful sounds filling his room as you try not to puke from his tip hitting the back of your throat.

Yandere! Scarlatella who slowly begins to mark your whole body as his. He started by marking your face with his cum, moving on to your mouth and then to your beautiful chest, the next step was of course cumming all over your low abdomen.

Yandere! Scarlatella who refuses to cum inside of you. He keeps controlling himself by saying that he wants to make sure both of you truly love each other... that's... well. Let's just say that he is just another level of delusion, but don't worry, he would never give up on his sweet and precious darling ♡ !

[aquaticmercy]

Waste a Moment / Part 15

Summary : Bucky had always kept his distance, but seeing you get hurt on a mission changed everything. For the first time, he has a chance to start over with you.

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x avenger!reader (she/her) 

Warnings/tags : Mentions of food. Cursing. Memory loss. Head injury. Reader used to work in a museum.

Requested by :  @remoony

Word count : 2.7k

Note : I have a lot on my inbox and I haven’t been replying a lot lately, but I will go through them tomorrow! Please let me know if I miss anyone on the tags! Enjoy!

Series Masterlist

“Name a Price”

Tuesday.

You had said it all—every bitter feeling, every thread of anger that festered so deep inside you that you barely knew where you ended and it began. Alex hadn’t interrupted, hadn’t even shifted in her seat.

She just sat there beside you, listening like she did the first time.

Not as someone who pitied you— but as a friend.

For a while, she didn’t say anything. 

You stared at the glass case in front of you, the one holding Bucky’s war uniform— a symbol of his past that he was still piecing together.

You began to wonder if he’d been someone else back then— someone untouched by Hydra’s corruption. 

But you knew better. That uniform belonged to a man already carrying scars from war you couldn’t begin to fathom. Hydra just amplified it, took advantage of it, added to it.

“I’m not defending Bucky,” Alex finally spoke, “But let me ask you something—hypothetically. If you were still with him, and he somehow forgot all about his Winter Soldier days, would you remind him?”

What?

You turned to her sharply, mouth agape with shock. “That’s not fair.”

“I’m not trying to be fair,” she replied calmly, “it was just a hypothetical question.”

Your hands clenched into fists in your lap. “But that’s neither here nor there,” you muttered, looking away.

“Is it?” Alex pressed, her tone patient but unrelenting. “The only difference I see is scale.”

Her words lingered in your brain like a disease spreading. You wanted to snap at her, to tell her it wasn’t the same thing at all, but… wasn’t it?

“Well,” you said, your voice faltering a little, your conviction a little less absolute. “It’s not the same,” you insisted. “It’s a painful memory for him, and he wouldn’t know how to process it. I wouldn’t want to…”

Your voice trailed off, realising your answer.

The truth— the truth was that you wouldn’t tell him. 

You wouldn’t tell him because you couldn’t bear to see the pain, to see the humanity ripped away again. You wouldn’t be able to look at the way it would twist his beautiful blue eyes and pull him back into the darkness he’d spent so long trying to climb out of. You wouldn’t tell him because you didn’t think you could survive watching him rip himself apart, questioning his very existence, his place in the world.

But was that fair? Could you make that choice for him?

Alex’s voice cut through your spiralling thoughts. “Doesn’t he deserve to know the truth?”

You flinched, feeling the words hit like a punch. 

“It wouldn’t be my place to give it to him,” you said, your tone harsher than you intended— like it was your last line of defence. 

“So you’d be complicit,” Alex said bluntly.

That word stunned you. It froze you in place.

Complicit.

You felt your chest tighten, your breath stopping for a split second. 

Complicit. 

Like Yelena.

The realisation struck you like a punch to the gut. 

Even as you tried to tend to the wounds, you still held a grudge against Yelena for what she’d done, for keeping the truth from you. You hated the way she had looked at you with pity in her eyes. You hated that she’d known all along. You hated that she knew when the truth came out, it would destroy you. 

But now, you realised, if you were in Yelena’s shoes, wouldn’t you have done the exact same thing?

“And how do you think he’d feel if he found out the way you did?” Alex continued quietly.

You swallowed hard, but the lump in your throat wouldn’t go away. 

You didn’t have to imagine it. You already knew— you knew exactly how he’d feel.

He’d feel like the ground had been ripped out from under him, like the air had been stolen from his lungs. He’d feel betrayed. Hurt. 

Like his entire world was a lie.

Just like you had.

You loved Alex— she was your friend— but you hated how exposed you felt, how easily her words broke down the walls you've built around yourself.

“It’s not that simple,” you said, your voice breaking.

“I know,” Alex replied, she put her hand on yours, trying to keep you steady. “But I think… Bucky did what he did out of love. It doesn’t make it right, but it doesn’t make it wrong either. It makes it human.”

“So what?” You almost snapped if not for the stray sob that escaped your mouth. “I’m just supposed to forgive him? Pretend like it’s all okay because he meant well?”

“No,” Alex said firmly. “You’re allowed to be angry. You’re allowed to hurt.” She paused, her eyes holding yours. “But ask yourself this: what’s holding on to this anger costing you?”

You knew exactly what it cost you: it cost you your happiness, and his.

—

When you stepped into your apartment, you saw him.

Bucky stood in the kitchen, his back turned to you, shoulders tense he moved around the stove. The soft clatter of utensils and the low hiss of simmering liquor on the burner made your apartment feel like him. 

The scent was rich, warm, and familiar. It was your favourite dish. 

On the table nearby, your clear vase was now home to a bouquet of flowers, your favourite flowers— the ones he always teased you about loving because they never lasted long. You’d playfully huff, telling him it bloomed so beautifully in the short time it had lived. 

They were arranged with painstaking care—one you knew Bucky was capable of. The petals were flawless, the colours vibrant, as if he’d combed through hundreds of blooms to find the most perfect ones.  

“Hey,” he said softly. He turned to face you, his movements careful, as if afraid to shatter the fragile truce between you. 

When his eyes found yours, a tentative smile curved his lips. His voice was different— gentle, stripped of the defensive edge you had expected.

Your breath hitched.

You’d imagined this moment countless times while you were laying in the hospital bed. 

In some versions, your fury took centre stage, unleashed on him like a storm. In others, the anger had dulled, leaving only an all- consuming sadness, refusing to acknowledge he existed all together. 

You had breached for him to plead, to beg. But this? This peace, this tenderness—it wasn’t what you’d prepared for. 

“Hi,” you managed to say, your voice barely more than a whisper. It felt heavy, like the first crack in a dam threatening to spill. You closed the door behind you, and walked to the dinner table, sitting down before your knees gave out.

Bucky turned back to the stove, setting the spoon down, giving himself a moment to gather his thoughts. He wiped his hands on a towel before walking over to the table. 

His movements were careful, like a man walking a tightrope. “I didn’t want you to come back to… an empty home. Not again,” he murmured, his hand raking through his hair, as it always did when he was anxious. “So I thought I’d, uh, take care of the place. Until you came back. If you came back.”

You stared at him, then at his careful effort he’d put into making the apartment feel welcoming. After all this time, your home didn’t feel yours anymore— not entirely.. It felt like it belonged to both of you. 

“You didn’t have to do this,” you said finally, your voice trembling. 

“I know,” he said, his voice barely holding steady. His eyes met yours, and for the first time since the hospital, there was no mask, no shield. No defences raised, no excuses. “But I wanted to.”

The vulnerability in his eyes was an invitation, not a deflection.

“Dinner’s almost ready,” he said, breaking the moment as he turned back to the stove.

You nodded, fingers brushing over the soft petals of the flowers. Questions swirled in your mind—so many questions, accusations, words you’d rehearsed over and over. But you didn’t say any of them. Instead, you let him take care of you as you once did— you let him finish dinner.  

When he finally brought the plates over, he sat across from you, his hands resting on his knees like he was bracing for impact. You stared at the food, then at him.

“Thank you,” you said. Picking up your fork felt… comforting. It felt like home.

“I can go,” he said suddenly, almost panicked. “I’ll do the dishes and leave.”

“No,” you said quickly, the word surprising even yourself. Your chest tightened as you recalled your conversation with Alex, her reminder that he was human, a reminder that healing could only start if you accepted that he could make mistakes. You set your fork down and met his eyes. “I’m ready to talk.”

Bucky hesitated, his fingers tracing anxious patterns along the table. His muscles tightened, his eyes fixed downward as if the weight of what he was about to say could shatter everything between you. “I don’t… I don’t know where to start.”

You swallowed, the lump forming in your throat. You forced yourself to breathe through it. 

The thought of finally hearing him out was terrifying, but you knew you owed it to yourself. “I don’t care where you start,” you said gently.

His hand stilled in a grip that held the table’s edge a little too tightly. “I know you know I wasn’t always this w-way. This perfect person you’ve known these past few months… I’ve always wanted to be him, for you.”

His words hit you like a wave, the sincerity pulling at your heartstrings. 

“I never needed you to be perfect, Bucky,” you said, the tremble in your tone almost taking over, “I just needed you to be honest.”

He lifted his gaze then, his eyes clouded with regret, pain, and mostly— shame. “How could I?” He murmured, his voice cracking, “For so long, I thought I was protecting you by keeping parts of myself locked away. By being… distant. I thought that if I didn’t let you get too close, you’d be better off. Safer. I didn’t… I didn’t know how t-to justify this change.”

“But why?” you asked, your voice sharper than you intended. “Why did you think I couldn’t handle it? Why didn’t you trust me enough to let me in?”

He flinched at your tone, his shoulders dropping as if the question had drained him. He closed his eyes for a moment, thinking before answering. “Because I didn’t think I deserved you.” He looked at you then, his eyes so full of pain. “I told myself you deserved someone whole, someone who wasn’t… broken. And I thought that if I kept my distance, you would hate me. But you didn’t. Not until… not until now.”

