#(is it just me or have I been saying ‘sue me’ way too much recently. idk. my mom’s a lawyer* that porbably has something to do with it)

[cuteniaarts]

What if… Suiren in Vaatu’s colours 😳👀

[pinkroseblooms]

obsessedloner!Choso/chubby!f!Reader pt.2

Summary: in the second part to this modern college au, obsessive loner!Choso goes too far; reader deals with the consequences of his need to keep you close to him and him alone when he feels like you're at risk of gaining the attentions of an even more popular classmate. Yet another self indulgent piece of work, but sue me, I couldn't stop writing this all day. Enjoy!

Warnings: toxic behavior, obsessive/possessive behavior, jealousy, emotional manipulation, smut, mating press, rough sex, hurt/comfort, talks of low self esteem, clingy, needy!Choso, begging, crying, break downs, and borderline yandere!Choso, and other less than healthy relationship dynamics.

wc: 5.3k

The birthday cake was placed on the teacher’s desk: the majority of your speech class had decided that since Satoru Gojo’s birthday was coinciding with the last week of exams before break, it would be fun to have a small party. You volunteered to bake the cake; the professor gave permission to use his classroom that afternoon, with the condition the space was tidied up afterward and things didn’t get too rowdy. It was going to be a nice opportunity to celebrate the coming holiday season and the student who was arguably the school’s golden boy. Even those who didn’t like Gojo’s flippant arrogance and teasing nature admired his work ethic and almost supernatural intelligence, to say nothing of his undeniably pretty face. 

Choso was only there because he knew you were attending and in charge of bringing the requested birthday cake. He didn’t feel one way or the other about Gojo, but he would gladly be by your side, eager to hear the compliments your baking would receive and also to make sure no picky eaters decided to get nit picky and spoil your mood. Truly, Choso had been happy on your behalf to hear you had agreed to help with the party. He certainly wouldn’t think to go out of his way to do something like this for people he didn’t really know outside of a forty five minute, twice a week class. Choso was more than proud to be the boyfriend of a person so thoughtful and generous to a fault; it was one of the reasons he fell so hard in the first place. You never needed a special reason to be kind to someone. And of course, it helped that you were still the most adorable thing he had ever seen in his life and the last few months had been nothing short of heaven.

Except, the cake was red velvet. Choso stands by the teacher’s desk, staring at the cake. It was his favorite flavor. He told you that not long ago and you had promised the first time you made it, it would be for him. 

The cake is beautifully, painstakingly decorated, a perfect ratio of cake and fluffy frosting, sprinkled in bits of dark chocolate; the matching icing spells out ‘Happy Birthday, Satoru!’ in delicate, looping letters across the top. You obviously put a lot of care into making this for Gojo. That afternoon you had been the first person to arrive, followed shortly by another student, Suguru Geto; he wasn’t in the same speech class, but he was Gojo’s best friend and knew some of the class already, so inviting him was a given. The two of you had left to find a lighter and candles, hoping the school store in the basement of the building would provide something suitable. You told Choso he didn’t need to come; you noticed he had seemed a bit drained from studying and his recently acquired part time job, so you insisted he just hang back and relax while you and Geto went to obtain the finishing touches for the cake. 

For the past two minutes Choso has stood in place where you left him, eyeing the cake so innocently sitting atop the cleared off desk. He didn’t know it would be red velvet. Gojo had a sweet tooth and would probably love it. 

Surely this is too much for just an acquaintance. The recipe is a lot more difficult than the stuff you’ve made before, Choso saw there were more steps and more factors that could go wrong and ruin the cake’s moist and spongy texture. Skeptically, Choso narrows his eyes at the round, two tiered dessert. Most of the girls in your shared class offered to bake, but you were the one with the most experience and Gojo had eagerly picked you for the task. You must have felt obligated to make the cake perfect.

Choso’s frown deepens; he is your boyfriend. You promised you would make a cake like this just for him. A gesture like this could easily be taken the wrong way too and you’re so sweet and self effacing, he’s sure the idea of Gojo choosing you to personally make his cake didn’t mean anything at all.

It should be for him.

“What…what happened?”

The smile fell from your lips mere seconds after returning from the school store; Geto, insisting on carrying the purchases, had just been relaying a funny anecdote of one of his and Gojo’s misadventures as the two of you walked back into the now empty classroom. On the ground, right next to the base of the professor's sturdy wooden desk is nothing short of a mess. 

“My cake,” your hands come up to cover your gaping mouth. “What happened?!”

Geto approaches the desk with a confused frown; the cake and the plate it had been placed on are both on the floor. It seemed to have fallen top first, the icing and frosting smeared over the tiles and the plate broken into pieces around it. 

“It fell.” Geto states simply, although not without some incredulity. “Was it close to the edge?”

“No, I, well,” you struggle to recall exactly where you had placed the cake before you left the room. “I didn’t think I put it that close to the edge.”

“There’s frosting streaks on the side too’ it must have just toppled over.” Geto points out with a keen eye, kneeling a bit, bags still in hand. “It might have just been a bit uneven, a little heavier to one side?” he stands to his full height and smiles at you sympathetically. “These things happen, just a little bad luck. I’m sorry, it was a beautiful cake.”

“But everyone’s going to be here soon,” you fret as you search through your bag. “Geto, I’m going to go buy another cake, there’s a store nearby, I’m sure they’ll have something. Oh and I’ll find a custodian, oh no, I’m so sorry, I can’t believe this is happening-”

“Let me go.” Geto places a hand over your tensed shoulder. “It makes more sense, I know what kind of cake Satoru prefers the most. There’s plenty of time and a few others promised to bring drinks and snacks.”

“But I said I’d bring the cake. At least let me give you the money for it?” you hold up a few bills with a pleading stare. “I feel horrible, I should have been more careful where I put it.”

“Don’t beat yourself up; you are the one who did the work to make it.” Geto chuckles but accepts the money if only to make you feel a bit more at ease. “Maybe it’s better this way: with how good that cake looked, I’d wager you might have ended up with that glutton badgering you for more sweets.”

You return his smile as well as you can. “Thank you. I’m just being silly.”

“You’re fine.” Geto says firmly, but not unkindly. “You call a janitor, don’t try to clean up this alone; we wouldn’t want you to get a cut from trying to pick up pieces of that plate. I’ll be back before you know it; Satoru would sulk all afternoon if I don’t get him something anyway.”

“You’re a good friend.” you smile at Geto gratefully. “Thank you, I’ll call someone right away.”

You do just that shortly after Geto takes his leave; most of the custodians have already left for the day, except for one woman. She promises to be there as soon as she’s done with a request from one of the professors in the neighboring building; she sounds pleasant enough, but you feel pangs of guilt as you hang up and take a seat closest to the teacher’s desk. 

“Bunny? Are you okay?”

“Choso, you’re back!” you look up and wave at him, trying to sound cheerful; he glances at the ruined cake and back to your pained smile. “Ah, were you looking for me? I guess we just missed each other, the basement elevator was out of order, so we took the stairs. What a mess, huh? Geto thinks one side was a little heavier and it made the cake just flop right over the edge. Some bad luck, right? He left to get a cake and the custodian will be here soon, so make sure not to step on the plate bits.”

“Hey, slow down. I’m not worried about that.” Choso’s brow furrows as he studies your shaky smile. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. No big deal, accident…accidents happen.”

You bite your bottom lip harshly as your eyes begin to sting; before you know it, tears are slowly slipping down your cheeks. You quickly avert your eyes, too embarrassed to see the pitying look cross Choso’s face.

“Oh Choso, I feel so stupid. I can’t believe I put the cake that close to the edge! Ugh, I should have paid more attention, I told everyone I would make this amazing cake and I messed it all up and now Geto has to go all the way to the stupid store to get another one because I wasn’t careful!”

“Did he get mad at you?” Choso asked sharply. “Did he blame you?”

“No, no, Geto didn’t do anything.”  you bow your head and wipe at your wet cheeks. “He was really nice about it, so was the janitor on the phone about the mess, but I still feel bad. Gojo was just telling me he was really looking forward to the cake too. I’m sure he’ll be disappointed to get a store bought cake and I promised I’d take care of this for the party. Sorry, I know I’m being a crybaby, I should just suck it up, I’m the one who ruined things, I shouldn’t be feeling sorry for myself.”

“No, you didn’t. It’s not your fault.”

You raise your head and Choso is standing in front of the table between him and you; his hands are gripping tightly around the strap of his duffel bag. You wipe the last of your tears and look at him, your chest swelling at how upset he is on your account.

“You’re so sweet. Just having you to vent to makes me feel better already; I’m really just being dramatic, I’ve been stressed out and-”

“It’s not your fault.” Choso cuts you off quietly; he still isn’t looking at you. “It’s mine.”

“What? Baby, no, I didn’t expect you to watch the cake; it’s on me for not making sure it wasn’t so close to the edge, you didn’t do anything.”

“I pushed it.”

Choso’s knuckles are white: he’s strangling the strap of his bag between quivering hands. Finally, he looks into your bewildered eyes

“Choso, is this some kind of joke?” 

“I didn’t want him to have it and, and I thought he might get ideas since you worked so hard to bake it. He flirts with all the girls and you did say you were going to make it for me first.”

“You’ve got to be joking.” you shake your head and all but leap up from your chair. “You? How could you? And you were going to let me think it was my fault?!”

“No! It was supposed to look like an accident, I didn’t think you’d be so upset,”

“So it was okay for me to be ‘kind of’ upset? Choso, how could you?” you ask him again, voice raising, almost echoing in the empty room. “It’s just a cake!”

“Yeah, it’s just a stupid cake, that’s why I didn’t think you’d get this upset!”

Choso’s mouth clamps shut as your anger gives way to a look of utter hurt. 

“Wow.”

“I shouldn’t have said that-”

“Thanks a lot, Choso. Yeah, that really makes it better. Was that your plan? Swoop in and play the comforting boyfriend while I feel like a big idiot? Or maybe you just don’t consider my hobbies anything special; anyone can make a cake, right?” Fresh tears well up in your eyes as you tug your bag over your shoulder. “Nice to know what you really think.”

“Hey, wait a minute,” Choso says reproachfully. “I didn’t mean it the way it sounded, you’re putting words in my mouth!”

“You know what?” you shake your head and unzip the front section of your bag; clumsily you yank out a sealed box and slam it down on the table. Choso recognizes it as one of the little boxes you use to pack individual desserts. “Here, your stupid cake. Surprise.”

The lid of the container is now sticking to the top of the cake but Choso can still make out the messy letters of his name and the heart shaped sprinkles scattered all over the surface. His eyebrows raise as he sees the small, squashed up cake is in the shape of a heart. You glare down at it before turning on your heel without so much as a backward glance.

“Bunny?” Choso snaps out of his trance and begins to follow you. “Where are you going?”

“Away from you.”

“I can explain, just calm down and let me-”

“Leave. Me. Alone!” you stop abruptly in the doorway and give him a nasty look, but you’re barely able to hold yourself back as Choso fixes you with a heartbroken stare. “Don’t you dare tell me to calm down when you’re the one who threw a fucking tantrum. Enjoy the ‘stupid cake’, jerk!”

You slam the door in his face and rush down the hall to the nearest entrance, not particularly caring about where you’re going, just as long as you can get as much distance between you and Choso as possible. When you finally get home, you text Geto an apology for taking off and a nondescript explanation for your absence before turning your phone off. You’re exhausted and skip dinner to just curl up in your bed, burrowing in a blanket as if you could shut out the world. Choso’s t-shirt, the same one you’ve been sleeping in nearly every night, is balled up and thrown somewhere across the room; eventually you fall asleep, eyes rubbed raw and nose stuffed as you drift off, hoping maybe this was all just a bad dream.

When morning arrives and you manage to force yourself into a sitting position, it takes you a minute or two to realize the gentle knocking isn’t a leftover remnant from your deep slumber, but a very real sound coming from your front door. You wrap yourself in a robe and slip on a pair of house slippers, equally confused and irritated as to who could be knocking on your door when the sun is barely over the horizon. Just as the knocking stops, you peek through the peephole; there’s no one there. You rub your eyes and unlock your door with a sigh, expecting a leaflet from some early bird salesman or religious group to be stuck in the hinges. Instead you nearly trip over a huddled up mass taking refuge on your doorstep when you didn’t immediately open your door.

“Choso?! Oh my god, you scared me!” you’re still breathing a bit heavily, heart racing thinking a stranger had collapsed on your porch. “What are you doing here?”

“I,” Choso scrambles to his feet; you finally notice in his hands are two cups of coffee, one of which is your usual order, but the largest size. He holds it out to you. “Good morning. You weren’t answering your phone.”

“I turned it off.”

After a beat, you take the cup on autopilot, more preoccupied with the man standing at the threshold of your home. The circles under Choso’s eyes are darker than ever, in addition to how red and irritated they are around the edges, his hair is oily and limp. On closer inspection, you see he’s wearing the same clothes as yesterday; now they’re more wrinkled and the slight odor coming off them tells you he hasn’t showered yet. 

“Can I come in?” Choso asks, his voice weak and barely louder than a whisper. “I have to talk to you.”

“Fine.” you frown but move aside and open the door wider. “Here, come with me, I left my phone in my room.”

Choso does as he’s told, but trails after you at a slight distance, at least in comparison to how closely he usually stays to you. He’s shivering; it’s the middle of winter and he isn’t wearing even a jacket. How long had he been knocking on your door? How long had he planned to wait there outside? You banish the thought and busy yourself disconnecting your phone from its charger on your bedside table. Choso stands awkwardly in the middle of your room; he hasn’t taken so much as a sip of his coffee or taken his eyes off you, at least as far as you can see. 

“Did I wake you up?” he asks worriedly. “I’m sorry. I was going to wait but I thought you might have gone somewhere and you weren’t answering your phone, so…” he goes silent seeing his shirt in a crumpled heap in the corner of your room. “I just wanted to talk to you as soon as possible.”