But he was wrong. You didn’t hate him— you never could. You hated that he lied, But him? No, you could never bring yourself to hate him.

“So you pushed me away,” you said quietly, a confirmation of what you knew all along.

He nodded, lI thought I could keep my distance and pretend like it was for the best. But every time I was around you, I felt this… like I couldn’t breathe.”

There it was again. 

He couldn’t breathe around you, he admitted time and again. But not because he hated you. Not because he found your presence suffocating.

It was because you were so damn precious to him that the very thought of sharing the same air as you felt like a privilege he hadn’t earned.

“Instead of facing it,” he continued, “I built a wall around myself.”

Today, his words weren’t excuses; they were admissions. Every letter felt like it cost him a piece of himself.

“I know I hurt you,” he said, his voice breaking. “And I know I can’t undo that. But when you lost your memory… I don’t know. It felt like I had this chance to���to start over. To be the man you deserved. To show you the kind of love I’ve always wanted to give you.”

You blinked back tears. It was like piecing together the puzzle of your past, one fragment of pain at a time. “But you didn’t think to tell me?” you asked, “You didn’t think I deserved to know?”

A pang guilt crossed his face, his mouth falling into a frown. “I should have,” he admitted, “I should’ve told you everything from the start. But I was so scared that if you knew, you’d see the worst of me. That you’d hate me for it. And losing you… I couldn’t handle... couldn’t think….”

You wanted to yell at him, to tell him how much his silence had hurt you, how it had made you question everything. But you also understood, in a way that only love could explain. Alex’s little thought experiment made you connect to his fear— the paralysing fear of losing that meant so much to you. 

“I’m not going to pretend this doesn’t hurt,” you said, your voice steady despite the tears welling in your eyes. “I can’t go back to the way things were before, Bucky. No more lies, no more walls. If we’re going to try this— I need to know all of you. The good, the bad, the broken. All of it.”

His eyes widened.

A second chance—after everything he’d hidden from you? 

It seemed impossible— yet here you were, offering it to him.

He hesitated, then reached for your hand, still not believing that he deserved your touch.

When his trembling fingers brushed against yours, you didn’t pull away. Instead, you turned your hand, weaving your fingers through his.

“I promise,” he said, “I’ll be better. I’ll be honest. No more walls, no more hiding.”

His fingers tightened around yours, afraid you might still let go, afraid you might change your mind. 

But you held on, your grip firm “I don’t need you to be perfect,” you repeated. “I just need you to be honest. I need you to let me in.”

His breath faltered, and for a moment, he looked at you like you were the only thing that could keep him tethered to this earth. “I’ll let you in,” his voice broke. “I’ll spend the rest of my life proving to you that you made the right choice.”

As you sat there holding his hand, you felt the presence of something stronger than fear—hope.

“Can I kiss you?” He finally asked

Your heartbeat quickened, your chest tightening at the sincerity in his request. 

For a moment, you saw it—the life you both wanted, the way it could feel so right, so safe, in his arms. And yet, the cracks of what you’d been through together were still there. The answer that rose within you wasn’t what you’d expected, but it was clear.

“No.”

The word left your lips gently, but firmly. His thumb froze against your skin, his body tensing. The faintest flicker of hurt crossed his eyes. 

He opened his mouth to apologise, but before he could, you interrupted him.

“I’m not saying no forever,” you said, “But I want to take things slow. I need to trust that this—whatever we’re building now—isn’t just us rushing to cover up the hurt. I need to know it’s real.”

For a moment, he just looked at you. Slowly, his shoulders relaxed. A small, almost shy smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “We’ll go as slow as you need,” he said.

He leaned back slightly, letting his fingers slip from yours.

There was no more resentment, no bitterness— only understanding. 

The two of you continued eating in silence, exchanging glances that lingered just a little longer than usual, small, subtle smiles that promised a fragile piece. Each moment felt like a step forward, like a rebuilding of trust, brick by brick, piece by piece.

When the meal was over, he stood to clear the dishes. As he walked past your chair, he paused. His fingers brushed against your shoulder, a fleeting touch. It wasn’t possessive or pleading anymore. Instead, it was a quiet reminder. I’m here. I’m staying. I’m not going to hide anymore.

And for the first time, you truly believed him. Not because he’d said the right thing, not because he was perfect. But because he was trying. 

Because he was human, and he finally saw himself that way. 

-To be continued…

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[bonefall]

if you're stretching for shadowclan cats to use:

antpelt is mistakenly listed as from shadowclan in battles of the clans, and the wiki had him as a different character for a while. he also has an unnamed apprentice

shredtail is also mistakenly listed in shadowclan during bramblestar's storm

I am absolutely at the point where I'm willing to make absolutely ABSURD stretches. I'm affectionately calling all the extra cats I'm scrounging up from writer mistakes and background scenes "ShadowClan's Glitch Warriors." Thank you so much for pointing these three out, they're going in the list.

Suddenly, I was struck with an absolutely hilarious idea. Partner wanted something fun to draw but still has read absolutely nothing about Warriors, so I pitched;

"I will tell you nothing about these characters or who they are except their names. Draw a Shredtail, an Antpelt, and Antpelt's apprentice. TOTAL freedom over the designs here."

First they drew this lmao,

"This is a joke," they clarified

"NO I LOVE IT," I said, "KEEP GOING"

So we got Dollar Tree Shredtail, Great Value Antpelt, and the best thing I've ever seen in my life. Once they put these designs down, we talked personality and differentiators from the canon counterparts while they colored and refined them;

I loved the bushy gaster tail so much that I swore on the spot I was going to work it upwards into a whole bloodline, including the very obscure background warrior in AVOS, Wasptail. So even though they're mentor and apprentice in BOTC, I've decided these two will also be related. Probably siblings, or auncle/nespring.

The little black one is based off an Admiral Butterfly (it was my idea to make the little spots on their chest look like medals), so the name seems clear to me. Admiralpaw. Xey'll be meewa unless another gender works better; and I'm planning for xem to go out during a bloody battle against The Kin in true admiral style.

(funfact; admiral butterflies are extremely territorial. Males fight each other for control of a plant to attract females to.)

Warrior name is still undecided, though. Open to suggestions, leaning towards Admiralflight or Admiralflower.

Not-Antpelt I'm having name troubles with. I REALLY wanted to name them Majorheart, after a major ant, to keep the "military ranking + bug" pun that Addy's got... but it seems that none of the ants in this area would have a major caste. B'awww.

In the meanwhile, Antspot works fine. Alatefang or Dronepelt could work, too. Feel free to shout out suggestions, this guy's name and gender aren't set in stone.

Lastly, here's Diet Shreddy. Girl now <3

She is 100% going to be killed during The Battle of the True Eclipse, keeping consistent with the mistake in Bramblestar's Storm where Blackstar mournfully calls out the name of a Dark Forest warrior. I'm also undecided on if the actual Shredtail himself dies during that battle in BB, it might just be her.

In any case, she's probably going to be a TPB girl. If she's born during Brokenstar's time, she's one of the younger ShadowClan cats to take part in the WindClan Massacre. Might even be an early apprentice at the time, in a similar situation to Badgerfang (though in BB this was a one-time thing). If not during Brokenstar, then sometime during Nightstar's brief reign.

Right now she has no family, she's in my "reserves" at the side to use as a patch between generations. Her name is probably going to be either Tattertail or Shredclaw, given as an Honor Title after the Battle of BloodClan.

So she had a previous warrior name as well. She seems like the kind of troublemaker who would have the prefix Sike-- a small stream that dries up in summer. Sikestripe, if her name was given by Nightstar, or Sikestrike, if it was given by Tigerstar. Maybe it was one and then the other, in a sign of disrespect to his predecessor's lie.

[bay7let]

I hate that everyone just constantly forgets what Kai went through/the trauma he has.

People constantly forget that Kai literally raised Nya Of course hes going to be better at cooking, stealing, sewing and treating wounds, even just handling situations. He was 5 when his parents left. 5!! Nya was 3. Thats a baby taking care of his little sister. Kai may act like a child sometimes but that is quite literally because he never even had a childhood.

Speaking of people not talking about his trauma i dont think the other ninjas even really know? Like he offhandedly mentions it once or twice, but we literally never get to see him talk to someone about it and that hurts because that must have been hard.

And everyone constantly saying how selfish he is??? Like no he is not. My guy raised Nya then practically raised Lloyd as well (everyone did lol but i feel like Kai was most helpful/protective of him) Literally the only reason he became a ninja was because he needed to save Nya. And he was a bit selfish at times but it's mainly because he saw himself as a burden to the team because he thinks he isn't as useful as the other ninjas, plus part of his entire arc was him learning he didnt need to be selfish because he was just as good as the other ninjas. Selfish isn’t the word im looking for but im not sure what i am looking for lol. But that is one of the main reasons he wanted so bad to become the green ninja. He wanted to be validated because his entire life he was looking after Nya or helping others, putting others before himself. Becoming the green ninja would have validated all that he went through because he would finally be recognized for helping people.

Wu even says that Kai pays the price for Wu’s mistakes in season 11 (i think its episode 11 or 12 i don’t remember). Kai is constantly self sacrificing (or attempting to) to save others. (Except season 8 episode 10 when for some reason Kai doesnt want to give up his powers to save Lloyd? Which does not make sense because he was always the one to give up anything and everything to keep Lloyd safe, best shown in season 5) (while on the topic of weird character choices for Kai why did they make him suck at negotiating? Cause he was a blacksmith woth a shop he ran on his own, of course he is going to be good at negotiating. Unless customers were scamming him all the time)

I hate that people just straight up ignore his trauma, and make him out to be some dumb guy. Of course hes not going to be book smart because he literally did not go to school (did Nya even go for that matter?) but he was constantly finding ways for them to survive while he and Nya were on the streets. Hes not books smart but he is very street smart.