You barely heard him, jaw dropping at your phone’s screen as it fully turns on to show you 32 missed calls, 15 unheard voicemails, 18 unopened texts, and 5 emails, all from Choso over the course of the night. You tap your thumb on the latest voicemail.

“Bunny? Bunny, can’t you just talk to me?” A shaky, nearly unrecognizable croaking comes from the speaker: Choso’s strong voice sounds strained, almost inaudible at certain points, as though he had been screaming until his throat was raw. “I know you’re probably sleeping…or maybe you don’t want to talk to me ever again-” A sharp, wrecked sob crackles over the speaker but Choso manages to steady himself again. “But I need to…I need to hear your voice. I’m so sorry, I’m so, so fucking sorry, I’m sorry, please don’t hate me. I love you so much it hurts. I’m going to stop by tomorrow, I need to see you. I know I messed up, I need help. My bunny? I can’t…oh god, I can’t do this. I-I feel like I’m dying, I’m…I love you. I love you, I love you, just please-”

Your heart drops to your churning stomach as Choso’s words morph into broken, unintelligible sobs. Finally after a few seconds, the other end goes quiet and the voicemail ends. A recorded voice tells you there’s still 14 more previously skipped voicemails; Choso has remained standing, stiff as a board and looking miserably at you. You take a seat on the side of your bed, staring bewildered at your phone; you decide to not listen to the other voicemails.

“I’m sorry.” Choso says in an absurdly small voice. “Can we talk?”

You’re holding the coffee in your hands on your lap and taking a deep breath before raising your face. “Choso, why did you do it?”

“I didn’t do it to hurt you. I don’t think your baking is stupid. I was being stupid.” Choso’s cheeks burn in shame. “I was jealous Gojo was getting the cake first, or I thought he was, and I just…I didn’t want him to have it. It’s always like this.”

“What do you mean?” you ask him slowly, tempering your own indignation. “Do you think he would flirt with me? Or that I would cheat on you?”

“No. I just get so...everyone likes you. So, what if someone better comes along? What if you stop paying attention to me?” Choso shakes his head quickly, gripping his hair like he wants to yank it out. “I have thoughts like that all the time. It's awful. I knew you would be sad, but I really thought it would only be a little and then I could make it better and you would…rely on me more. I don’t want you to get close to anyone else.” he lowers his arm to his side limply. “I know it’s wrong. Are you gonna bre-break up with me?”

You don’t speak just yet; your eyes study his drawn, exhausted face. Choso isn’t trying to make you feel bad for him, you know that much. The truth doesn’t make you feel much better though. 

“I was really mad at you yesterday. I needed space.”

“I know, but-”

“Listen,” you say firmly. “Whatever the reason, that was a really rotten thing you did. It was just plain mean and selfish. Sure, you didn’t really mean to hurt me, but you did. You purposely messed up something I put a lot of work into.”

“I know.” Choso’s expression is desolate. “I like that about you. I love that you do nice things for people even if you don’t have to. Y-you’re so careful and considerate of other people. I was being selfish and it was so, so fucking stupid. You would never do something like that to me…you’re so good to me.”

“Choso, this isn’t just about yesterday.” you soften your tone, mindful of your volume. Choso looks as if one cold word from you could shatter him into a million pieces. “If you were willing to trash something I put a lot of work into for such a petty reason, it’s making me second guess things and now I’m wondering if maybe you’re not the person I thought you were. Is it more important to keep me dependent on you than for me to be happy?” You set your cup down on the nightstand, trying to keep your voice from cracking. “Maybe this isn’t going to work out.”

“Don’t say that.” 

Choso all but drops his coffee onto your dresser, barely glancing at it as he rushes to you; he lowers himself down on his knees, eyes glistening with both unshed tears and sheer adoration as he looks up at your pained face. You let him hold your hands, still folded in your lap, as Choso rests his forehead on your lap. They’re ice cold; how long had he been waiting outside?

“It’ll never happen again. It shouldn’t have happened at all. I know I could have just talked to you, I know you would have listened, but I didn’t even give you a chance, I just did what I wanted. I’m not nearly as kind as you.” Choso admits, words muffled as he buries his face into your thighs. “I don’t deserve you, but I need you. I’ll do whatever you say until you trust me again. Do you hate me?”

“Choso, I never hated you, I was just hurt.” you squeeze his hands gently. “The only reason I got so upset in the first place is because I love you so much. Hell, the cake for the party was more practice than anything so I could make you an even better cake. If you were worried, you should have just told me. You’re not some evil person from feeling jealous, but what you did was wrong. I really need to know that you understand where I’m coming from, I don’t want us to break up or anything. Did you really think I was trying to end things yesterday?”

Choso nods, head still resting on your thighs. “I thought you blocked me on everything. I thou-thought you didn’t ever want to see me again. I should have waited, Eso even said you probably just needed some space, but…I’m so used to being with you, texting you. I was going crazy.”

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to ghost you. And I’m sorry for calling you a jerk.”

“I am a jerk.”

“No, you acted like a jerk,” you nudge Choso’s shoulder to get him to look up; he does, taking in your face with those pleading puppy dog eyes you can never resist. “I forgive you. I love you baby, so, so much.”

“Bunny,” Choso’s lip wobbles and fat tears roll down his cheeks and chin, dripping onto your hands. “Thank you. I’m sorry I made you cry, just thinking about it makes me want to-to-” he sniffs and clenches his teeth against a whine. “I’m just sorry. I love you. I missed you so much. I couldn’t sleep knowing you were hurting because of me and I wanted to come here right away, but I thought if I did you’d really be fed up and-”

“You didn’t sleep?!” you slowly sit and move so you’re seated further up the bed; Choso follows suit, basically crawling over your pillows and covers to be next to you, tears still streaming down either side of his face. “Choso, lay down baby, you should take a nap. You’ll feel better, believe me. We can talk more later and get something to eat.”

“‘So good to me.” Choso tugs on your arm. “I want to cuddle.” He immediately moves over so you can hold him, laying on your sides as Choso stares balefully up at you through blurry eyes. “Can I have a kiss?”

“Choso, you need sleep.”

“Please?” he mutters, eyes lingering on your pouty mouth. “Need a kiss.”

“Okay, just a little one.”

“Thank you. You’re always so good to me…”

You knew those basset hound eyes would be the death of you: what started out as a tender, chaste kiss swiftly evolved into big hands massaging your breasts, then fingers tugging at the sash of your robe, and finally you being pushed onto your back as Choso holds you down in a mating press. 

“So good!” Choso can’t stop letting out choked moans, so loud, they almost drown out your cries, pushing your thighs closer to your chest, somehow, some way forcing his cock impossibly deep. There’s hints of pain but the pleasure you get from his cock head rubbing against that little spot just behind your clit was overriding all of it. 

“Baby, gotta slow down, you’ll break me at this rate.” you moan, helpless as Choso ducks his head down to lick and suck on your almost painfully sensitive nipples. He had been playing with them obsessively, pinching, rolling, sucking, even leaving dark love bites all over your breast.

“Love you, missed your pussy so much, thought I was gonna, gonna die!”

“Oh god, Choso, please, please baby, it’s too much!” your head lolls side to side; he’s made you cum three times already. Your pussy is a sopping wet mess and it’s all you can do to not pass out as Choso’s thick cock stretches you open over and over again, surely bruising your cervix. “You’re so-ah!” you let out a piercing shriek that only seems to spur him on to go harder. “So deep in my pussy baby, I can’t-”

“Just a little more, I’m so close,” Choso huffs, looking down at you with heavy lidded eyes, cheeks burning and hair sticking to his forehead; he’s a mess from his own sweat and your slick covering his pelvis where he just won’t stop pounding into you. “You look so good like this, I could fuck you forever…gonna cum so hard, give it all to you,”

“Cum in me,” you sweep his damp hair off his forehead with a faint, fucked out smile. “I want to feel it dripping out of me…can you be a good boy and cum in my pussy?”

“Yes, yes! Oh fuck, yes!”

Choso kisses you roughly, hips rolling into yours, barely pulling his cock out at all, as though he wanted his cum to go as deep inside you as it could go. It’s hot and spurting into your battered insides; thankfully Choso has enough strength left to hold you up as he humps your plush, limp body like a dog in heat. 

“Mine,” he groans, thrusting once more with a violent shudder. “Only mine.”

You suppose it’s not the best idea to encourage him, but you nod anyway, shaky hand in his hair to pet the tangled strands, chest heaving and light headed as Choso pulls his softening cock out slowly so as not to hurt you. He pants against your neck, curled into your side and using his wide palm to rub gentle circles over your hips and thighs.

“My poor bunny.” Choso mutters fondly as his fingers trail over your twitching thighs. “I’ll do better. You won’t regret this. I’m gonna get a bath ready for you, okay?”

“Th-thank you.”

“Sh, just relax, don’t get up.” Choso moves sluggishly to take the box of tissues from your nightstand; the coffee he brought you has somehow not been knocked off in the frenzy. “You’re so cute like this. I’ll wipe you off a bit first, nice and easy. Does it hurt down there?”

“Not really; feels more numb actually.” you roll your head to stare at him directly, meaning to look at least a little serious but you come off more like a grumpy kitten. “Don’t think just because you made me almost pass out that I forgot everything from the past 24 hours mister. I’m holding you to your word.”

“Yes ma’am.” Choso agrees with a hum as he wipes at the mess between your legs. “Thank you again…I still ate the cake you made for me. It was really good.”

“Oh right.”

“Yuji said you should have thrown it in my face.” Choso adds, a bit sheepish at the memory. “I almost didn’t eat it: I thought it would be the last thing you ever gave me…”

“Choso,” you smile at him sadly. “I love you. You know that, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you?”

“Uh huh.” Choso brings you into his arms, careful not to jostle you too suddenly. “Just scared. I’ve never felt this way before.”

“Never?”

“No.”

“Why are you scared? Do you still think I want to break up?”

Choso shrugs. “What if the more you get to know me, the more you see bad things?”

“What kind of bad things?”

“If…if I could, I’d keep you with me. Sometimes when we’re alone, I don’t want to let you go. Then I start wondering if trying to keep you safe will just make you unhappy with me or that I’ll scare you off and then…” A single tear escapes Choso’s eye and he draws you in closer to his chest. “I don’t know what I’d do. Compared to you, I’m really selfish and short sighted.”

“No one’s perfect. I’m not.”

“You're just saying that to make me feel better.”

“I overthink things and get worked up over upsetting people. I hold myself to unattainable standards.” you list off tiredly. “And I keep doing this thing where I shy away from letting people really…know me. Like if they do, I’ll just let them down. I feel like an imposter half the time when you say all these nice things about me. You’re the first person I’ve actually wanted to know me, warts and all. It’s worth getting to be with someone like you, Choso. That’s just how relationships work; you’re always risking getting hurt or disappointed when you let people love you…when you love someone. And I love you.”

“Um…is it bad that I feel happy I’m the only person you talk to like this?” Choso sniffles. “Sorry. I’m being selfish again.”

“Maybe a little, but for the right reasons.” you grin and wipe a thumb under his eye. “For the record, it makes me happy you think of me so highly. You make me feel special.”

“You are special and anyone who thinks otherwise is stupid.”

“Does that include me then?”

Choso looks visibly panicked. “Wa-wait, that’s not what I meant!”

“I know, I know, sorry baby.” you kiss him before he starts into another round of apologies. “That was just a little payback. Ah, Choso!”

“Not funny.” Choso grumbles, bundling you into the blankets as you giggle and let out a faux fearful squeal; the sly quirk of his lips betrays his actual intentions. “After your bath, I’m gonna give you a real reason to scream.”

[bettyfrommars]

Okay. An idea. Eddie and you, drive in, b movie monster marathon, nice crisp autumn night.

I’m over summer, sue me.

🧡🖤

Hope this puts a smile on your face Meg 🧡

Eddie Munson x Reader

18+ONLY, mature themes, smoking the devil's lettuce, b-movie references, friends to lovers, use of "baby" but no she/her or y/n, pure fluff, just some cute nonsense, Eddie and reader are in their early 20's. wc: 1.4k

I'm just a sucker (for you)

“Got it,” you crawled up into the squishy van seat with Eddie’s infamous drug lunchbox in your hand, plopping down with a theatrical smile on your face.  “I knew I felt its presence.”

Eddie sat there looking so proud, as if you’d just pulled it out of a magic hat.  “My baby is a bloodhound when it comes to the devil’s lettuce.”

You took a sharp inhale and choked a little at the use of the pet name.  You and Eddie were not romantic like that, you’d only ever been weed buddies who met through Reefer Rick.  Recently you’d discovered that he also enjoyed getting stoned or buzzed at the drive-in on Wednesday nights when they offered the cheesy, cinematic glory of b-movies by the likes of Burt I. Gordon and Roger Corman.

You’d both showed up alone to the drive-in, and on your way back to your car with a popcorn bucket almost too big for the crook of your arm, Eddie whistled to get your attention.  It was a wolf-whistle, the likes of which made you frown as you searched for who the dead man was.  His arm lolled out of the van window in a wave, and he gave you a finger gun.  

“Oh, it’s just you,” you snorted, shoving a few kernels in your mouth, fingers glistening from all of the butter.  You didn’t mind that kind of attention from Eddie because you knew he was harmless. Wasn’t he? Neither one of you had any attraction to each other, whatsoever, as far as you knew.

But then, you stopped in your tracks a few cars down, thinking about how you’d smoked your last bowl earlier, and Eddie would for sure have a decent supply on him.  Maybe it wouldn’t kill you to hang out with a fellow freak for a bit.  

The October nights were chilly, and you thought to grab a hoodie out of your car before you made your way back to his van.  The grass at your feet was scattered in burnt orange and gold leaves, and the air was crisp, yet warm, with the smell of rain and freshly cut wood.

Eddie saw you walking back and jumped out of his vehicle this time, determined to get your attention.  He held his hands behind his back, lifting up on his toes, tentatively.  “Did you come back to give me a kiss?”

His mannerisms made you chuckle.  “Keep dreaming, Munson,” you pushed the popcorn tub into his chest, and he grunted, taking it with both hands. “I thought you might like some company.”

Eddie squinted at you, whispering, leaning in, “you came to smoke all my weed like a little feral, stoner raccoon.”

The movie started —Attack of the Crab Monsters—and Eddie feared he’d left his lunchbox at home. You weren’t sure why, but you were about to stay and watch the movie with him even without the weed, but then you decided to take a chance and check around his messy van, just in case.  

“Why is there a bed set up in the back?” You asked, wondering if maybe he was in between living situations at the moment.  You’d been staying with your mom since you dropped out of college, and most days, you wished you were living in your car.  

Eddie wiggled his eyebrows at you as he fingered a joint and slipped it behind his ear, snapping the lunchbox closed.  “Wouldn't you like to know.”

You rolled your eyes.  “Please, you have about as much game as I do.  There’s no way you’re getting laid that often in this van.”

“You know what they say,” he looked around, making sure no one was walking by as he passed you the lighter.  “If the van’s a rockin’, don’t bother knockin’.”

You checked around too, and then sank down in your seat to take a long drag, passing it back to him, fanning the smoke away, coughing a few times, while the scenes from the black and white film flickered across your face. Just beyond the movie screen stretched a line of trees dressed in fall colors, and a big, bright, dark blue sky that burned purple over the hills.  

You shared sneaky pulls off of the joint for the rest of the movie, each of you getting progressively invested in the loose plot, and giggly about it all at once. Eddie asked you a few personal questions, which you weren’t expecting, and sometimes you could feel his eyes on you.  It was a double-feature night, and right after the crab monsters they were showing a personal favorite of yours: The Monster Club with Vincent Price.  

It also happened to be one of Eddie’s favorites. 

“There’s no way,” he shook his head dramatically, brushing his bangs off his forehead.  “Nope. It’s impossible you love this movie, too.  No one I know has ever even heard of it.”

“Well,” you had one foot hanging out the open window, sucking from your straw. “I feel bad for the ones who haven’t heard of it.  It’s a masterpiece.”

You let him know that you had to run to the restroom but that you would be right back, because you didn’t want to miss the beginning, and you asked if you could get him anything.  As you said it, you could tell he was doing his best to contain the smile yanking at the corners of his mouth, but his efforts were fruitless.  

“So,” he crossed his arms, tilting his head sideways to give you a curious look.  “I guess you do like spending time with me?”

“Absolutely not,” you teased, slamming his door shut on your way toward the concessions.  

There were butterflies in your stomach as you returned to the van, though; an undiagnosed thrill in your veins that had something to do with seeing his face again. 

With Vincent Price’s face looming over the parked cars, Eddie cleared his throat.  “Do you, um,  have any plans for Halloween?”

“I never have plans,” you gave a self-deprecating bark of a laugh.  Your favorite holiday was in a couple days and the most you had done was carve a few jack-o-lanterns.  “I mean, used to, when I was kid, but these last couple years have been…rough.”

Eddie kept his eyes on the screen, plucking at the steering wheel with his thumb.  “Do you, um, think you might want to come see a band with me?”

You snapped your head to look at him, but his eyes only flicked to you once before returning to the movie.  

“A buddy of mine is in a cover band and, um, they’re playing at the haunted maze,” he pressed his lips together and then blew them out on a puff of air.  “But I totally understand if it’s not your scene.  I’ve got a shit ton of old horror movies at my place, too, or I’ve got friends at Family Video, we could—”

“Eddie Munson,” you had a funny feeling flopping its way from your stomach to your heart.  “Are you asking me out on a date? Or are you just asking me to join you as a friend?”

 “Now that all depends,” he lowered his chin, wiping something imaginary off of his jeans.  “What would you say if I did ask you out? Would you, um, be into that sort of thing?”

“Shhhh,” you halted, eyes straight ahead.  “Hold on, I love this part.”

You used it as an excuse to reach over and grab his forearm, to touch him, to give the type of reassurance that words couldn’t.  You squeezed him through his leather jacket a few times, only a couple seconds, and Eddie watched it in slow motion, aching to take your hand.  The distance was suddenly too far.  

It was a song sequence with a vampire band on stage at the Monster Club singing “I’m just a sucker for your love.”

“You come from Pennsylvania

I’m from Transylvania

And I’m a pain in the neck...

When I kiss and fondle her

It’s like making love to a 

Colander”

You could hear Eddie mumbling the lyrics and tapping his thumb, because he knew the obscure song by heart.  

 “Yes, Eddie,” you kept your attention on the screen, and now it was you losing the battle with a smile so big it pushed up your cheeks.  “I think I would like to go on a date with you.”

[loveinhawkins]

Up until recent events, Eddie hasn’t really put much thought into flashlights—save for that time he had to take out the batteries in the T.V remote to get his to work, back when the power went wonky last summer.

But now? Oh, as soon as he’s through with this whole nightmare, Eddie’s gonna find out whichever saint invented the damn things and start a petition to get them a federal holiday. That’s gonna be his whole… raisin something, something—he thinks it’s French, Buckley will know.

Fucking wondrous creations.

… Okay, he might still be a little jittery.

So sue him. It’s either run with his increasingly stupid train of thought or have a thoroughly justified panic about—well, there’s just so much to choose from: the ash in the air, the apparently sentient vines on the ground, how it’s so fucking cold and dark—

Jesus H. Christ, calm down.

It’s not all that dark anyway—or at least, it’s not as dark as it could be. Steve’s lighting the way, flashlight in hand. Honestly, Eddie thinks he should get it preserved, like in one of those glass cabinets in museums, complete with a plaque: This bulb somehow survived a journey from the depths of a lake into an alternate dimension, and all for the low, low price of…

Well, Eddie doesn’t know how much it cost. He’ll workshop the whole plaque thing.

In his reverie, he stumbles carelessly, nearly pitching over right into Hive Mind territory.

“Ah, shit,” he whispers.

Steve’s hand must move because the light drifts over—ends up illuminating much more of Eddie’s path than Steve’s.

“Thanks,” Eddie says—glances sideways to find Steve already looking at him.

“Think I’m the one who should be thanking you,” Steve replies.

His hand flexes, as if he’d gone to twirl the flashlight before catching himself; Eddie has a very faint memory of Steve doing the same with pencils in class and fights a private smile.

“You gave me it,” Steve continues. “I would’ve just… gone right in without thinking.”

It’s said self-deprecatingly, but Eddie would argue that Steve’s impulsivity (his courage) is an admirable character trait, even if it sets his heart pounding.

His own problem is that he thinks too damn much, until the window of opportunity has almost been and gone.

He was the only one to hesitate before diving into the lake: he knows all too well how that could’ve made its way onto the increasingly long list of moments that haunt him.

He could’ve been too late, could’ve not found the Gate at all—and then, would only have been able to pathetically swim back to the kids and tell them that their heroes were gone.

The light skips onwards just a little, encourages Eddie to look up from his feet. He blinks a few times to try and adjust to the darkness looming ahead. There, the indistinct outline of trees, and he’s drawn back to a classroom again, to the soporific noise of chalk on a blackboard, to…

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.

“The hell is that from?” Eddie wonders, and he doesn’t realise he’s also said the quote aloud until Steve speaks.

“S’a poem. Robert Frost.”

Eddie clicks his fingers. “See, that’s why you actually passed English.”

Steve rocks his hand back and forth, so-so.

Eddie raises an eyebrow. “Don’t play coy now, Harrington.”

“I’m not, I passed by the skin of my teeth, dude.” Steve looks into the distance as he walks, like he’s being drawn back to some place, too. “I was meant to, um, submit a portfolio thing, and I just… didn’t.”

“Like stories and shit?”

Steve smiles. “Mm-hmm, and shit. Poems, too.”

“So why didn’t you…?”

Steve just shrugs in reply so Eddie changes tack—rolls his eyes expansively, but only at himself.

“Fucking Frost. Ugh, why can I remember that shit now, but when a paper’s in front of me, it’s just…” Eddie mimes an explosion in the back of his head, gone.

“Well,” Steve says, chuckling, “if the, uh, lovely atmosphere of this place jogs your memory, we’ll make some time, get you to write an essay.” He grins at Eddie, teasing and charming in equal measure. “We’re nothing if not productive.”

“Sure, that’s one word for it.”

Joking aside, Eddie finds that the mention of school calms his heart somewhat: to think of the foreboding sights around him as part of a story. Maybe it’s a control thing, like his campaigns. Dress shit up, put a film on top, then you don’t have to look at it directly.

He suggests as such to Steve in a longwinded ramble, and gets a thoughtful look in response.

“Like the Shire? And Mordor?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says. “Yeah, exactly.”

Steve nods slightly. The movement dislodges some particles in his hair—and yes, it helps, Eddie thinks, to believe it’s just freshly fallen snow.

“Yeah, that sorta never really worked for me?” Steve’s voice goes up at the end, almost apologetically, although for the life of him, Eddie can’t work out what he’s apologising for. “Like, when the kids ran with all the D&D stuff, the uh… analogy? Metaphor?”

Eddie gestures at himself with one hand, I failed English.

Steve laughs. “Yeah, whatever. Dustin and Lucas keep hashing that one out. Anyway, it didn’t exactly… help. Help me, I mean. Just made everything more…”

He sighs heavily.

Eddie thinks he understands. All his bullshit is just a veneer, after all: it doesn’t truly mask the fear.

“Hey, maybe you could give it a shot,” Steve adds. The light dances for a second, like he’s just barely resisted twirling the flashlight again.

“What?”

Steve smirks—juvenile, light-hearted, almost like he’s about to challenge Eddie at the school gym, like, bet you can’t make that shot from center court, Munson.

“You could write a poem. Make sense of…” Steve gestures around them.

“Harrington, as I keep reminding you, I failed English.”

“Yeah, so? I’ve heard Henderson go on about your campaigns, dude, s’not like they come from nothing.” Steve looks Eddie up and down in exaggerated scrutiny. “You look like the kinda guy who loves a theme.”

“Oh, really,” Eddie says flatly. He can’t hide his smile even if he tried.

“That’s what I thought, every time you’d come into class late: oh, here he is. The symbolism.”

“Jesus Christ, Harrington, shut up.” Eddie steps into Steve’s space just to shove him away (just to touch). He thinks that if he were to try his hand at poetry, it’d be horrendously self-indulgent—something about how he might not be the one holding a flashlight right now, but he’s certainly carrying a torch.

“I don’t work for free, Steve. You’ve gotta do one, too.”

“A poem for a poem, huh?” Steve says. “Sure. It’s a deal.”

And yeah, they might just be saying anything to pass the time. But Eddie chooses to believe otherwise; there’s still a pensive flicker in Steve’s eyes that makes him think he might just get lucky, that Steve might even dig up some old stuff from his abandoned portfolio.

It’s a nice thought—something to look forward to, at the end of all this.

He considers Steve, and even though he knows it’s not snow, he can’t help but turn the particles into flakes in his mind again, into something prettier, safe—almost as if Steve’s presence has softened the danger.

He wants to stop here, suddenly. Linger. It doesn’t make sense. But it feels like time is…

A gentle nudge—a warm elbow to his side.

“C’mon, daydreamer,” Steve says. “You can write down whatever you’re thinking later.”

Eddie snaps out of it with a breath of a chuckle, follows Steve’s light again. Keeps moving forward—past the ash, and the vines, and the trees.

The woods won’t be forever.

After all, he’s got promises to keep.

[wtchland]

Summary: A long night at the grocery store, shifts itching to its end. A recent college graduate just tryna save for her big move when her former professor finds himself grocery shopping just before closing.

Paring: Prof Joel Miller x Reader

Warnings: Protect P in V, Age gap 20 year old graduate & her 50 year old professor, Teacher x Student, Pet names (Bunny, Baby Bunny), No character description other than mention of tramp stamp and a peachy ass, Flirting, A dumb romcom moment, Cursing? No proofreading cuz we don’t do that around these parts, Mentions of Drinking, Self Roasting, F oral receiving

A/N: I forgot I was writing about a college girl for a moment. So what, sue me.

Graduation

The time for you to put on your last college party outfit and drink your night away. Except. Work waits for no one.

In addition to your graduation night it was also the night your petty bitch coworker Miranda called in sick. And you could use the extra money before you quit your job and move to Austin. So now you’re spending your Friday night bent over restocking ground beef.

“Nice tattoo”

You jumped up being greeted by a grin. Joel Millers grin. Or at least as of a few days ago Professor Joel Miller’s grin.

You pulled up your low rise jeans, not like they could go up any higher without a camel toe.

He looked different off campus. Almost hotter. Messy hair, flannel. Definitely here for a quick dinner and some alcohol. Except that’s not exactly how you imagined him outside of school..

Not that you imagined him much. Besides that one time he popped up in your head right before you squirted a few months ago.

Joel cleared his throat. Shit, you’ve been staring for a while.

“Sorry, did you need anything”

Joel raised a eyebrow looking you up and down. He liked when you wore jeans too small for your peachy ass. He really liked when you wore form fitting shirts to match and show off your tattoo.

“Yeah bunny, wheres the beers”

Bunny.

Imagine that voice calling your bunny while he pounds your pussy 6 ways to Sunday.

You pointed to a cooler in the back and he nodded with a grin. Ever the southern gentleman

You watch him walk away while you bite your lip and squeeze your thighs together feeling your pussy throb. If he was any other regular hot man you would've bent over immediately no question but he was your professor he probably didn’t even remember your name let alone your face.

10 minutes till closing. You sat at your register when Joel comes up with a case if beer, a wine cooler and small groceries. Along with a pack of condoms. You stand up and start scanning.

“Got a hot date?”

Joel started bagging his groceries “Sunday Night with a thing called Television Football” You smile and roll your eyes scanning.

“So why aren’t you partying bunny?”

You looked up surprised. He did know you. He did know you were his student. You help him bag his groceries slowly “Well I’m moving more into the city plus someone called into work late so i figured hello extra money.”

Joel nodded with a small hm in a acknowledgment before asking another question. “No one should have to work and sleep on their graduation night.”