Sorry about the giant ass rant but i hate that his character get so misunderstood

[whaleofatjme1920]

Creepypasta/Marble Hornets X Reader with A Small/Flat Chested F!Reader

[Warnings: NSFT/smut, size kink mention, praise, body worship, breeding kink, MINORS DNI]

[AN: sometimes I find you guys out in the wild (and what’s crazier is I get recognized sometimes??) and I go :0 in a good way!! Anyways here’s this lol. Made it while drinking canned bubble tea. Enjoy, for all my small titty goddesses]

Reblogs are appreciated!!

Jeff the Killer

Gods he’s so feral about small tits. And I mean FERAL. He has no eyelids so of course he’s going to stare. Loves seeing your nipples, clothed or not. Prefers when you don’t wear a bra in colder weather just so he can gawk at you and how they perk up.

He’s always cupping and rubbing them. When he’s able, he’s sucking on them. The way he loved your tits is raunchy and wild. Always making lewd comments about how hot you are how he loves how well you fit in his hands, how your skin is so soft and you squish just right for him.

Jeff obviously loves all parts of you, but whenever he sees you wearing a top that’s a little too thin and a little too tight and he can see the outline of your breasts, he finds himself drooling. He can TRY to be professional but good luck, his gaze always gives it away.

His kind of love for you is aggressive and possessive. If you EVER show any doubts, he’ll take offense. “Who the fuck are you to question my good fucking taste?” He doesn’t like you doubting him because how dare you? He sees your beauty, both inside and out, so why can’t you?

He’s going to show you off every chance he gets. Comes with the territory of dating him lol. He loves when people look at you but can’t touch, because you belong to him and him alone. No one else, just his. He doesn’t want to treat you like an object! You aren’t, but gods you have a gifts in your life and one is your body, don’t be shy. All that said, he loves you, truly and genuinely. Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.

Eyeless Jack

Size kink. Huge. Huge size kink. He loves that he’s so much bigger than you in every way possible, and something about your tits fitting into his large hands, engulfed by his clawed palm make him melt. He purrs whenever he sees you changing and you let him lovingly gaze upon your body.

I’ve always felt Jack is into art, and sketches a lot in his free time. His art is mostly based on his medical knowledge, studying anatomy and whatnot, but he draws your breasts any chance he can get. And it’s not always in a sexualized way, but a very artistic focus. You, slowly waking up and gazing out the window, a warm drink in your hands as the sheets cascade over your body… and you’re nude.

He loves you without clothes on. With clothes on, however? If you wear any necklaces or whatnot, he melts because he thinks they fall between your breasts so elegantly. Everything about you is perfect to him.

Jack goes through heats, of course, and when he goes through them, he spends special attention on your tits. Lots of bite marks, especially when he’s sucking on your perfect nipples.

He’s got a habit of sitting you down on his lap while he’s doing work and playing with your breasts like a stress toy. Or just,,, playing with them because he can. Your body is his and his alone. He says you’re perfect to him, so you better believe it. If not, don’t worry, Jack is surprisingly good at talking through more sensitive topics without overriding your feelings. He’ll always take care of you.

Tobias Rogers

He’s just like Jeff in terms of being raunchy. He prefers you to wear skimpier, form fitting clothes just to show your body off to the world. When he’s out in public with you, he likes you to be the candy on his arm. Thinks you’re drop dead gorgeous, and the way your tits sit on your chest contribute a great deal to that.

If you have nipple piercings? Lord help you, Toby can’t keep himself off of you. Not even when he tries, he’s just so into you. The moment you take your shirt off and show them to him, he’s drooling and fucking you into the floor, folding you like a lawn chair so he can watch your breasts bounce a bit as he drives you into the floor.

Toby doesn’t actually like the necklaces too much. Not the long ones. Not only do they get in the way of sex, but he likes chokers and shorter chains better. He’s kinda particular like that. Sometimes, he’ll playfully complain whenever you wear baggier clothes and hoodies (he never means it, he wants you to be comfortable).

Toby is also a huge fan of you not wearing a bra so he can gawk at you. But!! If you do fancy wearing bras, he’s especially into the cute ones that are clearly meant for adult activity. Seeing you in lingerie makes his caveman brain warp into hyperdrive.

He does understand the shadowy sides of you though. He’s dealt with body image issues himself, specifically his face. But, he’s grown confident in who he is. He won’t ever push toxic positivity on you, but he won’t let you say awful things about yourself. He says it hurts his feelings, because how could you talk so poorly about yourself when he loves you so deeply? It actually messes him up.

Masky/Tim Wright

Masky loves you so boldly. Your body really sparks some protective nature or something in his head. When he first saw your breasts once your clothes came off, all he could think about was how sweet you must taste and how soft you must be to squeeze. He wants you all to himself, your body is his to enjoy as much as he is yours to enjoy. It’s usually him somehow giving pep talks, but he’s an aggressive supporter. Loves you, refuses to let you speak like that about yourself.

Tim however, Tim is a little cuter about it. Make no mistake, he’s still a pervert but it’s sweeter, somehow. Tim loves to worship every bit of you, showing attention to your breasts because they’re his favorite part of you. He finds himself staring, blushes and tries to shake himself back into focus but can’t. Really, he can be such a nerd at times. Doesn’t mean to, but look at him. Look at him and tell me he isn’t.

There’s hickies all over your body when he’s done with you. Hickies all over your breasts and sometimes, he’ll form them in a heart because that’s cute. His large, calloused hands love how soft and small you are as he squeezes and cups. LOVES to fuck in positions that let him see your breasts, as that’s what he’s focused on outside of the way your eyes roll upwards when he pushes in extra deep.

He LOVES seeing you all dressed up but also really loves whenever you’re all comfortable. Either way, he’ll make cheesy jokes like “your clothes look better in my floor ;)” so be prepared for a lot of cheesy, horny jokes. Or if you say “my eyes are up here??” He’ll keep honing in on your tits. That’s just the kind of man he is.

Some of his favorite moments with you are the kinds where you’re all curled up in bed together, spooning and his hands are able to roam your body. He often falls asleep holding your breasts, hand spread out over them and squeezing you to his chest like you’re his squishy toy. He often falls asleep better this way! If you’re not in the mood to be bear hugged to sleep, he’ll still keep a hand resting on your chest or hips somehow.

Hoodie/Brian Thomas

Hoodie is a very silent, down to business kind of proxy. Deeply cocky and self assured, maybe a bit too hot headed. When it comes to you, he knows his taste and what he’d choose and he chose well. Whenever he sees you all dolled up, he’ll bend you over just to have his way with you before you have to go. Hoodie’s gloved hand squeeze at your tits every chance he gets before he pulls them off so his fingers can play with your nipples with no barrier in between.

Brian’s a southern gentleman. This does not apply to how he worships your body. He’s FERAL for your body and will try to get you pregnant any chance he can. There’s times you’ll come out of the shower and drop the towel, he sees your nipples, the curve of your breasts, and he’s on you, mating press, trying to get you pregnant. He can’t help himself when you look that sexy.

He’s also really fond of holding your breasts in any way he can. Makes him happy just to touch you. Cuddle? Grab titty. Doing anything on the computer? Grab titty. Has no restraint, and in the safety of your home? He doesn’t care (unless you’re overstimulated or don’t want to, of course). He’s HUGE on physical touch. Everything from your ass, your thighs, your arms, titties, everything.

Also really weak for lingerie. Wearing something sexy and lacy, maybe has his name on the waist band and he’ll fold for you. He’s really, really fond of the bras that let him have access to your nipples. He’ll squeeze your breasts as he bends your legs upwards, then press chest to chest with you to feel your heartbeat as your soft breasts bounce against him. He’s weak.

Maybe it’s just the vibe I get, but he somehow manages to make you feel really at peace with yourself, and if you aren’t, then he’s always there to let you vent and reassure you that he loves you and PREFERS YOU the way you are! Nothing about you needs to change or be bigger. He prefers your body the way you are now, and by the way he’s always staring? You’ve never a reason to doubt him.

Bonus Kate the Chaser!

She’s no better than a man with the way she stares at your tits. She’s pretty muscular and I write her as really tall now, so she LOVES how your titties fit in her hands. There are moments she will squeeze with her hands and then press her face into them, not caring if she suffocates. Kate stares so boldly. And then when she’s eating you out, her tongue buried deep in your pussy, all she can focus on is how beautiful you look. Your chest is rising and falling and your nipples are hard, and when you’re on your back she can see the little shivers. If you’re riding her face, she’s melting at the curve of your breasts, the gentle slopes that make them, and making little grabby hands to reach and play with them. When is she not playing with your breasts? Kate sometimes wears lipstick (a rarity) and covers your breasts in her kisses just to reaffirm to you how beautiful you are and how much she loves this part of your body. Make no mistake, she’s still lining your body with hickies and bite marks, but your neck, collar and titties especially. She can probably cum from just seeing you.

[ladykailitha]

The Caged Bird Still Sings Part 14

Hey guys! Welcome back! So this chapter is getting a little heavy on the angsty side, so just a heads up.

Things have been going great for all the stories especially the Christmas one.

This will be the story that keeps its usual schedule next week. Every other posting day will be finishing up the Olympic Swimmer one. So be on the look out for that.

Also super long chapter!

Steve tries out some hobbies, Joyce pushes, and Steve gets depressed.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13

~

Steve would like to say he got right on the job search the next day, but he really didn’t. He woke up refreshed and feeling good about himself. After a run on the treadmill and big breakfast he had already talked himself out needing to.