You shrug and ring up his total. Joel hands you the cash “Though, your night doesn’t have to be boring. You’re young, hot and have ass for days. Sex saves people bunny. Go have some”

You don’t know if it was the fact that your professor just told you to go have sex or it was the fact that you decided you wanted to have sex with him that baffled you the most.

But you’ve never closed up a register and clocked out so fast in your life. You searched the parking lot for him before you saw a chevy starting.

You asked yourself what dumb bitch runs in a parking lot for some middle aged dick like it’s a romcom. Apparently you. But that would just have to be your secret.

You knocked on the driver window before he could pull off and he rolled his window down with a confused eyebrow.

You didn’t even know what to say. Let’s have sex? Weird. Do you wanna have sex? Shy. Let’s go fuck. Absolutely the fuck not.

“You forgot your receipt.” The fuck? What fucking receipt.

Joel looked at your hands “Did you loose it”

You nodded immediately just going on with whatever so you could just run away and never see him again. Joel unlocked the truck door.

“Unless the receipt is a metaphor for please fuck me I don’t think you ran all the way out here to give me a receipt”

Did he speak incoherent 20 year old girl? This man was a damn dream. A perfect salt and pepper heaven. You did the slut of shame walk all the way to his passenger door climbing in.

Joels loft wasn’t the messy bachelor condo, pool table in the middle of the living room and panties hanging on the wall place you were expecting. It was earthy almost, neutrally brown with real watered plants and books for days. It was pretty.

Could this man get any hotter. No sexier. Is there even a word? You walked around his living room while he puts away groceries.

“Hungry?”

You shook your head. You just wanted your panties pulled down and your pussy on his dick asap. Joel pulled out his phone. “Pizza okay.”

This man. Feeds you. Teases you. Needs to bend you over.

Joel on the other hand was having fun. Watching you squirm. Smelling your arousal in the car the whole drive. Watching as you let out little whimpers every bump because you’re thong had accidentally rolled inside your pussy lips rubbing your clit. He knew when he got you there you were gonna be a mess.

“Wine or Beer bunny?”

You’re gonna need something stronger than both if you have to put up with anymore teasing.

You flop on his leather couch.

“Whiskey”

Joel walks over with two glasses. You down yours immediately looking over at him. You envy how collected he is. How he isn’t uncomfortable and squirming. Joel sets yours and his glass on the table before pulling you on his lap. Ge smells of whiskey and cologne.

Joel lifted your chin kissing you. It was everything you could dream. Sweet, demanding.

You moaned wrapping your arms around him. You felt that grin against your lips as her pulled you closer. The friction of your jeans against his your panties and your jeans against your clit.

You reach down unbuttoning your jeans and joel grab s your wrist pulling away and tutting. “Patience Baby Bunny. Patience.”

Screw him and patience. You needed him immediately.

Joel lays you down on the leather sofa slowly pulling your jeans down. “You smell so fucking strong baby”

In that moment all the slowness escaped from his body and he snatched your jeans down. His big thumb rain across the bow of your panties. Admiring them for a moment before snatching them off.

His hands roughly hiked your legs up and he plunged two fingers inside your snatch. Your breath hitches and your back immediately arches.

Joels fingers feel like heaven. 100 percent than your toys and all you can’t think about is if his fingers feel like this you cant wait to ride him.

“That’s it bunny. Just like that”

You ride his fingers. Wishing he would pull out and replace it already. After a moment of moaning and the wet sounds of your soaked pussy Joel pulls his fingers out.

You whimper and sit up on your elbows watching as he walks to the kitchen digging through the earlier bags. You continue to whimper your impatience.

“Joelll”

Joel grins walking back over “What did I say about patience bunny? Bad girls who don’t listen get bent over the knee. Do you want to be bent over the knee bunny?”

You shake your head immediately. Though the idea of Joel redding your ass to the point where you cant sit down sounds super fucking hot in the moment.

He snatches your legs to the end of the couch and unfastens his pants unbuckling his belt with the same steady movements he’s too good at. The condom slides on just about immediately but at this point you’re so embarrassingly desperate for him you would let him fuck you raw.

Just feeling of Joels tip of his cock alone had you moaning like a bitch in heat. The leaking thick head had your mouth watering at the sight.

Joel sunk in deep. No words were said. What could be said? Thank you for pounding my pussy do well? Thank you for giving me your big cock.

Your moans were music, a song to Joels ear. The way you weathered against his ministrations made him fight to bottom out immediately.

So when Joel felt you clench him through the condom when he felt you close he knew he wanted to wait it out. Wait until his bunny got what shes been begging for all night.

You reached for his hands squeezing them to death. He grunts holding your hands above your head. “Take it bunny, take what you need. Its all about you tonight”

Three more thrust and you cum hard. Harder than the dorm room squirt session. Harder than your first orgasm. Harder than your first toy. And Joel follows right behind you.

He stands there for a moment catching his breath before getting on his knees and licking you clean. You tremble and as soon as Joel finishes he grabs you up by your waist carrying him to his bedroom. He lays you down amongst the huge windows and the king sized bed.

Joel sinks down in bed next to you pulling you in his arms and kissing your forehead before mumbling “Best graduation party?” You give a incoherent response already falling asleep.

This wasn’t gonna be the last leg shaking orgasm your former professor is gonna give you. But it’s definitely the best graduation send off you’ve ever gotten.

[14dayswithyou]

cw: domestic comfort fic with Moth (written for @z-shalltear <3)

"...Oh."

Your voice comes out soft — dulcet — so as to not startle your partner who was nestled deep within the fluffiness of your pillows, plushies, and blankets. Nothing but a faint light from their phone illuminates their face, but it disappears the moment their eyes fall on you. Giving you a soft smile, you watch as Moth sits up and offers you their undivided attention.

"I thought you'd be asleep by now." You return their smile in kind, though your shoulders can't help but slump even further from the fatigue that was slowly creeping up on you. "It's nearly three a.m." 

"I could say the same about you." Despite the playful glint in their eyes, Moth's voice is just as gentle as yours — much like the way they scoot back and lift the blankets to make room for you. An invitation, should you choose to accept it. "....Hey, y'okay?"

At their words, your resolve crumbles and your posture falters. You honestly weren't expecting to be met with concern — all you wanted to do was sleep away the problems and stress you've been dealing with lately — but it was nice to know that someone cared enough for your well-being to show genuine interest. And so, with a weak and weary sigh, you timidly walk over to Moth and settle into the space they once occupied in the bed.

It was still warm, comforting, and smelling faintly of something that reminded you of home.

"Mm. Just... tired, I guess." Once you're settled, you feel the blankets shift around your body before they're draped over your shoulders and tucked underneath your side. "Tired of everything."

"...Are you up for some cuddling?" your lover's voice comes from somewhere behind you. It was nice how Moth always seemed to ask for permission before touching you — lest it made you feel uncomfortable somehow.

So with a slight nod, you lean back into their embrace the moment you feel their arms circle around your body and rest underneath your chest. Your partner's chin soon draws near after a beat of silence; carefully tucking itself into the crown of your head to simply breathe in your scent.

...It seems you brought just as much comfort to Moth as they did to you.

"You feel like talking about it too?" Even though you felt safe in Moth's embrace to express what was on your mind, they still left enough room for you to decline. "Or... You can just tell me about your day instead? It doesn't have to be anything exciting. If you want, I can talk about mine."

Deciding you like the idea of having your lover's low, soft voice fill the silence; you offer yet another soft nod and gently rest your hands atop theirs. Unknowingly, your fingers brush against the silly little bow ring you gifted them upon a whim and it sends Moth's heart fluttering.

"Where to start... Well, I found this new anime recently — you might like it, actually." You felt them hum against your hair, "The premise looks really promising. It's about this isekaied retail worker who's been facing a lot of hardships in a brand new world, but despite everything they're going through, they keep persisting."

Moth pulls you closer to their side and gives you a soft squeeze.

"They... Okay, this miiiight sound cheesy, but— they remind me a lot of you. Very hardworking, supportive, resilient." You could almost feel Moth's smile grow as they continued, "Kind, helpful, determined. Now that I think about it, that character might just be a direct rip-off of you. Hey, do you think we could sue?"

An unflattering snort escapes the confines of your mouth at Moth's words, and you can't help but find yourself going along with it. "Pfft— You want to sue a giant production company?"

"Why not! Think of all the money we'd get once we win." Moth's head drops to the back of your neck now, holding you close as they continue talking. "Heh, we'd probably have enough to take a trip to Japan. Would you... Would you like that? It doesn't have to be Japan— anywhere is fine if it's with you, even if it's just to the city or back to Corland Bay."

"...You want to take a trip together?"

"Yeah! It'd be good for us, I think." If you focus hard enough, you'd be able to feel Moth place a chaste kiss against the clothed space between your shoulder blades. "We'd get a nice change of pace... and you won't be stressed out as much."

"Moth—"

"—I don't mind taking care of everything." All of a sudden, they sound serious. "Tell me when you can get some time off from work, and I'll plan everything. You won't have to worry about a thing!"

Moth's real name slips from your lips with ease.

Without missing a beat, you turn around until you're facing your beloved partner and rest your forehead against theirs — careful not to bump them with your nose. Soft, hazel eyes peer back at you, and before you can stop yourself, you lean in for a kiss.

Warmth and mirth flood your senses as Moth reciprocates with the same amount of tenderness, and for a brief moment in time, everything feels peaceful. Surrounded by nothing but pure love and adoration, you let your walls crumble down and let the light in. And just like a moth to a flame, your partner effortlessly gravitates towards you.

"Okay."

[catscidr]

hi helloooo hope ure doing great !! could i pls req childe who constantly flirts with a shy reader who gets super duper flustered by it ???? childe + opposites attract + mutual pining lives rent free in my head >3>

ur in luck bc i AM indeed doing great!! mostly bc i wrote this. like oh GOD i love him he's so boyfriend agshnfga writing this made me giggle and kick my legs. was actually tweaking. im so weak for him sometimes DAMMIT ⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝ cw: fluff, modern/college au, idiot in love x idiot in love, crack if you squint? childe and reader r just silly. only slightly proofread because i was too excited (sue me) includes: fem!reader, childe wc: 1k

It’s not like you didn’t want to be here, stuck between two very rowdy students cheering for their friends, because you were in the bleachers for the same reason anyways; to cheer on your own friend! But you’d prefer doing it without the constant shouts coming from the other students. 

Previously, Tartaglia had insisted (read: begged) that you come watch his soccer matches, even if some were just for practice. I play better when I know you’re in the stands, he said earlier before he left you to your own thoughts, walking away to change into his uniform. It had been maybe half an hour since then and yet you couldn’t shake the conversation from your head, not when he kept meeting your gaze from the soccer field, flashing you a bright smile as he ran for the ball.

Your relationship with the redhead was a confusing one. As one of the popular students, Tartaglia naturally always had his own group of (equally popular) friends around him but, recently, he’s been hanging out with you more often. Saying something along the lines of him needing to take after you to mellow out his loud personality in comparison to your introverted one. You’d argue that it wasn’t necessary, that his energy was one of the things that drew you to him ; and as much as he likes to come up with excuses to hang out with you without you bolting in the opposite direction, you know you’ll always fall for his boyish charm, no matter how shitty his excuse is. 

The sudden sound of shouts pulls you from your thoughts, a surprised yelp leaving your lips. Focusing your attention back on the field you watch as your friend gets engulfed by a group hug, the team cheering loudly- seems like in your daydream he managed to score a goal. The two guys next to you were standing up, cheering for them enthusiastically. 

Overwhelmed by the sheer energy radiating from them, you focus your attention back on Tartaglia. He meets your eyes, his smile widening even further if it were possible, and waves at you energetically. You wave back sheepishly, cheeks flushed. 

✧✧✧ 

“I told you I play better when you’re watching!” Tartaglia says with a teasing grin, lightly pushing your shoulder. You make a noise of surprise, covering it up with a cough as you raise your fist up to your mouth to hide your bashful expression. Whether he noticed the way you stiffened at his touch or not, he does a good job not showing it. “Did a whole hat trick thanks to you. Well, the soccer equivalent of it at least...” he continues sheepishly, mindlessly fiddling with the strap of his bag slung over his shoulder. 

“How does that even work, anyways? Usually, people feel more pressure when there’s a crowd watching them...” you argue quietly, matching his long strides as you walked together along campus to go back to the gym changing rooms. Most people that came to watch the match had already left, however you and Tartaglia had been stuck behind due to him getting stopped by friends and acquaintances. Which worked in your favor since you disliked dealing with large crowds. 

“Eh, I don’t care about other people. All I care about is having your pretty eyes on me,” he says with a wink. 

Your legs stop abruptly, a flush decorating your cheeks, gaze never leaving the floor as you try to get your heart to calm down. How can he say something like that so casually? Is he messing with you because he has ulterior motives or is he- 

“Heyheyhey, you doing alright over there? I didn’t break you, did I?” You hear Tartaglia calling your name, waving his hand in front of your face with a lighthearted chuckle. Pulling yourself out of your frozen state, you look up at the playful expression your friend wore, cheeks puffing out as you find yourself lacking a comeback. He notices your sullen frown and places a hand on your head, ruffling your hair playfully. 

“Oh come on, don’t sulk now!” the redhead whines, “that was tame. You and I both know I’m capable of saying much worse than that,” he declares confidently, deep blue eyes looking down at you with a playful grin. A grin that seemed to never leave his face, much to your displeasure- how were you supposed to pull yourself together when he looked like the human incarnation of the sun? 

“Don’t,” you mumble quietly, picking up the pace with your head hanging low, physically unable to face him anymore. Sure, you didn’t have the biggest group of friends and went out less than most people, but you were convinced he was shamelessly flirting with you. Why else would he be so close to you, relentlessly teasing you like this? Oh god, what if he’s like this with everyone? Maybe this is how he jokes around with his friends... Wait, speaking of Tartaglia, where did he- 

You bump into a hard surface. Opening your eyes, you’re met with a damp soccer tee, glistening muscles and freckled skin. Tilting your head up slowly, you’re met with your crush-friend-classmate-guy looking at you with raised brows and quirked up lips. He places one hand on his hip, observing your beet red face with glee. 

“I didn’t even do anything this time, princess. Everything okay?” the redhead asks with an airy chuckle. Oh god, you thought. Wish I walked into a wall instead. 

“Y-Yeah. Uh huh. Everything’s just peachy,” you respond with a thumbs up, the corners of your lips curling up into what you thought was a reassuring smile but seemed more like a nervous grimace to the soccer player. He didn’t buy your excuse. Instead of leaving it as it is, Tartaglia brings a hand up to his chin and looks up, dramatically faking a thought process. 

“Hmm... I wonder what you could have been so distracted by? Was it my arms? My charms? Or was it-” 

“Your body odor. You reek of sweat, go shower,” you squeak out, face burning as you scurry away from the source of your (delicious) torment, your heart running a marathon beneath your ribcage all the while Tartaglia laughs loudly in the hallway, speedwalking to catch up to you.

[empressofmankind]

On My Silent Days

I Miss You A Little Louder

[Crocodile x female!OC]

Explicit with a capital E

Word count: 7k / 15 pages

A/N: Writing this has been my whole life the past 5 days, as anyone who has frequented my Dash recently can attest. I am obsessed with their chemistry.

Technically, this is part of 'The Show Must Go On'. You don't have to read it, but I recommend it. You'll get to know Shivs and her helter-skelter relationship with Buggy which sits as the background to this whole ordeal.

You see, this is like, Arabaste arch at the earliest - Cross Guild era more likely. By then, Shivs and Bugs have rollercoastered through so much bullshit and they've come out rock solid on the other side somehow. Clown keeps failing up, even with this relationship. Sir Crocodile finds the whole thing insulting, to say the least. And seems to think it is one well-placed remark away from utterly crumbling. Jealous ex, whomst? My dude, you fucked that up yourself. Repeatedly. You had more chances than you have fingers. Chemistry aside, this is absolutely a desert of his own making.

What else do you need to know? Shivs is only 2 or 3 years younger than Buggy (i.e. my age, come sue me), but Crocodile is 5 years older than the clown. So, she's in her mid 30s, he's in his mid 40s. She originally met him when he was maybe 28? Do the math. Oh yes, and for those less familiar with the Cross Guild era: our favourite clown has managed to accidentally become the lauded public face of what is actually Mihawk and Crocodile's venture. Understandably, the ex-warlords are a little miffed by this and spend decent amounts of time physically abusing poor Buggy.

Shivs' absolutely flawless plan is basically swapping sexual favours with her ex for get-out-of-jail-free cards for the clown.

My girl literally barging in here telling Croc: "I'll take ur cock if u leave my clown alone."

Yes. That's it. That's the plot.

She almost had him, too. Arguably, she had him the entire time. And then he gdamn snapped her from the pond edge like an unwitting gazelle in the last minute. Cuz we all - her included - forgot who we're dealing with for 14.5 pages straight. APPARENTLY.

screams into a pillow

Tag(s): Oh? Ok. Sexual favours! Is she fucking her boss? No, but he always makes it feel that way. Is she fucking her ex? Yes. Are they technically still married? Maybe. Blow jobs? Deep throat. Size kink? 100%. Filthy language. Graphic sex. Soft dom? Power bottom? I am on the fence. Little girl vibes on the margins, like, he tries. She too sassy and sooner a brat. Oh, orgasm denial! Big time. Humiliation? A little bit. Stretching? Yes. Moar size kink. Choking? Big yes. Spoiling? Also yes. She deserves nice things. Power imbalance? Yes. In whose direction? It kind of flip-flops. Did I need to spend so many words on their smoking and his cigars? Probably not, but it scratched an itch. With them, it counts as foreplay; I am sure. You know you're doing well when he takes the damn thing outta his mouth. World class banter, too. If I may say so myself. But really, the bottom line is that it's just oral and PIV dressed up real fancy.

ON MY SILENT DAYS 

I MISS YOU A LITTLE LOUDER

The double doors were as tall and foreboding as Shivs remembered. All bevelled hardwood and delicate gilding. She stood before them, gazing up. In the dead centre sat a brass knocker shaped like a bananawani's head, polished to a sheen. 

Knocking was for people with appointments, and waiting wasn't something she planned on doing here ever again. She put her palms against the cold, expensive wood and pushed the massive doors open as if breaking a siege. They swung on smooth hinges despite their weight and struck the marbled walls with resounding booms.

The opulent office beyond was exactly as she remembered. Marquina walls, fishbone parquet floors, blackwood furniture. The taxidermied juvenile bananawani set in the wall vitrine behind his desk was new. What had been there before? A map? A ship? No, a stone. An artefact of some kind riddled in curious glyphs.

Crocodile glanced up from his papers and the irritation flitting across his scarred face in the split second before he realised who'd dared barge in, set the hairs on the back of her neck on end. How often had she seen someone shrivel into a desiccated husk straight after that look?

Shivs held his pale gaze, set her jaw and strode into his office as if down the plank. 

The creak of leather as he leaned back in his seat. “You know I've killed people for less.”

She paused in front of his outrageous statement piece of a desk. She put her hands in the pockets of her baggy pants and forced her shoulders to unclench, her stance to relax. If Buggy’s dumb luck had managed to rub off on her in these past months, then now would be the time for it to start working for her.

“Lucky I am not ‘people’,” she said as she crossed her fingers in her pocket. 

Amusement squinted his eyes as the corner of his mouth twitched up behind his cigar. “No, you're not,” he said as he rose.

Shivs was not short. Not by any regular definition of the word. Buggy was only a head taller than her. She hadn't forgotten how tall Crocodile was, not really. And yet, as he came around his desk and towards her, there appeared to be no end to him as he approached. If she reached up, stretched her arm, she could nick his cigar. But only just.

"Do you still smoke?" he said as he stopped well within her personal space, forcing her to crane her neck to meet his gaze. He took a flat, brass case from the inside pocket of his coat and held it out to her. She remembered it. Remembered the exquisite taste of the narrow cigarillos in it.

"No."

"Liar." His gaze flicked down along his cigar at her. "You smell of cigarettes, doll."

"I have changed my ways."

Humour flitted under his gravelly voice. "For the worse." 

Shivs pursed her lips. "It's an expensive lifestyle when they don't come free with a goodnight kiss."

"Hah." 

The bark of laughter actually reached his eyes, crinkling their crow's feet for a moment. He held out the case to her again. "You poor thing. I do support charities, you know."

She took it this time and flipped it open. The rich waft of tobacco and sweet Goji berries greeted her as if no time had passed at all. Might as well enjoy her sojourn back to hell while she could.

She put one of the thin cigarillos between her lips and let him light it. Watched the firelight catch and reflect in his rings. Took a moment to savour the blend, rich and sweet as polished Beli.

They were very good.

Always had been.

Shivs took the cigarillo from between her lips and blew the smoke up in rings through a slow smile. They almost reached him.

Crocodile leaned down through the cloudy hoops to pluck the shoulder of her red-and-white striped sweater between thumb and index finger, a judgemental 'hmph' escaping around his cigar.

She enjoyed the expensive smoke and his fascination while it lasted. Maybe, just maybe, this would be enough? Letting him treat her like a doll badly in need of a better dress up? He liked to spoil, always had. Now, more than ever, he had the means to take it to completely nonsensical levels. Her ego could take it, if that was the price of leaving Bugs alone.

Shivs indicated his everything with an up and down wave of her free hand. "No way to afford the good stuff on a waiter's salary."

He let go of the fabric to brush his thumb across the smear of grease paint near the collar, staining his skin and the gold of his ring red.

"Or a dud's haul." 

He hooked the silk kerchief from his vest's breast pocket and wiped his hand. She followed the length of his arm up to his face.

"The entertainment isn't half bad."

“Yes.” He chewed the butt of his cigar, derision twitching his thin lips as he tucked the kerchief into an inside pocket of his coat. “His pathetic antics can be mildly amusing.”

Shivs’ grip on the cigarillo tightened, but she smiled pleasantly. “I like it when a man can make me laugh,” she said, pointing at him with the thin smoke between her fingers. “Even if at his own expense.”

She frowned at his broad back when he turned away from her without a witty reply, retreating to the button tufted camelback near them.

“You're not here for a social call,” Crocodile stated as he sat down, putting his arms along the sofa's curved back. Something flitted past his pale eyes, but it was gone so fast Shivs couldn't nail it. “What do you want, doll?” 

Shivs rolled back and forth on the balls of her feet, pursing her lips as if preparing to drive a hard bargain. She intended to seem casual, unconcerned. But her palms were slick with sweat and her heartbeat drummed in her ears. She filled her mouth with smoke, tasting the rich flavours. Savouring them before blowing it out in small puffs through her pursed lips.

"I want you to leave him be," she said, extinguishing the cigarillo in his ashtray.

Crocodile shifted and put his shin across his knee. Her gaze flicked down and she saw him take note. 

"And if I do?"

She held his gaze. One breath, two breaths, moved her jaw but didn't form the words. She wanted him to leave Buggy alone. Even if that meant taking his… beating, instead.

He blew out smoke through his nose, waiting patiently for her answer. The hint of a smile lingered as his pale eyes held hers from above the waterline of his scar. And in that moment, he reminded her so strongly of a lurking crocodile. Watching. Waiting. Biding its time to strike. It sent a shiver down her spine, and not entirely out of fear.

Shivs pursed her lips, steeled her emotions, checked her resolve. I'll do it for you, Bugs. It's a deal I know he won't refuse.

She met his intense gaze head on, then dropped hers slowly to his crotch once more. Allowed it to linger there, before looking back up.

He chewed the butt of his cigar and beckoned her. "You never could fit all of me down that skilled throat of yours." 

Shivs watched him uncross his legs as she approached. She trailed her fingertips along his clothed thighs before leaning on them. It brought her face level with his and she deliberately took a moment to breathe in his secondhand smoke. 

“Want to judge if that hasn't changed for the worse?” she whispered against his lips as she savoured the distinct flavours that made up his private blend. 

Strong muscles flexed and relaxed under her palms, and she presumed that to mean ‘yes’. 

She ran her hands down his muscular thighs, taking in their shape until her palms rested on his knees. His breathing changed, she could tell from the way he exhaled smoke. Denser palls, deeper breaths. No resistance as she pushed his knees apart far enough to kneel between them.

Brushing her fingertips across his overstated belt buckle, she smiled to herself. Some things never changed. She slipped the tooled tip through the frame, her movements slow and deliberate as she listened for the subtle shifts in his breathing. She loosened the prong with a sharp tug on the strap, using more force than was strictly necessary. An undercurrent of need laced the grunt that escaped him in response. 

Shivs reached into his pants with both hands, catching his gaze as she drew his penis out, feeling it swell against her palms. She made a noise of appreciation as she let her hands slide down his shaft. His pale eyes hunting after hers when she broke their gaze to look at her fingers fitting around the base. She had not forgotten how tall this part of him was.

Leaning forward, she trailed teasing kisses from halfway down his shaft towards the tip. I’ve swallowed swords longer than this, and dicks aren’t even sharp, she thought as she flicked her tongue past the rim, playful-like. Length was only half the problem though, she knew that perfectly well.

She put a hand on his thigh and leaned on it as she ran the flat of her tongue across the head and took him into her mouth, suckling the tip. Inched his cock further with deliberately slow, short bobs, tilting her head to ensure he’d catch every movement of her lips as they worked around him. Need strained his stoic expression when she stole a glance up. A twitch of his eyebrows when the tip bumped against the back of her mouth. She sucked down and drew his cock back out, watched it twitch and his grip tighten on the backrest as she felt his thigh flex under her palm.

She took him into her mouth again and ran the tip of her tongue along the underside of his cock. Relaxed her neck and let it slip further than before, teasing at the entrance to her throat. Nudging it, stretching it just a bit before sucking down and drawing him back out, tasting precum for her efforts.

The frustrated groan that rumbled up from somewhere deep within his broad chest sent sparks flying down her spine. This is gonna work, she thought as he reached for her head, petted her hair while she teased the precum from him with fleet, wet kisses.

“Stop messing around and swallow my cock, sweetheart,” Crocodile grunted, pale eyes alight with hunger. The petting stopped, fingers tangling into the hair at the back of her neck instead. It was like the twitch on the line that told a fisherman to react.

Shivs glanced up along his hard shaft, and reeled him in: 

“Yes, Sir.”

The horny groan that drew from him, before she’d even begun to take him again, settled comfortably in her bones. Gotcha, she thought.

Shivs breathed slow, deep, steady breaths as she slid his cock along her tongue, lining him up. The head pushed past the entrance of her throat and she switched to shallow breaths through her nose. The grunts and huffs that escaped him every time she swallowed were inhuman and she needed more of it.

She slid his cock further down, felt his thighs tremble as she did. The closer she got, the more his musk pervaded every stifled breath she managed around his thick cock. It was a heavy, heady scent and she shifted her position to press her thighs together. He didn’t notice.

She stroked his legs, ran her hands up to his hips as she leaned closer, and took him deeper still. His fingers were fisted painfully tight into her hair, but his large hand followed her without force or resistance, resting heavily against the back of her neck.

Almost. 

Almost there.

And then the tip of her nose bumped against his flat stomach. She could hardly smirk with his dick this far down her throat but counted on the crinkle of her eyes to work for her as she caught his gaze and slowly raised her hands, palms up. She didn’t care that they trembled. 

Look. No hands, motherfucker.

Crocodile grinned down at her through a huff of smoke, cigar dangling between his teeth. She thought it looked a little worse for wear.

“The pathetic clown doesn’t know what a dirty little slut you are, does he?” Crocodile said, his gravelly voice thick with lust as he petted the back of her neck. “Giving such sweet head to save his sorry hide.” He ran his fingers along her throat as if trying to feel how far down his cock had gone. “I always knew you could do it, sweetheart.”

“Now,” he added as he huffed out a pall of smoke and she felt cool metal sliding around the back of her neck, barring a retreat. “I need my cock-hungry doll to make me feel good.”