But instead he decided that he wanted to learn new hobbies. He had the money and pretty much unlimited time so why not?

The first thing he tried felting. Yeah, he had a lot of money, but he wanted to start with something cheap in case he got bored with it.

Taking the kit out of the box, he already ran into a problem. The leather finger gloves were much too small. Like he didn’t have fat fingers or anything but they were much too tight to fit on even his pinkie fingers he turned them inside out to see if he could make them bigger somehow.

He only succeeded in ruining the finger gloves. He tried rubber thimbles as replacements but still the sharp tool would pierce even the tough rubber.

The kit sat abandoned in a corner of his hotel room until one of the porters saw it and asked if he could have it. His sister did the felting all the time and she was having trouble finding colors she liked.

So Steve let him have it. Three days later the porter came back with a bright yellow canary and a female robin. He proudly displayed them on his nightstand next to the phone and alarm clock.

Robin loved them, but refused to take the robin. She said they shouldn’t be separated at any price.

Steve loved her a little bit more when she said that.

The next thing he tried was painting.

That lasted all of six hours before they got handed off to Will. It was a beautiful oil, acrylic, and water color set, with all the paint brushes and pallet and metal wood-handled pallet knives.

It lasted that long was because that was the time it took for Steve to set everything up, including an old sheet Rosa let him have, start painting and promptly knock everything over. The water, the paints, the easel. Everything. He broke the easel, knocked a hole in the canvas, and smeared paint all over the apron he had bought just for the occasion.

Will was happy to receive the paints, but in turn he gave Steve a simple notepad and pencil and taught him how to draw.

Steve liked that.

It was just for doodling and making silly pictures so it didn’t make him feel like a failure. He went to the bookstore and bought a bunch of books on how to draw certain things. Animals, the human figure. He even found this great reference book on clothes sorted based on the English monarch who was in power at the time the were wore.

Which was all well and good, but it wasn’t exactly what he wanted.

One day while he was over at Will’s talking art and whether or not kneaded erasers were worth the pain they caused if you dropped, Ellie introduced him to a new hobby. Will was against the things, Steve was for.

Jonathan huffed, “That’s probably a class issue as Steve here can afford to replace them and Will can’t.”

Steve and Will stared at each other in complete shock, but had to admit that Jonathan was probably right.

“Yeah, okay,” Steve huffed, “that’s fair. I guess I really didn’t think about it because it’s not my money I’m spending.”

“Have you tried looking for a job?” Joyce asked. She didn’t like that someone was paying to keep Steve safe. As nice as it was, in her experience the well tended to dry up when you least expected it to.

Steve rolled his eyes. “Yes, Mrs. Byers.” Which he had. Yes, he had been focused on trying to learn things that would keep his mind from atrophying, he had also been looking. “If they seen me coming they take down the sign or if they don’t get to it in time, they say it’s an old sign and that they forgot to take it down.”

Joyce’s shoulders slumped in sympathy. The rumor around town is that because Mr. Harrington was the landlord for a lot of the properties that the businesses were on, he had threatened to raise their rent if they gave Steve a job.

Something that all the adults promised not to tell Steve so that he wouldn’t get so discouraged as to not try at all.

But surely Clint Harrington didn’t own every business in Hawkins and she told Steve so.

“No,” Steve huffed. “But he’s friends with ones that he doesn’t. I’m going to try the mall next. Most of the them are franchises and have their main bosses outside of Hawkins.”

She let out a little sigh of relief. It showed that Steve was trying and actively thinking of these types of pitfalls.

Steve shifted uncomfortably. “What have you got there, Ellie?” he asked trying to shift the focus off of him for a moment.

Joyce was watching Ellie while Hopper was at work.

The young girl held up long satin strings of embroidery thread. She had three shades of pink, a white, and a red. She tied the ends to a safety pin that was pinned her leg.

“I’m making friendship bracelets for me and Max,” Ellie said proudly. “The pink is for me, and then I have these colors for her!” She held up blues and purples.

“That’s way cool!” Steve said scooting over to sit next to her.

Jonathan and Will shared a smile. Steve was lost to the shiny allure of friendship bracelets.

“I could teach you if you like,” she said with a smile. “I also have boondoggle!” She held up shiny plastic strips. “I make key chains and other things that need to last a lot longer than the thread.”

Steve really lit up, but then frowned when he saw out intricate it all was. “I’ll never be do anything that fancy.”

Ellie sat closer and pulled out a little paper that she had in her caboodle. “I couldn’t at first either, so I went to the library and took out a book on all the different ways you could plait and how to do boondoggle. Then I copied a couple of the pages I wanted to try.”

She handed it to him and pointed to the easiest. “That’s the one I started with and it will probably take a little bit to get the spacing right.”

Steve tilted his head. “Is this like braiding hair?”

“Yes!” Ellie said excitedly. “That’s right. I forgot you braid Max’s hair all the time. So then it will be easy for you.”

Soon they were off in their own little world.

Joyce watched with her arms crossed and a concerned expression. Jonathan spotted her and shook his head. He stood up and went to stand next to her.

“You’ve got to let it go, Mom,” he said gently. “You aren’t his mom and even if you were, he’s still an adult. As near as anyone of can tell, whoever is footing this bill isn’t in it to exploit Steve, just making sure he’s taken care of.”

Joyce breathed out through her nose as she tried not to snap at her son. She didn’t know that as a fact and Hopper’s reassurances weren’t enough. She hated having to take his word that whoever this was wouldn’t harm Steve. And that galled.

“It’s all the expensive gifts,” she tried to explain. “The car, the unlimited credit card, cash drops weekly, the gold necklace, the hotel. It’s just not right, it’s not decent.”

Jonathan shook his head. “What about all the non-expensive gifts? Things this benefactor thought Steve would like or get a kick out of? Like that little canary with top hat that he keeps on his dashboard? Or all the music tapes they send, thinking Steve might want to try something different. Hell, according to Steve until they left the country, they talked once or twice a day. That doesn’t sound like someone out to hurt him.”

She let out a shuddering sigh. Because Jonathan was right, that didn’t sound like someone trying to use Steve. “I know.”

Jonathan patted on her shoulder and then went into his room, probably to call Nancy. Another person like his mom who worried Steve was being taken advantage of. But even if he was, that was a lesson he was going to have to learn the hard way.

On his own.

Will had long since left to go hang out with Mike while Ellie and Steve made friendship bracelets. He made four. A black, red, and dark grey one for Eddie, a red, a brown, and a light grey one for Robin and two yellow, white, and black ones. So he could one each to Eddie and Robin.

“Those are really pretty, Steve,” Ellie congratulated him. “Those are some interesting color choices.” Spoken as though she was silently judging, but too polite to say so.

He blushed and held up the first one. “This is for my special friend, they are his favorite colors.” Then he held up the second. “And this is for Robin. The colors remind me of a female robin and the last two represent who I am now.”

Ellie blinked for a moment as she took in the information. “I can see that now. Thank you for explaining it to me.”

“I get my thread at Melvand’s,” she said serenely, “if you wanted to continue to make more, that’s where you would go to get your own.”

Steve kissed the top of her head. “Thank you, Ellie.”

He didn’t stay much longer than that, now that both of the other boys were gone, Joyce was keeping too close an eye on him with Ellie. He knew it wasn’t the gay thing as she didn’t mind Will being around her. And it wasn’t being a barely legal adult considering she would gladly leave Jonathan to look over her.

Nope.

It was entirely because she didn’t know who Steve’s mysterious benefactor was. And the thought of this unknown, probably male, person might hear about Ellie later? Yeah, that’s where she drew her invisible line.

Which was bullshit, like with Robin’s mom, Eddie wasn’t going to prey on little girls. He was freaking out about Steve might be underage when they met in the club. But it wasn’t like he could tell Joyce that. She might revoke his time with Will and Ellie if she learned he had been underaged drinking that night. The night Eddie saved him.

Steve went up to his hotel room and flopped face first into his bed. He was tired. Tired of all the questions about finding a job and getting out from under Eddie’s thumb. Like Eddie was financially abusing him or whatever.

He just wanted to bring people to his hotel room and show them all the little things Eddie sent him just because he walked into a gas station and saw something cute he thought he would like. The keychain from Kansas City with his name on it. The bright yellow shirt that said “I don’t take no shit” and had the Iowan state bird of the American goldfinch. That one came with a little note explaining that it was a canary, but the black on the wings reminded Eddie of the deliciously tight black leather pants.

Steve blushed for hours after that one.

He wiggled onto the bed and crawled under the covers without having taken off any of his clothes. Maybe he could hibernate until Eddie got back in America.

~

Steve managed to bury himself under the covers before the porter with the felting sister ripped the blanket off from over his head.

He stared blearily up at the porter. “Martin?” He struggled to sit up, but flopped back down on the pillow in distress. “Just leave me alone.”

“It’s Marty actually,” the porter huffed. “The only people that call me Martin are my boss and my mom. You’re not either.”

“Marty, I just want to go back to sleep.”

Marty pulled the rest of the blankets and yanked Steve off the bed. He went with a startled yelp. He leapt to his feet to fight him, but he saw that Bob and Rosa were standing by his bed with looks of concern on their faces.

“I have the shower running,” Bob said, “you will get in there and at least clean off the sweat you reek of. Then Rosa will change the sheets. Marty will bring up some food while you are showering, then the three of us are staging an intervention, because this isn’t like you!”

Steve opened his mouth to refute that statement, probably something about how no one called the whole time he as sulking.

Bob pulled out a stack of messages. “I have thirteen messages, and that’s only because the answering machine is full.”

Steve looked behind him and sure enough the machine was blinking complete with a full tape.

“Oh.”