Shivs dropped her hands to his hips, gripping the folds of hard muscle there for support. She slid her tongue between her bottom lip and the underside of his cock, making sloppy little noises with the slightest bob of her head. Even those small movements pressed the round curve of his hook into the back of her neck, sending a shiver down her spine that made her squeeze her thighs together. She didn’t bother to try and hide it.

His large hand joined his hook, strong fingers digging into the back of her head, twisting into the hair there and holding her put as his thick cock twitched so far down her throat she didn’t even know anymore where precisely she felt it. She worked her throat around him, drawing rumbling moans from him that pitched.

“Ah -nngh- you feel so good, doll. So. Damn perfect.” His thighs tensed under her arms, flexing his hips with short jerks. She closed her eyes as she swallowed around him, frowning with effort. His breathy grunts as he lightly fucked her throat made her pussy throb.

Suddenly, his grip tightened like a vice and he shoved her nose-first against his hard, trembling stomach muscles, stealing her breath. Her eyes flew open as her throat strained and cramped, swallowing around him in reflex.

 “Fuck, honey. Ah---! Yes, yes.” The satisfied, drawn-out moan as Crocodile spilled his hot cum down her throat reverberated through the quiet office. 

Her fingers dug around his hips, tears jumping into her eyes as she gagged, feeling cum come up around his cock as stars danced into her vision. His grip weakened as he rode out his orgasm and she pulled back before he was quite done pumping cum. Shivs swallowed it mindlessly while coming up for air. His dick slid wetly out of her throat and mouth, streaks of cum connecting them before they broke.

She glanced up from his softening cock, glistening with her saliva all the way to the hilt. He’d tilted his head back, held his cigar nowhere near his mouth as he came down from his orgasm with deep, steadying breaths that expanded his wide chest and flared his nostrils.

He straightened with a lazy groan and a roll of his broad shoulders. 

Shivs met his gaze, panting.

“You’re still my pretty little thing, aren’t you?” Crocodile said, his gravelly voice breathy as he reached for her, stroking her cheek with his thumb. The gold of his ring was smooth where his fingertip felt rough, the warm touch grounding her fried senses. It lingered at her eyepatch, lightly brushing the faded leather. “The things we let people do to our faces…”

He hooked the kerchief from his pocket and dabbed her mouth. She reached for his hand with both of hers, touching the back of it, taking the cloth. She watched him watch her as she cleaned her face.

“Don’t you have a new pretty thing? Miss Face-of-the-Casino in her cute kimono?” Shivs forced her tone to be casual, edged with light mockery, maybe. It was stupid that it’d stung when she’d seen the younger woman. An irrational, petty feeling. An old pain. And, none of her business, at any rate.

The dismissive look that flitted past his pale eyes was rather unexpected. “An investment, nothing more.”

“She’s pretty,” Shivs said. Perhaps, part of the sting had been the fact that Miss Pretty had not responded to her the way women did when they were into other women.

Crocodile looked at his cigar before putting it back in his mouth. “That she is.”

Their gazes crossed and she pursed her lips. He reached for her jaw, fingertips grazing its curve. Then leaned down and pressed a peck against her frown. She sat up and chased after him as he took another draw from his cigar, stole the aromatic smoke from him as she teased her tongue into his mouth. He blew it out through his nose, taking the cigar from his mouth as he caught the back of her neck with his hook and took control of the kiss.

“You can have one if you like, sweetheart,” he said when they broke apart, indicating his cigar. 

And lord, if she wasn't tempted.

“You share ‘em these days?”

His derisive ‘hmph’ made her smirk as she rose to her feet. 

“What about Miss Pretty? She enjoy your… cigars?” Shivs said, and noticed she’d gotten his cum all over Buggy’s sweater. Shit.

Crocodile glanced at her, pale eyes searching. “I prefer making deals with those who have something of value to offer, doll.”

Shivs put her hands in her pockets and rocked up on the balls of her feet with a mildly overacted grin. “Oh, it’s a deal then? You’ll play nice?”

“My compliance doesn’t come that cheap,” he said through a huff of smoke.

She crooked an eyebrow, risking a hint of ridicule in her tone. “Cheap? And here I was, thinking I have a unique skill up for offer.”

He actually cracked a smile as he flicked the butt of his cigar into the general direction of his desk and ashtray. Then beckoned her with hook and hand. 

“Come here, doll.”

It would have been too easy.

She sauntered back to him and linked her fingers with his, curling the others around his hook, letting him draw her into his lap, straddling his thighs. He shifted so his cock was between them, pressing against her clothed cunt.

“What else will it cost me?” she said as she rested her hands on his shoulders, lightly riding against him. Every rub along his dick pulsed pleasure up her spine, and she hadn’t failed to notice it was already stiffening again.

He stoked the tip of his hook along her cheek as his large hand took in the shape of her firm butt, guiding her movement. “I want to know if your tight pussy can take all of me now, too.”

“Here, on a couch?” she said as she slipped her fingertips under his coat and pushed it off his shoulders. She trailed her hands down the revers of his vest, grabbed hold of them as she dry humped against him. “I thought you said you weren’t cheap?”

The bark of laughter that drew from him shouldn’t make her smile the way it did.

He pressed a kiss against it. 

“I wouldn’t dare, honey,” Crocodile said as he gathered her up in his arms and rose smoothly from the couch, leaving his coat behind. He strode across his study and through the adjacent library to the expansive bedroom beyond. She remembered the sweeping view from its curving window wall and the sea of nightlights twinkling far below.

Instead of depositing her on his spacious bed, he set her down on the plush rug beside it. And motioned up and down her clothes with a dismissive gesture. “Take those rags off.”

Not my rags, Shivs thought as she kicked her boots aside, removed her baggy pants and grabbed the edge of the sweater. She didn’t wear a bra. She didn’t like them, and she hadn’t bothered wearing one this evening either.

Fingertips traced the lacy sides of her underwear while she had the sweater pulled over her head.

“You still have those.”

He sounded…not surprised. Curious, maybe?

“No reason to get rid of perfectly fine underwear,” she said as she freed herself from the sweater, finding he’d already undressed.

“They can stay on,” he said as she folded the sweater, her hand lingering on it before she turned to him.

“For now?”

A smile twitched the corner of his lips. 

“Here, doll.” He held something out to her, cream-coloured and neatly folded. It seemed small and delicate in his large hand.

When she took it, the fabric cascaded into a surprisingly classy, mid-thigh negligee of shimmering silk. The top was constructed from intricately detailed lace with tiny bananawani worked into the pattern.

“Pretty,” she said as she brushed a finger across the delicate lace. She put it on and it fit her so neatly it felt like a second skin. An outrageously luxurious second skin for the silk felt soft as sin and the lace light as air. She turned a full circle on her tiptoe, overacting it just a little. She knew he liked that.

“Looks good on you.” He reached for her head, combing his fingers through her tangled red hair, tucking stray bangs behind the strip of her eyepatch. “I’d never let you get so grimy.”

“Can’t be a dirty little slut if you wash me.”

“Hah.” Crocodile leaned down and scooped her up into his arms, just like that. “Come here before I shove my cock down your throat again to shut you up.”

“Don’t tempt me- ah!”

Her reply cut off when he suddenly let go, dropping her into his bed. And that was quite the distance, even if the landing was soft. He immediately climbed on top of her, caging her with his much larger body. She spread her legs, accommodating his wider hips as he reached for her breast. His thumb traced circles around her nipple through the fine lace, stiffening at his touch.

“Like what you see?”

“Always have, doll,” he rumbled against her collarbone. Though no longer smoking, she could still smell it on him. Would be able to pick it out of a crowd. Subtle tones that reminded her of burnt coffee, dry glass and cinnamon, mingling with the faint wax smell of his hair gel and heavier citric notes of his cologne.

A small gasp escaped her when he brushed the lace down and kissed her hard nipple, taking it into his mouth and licking the sensitive tip. She felt the curve of his hook press against her hip, hitching up the silk as his hand slipped between her thighs. Strong, confident fingers pressed against the fabric of her panties and outer labia underneath. It ignited old desires, flickering life into fires she’d thought snuffed out.

His rough fingers traced the delicate lace, undulating with its curling, stylised waves. Her breath caught when they found the edge along the crease of her thigh. A mewl on her lips as he dipped them under the smooth fabric, fingertips grazing the warm, sensitive skin of her outer labia and sending sparkles of anticipation up her spine. The delicate fabric stretched with an alarming whimper from the seams as strong digits brushed between her folds, not quite able to reach. He grunted against her breast at the soaked pussy he found there.

She felt him slip the hook under the edge, warm from resting against her hip. The thought of him pulling her panties down with it lit up every nerve in the vague vicinity of her hips. Her eyes snapped open at the sharp jerk, the sudden cry of fabric tearing at the seam between silk and lace. 

Shivs made a noise, nose wrinkling. Those were the nicest-.

“I’ll get you new ones,” Crocodile promised against the curve of her breast, his gaze down as he hooked the fabric from her hips. The hunger in his pale eyes as he looked at her pussy made her spread her legs further. He leaned down to caress her labia and press a light kiss against them that made her throb, thinking about his tongue.

A breathy huff escaped Shivs when he slid his middle finger between her folds instead, running slow circles around her inner labia. Gathering the moisture there before teasing them apart and brushing across her clenching entrance. Pleasure sizzled up her spine when he pressed it inside, mapping her inner walls and finding all the right places far too easily. If he kept this up, she was going to come very soon.

He switched to her other breast, teasing the sensitive skin as he inserted a second finger. “I seem to remember you liked getting your little hole stretched,” he rumbled against her nipple, and spread his large fingers apart. She moaned at the strength in them, the ease with which they pried her open. It sent twinges of sweet, sweet pressure blazing through the haze of need fogging her thoughts.

She reached down to his hand, stroke the back of it. Found his thumb and guided it against her clit with a needy moan. Her thighs trembled as he massaged it firmly, pushed his fingers all the way in, then spread them as he pulled out. She felt his knuckles and the hard edges of his rings press into her labia when he pushed them back in but she didn’t mind, kind of liked it. She reached a hand for his shoulder, neck, grabbing hold of the tout muscle there as she arched her back towards him. His pace was torturously slow and she was loving it.

Shivs let out a drawn out whine when he stopped, pulled at his neck, wrist, knowing perfectly well neither will give an inch but trying, anyway. She tried to clench her thighs, rub them together, nurse the need smouldering in her veins, but his knees were between hers and she writhed in vain.

Crocodile shifted unto his elbow, bunching the silk further up her hips while taking his hard dick in hand. A hoarse whisper close to her ear as he guided the head against her slick pussy: “Won’t you beg for my cock, sweetheart?”

“I need to feel your cock in me,” Shivs said as she caught his hungry gaze. “Feel it fill me, stretch me.”

He grunted with barely contained need, she could see it in the straining of his back as she reached for his thick neck, folding her hands behind it. Felt it in the way his hips twitched as he pressed his shaft through her wet folds, coating it with her juices.

“Am I not a good girl, sir?”

“Yes, you are.”

Shivs moaned loudly when he entered her. Whined at the delicious pressure as he pushed deeper into her soaking wet pussy, stretching her around him. She clung to his neck, mewling with incoherent need. Her hand went to his hair, messing it up but not caring. Neither did he.

“Ah -ngh- fuck,” Crocodile grunted, his breath hot against her neck.

Shivs held onto him for dear life as she arched against his hard body, savoured the sharp pleasure of him stretching her cramping, soaking cunt wide enough to plough through. He’d not bottomed out yet. If she could take him, she’d have him wrapped around her finger.

“You’re. Fuck. As tight. As I remember. Sweetheart,” Crocodile groaned into her neck, his gravelly voice strained to the point of being near unintelligible. It was getting tougher and tougher to push further through her tight, contracting walls.

“Almost there,” Shivs whispered as she brushed a stray bang of dark hair from his eyes.

The noise he made in response was inhuman and she drank it in as she closed her eyes, spread her legs further to accommodate his hips and relaxed every muscle she could still feel. A whimper bubbled from her lips when he pushed up against something deep within her that twitched a pleasure so sharp up her spine it sat right next to pain. 

“Fuck, yes,” he ground out as his hips pressed flush against hers, his breath hot, heavy pants buffeting against the crook of her neck. “Feels. So good.”

He managed to push himself up onto his elbow, satisfaction animating his whole face as he looked at their joined hips, her soft labia squashed against his pubes. Shivs whimpered, his movement nudging tight bursts of pleasure deep within her. 

“I knew you could do it, doll.” His tone was thick with lust, laboured from his heavy breathing. He gently brushed a strand of sweat-slick red hair from her forehead with his hook, looking so proud. “You like getting your little cunt stuffed, don’t you?"

Shivs gave a sharp nod, struggling to form words.

“I know you do, honey,” he whispered as he rolled his hips against hers, not truly thrusting. She reached for his face with trembling hands, stroking his hard jaw. He grunted under his breath with each push and she pressed pecks against the puffs of hot breath until he responded. Until he chased her tongue back into her own mouth and pressed her head back into the pillow with the desperate force of his kiss, demanding entrance with his tongue that she was more than willing to give. 

“That's all you g-got?” she whispered through a moan and a bated breath when they broke their kiss for want of air. “I b-barely feel it.”

“Ah? You want more, doll?” Crocodile pulled out with a grunt, just a fraction, before shoving himself back inside her to the hilt, making her mewl with pleasure through clenched teeth as his cock bottomed out and up against her cervix. “Shall I take you back to my study? Pound you bend over my desk, like I used to?”

Shivs whined into his mouth as she latched onto him again, arms tightening around his thick neck as her cunt squeezed around his cock from the pleasure coiling around her spine. If he took her from behind, he could probably push deeper still. Oh, she’d be in trouble.

“Who’s cheap now, hrm?” A breathy hum into her ear as the obscene slap of his hips against hers filled his bedroom. She whined in need, the heady mix of mind numbing pleasure laced with an edge of pain making her tremble against him. “Do you want to be my little whore again? My pretty fuck slut to sit on my cock whenever and wherever I want?”

All she could do was whine and roll her hips to meet his steady thrusts. Fingers digging into the taut muscles across his shoulders, keeping him close as he fucked her deeper than she’d ever felt a man, even him. She whimpered, the heady mix of mind numbing pleasure laced with an edge of pain all but overwhelming her. Especially when he thrust just right, shoving his cock against a sensitive spot so deep inside her she didn’t even know she had it.

“I missed my. Pretty cocksleeve,” Crocodile grunted into her ear. “The. Only. Little slut that can take me -hng- properly.”

“Fuck me harder,” Shivs whispered, hands massaging his broad shoulders. He groaned with effort, she could feel the bridled strength in the muscles working under her palms. His pace picked up, and so did the strain in his body. Every thrust stretched her so deliciously, stimulating every needy nerve inside of her. 

“Do it,” she moaned wantonly as his thrusts started to push her up on the bed, her weight no match against his strength. “I c-can take it.”

“Ah - hng- you’re. Going to. Make me cum, doll,” he growled through clenched teeth. He grabbed her shoulder, holding her in place as he jerked his thrusts up against her. Her mind was unravelling. The only thing she could think about was his cock filling her, burning up every single nerve she had as needy pleasure coiled in her belly. She wanted him to cum. She really did.

When he paused, she struggled to comprehend why. Her gaze found his. Sweat beaded on his forehead, his mouth slack to accommodate the deep breaths heaving his chest. He was barely holding still, strain thrumming through every inch of his large frame above her.

“Does. My pretty little thing want. Cum as deep in her tight pussy. As her pretty throat?”

She whined, pulled at his neck with both hands. “Y-yes.”

“Beg. For it.”

“P-please,” she whimpered as she tried to make him move, weakly rolled her hips towards him. 

“Please what?”

“Please, s-sir.”

The noise he uttered in response to that settled somewhere at the primal base of her brain. She wanted, no, needed, to hear it again.

“Please, sir. Pound my needy hole like I deserve,” she mewled into his ear, savouring the way his breath hitched, that noise came again. 

“Damnit, doll,” Crocodile grunted through clenched teeth as he picked up a pace that became quickly rougher, slightly erratic. He locked his hold on her shoulder, broad fingers digging around her thin muscles and narrow bones, keeping her put as he pounded into her soaking, cramping cunt. “Gonna fuck you so full, you'll be leaking my cum well into tomorrow.”

“Please, please, pleaaasse,” she whined and clenched around him as he fucked her into the sinfully soft matrass with long, deep strokes that shoved his cock shamelessly up against her cervix to fit it all in. She wanted, needed, to cum around it, desperate for release. “Fuck me full of cum, sir. Stuff my tight cunny like you did my slutty mouth.”

“I -ngh- will, honey. I am,” he ground out, barely intelligible as his pace lost all semblance of rhythm and he bucked against her in the grip of his orgasm’s first throes.

“Oh! Yes, yes,” she moaned as he shoved his throbbing cock as far as she could take it, cumming against the deepest corner of her cunt as she shuddered around his cock with unfulfilled need. He stayed buried inside her as he came down, breath erratic before steadying, slowing. She whimpered in need, clenching around his softening cock. She hadn’t been able to cum around it like she wanted. It was too thick to cramp enough for a proper orgasm. She knew that, but had thought maybe this time…

He knew it, too. Remembered it.

“You’re still my pretty little thing, aren’t you?” he said as he caressed her cheek, ran his thumb across her parted lips. “Unable to cum around a cock like a big girl.”

She made a small noise that he swallowed in a kiss.

They stayed that way until her breathing steadied as well. Then he sat up and gathered her into his lap. She held onto him, her cheek against his collarbone. Not quite ready yet to let go.

“You look parched, doll,” Crocodile said as he brushed a bang from her eyes.

Shivs peered up at him. “I would not say ‘no’ to a sweet white.”

A noise escaped him that could have been a fond one as he lifted her off his lap and rose. The sound of his retreating footsteps filled the quiet. He’d gone to his study, judging by the distance. Shivs got up as well and shimmied the negligee down. Despite everything, she did not feel like taking it off. It felt nice against her flushed skin.

She sauntered to the curved window wall and found the view precisely as she remembered it. A sea of nightlights twinkled across the city below, mirroring the deep blue, star-speckled sky above. The moon hung low, waning from view. It wasn’t long before he returned. She heard him uncork a bottle behind her and fill two glasses. The snap and swoosh of his lighter. The familiar scent of his cigar preceding him as he came to stand beside her, still naked.

He held a glass out to her, a cigarillo clamped against its curve. The wine was a deep bronze instead of the pale yellow usual to white wines. She accepted the glass and smoke, gaze lingering on the narrow slot through its delicate stem. It allowed him to hold them with his hook without slipping. She glanced sideways and up at him. A fond smile twitched her lips when she noticed his hair was neater than before. He’d evidently taken a comb to it for a hot second.

Shivs put the cigarillo in her mouth and turned to find his lighter lying on the nightstand beside the wine bottle, and a corkscrew with its split cork still attached. She glanced at the label as she lit the cigarillo. It read ‘1811’ in large, proud capitals, and a name in a curving script she couldn’t be bothered to try and decipher. She would not be able to afford it, anyway.

Taking a sip, she returned to his side. The wine was sweet, indeed. With hints of lime, honey, saffron. She made herself comfortable against him, her bum resting on his thigh. “It’s a nice view,” she said as she blew out a thin pall of smoke.

He glanced down at her and their gazes crossed as he idly stroked her hip. “It is.”

Shivs leaned into his touch, sipping the wine. It really was, very good.

“Clever scheme you’ve gotten up to, in order to save the loser’s sorry hide,” Crocodile remarked as he blew a smoke ring against the narrow cloud she’d just produced. “But it has a flaw.”

Shivs let her weight shift from his thigh to his loin, only the soft silk between them. “You sure?”

A self-satisfied smile twitched behind his cigar as he gave her hip a squeeze. “None of this will work on Dracule.”

Only because I don’t have a penis, she thought, but no matter. They may have both grown older, but Croki was still fundamentally the same man she’d left years ago. And that would work for her, she was sure of it. Inevitably, Mihawk would pick on Bugs. She would take it upon herself to get irritatingly upset about it. Mihawk would no doubt insult her next, and Sir Self-Satisified here would take it personally by-proxy and shut him up. It’d be a win.

“I’ll think of something,” Shivs said as she blew a thin pall through his smoke ring, dispersing it.

He glanced at her, amused. “He’s partial to good wine, at least.”

“I’ll take it under advisement.”

She nipped her own wine, idly rubbing her thighs together. Pleasure skulked around the base of her spine, denied but not forgotten. She made a little noise against her glass when she felt his hand move up her thigh, his thumb brush under the edge of the negligee.

“Still needy?” he said as he bunched up the fine silk, rubbing his middle and ring finger against her clit in slow circles. It sent lazy sparks of pleasure straight to her brain. Drawing a shuddering whimper from her as he dipped his middle finger between her folds.

“Cum for me, honey,” Crocodile rumbled as he lightly ran the tip of his finger along the inner rim of her vagina, then teased the sensitive spot further down. Shivs gasped through her moan as the briefest shudder of an orgasm stole over her like a thief in the night. It was not enough, not nearly enough.

“N-need more,” she said as she put the glass down with a wobble. Reached for his large hand when he stopped, withdrew, tugging it back. Bunching two of his fingers together, of a mind to stick them into herself if he didn't.

“Come to our board meeting tomorrow. You’ll come sit with me and I’ll take good care of your needy little hole.” He shook her fussy touch and caught her pubes, massaging his palm firmly against her soft cunt, pressing her bum against his cock. “You can ride my palm like you used to, and I’ll make you cum on my fingers till your tight pussy is sore from cramping around them.”

Shivs wasn’t particularly keen on doing any of this semi-publically, least of all anywhere Bugs would be. Though she feared she wouldn’t be able to talk herself out of this, as easily as she’d talked herself into it.

“Don’t worry, doll. I’ll leave the pathetic clown alone,” Crocodile promised as he stroked her flat belly with the rounding of his hook. “Can’t beat the loser if my hand is occupied with something sweeter, hm?”

Shit. She had to tell Bugs. Forewarned, forearmed, and all that. She turned in his hold, his hand moving to her butt instead. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” she said, but he caught her wrist when she took a step back.

“Ah, ah,” he admonished as he stopped her, pulled her with him, back into bed. “You’re staying with me tonight.”

“I, what? Why?” 

Suddenly, she wanted to leave as he gathered her against him, nestling her into his lap and chest, spooning his large body around her like a cage. She wanted to leave, wanted to go to Buggy and cry when he guided his cock back inside her still moist pussy with an incriminating noise and a satisfied rumble. She’d meant to turn this trick and tell Buggy about it. Tell him her plan to manipulate the ex-warlord to leave him alone, to leave them alone. Tell him it had worked. 

Shivs pushed herself on her elbow but Crocodile pulled her back down to him.

“Stay,” he said as he hooked the fluffy underblanket and silk cover sheets about them, his arm around her waist, hand on her hip.

“Why.” She had to tell Buggy, but now she couldn’t. She’d left after they’d gone to bed. She hadn’t told him yet. He didn’t know. He’d wake up alone.

Crocodile stroked the midline of her belly with the tip of his hook, rippling the cream-coloured silk as it moved up her chest, counting to the fifth rib. The one behind which her heart sat.

“Wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise.”

A quiet sob escaped her.

"Ssh, sleep, honey," Crocodile whispered into her hair, fingertips stroking her hip. “I’ll take good care of you tomorrow.”

~

Honourary mention tags: @smut-goblin , @ruledbyproblematique , @gingernut1314 , @swirlsofblackandwhite

(N/A): To anyone reading & making it to the end. Writing this has consumed me the past days. I want to know what you think! What did you like? What made you laugh? Was there something specific you noticed? Something you now wonder about? I am 100% open to lengthy comments and blow by blows, ngl. I am obsessed with this.

If you want for more, I jotted down some of my own thoughts regarding this debacle. I may also be plotting another stint. Because Impel Down, do you understand me??

[dangerpronebuddie]

🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪📋📋📋📋📋📋📋📋📋📋📋📋📋📋📋📋📋📋📋📋📋📋📋📋📋📋📋👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻

Hi Inell! Here's some sentences for you, dear.

From severed artery (psst @tizniz):

“I've got your back, remember?” Buck smiles. It quickly falters though. “You didn’t have to lie though.” Eddie frowns. “When did I lie?” Buck shrugs helplessly. “About Chris loving me like… a father.” “I didn’t lie,” Eddie says simply. “He does love you like a father.” Buck shakes his head in disbelief. “I know he loves me, but…” “Evan,” Eddie says. Buck’s head snaps up to look at him. “He went to you when he saw me with Kim. He goes to you every time he and I argue about something- even if it’s about being allowed to stay up late. And I don’t know for a fact, but I’m at least ninety eight percent sure you stayed with him after…” “Both times,” Buck says in a voice barely above a whisper. 

Clipboard Buck:

“Interesting reading material there, Eddie?” Hen asks, sitting on the opposite end of the couch Eddie’s sprawled across.  Truth be told, Eddie spaced out a good twenty minutes ago. It’s a good book- a great book- but Eddie’s mind hasn’t been exactly attentive in recent days. Or nights. He should be in the bunks, catching up on the sleep he didn’t get last night when he was looking up demisexuality.  “Honestly, I have no idea,” he admits, scrubbing a hand over his face.  Hen hums. “Something else on your mind?’ “Too much,” he mutters.  Hen shoves his legs off the couch and scoots closer. “Buck’s little clipboard adventure making you think?” Of course she saw right through him. Been trying to say something since Buck came out. But Eddie wasn’t ready to look at it. Truth be told, he doesn’t think he ever will be.  Just as he opens his mouth to speak, familiar footsteps stomp up the stairs.

And Danger Prone DIaz

Eddie shook his head and stepped inside. Bookshelves lined most of the room, with a grand fireplace on one wall. Eddie let out a low whistle. Had it not been for the dust and cobwebs, this place would've been gorgeous. He couldn't help but think Buck would love it. Maybe he'd find a way to sneak back with him if it really was empty. “Maddie would love this place,” Chim said, his Maddie-specific dreamy smile on his face.  “Buck would too,” Eddie commented.  “Put the heart eyes away, please,” Chim groaned.  Eddie raised an eyebrow at him. “I do not have heart eyes.” Chim grabbed him by the shoulders and spun him around to face the mirror above the fireplace and… yeah, maybe Eddie did have heart eyes. Sue him.  Something moved near the far wall and Eddie whirled around. He let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding when he saw it was just a cobweb moving in the breeze from the broken window.  “This place is getting to you, too,” Chim declared.  “It is not,” Eddie huffed. “I just thought maybe our patient was around here somewhere.” “Uh huh. White sheet and eerie glow included.”

Make Me Write!

[waterfire1848]

Azutara #36 please

Hello, anon!! Thanks for the ask!

#36 - living in a society where their love is taboo AU

Thanks to @ragzonacamrencruise for helping me come up with a taboo idea for this mini fic.

Opposite elements didn’t mix.

It was a simple rule and one that had been around since before anyone could remember. Fire and Water didn’t mix and earth and air didn’t mix. Because of this, it was frowned upon, illegal in some areas, for those belonging to opposite elements to be in a relationship together. Some limited their views to only benders, but others were very vocal about their believe that if someone was born in the Earth Kingdom they should have no romantic relation with someone in from the Air Temples.

Fire Lords before Zuko all seemed to share this belief as well, advocating that no one in the Fire Nation should have any partner from the Water Tribe. Zuko had never cared much about the law, seeing as how his partner was from the Fire Nation, and he assumed Azula didn’t care either.

Yeah. He was wrong about that one. Zuko just wished he didn’t have to find out by accidentally seeing his sister and friend meeting up in secret in the garden.

It wasn’t uncommon for Zuko to move around the palace on the roofs. Sue him. He liked having the small bit of time to himself and to move freely instead of having at least five guards around him and two servants by his side. Those quiet and beautiful nights were some of the most peaceful moments he got. Then, one night, he heard Azula’s voice and, naturally, made his way towards her to see what she was doing out so late.