He meekly went and did as he was told. He was only going to do a perfunctory wipe down because they were waiting for him, but once he got under the water it felt so good that he began to thoroughly scrub himself down. Normally going without a shower for a couple of days really didn’t do much, but because he had barely moved to pee, he was covered in thin layer of sweat.

He washed his hair and got out of the shower. He dried himself off and put on the long robe Eddie had gotten him. He opened the door and was instantly hit with enticing aroma of chicken noodle soup. He moved out of the bathroom to the main room, lured by the scent of real food.

The sofa was full of the hotel employees so he grabbed his bowl of soup and spoon and sat down on the armchair curled up as small as he could make himself.

“You frightened us, mi corazón,” Rosa huffed. “You weren’t answering your phone, you weren’t ordering food. The only way we could tell you moved at all is that occasionally the cup in the bathroom would be wet or you would be on the other side of the bed.”

Bob nodded. “We were told to look after you, money was no object. That’s what we were told, but you turned out to be kind and generous and frankly better than ninety percent of the patrons here. You treat us like we’re human, so it became our pleasure to serve you. So when you weren’t opening your door to anyone or answering your calls, we knew something was wrong.”

“Sorry,” Steve muttered into his bowl. “I just got so tired of everyone trying to find out who is bankrolling my life style and telling me to get a job that I just didn’t want to deal with it anymore.”

“It’s none of their business,” Rosa huffed. “They’re just jealous that they don’t have this life. I know your papa wants to hurt and all this for you protection, but it seems to me your friends just see the money you...” she snapped her fingers. “What’s the word?”

“I’d use ‘splash around’,” Steve said with a shrug.

“Ehhh,” she knew it wasn’t the word she was looking for but it would have to do. “They see the good. Not the bad. They see new car, but they weren’t there to see you give up your old car. They see the fancy hobbies, but they don’t see your big room and no one to fill it with.”

“She’s right,” Marty said. “I don’t think even the girl that comes with your gifts from Eddie Munson quite understands the crippling loneliness and isolation you have to be feeling right now.”

Steve sniffled into his soup. “Thanks, guys. I don’t know how to impress upon them how dangerous this all is for me. Like the only ones that remotely understand are the Hendersons and that’s because my dad showed up on their doorstep. But even then I don’t think Dustin quite grasps the enormity of it all, but then he’s thirteen so...”

“The only reason your father hasn’t penetrated hotel security,” Bob said with a grimace, “is that the owner, Dr. Sam Owens hates business men like your father. Otherwise, his hold over this town would have extended to here, no doubt about that.”

“So this is what’s going to happen,” Marty said, “if you need to sneak out and just go for a drive to get out of your head, call Bob and he’ll arrange it. If you need someone to talk to ring up Rose or myself. We’re here for you. We understand that Mr. Munson is out of the country right now and it makes it harder, but we’ve got you, okay?”

Steve nodded and said weakly, “Okay!”

~

Tag List: CLOSED

1- @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog @beelze-the-bubkiss @blondie1006

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @cryptid-system

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji

5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @sticknpokelightningbolt

9- @scoops-aboy86 @kurofuckingshi16 @watermelonmite @eyehartart @dreamercec

10- @little-birch-boy @yearningagain @micheledawn1975 @sadisticaltarts

[writerfromshikahr]

Because Illario can't help himself flirt with Rook and I had to use "that line" to start a little piece.

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Enough, Illario (Part 1) - Lucanis X Rook Fanfic

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"You know, de Riva, you chose the wrong Dellamorte."

Rook's eyebrow arched. "Is that so? I wasn't aware I had chosen one at all."

Lucanis shot him a look.

"I'm charming, clearly more handsome, and the things I can do to you—" Illario started, but Lucanis kicked him under the café table, making him jolt in his chair.

"That's enough, cousin," Lucanis said quietly.

"What?! We're just having a little fun. Always so serious, Lucanis."

"We are here to discuss Crow business, not inflate your already overstuffed ego. This is why your contracts always go wrong."

Illario smirked. "Sometimes wrong feels better." He winked at Rook.

"I'd prefer not to die anytime soon, yeah..." Rook replied flatly.

"See? Even Rook doesn't fall for your idiotic charm."

"Yet..." Illario added with a sly grin. "I have never failed to bed a Crow I fancy."

"Aww, how sweet. Well, you can call me your first disappointment then," she shot back.

Lucanis spat his coffee back into his cup, trying to stifle a laugh.

"I love a challenge from a beautiful woman," Illario smirked.

Rook's lips curved into a mischievous smile as she leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. "Oh, I wouldn't call it a challenge. More like an impossibility."

Illario's eyes gleamed with amusement, clearly undeterred. "Impossibility? You wound me, mi amada. Surely you can't deny the allure of an irresistible man like myself."

Lucanis shot his cousin a pointed glare. "The only thing irresistible about you is your ability to ruin a meeting. Maybe focus on that talent instead."

Rook chuckled, her laugh soft and utterly unbothered by Illario's relentless flirting. "Lucanis does have a point. If your jobs are anything like your attempts to flirt, I can see why they might go sideways."

Illario placed a dramatic hand over his chest, pretending to be mortally offended. "You both wound me! And here I thought Antivan Crows were meant to appreciate style and finesse."

Lucanis sighed, clearly done with the conversation but unwilling to abandon the sharp amusement tugging at his lips. "Your version of 'style' belongs in a tavern, Illario, not at a Crow meeting."

Illario choked on his drink. "By the Maker, you two deserve each other. So serious, so sharp-tongued—it's no wonder you're not fun at parties."

"At least we leave them alive," Rook quipped.

Lucanis coughed to disguise the laugh threatening to escape, while his cousin sighed and leaned back in his chair. "Fine, fine. I can tell when I'm not appreciated."

"Can you?" Lucanis muttered under his breath, earning him another laugh from Rook.

Illario wagged a finger at both of them. "One day, Rook, you'll regret underestimating my charms and all I can offer, in the bedroom and on a contract."

"Not likely," Rook replied smoothly, before turning her attention to Lucanis.

Illario leaned closer to her, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "You know, de Riva, a woman like you deserves someone who truly appreciates her. Someone who knows how to make you..."

Lucanis placed his coffee cup down just a little harder than necessary. "Enough, Illario."

"Touchy," he replied, grinning wider as he turned back to Rook. "But I understand. He’s always been the brooding type and never shares his feelings."

"And here I thought assassins were supposed to be elusive and guarded. Unlike you," she replied, her eyes darting briefly toward Lucanis, catching the flicker of tension in his expression.

"Don't worry, if subtlety ever bores you, you know where to find me."

"Careful, Illario," she replied, her tone sharp but amused. "Keep pushing, and Lucanis might decide to silence you for good."

He grinned, clearly enjoying himself. "Ah, but then he’d have to admit why he did it, and we couldn't have that now, could we, cousin?"

"Sometimes incrimination is worth the risk." Lucanis said into his coffee, taking a long, thoughtful sip.

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Part 2 can be found HERE

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[possiblyreallyme]

Sabo's a flirt

warning: smut, flirty Sabo.

You wouldn't expect it from him, but Sabo's a flirt. He won't catcall or grab, but he'll most certainly ask for their hand on the dancefloor and dip them low to the ground, give them a wink and ask for their name with that damn toothy grin of his, chuckling whenever the girls inevitably blushed and gave right in.

Of course the ladies swoon— from shy village girls he meets on his way to missions, to the most confident dames of the big city. Who wouldn't, really? When you have an unreasonably handsome blond acting like you're the hottest thing he's ever seen, it's impossible not to clench your thighs when he gives you that look from across the room.

"Sabo," Koala would chastise when he bowed in front of you— a girl he had never met— like a prince trying to win over the lady's heart, rolling her eyes at the way he smirked up at you and ignored her in favor of kissing your palm.

She was used to this shit, and though it was deeply annoying when her friend went on these little flirting sprees, it sure was interesting when the switch was flipped. She raised a brow when she saw Sabo's face go pink out of the corner of her eye, wondering if maybe you had flashed a tit to get him to go all red. But no, all you had done was smile and gave him a giggle, and the boy was hooked.

He tried everything in his power to win you over, from cheesy smiles and pickup lines to seductive glances and lingering touches— when he was flirting with those other girls, he had nothing to lose. But now, he couldn't stand to fumble the feeling of how your hands felt in his, or lose the opportunity to hold you close at night or bury himself between your thighs like he dreamed to. He had unintentionally found a goddess, and thank God he was smart enough as a man to know that.

"My beautiful girl," He purrs now, having won over the right to call you his long ago. "Spread your legs for me, nice 'n wide."

He hasn't stopped his flirting at all, at least not with you. He'd still woo you every day if he could, act as if you were someone he had to impress, even though he had been holding back your hair while you graciously sucked him off not but an hour before.

He's not subtle, and he doesn't want to be. He wants you to know, as he's fluttering kisses across the inside of your thighs, that you're desired and cherished more than anything else in his life.

He pulls your panties to the side and licks up your dripping folds to part your labia and collect all your mouth-watering slick, pressing a kiss to your clit just as passionately as he kisses your mouth when he's been gone for far too long, moaning at your taste and already humping the mattress to ease the rock-hard problem in his slacks.

Gulping down your juices with a sweet mewl into your cunt, he hooks his hands under your ass to pull you closer to his face and keep you still while you writhed, moaning and groaning while you tugged on his hair. No man should be that good at eating you out, but you couldn't even be embarrassed when you came on his tongue in less than five minutes, not with his praises sending vibrations from your fluttering entrance up your spine.

He's everywhere all at once when he's finally thrusting his cock in and out of you, after making you cum on his tongue a few more times and dragging out each orgasm until you were wondering if the liquid dripping down your oversensitive folds and puddling on the sheets was his drool or your own squirt. He's intertwining your fingers and pressing your hands into the sheets, then he's playing with your clit and kissing down your neck to leave deep purple hickeys on your collarbone, before sucking your hardened nipple like a candy while he's bullying your cervix like a jerk with the tip of his fat cock.

But you're always too cotton-stuffed by then to do more than let your head lull to the side, moaning his name and whining while he coos down to you like you're his toy, flirting with you and whispering the sweetest things in your ear as he wipes your drooling lips and fucking abuses your lower half with the sharpest slams of his hips against yours he can muster.

He'll cum again and again, until your tummy is puffy with all the seed in your womb and he's pushing down on the bulge to watch it practically squirt out of you, but he's not done yet.

No— he's just going to fetch the vibrator, and he'll be right back.

[capquinn]

Dad quinn with jack and luke having a tea party with his daughter and her dolls and she makes them dress up

The living room was chaos, but the good kind. The kind that came from his three-year-old daughter holding court in the middle of her very serious tea party, complete with a floral blanket as a tablecloth and a tiny ceramic tea set she insisted on arranging herself.

Quinn sat cross-legged on the floor, wearing a glittery plastic tiara that he’d forgotten about five minutes in. It was second nature by now — dressing up, playing along, doing whatever made her smile.

Across from Quinn, Luke was in his element, completely at ease in the whirlwind of pretend tea and glittering accessories. His niece was perched on his lap, her tiny hands carefully tipping the toy teapot toward a ceramic cup he held with exaggerated precision. The pink feather boa draped around his neck kept slipping off one shoulder, but he didn’t seem to notice. Or if he did, he leaned into the ridiculousness of it, readjusting it dramatically like it was part of some royal decree. Every flourish, every goofy movement was aimed at one thing: making her laugh.

And it worked.

She leaned against his chest, giggling so hard she nearly tipped the teapot too far. Her tiny fingers clutched the handle as she steadied herself, her cheeks flushed from laughter. 

“Uncle Lukey!” she squealed, her voice full of joy. “You’re spilling it!”

Luke gasped as if he’d committed the gravest of sins. 

“Oh no!” he said, sitting up straighter and clutching the cup like it held liquid gold. “Quick, pour me more so no one notices!”

She threw her head back in a fresh wave of giggles, her whole body shaking against him. Still grinning, Luke reached out to steady her little wrist as she tilted the teapot with a seriousness that belied the fact it was empty.

“Perfect,” he said as she finished, his tone so genuine it could have been mistaken for awe. “You’re a natural. The Queen of Tea Parties.”

Her laughter bubbled up again, spilling into the room as she beamed at him. Luke’s grin only widened, the softness in his gaze unmistakable as he looked at her. He had a knack for this — for making her feel like she was the most important person in the room, for meeting her imagination with an endless well of his own. She adored him, and the feeling was mutual, clear in every playful quip and dramatic gesture.

She turned the teapot upright with a decisive nod, then leaned back against his chest, sighing contentedly. 

“You’re silly,” she declared, her voice full of the kind of affection only a three-year-old could manage.

Luke chuckled, tapping her nose lightly. “Only for you, kiddo.”

Quinn felt a warmth settle in his chest as he watched them. Moments like this didn’t come often enough, not with the way their lives constantly pulled them in different directions. But seeing Luke lean so completely into her little world, his every exaggerated move drawing out her laughter, made Quinn pause. It was simple, but it meant everything.

Meanwhile, Jack lounged nearby, his legs stretched out in front of him, a toy teacup balanced precariously on his knee. The sequinned cowboy hat his niece had insisted he wear sat slightly askew on his head, and every few minutes, he’d reach up to adjust it with an exaggerated flourish, earning a giggle from her each time.

“Do I get any of this famous tea,” he drawled, leaning back on his elbows, “or is Lukey keeping it all for himself?”

Now standing beside the table with her tiny teapot, she paused to give him a pointed look, one hand on her hip. “Uncle Jack,” she said seriously, though the sparkle in her eyes gave her away, “you have to ask nicely.”

Jack gasped, sitting up straight.

“Oh, excuse me, Your Royal Highness,” he said, bowing his head deeply and holding out his teacup with dramatic flair. “May I please have a cup of the finest tea in the land?”

She beamed, clearly delighted, and wiggled off Luke’s lap to pour him a fresh cup. 

“You’re lucky I made extra,” she teased, the way he always did, her little voice full of pride.

Jack accepted it with a grin, bowing his head slightly in mock grandeur. 

“Why, thank you, m’lady,” he said, taking an exaggerated sip before smacking his lips. “Best tea I’ve ever had. Five stars. Nope! Ten stars.”

She giggled, covering her mouth with her tiny hand as she bounced on her toes. “Ten stars?”

“Easily,” Jack replied, settling back into his seat. “Lukey’s tea doesn’t even come close. You’re the pro.”

Her eyes lit up, and she leaned in, her voice dropping to a dramatic whisper. “Uncle Lukey doesn’t put magic in it.”

Jack let out a warm laugh, low and genuine, reaching out to pull her in for a quick hug. 

“Well, that explains it,” he said, his tone conspiratorial. “No wonder your tea’s the best.”

Her giggles bubbled up even more, and she pressed her forehead against his shoulder for a moment, basking in the playfulness of it all. Jack’s teasing smirk softened as he glanced down at her, the fondness in his expression unmistakable. 

“You’re the best, you know that?” He ruffled her hair gently, his tone quiet but full of affection. 

Her face lit up even brighter at his words, her teapot clutched tightly in her small hands. 

Quinn’s lips tugged into a smile, his heart swelling at the sight of his brothers playing along so easily, so naturally. This wasn’t a rare thing — his brothers adored her — but it wasn’t often they were all together like this. The laughter, the goofy costumes, the tiny teacups… It was exactly what he hoped she’d remember when she grew up. Not the big things, but this: the love that filled a room when she brought everyone together.

“Daddy, you didn’t drink your tea,” her little voice piped up, breaking through his thoughts. 

She stood in front of him, her tiny frame impossibly determined as she held out a fresh cup, the seriousness in her expression almost making him laugh.Quinn smiled, reaching out to take the cup. 

“Oh no, Bug, I can’t believe I forgot,” he said, his voice soft and playful as he brought the tiny cup to his lips, pretending to sip. He made a quiet, exaggerated sound of satisfaction. “Mmm, perfect. You’re the best tea-maker in the whole wide world.”

Her serious expression melted away into a bright smile, and before he could say another word, she leaned in, wrapping one arm around his shoulder in that shy, affectionate way little kids do when they’re basking in a compliment. Her cheek pressed to his temple as her fingers brushed the back of his neck.

“Thanks, Daddy,” she murmured, her voice small and sweet, and Quinn felt his chest tighten in the best way.

He turned his head just enough to press a kiss to the top of her head, his hand gently steadying the tiny arm she had draped around his neck. 

“Love you, Buggy,” he murmured, the words soft but carrying a weight of tenderness that he knew she couldn’t fully understand yet, though someday she would.

She giggled, that sweet, unfiltered sound that always tugged at his heart, and pulled back slightly to meet his gaze. Her wide eyes shone with delight before she spun around, skipping off to Luke’s lap with all the confidence in the world, her little crown wobbling precariously with each bounce.

He leaned back slightly, letting the moment wash over him. Luke was helping her fix a doll’s hat now, while Jack balanced the tiny teacup on the tip of his finger. His daughter’s giggles bubbled up again, spilling through the room like sunshine, and Quinn thought to himself — not for the first time — how lucky he was.

[captain039]

PART 3 On the edge

Alpha Jayce x omega reader

Warnings: AOB, light swearing, feral alpha, intimacy, angst, Spoilers? Fated mates

This GIF makes me feel things XD

You make it through the entrance before you’re caged in arms and he’s snarling.

“Jayce!” You say loudly as he drags you to hide against the wall his breathing wild. You see Viktor approach and Jayce snarls and growls at him like a caged animal. His arms are holding you tightly against him his breathing erratic. You silently plead to Viktor as he walks closer and presses his fingers to Jayces head. His arms drop and you step apart facing him, he falls to his knees and you panic watching as Viktors eyes flicker with magic his hand glowing.

Jayce…

It feels like a whirlwind of pain, the need to attack fight off whatever is causing this flashing behind his eyes. He needs to kill, protect his mate from this threat. The man inside him screams, the man he once was fades ever so slowly.

You watch as Jayce’s eyes roll back and he falls to the ground. You quickly try to catch him protective instincts kicking in as you glare at Viktor.

“What did you do?!” You shout trying to keep the alpha up.

“This may take some time” Viktor answers carefully, calmly no voice or face of emotion and it makes you made.

“What the hell happened to you?” You sneer. You know you have no right to be angry at him, but right now you’re on a short fuse.

“I don’t know” Viktor whispers and walks back to his sanctuary. You scream not caring if the others hear as you hold an unconscious Jayce to you.

You’re given a place to stay, where Jayce is safe from others. You don’t leave, Jayce won’t let you, the moment you step foot outside he’s dragging you back to the bed, growling lowly. It’s not your Jayce though, reduced to a primal state of mind. He gets bursts of anger breaks things but never hurts you, he may hold on a little too tight but it’s never physical harm. Viktor comes by every day, Jayce has slowly become used to the heralds visits. It’s a slow agonising process of sitting, waiting, wondering what the hell Viktor is actually doing. The community here is so peaceful, quiet and too perfect, these, people feel hollow and overly calm, like Viktor. You thought you knew Viktor the shy scientist omega, Jayce’s remains unchanged and you feel like giving up. You lay down on the bed in your space in the sanctuary, you stare at the strange metal organic wall back towards everything else. Viktor’s hovering by Jayce, hands above his body eyes closed as something purple swirls around his hands. Jayce lies on his side breathing steadily despite your back being to them he hadn’t changed positions since you got back. Your eyes close and you let Viktor do whatever he does, you drift between sleep and staying awake, on a relaxing verge of in between. You faintly hear footsteps leaving and figure Viktor has left to recharge. You expect Jayce to stay out of it for a while but what you don’t expect is your name being called. You lift your head looking over your shoulder, Jayce sits there like a lost puppy a familiar look, there’s a softness in his eyes and he doesn’t twitch as often.

“Jayce?” You ask and sit up fully staring at him. He rubs his beard, runs his hand through his overgrown hair and glances at his body. A simple white shirt and black pants.

“What-?” He frowns to himself shaking his head, rubbing his eyes like he’s trying to remember. You move to sit down in front of him seeing no hardness, his jaw is unclenched and his eyes are soft.

“You-“ you don’t know how to explain, afraid to explain incase he lapses back.

“I was feral” he mutters the frown still on his face and you nod carefully watching him. He presses his palm to his eye rubbing a bit before resting his hands in his lap, fiddling with his fingers.

“I was in and out, catching glimpses” he explains softly.

“I remember you at the start” he whispers and you clench your jaw to hold in your emotions as you nod.

“I remember the medical officers” he adds.

“Going through the under city” he looks out the windows to the sanctuary.

“I was fighting hard” he mumbled finally looking to your face.

“Viktor” he mutters a twitch going through his body. You take a shaky breath and stand up slowly.

“Do you need anything? Food? Water?” You ask heading to the kitchen as he stands too frowning at your lack of conversation.

“A wash?” He asks and you nod pointing through the uneven arch way.

You listen to the shower start and some shuffling before you let your tears fall, he’s back, finally back. You want to thank Viktor, tell Jayce’s mum he’s ok. You hope he’s forgotten about the mate test they did, it still lingers in your mind, you were half tempted to do one yourself. After Jayce finishes in the shower he comes out a towel around his waist a smaller towel in his hand as he drys his hair. He hadn’t shaved the beard and you’re slightly thankful, it made him look good, roguish almost. You sit on the bed avoiding to look at him, but the alpha sits down next to you without dressing.

“You seem to be avoiding me” Jayce says half jokingly.

“I didn’t want to overwhelm you” it’s not a lie but it’s not the whole truth.

“Your mother will want to see you” you deter the conversation and he sighs. He makes you tense, resting his head against yours because he’s too tall to lean on your shoulder.

“What did we do” he whispers, it’s a large and vague comment, there’s so many ways to answer that, from the hextech to you and him, but you don’t answer.

Next Part ->

[grapehyasynth]

when i picture you

Picture You by Chappell Roan won the poll for this fun fic challenge by @saynomorefic, and that actually slid really easily into place with a little fic idea I'd had a while ago, and so I am almost embarrassed with how quickly I wrote this 🙈

rated M - nsfw - set after s1

Simon’s heart may be broken, and his logical brain may be fully onboard with the break-up with Wille, but his body seems to be determined to not get the message. 

For the fourth time since school let out for their winter break, he wakes up with an erection and a half-dozen fleeting dreams. Dreams of Wille, patched together by the traitorous lizard part of his brain - Wille rowing while wearing a suit; Wille giving a speech to the nation in just his boxers; Wille sucking Simon off on a piano bench, the tie from his school uniform holding back his bangs. 

Simon huffs with frustration and heads for the bathroom. His mom keeps promising they’ll get a door for his bedroom - they’re all a little extra touchy about privacy since the video came out - but it hasn’t happened yet, and there is no way he’ll be able to get himself off when he can hear Sara singing along to the radio in the kitchen, and he doesn’t trust one of them to not just come barging through the towel that shields his room. 

He wastes no time turning on the shower once the bathroom door is locked. For a second he wishes he’d brought his phone, for some music, or inspiration -- but that’s another thing that makes him paranoid now, wondering whether his mom can see his searches on their internet, wondering if someone would try to hack their family, to see what the boy from The Video gets up to. He’s put tape over the camera lenses on his phone and his computer but he just doesn’t really trust anything at this point. 

So, when he sits on the ground with his back to the tub and tugs down his boxers, he has nothing but his own imagination. Which, unfortunately, still very much means Wille. 

He wonders, as he gives himself a first gentle ghost of a stroke, shuffling down a bit so his head is tipped back against the side of the tub and his feet press into the wall (this bathroom, this house, is fucking small), if Wille thinks of Simon when he touches himself. He wonders if there’s a masturbatory version of him haunting the castle. What does Wille picture? He never got to ask him. 

He bites his lip and closes his eyes and goes for one of the disjointed fantasy images from last night. They’d been in the library at Hillerska, and Wille had had Simon pressed against one of the shelves. They were both wearing the white robes from Lucia night, something Simon hadn’t previously clocked as sexy, but he squeezes himself now at the thought, his chest lifting a little with the sensation. His own robe was rucked up to his waist, his knees bent and tight around Wille’s hips so that Wille could fuck into him, pushing him against the shelf behind him with each thrust. Simon grasped a shelf behind him with one hand while the other strove to keep Wille’s own gown out of the way, so that he could see. 

He doesn’t have the time to finger himself, but his ass clenches anyway. They never had that kind of sex, and now Simon is both grateful and aggrieved -- it would be another thing to regret, or mourn, but then again, it already feels like Wille is inside him, irretrievably, all the time, so what would have been the harm? 

He imagines one of Wille’s hands on him, on his cock; a ripple of warmth spreads over his skin as he works himself. He’s losing track of whose hands and arms are where and if they even have enough limbs for this but he doesn’t care. He wants Wille to flatten him like a book he can’t get enough of, to crack his spine, to hold him open as he devours him. He presses a heel to the cleft of Wille’s ass to urge him closer; Wille is panting into his neck; the tub is hard and unforgiving behind Simon’s head but he imagines it’s the shelf supporting him as Wille fucks him. And then, in his imagining, the shelf supporting him keels over, catching the next one which also falls, and now Wille is fucking him on the tilted shelves, and the candles of his Lucia crown (had he been wearing that the whole time?) catch on the books and everything is burning around them, the school is burning to the ground, and Wille gasps I love you with every thrust, and all Simon can say is God Jul, God Jul, God Jul... 

It’s such a ridiculous image that he’s laughing as he comes, the twin sensations tugging deliciously at his core, and he falls sideways so that his cheek is pressed to the bath mat. For a moment, before the high clears, he wishes he could tell Wille about this, that they could laugh about it, that Wille would tease him about the silly fantasy until they realized they were both half-hard-- 

“SIMON!” Sara is rapping on the bathroom door. “I need to pee!” 

“Just a minute,” he grumbles, and he turns the shower, which has been running this whole time, to its coldest setting; he will need the jolt before he can go out there and face his life. 

[forlorn-crows]

𝒉𝒖𝒏𝒈𝒓𝒚

pairing(s): dewdrop/aether words: 539 rating: explicit

notes: top!dew, but he still calls aether 'daddy' >:)

"Fuck, daddy, such a good mouth," Dew praises, arching into Aether's mouth and digging his fingers tighter into his hair. "Suck me so good."

Aether moans around his cock, tonguing at the underside. Chin hitting Dew's sac. He turns his watery eyes up to look at Dew's face, pupils wide and needy.

Dew's mouth drops open in a gasp. "Yeah? Like when I use you like this?"

Aether nods the best he can and squeezes the fire ghoul's thighs. He swallows hard, working this throat around the head until Dew's eyes roll back with a breathy whine.

"Ugh, fuckin'---so fuckin' perfect, daddy," he groans. "Keep---yeah, keep sucking."

Aether's more than happy to comply. He shuffles closer, bracketing Dew's hips with his forearms and gripping his waist. He pulls off just until the wet little head is inside, and bobs. Not far enough to take him down to the base, but just enough to push and pull at the foreskin, popping over the widest part of the head and retreating back again. Up and down, up and down. When Dew's fingers tighten in his hair again, Aether hovers. Again, only keeping the head in his mouth, he pushes the tip of his tongue against the edge of the foreskin, licking along the perimeter and flicking at the sensitive skin.

Pre bubbles up at the tip, and he licks that up too. Pushing into the slit until Dew keens and begs:

"Oh fuck, s-sensitive. You---daddy, you gotta." Dew tosses his head back and groans loudly as Aether suckles at the head, throbbing hard against the roof of his mouth. "Fuck, I need more of you."

The quint ghoul moans a soft mm? over his cock, not so subtly grinding at the bed as he meets Dew's eyes again.

He smiles, cheeks flushed. Eyes heavy as he thrusts into his mouth. "Don't you want this inside? Make you feel good too?" Dew pulls him off with a pop and reaches down with his free hand to grab the base of his cock, tapping the head of it against Aether's tongue.

"Uh huh," Aether breathes. A line of saliva drops down to Dew's balls, slow as syrup. "P'ease fu- me," he slurs, diligently keeping his mouth open as Dew rubs his dick around.

Quicker than Aether can groan, Dew's on him, tugging him up to the head of the bed and flipping himself around so he's draped over his back. He presses Aether's chest to the mattress and pulls at his tail, baring his twitching hole to the air.

"Gonna be a good daddy for me?" Dew grunts, unceremoniously shoving two fingers in, spitting around them. "Fuck, you're tight. Can't wait to fill you up."

"Dew," Aether moans into the mattress. Dew's fingers press in deep, and his own half chub twitches to life. "Oh, baby, wanna be good for you," he rumbles, fucking himself back onto the digits.

"That's it," Dew lilts, spreading his fingers. "Daddy has such a hungry hole, doesn't he?"

Aether shivers, groaning low into the blankets. "So--" Dew presses down, making his toes twitch. "So hungry, fuck."

"Yeah," the fire ghoul rasps, pressing his cock to one of Aether's cheeks and sighing at the friction. "Yeah you are."

[itshermocrates]

Some thoughts on Vander and Silco's relationship

I already talked about this when Arcane S1 first came out, but now that the show is over and we got to see a different reality where everyone has a good ending (except for Vi I guess) I want to bring back my Silco x Vander thoughts

So yeah, vanco ?? silder ??? post

Even if in Arcane S1 there’s some sort of parallel between Jinx/Powder and Silco + Vi and Vander, in my eyes those two were made for an old man yaoi story

Now that we have seen Jayvik’s evolution and that glimpse of them together in a “better future”, I realized that Vander and Silco (+ Felicia) could have something similar to what was happening initially with Jayce and Viktor (+ Mel)

Two best friends working together for a common cause, one hopelessly in love with the other while his partner can’t see ―or doesn’t want to recognize― his own feelings. Since I already have a Jayvik analysis in my drafts, I’m going to focus on Silco and Vander

This will be half a theory - half a fic + I also posted this on BlueSky so yeah, if you see it there it was also me lol

[Pinning, Unrequited love and love confessions that go wrong ahead]

I think Silco and Vander were the perfect duo back in their youth, together they had the brains and the strength, using both charm and cold logic to make people eager to follow them. What Silco lacked, Vander was able to provide and vice versa. Together they were the greatest leaders Zaun could ever ask for.

They not only completed each other like two puzzle pieces, but also shared a bond that had been nurtured since childhood. They had been facing hardships and Piltover’s aggressions since they were little kids, so it was natural that the years of friendship brought them impossibly close.

Some even said that they could have entire conversations without exchanging a single word.

At some point Silco developed a crush on Vander, how could he not? Despite his strength and sometimes scary appearance, Vander had always been the big sunshine boy who was looking after him. That urge to protect and take care of others seemed to be part of his very essence, and if someone benefited from this, it was his best friend.

Of course, they needed to fight and get dirty in the deepest hellholes of Zaun, but even when Vander got his knuckles drenched in blood, Silco could only see the kind man with bright eyes and a dream for a better life that Vander truly was.

Silco really thought that this new beginning for them was only possible because Vander was there with him, since when hope seemed completely lost, when the circumstances took another member of their little family, Vander always remained firm in his stance. They would find a way, they would fight back, they would keep pushing forward and they wouldn’t stop until they finally had the future they deserved.

Oh, wasn’t he convincing? Always the beacon in their times of need, who else could lead them out of their misery?

Vander’s kindness was disarming, and his light was so bright that Silco couldn’t help but fall in love with him. He loved him so deeply it made him feel sick, but he could do nothing about it. Vander had been in love with Felicia for almost as long as Silco had loved him, and even if she wasn’t really interested in him, there was no way that man could get over his emotions.

Just like Silco himself couldn’t make his own feelings go away. He pinned for years, forcing himself to hide how he felt so nothing changed between them and he didn’t lose his best friend. He had to protect their friendship, but, above everything else, he had to protect their dream of a free nation for Zaun.

Silco pinned and suffered in silence until he couldn’t take it anymore, until his unrequited love felt like an open wound badly infected, moments away from killing him. Then, and only then, he confessed.

Vander didn’t make a huge deal out of it, he was understanding and visibly confused. It was an awkward situation, but he could be nothing but kind, even as he broke Silco’s heart. Of course, he didn’t feel the same.

Or maybe he did, but he was too blind to see it, too infatuated by the idea of a future with Felicia to give a shot to a real future with him.

Vander had used a very familiar word to excuse his lack of introspection, one that served him as a shield while unknowingly harming Silco as if it had used the sharpest of blades.

“Silco, you’re my brother…”

They used brotherhood a lot to describe their relationship. Their found family, their friends, their allies in the Zaun revolution and even the fucking pilts, they all could see how deeply they cared for each other. And every time that was the reason they assumed to be behind their bond.

No one could ever deny the love in their eyes, the protective gestures, the smiles... It was obvious, but everyone assumed that what they shared was a blood bond. For Silco it was much more than some stupid liquid running through their veins, what they shared had been built over years of companionship, years of pain and struggle, blood was fucking nothing in comparison. Their souls were connected in a way no one could ever imagine or understand.

And Vander knew this. He knew how strong their bond was, but he hadn't really asked himself if what he felt for Silco was something more than brotherhood. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do if it wasn’t the case either, but he didn’t go as far as to truly consider it.

Vander didn't know how to react to Silco's confession, he didn’t want to hurt him or change their world forever. He was happy as they currently were, it was easy to live with Silco as a brother, but he didn’t know what was waiting for them if he ever allowed himself to analyze his own feelings.

Because of this, and completely unaware of the pain he was causing, Vander uttered that seemingly harmless word that Silco couldn’t stand anymore.

Brother.

The softness in his tone didn’t make it any less devastating. The pain in his eyes, as he knew how badly he was breaking Silco's heart, didn’t make it easier to hear.

The countless "I love you"s he pronounced after that, reassuring that even if it was not the same feeling, Silco was still one of the most important people in his life didn’t soothe the agony of his reopened wound.

None of that mattered.

Because he didn't feel the same as Silco.

The same word that once had been forced on them was now stronger than anything he had built together.

Silco didn't want to feel that pain, he couldn't allow it to stay inside his chest, not when it was so profound.

So he decided to leave The Last Drop. It would be only for a couple of days, to distance himself a little from the source of his pain and try to stitch close that damned cut.

During that time, alone and completely heartbroken, he focused on thinking of ways to achieve the goal they had been fighting for since they were teenagers. The Zaunite revolution and Zaun’s independence. He ignored his pain and used all his anger to plan their next move in their fight against Piltover, thinking of new ways to finally defeat their enemy.

It was during those days, blinded by the pain of his aching heart, that he understood they could only win against Piltover if they showed their true nature to the world. He knew by then that they needed to be more aggressive in their methods and destabilize, not only their government, but also their peace.

Let their own people know what monsters they had for leaders.

Let the people of Piltover suffer the same pain they had suffered since the very moment the City of Progress came to be.

The fight had turned into a way for him to forget his own suffering, and in his anguish, provoking pain to others stopped feeling wrong at all if that meant they could get closer to their goal of freedom.

It was at this point where the conflict with Vander started. Suddenly, the word "brothers" didn't quite fit them anymore, it seemed too caring for them. Now it was a word pronounced in a low voice, and when it was Silco the one saying it, his tone could only express disgust. He rolls his eyes as if the word was some sort of sick joke he hated to voice out loud, a reminder of what could never be.

Silco’s pain is a heavy weight preventing them both from going back to what they once had, and seeing this wounded Vander every single time his friend reminded him of his rejection. This, and how differently they started to approach their fight, made them step further and further away from the other.

And when they saw each other during important meetings, Silco threw the word “brother” extremely carelessly, always with the intention to wound Vander instead of calming him and expressing how much he still loved him.

It had turned into a word that neither of them could ever forget, and that would hunt Silco until the end of his days.

It had turned into a word that neither of them could ever forget, and that would hunt Silco until the end of his days.

[There's still a lot of resentment in Silco's expression, and in this scene before saying brother, Silco rolls his eyes. The man was PISSED]

In conclusion, I think "brother" was Silco and Vander's equivalent of Jayvik's "partner" and I bet Viktor was pissed as hell everytime he heard someone reffering to him as Jayce's partner AND JUST THAT, for both scientific pride and his hopeless crush on Jayce Talis.

[yuurei20]

Lilia Facts Part 36: Lilia and Epel (pt1)

Lilia’s labwear vignette revolves around a fight that Lilia witnesses between Epel and three, 2nd-year students who are trying to steal rare flowers that he has painstakingly prepared for a class (more here).

At first Lilia watches from afar, only interfering when Epel begins to lose the fight.

Epel says that he will not be needing Lilia’s help but Lilia assures him, “It's okay to bring in a pinch hitter sometimes.” Lilia soundly beats the three bullies without magic, who comment that they thought Lilia was just Malleus’ second fiddle.

Lilia pretends that he is interested in claiming Epel’s flowers but ultimately returns them, despite Epel saying that Lilia has earned them and he doesn’t want pity.

Lilia shares a variety of tips for winning fights, such as “Always keep your distance” and “When fighting multiple foes, hide in their shadows.”

Epel says that Lilia can make being small not sound like a disadvantage and Lilia explains, “Appearance has no bearing on strength. What matters isn't how strong you are; it's about how you fight” and “The other keys are an absolute refusal to lose...and a willingness to play a little dirty!,” as “Fights aren't like sports. Winning is all that matters here.”

Epel asks permission to go to Lilia for martial arts training sometime and Lilia says he may indulge him if he feels inclined, but I am not sure that Lilia giving lessons to Epel has ever been referenced in the game.

We see an example of LIlia’s “winning is all that matters” philosophy during the Cloudcalling event: Leona gives him a strategy meant to conserve his stamina that Lilia decides to ignore in favor of punishing the opposing team for breaking a competition rule:

“I can't just watch these guys besmirch the sanctity of competition. Folks who break the rules ought to be punished. Harshly, and without fail.”

Lilia breaks the rules himself to make his point, physically attacking his opponent but evading discovery by moving too fast for the referee to see.

Lilia wins, saying, “If I'd put my back into it he'd have ended up in the stands,” and that is exactly what happens in his next bout. He is disqualified from the competition for using magic to keep his opponent from landing in the audience.

Vil says, “That was poor judgement. You could have easily saved him without using magic” and Lilia explains, “I'm just so used to using magic, I completely forgot.”