“If you keep talking you’re going to get us discovered.” Azula warned.

“Says the one who’s talking right now.” Another voice, a woman, added, laughing a little, “You’re sure no one is around?”

“Positive. Zuko’s asleep, the servants and guards have been dismissed and no one patrols the garden this late.” Azula promised, “We’re completely alone except for the turtleducks.”

Zuko’s eyes grew when he saw Katara step into his view, “They can stay. I don’t think they’ll tell anyone about us.” The waterbender smiled and wrapped her arms around Azula, kissing the princess passionately.

“Have I told you recently how absolutely amazing it is having you as my girlfriend?” Azula asked.

“Yes, but I always love hearing it more.” Katara leaned her forehead against Azula’s, “I love you, Azula.” Her voice was soft but Zuko definitely heard that.

“I…lo…I mean-“ Katara only giggled, kissing Azula again.

“I know what you mean.” That was too quiet for Zuko to hear but he decided to hide himself when their kissing showed no sign of stopping.

Zuko instantly hide himself from sight. His brain going a hundred miles an hour. Azula and Katara???? He would never have guessed. But…but Azula knew that was against the law. Fire Nationals weren’t allowed to be in relationships with people from the Water Tribe. Not that Zuko was about to go down there and bust them, but he was curious about what could have caused Azula to go against the law.

He’d have to talk to her tomorrow if he really wanted answers.

—————————————

“Azula?” Zuko asked.

Azula turned from her seat at her desk, where she was working on some papers he has asked her to fill out, and looked up at him, giving her brother her full attention, “You okay, Zuko? You look nervous.”

Zuko shut the door behind him, “I am nervous.”

“Why?” Azula’s eyes narrowed.

“I saw you yesterday.”

“….Okay?” Azula was either playing dumb or he wasn’t being clear enough, “I saw you yesterday too. Did you hit your head, Zuzu? You know there is such a thing as too many hits to the head.”

“Azula, I saw you with Katara in the garden and heard you.” Zuko watched as Azula’s eyes grew only for half a second then returned to unmoved. Her face slipped, if only for less than half a second, and that was all Zuko needed for confirmation, “You and Katara???”

“Don’t say it so loud.” Azula snapped, grabbing him and dragging him out to the balcony where no one would hear them, “Do you want me banished?”

“What?! No! Why would I want that?!”

“I just assumed based on you announcing to the world that I’m in a relationship with someone from the Water Tribe.” Azula growled. Right. The punishment for breaking the law was banishment.

“Azula, I…”

“Think I’m a freak? Think there’s something wrong with me that I would choose a partner from my opposite element?” Azula asked. Her tone made it seem like she expected him to hate her now. All that did was make Zuko’s face drop.

“No. No, I don’t think that at all. I just want to make sure you know what you’re doing. You know how people will react if they find out-“

“No one will find out. Katara and I are careful. We only meet at night, away from everyone and, when we do meet up during the day, we’re incredibly careful to not be suspected.” Azula explained, “We both know the risk, Zuzu. The Southern Water Tribe isn’t as strict with this law as we are, but Katara is still facing banishment if people find out about us. Especially because it’s me.”

“What do you mean?” Zuko asked.

“If Katara had just met some random Fire Nation peasant girl on her travels and got together with her, the tribe wouldn’t have been pleased and she might have faced social isolation but they wouldn’t kick her out of the tribe or keep her from participating in activities. Since she’s dating the Princess of the Fire Nation, Katara not only has betrayed her element by being with me but all the people who lost their lives to the Fire Nation.” Azula leaned over the balcony, letting the wind gently hit her hair to calm her down.

“Katara can’t blame you-“

“Katara blames me for nothing. It’s the older warriors in the tribe, who have done nothing but fight their whole lives, who would advocate for her banishment.” Azula told him, “We’re careful, Zuko, and we know the risks.”

“Good. I just wanted to tell you that and…that you do have a friend now.” Zuko smiled at Azula, “I won’t tell anyone.”

“Thank you, Zuzu.” After the two broke apart from their hug, Zuko took the opportunity for some fun.

“Now here’s my big question. How did you get Katara? Did you hit her over the head or bribe her or…”

“Ha-Ha. Hilarious.” Even with the joke being at her expense, Azula cracked a smile at her older brother’s antics.

“You must tell me your secret, Lala.” Zuko laughed, “You somehow got a girlfriend whose previous partner was the Avatar.”

“I happen to think I’m a better catch than the Avatar. Thank you very much.” Zuko winced and shook his hand back and forth, earning him a hit in the shoulder, "What happened to the friendly sibling relationship you promised the therapist you'd try at?"

"I'm no expert but I think this is a nice, normal sibling relationship. At least it's better than the days when you used to try and kill me."

"Hey! I never tried to kill you. I tried to capture you. There's a difference."

"Ah, yes, my mistake." Zuko chuckled, leaning against the railing and letting out a breath, "I'm really happy for you, Zula. You and Katara."

"Thank you."

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

"What do you mean Zuko knows?" Katara asked.

"Exactly that. Zuko knows we're dating." Azula repeated.

"What now? Do we have to break up? Do you have to leave the Fire Nation?" Azula shook her head, sitting down on her bed next to her girlfriend.

"No. He's actually okay with it."

"Really?” True Katara hadn’t expected Zuko to blow up at Azula and demand she leave—her asking before has really been a worst case scenario fear—but he was really completely okay with it?

“I was just as surprised as you are, but he really doesn’t have any problem with us dating. We just have to keep it secret.”

“So basically what we’ve been doing?”

“Pretty much except maybe a little more secret since Zuko did find out.”

Katara rolled her eyes, “Zuko is the Blue Spirit. I don’t think we have to worry about servants or nobles on the roof whenever we want a romantic night in the garden.”

“You mean you haven’t heard about how our servants travel on the roof all the time?” Azula asked, very clearly joking.

“I guess I missed that fact, but seriously, are we okay?” Katara asked, “I don’t want you to risk banishment for me, Azula.” Azula gave Katara a weak smile when her girlfriend moved her face away from Azula’s.

“I told you when we started dating. I’m okay with that risk.” Azula said, “I want to be with you. No matter what the possible penalty is.” She gently pushed Katara’s chin so that she was looking at her and kissed her girlfriend, “I…I lo…”

“I know.” Katara whispered, “I love you too, Azula, so, so much.” The collided in another kiss, sinking into the bed while the rest of the palace, even the guards outside, were none the wiser.

————————————

Two months passed after Zuko discovered them and nothing changed. Katara and Azula kept a low profile. In fact, many were sure the two hated one another which made Zuko almost laugh but he forced his laughter down. Eventually, the two decided to tell Mai, Ty Lee and Sokka about their relationship.

“You and you?!?” Sokka yelled, pointing between Katara and Azula, “Kat, you…you do know she’s-“

“I know she’s Fire Nation and I’m Water Tribe and I don’t care. I love her, Sokka.” Katara’s use of the word love made both Mai and Ty Lee’s eyes grow.

“Wow.” Sokka whispered, “So, how long have you two been together?”

“A year now.” Katara told him, “We got together shortly after the war when I went over to the palace to help heal her.” Azula took Katara’s hand in hers, “We both got to talking and realized we had a lot in common. Then, one night, Azula threw her face at mine and we kissed-

“I tripped!” Azula snapped, “You’re very messy sometimes, Tara.”

“You tripped? You tripped while we were both sitting on your bed?” Katara asked.

“I had gotten up to get something, came back, tripped and fell on Katara and, by accident, our lips touched.” Azula explained.

“Okay. Who were believes my story that Azula just stopped caring for long enough to kiss me?” Katara asked.

Everyone raised their hands.

“You’re all traitors.” Azula grumbled.

“But I’m very happy you did that, Zula. I don’t know if I would have been brave enough to make the first move.” Katara said, nuzzling Azula’s neck and making Azula practically melt.

“You certainly weren’t with Aang.” Sokka whispered, earning a hit of water right to the face.

“So, who all knows?” Mai asked.

“Just you guys but we’re trying to tell more people.” Katara admitted, “We just want to make sure we’re telling people we can trust first.”

“That’s a good idea.” Sokka nodded, “I don’t know how much dad could protect you if people found out about you and Azula.”

“Thanks for the confidence, Sokka.” Katara mumbled, “Don’t worry. Azula and I are careful not to be noticed. We made it a year and no one knew.”

“That’s impressive.” Ty Lee admitted, “How did you hide it for so long? I was sure you two hated each other.”

“We always just kept everything behind closed doors and, when we needed to fake an argument, we just found something random to argue about.” Azula shrugged, “And since Katara and myself are amazing actresses, no one ever suspect us.”

“You guys fooled me.” Ty Lee said.

“And me.”

“And me.”

“Not me.” Everyone looked at Mai.

“We fooled you.” Azula argued, “You just don’t want to admit it.”

“I’ve known for the past nine months that you two have been dating. I couldn’t sleep one night so I went for a walk and found you and Katara sneaking into the garden with food then you started kissing.”

“If you knew then why didn’t you say anything?” Azula demanded.

“Not my place.” Mai shrugged, “Plus, you two seemed really happy keeping it secret. I thought you’d be more comfortable if you kept believing that no one knew.” She calmly explained.

“Thank you, Mai.” Katara whispered.

“See, Zuzu? This is how you should have handled discovering our relationship.” Azula said.

“Not said a word and hope you two don’t get caught?” Zuko asked.

“Exactly!”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“A ridiculous person who can still kick your butt whenever I want.” Azula grinned.

“That’s not what the crown says.” Zuko said, standing up.

“The crown you only got because of Katara.”

“You fired at her!”

“You brought her!”

By this point in their relationship, no one was really all that scared when the two started arguing about the Agni Kai. They knew Zuko and Azula mostly did it for laughs and never really meant any harm when they started arguing about it. Over a year in therapy together really did do wonders.

“Let’s go. This could go on a while.” Sokka sighed.

“You guys feel like pig-cow for dinner?” Ty Lee asked.

“Oh! Yes! I know this great place in town!”

If only the group had noticed a pair of eyes that had been watching them during their entire conversation.

—————————————

Azula’s eyes slowly opened, allowing her to take in the sight of her room covered in the morning light. Thanks to Katara, she wasn’t really waking up at dawn anymore but still got up early. That morning, like most mornings, she could feel her girlfriend’s arm around her body.

“Katara.” Azula whispered, “Good morning.”

“Good morning.” Katara yawned and stretched her body, “We should have a lazy day. Just you and me.”

“That would be perfect but you know I have meetings.” Azula said.

“Why do you have to be princess and Zuko’s advisor?” Katara asked, resting her head on Azula’s chest.

“I don’t know, but I do know that I have to get up. What will you do this morning?”

“Probably a walk around town, then I need to send letters to me father and-“

The doors suddenly slammed open. Katara and Azula, thanks to years at war, sat up quickly and got fire and water ready to use against the attackers but there were no attackers. Just Hakoda, who did not look happy.

“Katara?” Hakoda asked.

“Dad?” Katara quickly realized she wasn’t really wearing a lot of clothes and grabbed a blanket to cover herself with. Hakoda took his own light jacket off, which he always had with him, and wrapped it around his daughter, “Dad. What are you doing here?”

“I was told my daughter had something to tell me. I think I can guess what it is.” Hakoda growled, looking at Azula, who was also now pretty embarrassed to be caught in a situation like this but especially so wearing only the barest of clothing.

“Sir, we-“

Hakoda cut Azula off, “You stay away from my daughter! I don’t want you anywhere near her or I will throw you into the ocean!” Azula wasn't all that afraid of Hakoda but having a grown man yell at her did remind her a lot of Ozai. Involuntarily, she winced and backed up, flames dancing on her finger tips in case she had to defend herself.

“Dad! Don’t talk to Azula like that!” Katara yelled, “I love her!”

“No, you don’t. You’re confused and attaching yourself to the first person you could find after Aang. A few months in the South Pole will-“

Katara's face twisted into disgust at her father's words, “No!” Katara yelled, going to Azula’s side, “I’m not confused and I’m not just dating Azula because of connivence. I. Love. Her!”

“Katara, sweetie,” Hakoda’s voice changed to one that sounded more calm and understanding, “I came here because word has already spread to the Water Tribe that you and Azula are together."

"What!? How do they know?" Katara asked.

Hakoda only shrugged. It didn't matter how they knew now. All that mattered was that this did know, "The council is very upset by your choice to date the Princess of the Fire Nation and-

"Let me guess. They want me banished." Hakoda could only nod.

“I’d rather be banished than not stay with Azula.” Katara’s declaration made the room go quiet, but Katara continued and turned towards her girlfriend, “Azula, you don’t have to feel the same way. You can say whatever you need to to-"

“I love you.” Azula whispered, “I want to stay with you too. No matter what.” Tears of joy filled Katara's eyes when she went to kiss Azula.

"So what now?" Katara asked.

"Now you two should leave." Hakoda sighed, "Zuko is doing every he can, but it will probably be best if you both disappear for a while." The two nodded.

"You won't try and stop us?" Katara asked.

"I came because I thought there was a way to keep you in the Southern Water Tribe, a way to make this all go away, but...but you clearly love Azula. I know that when I lost Kya I never forgave the person who took her away from me. I'd hate myself if I was the person who took you away from Azula." Katara offered her dad a hug, feeling his arms wrap tightly around her.

"We'll send a letter when we find a safe place."

"Good. I'll tell Zuko about what you two decided to do. Promise me you'll be careful."

"I promise."

Hakoda then turned his head towards Azula, "And promise me you'll protect her."

"I will." Azula nodded.

An hour later, Azula and Katara had snuck out of the palace and were on their way to the docks with hoods over their heads to avoid being recognized.

"Regret dating me yet?" Katara asked.

Azula only offered her girlfriend a smirk and a kiss on the lips, "Not for a second."

[wheneverfeasible]

cw: slight spoilers for Flight of Icarus

I’m honestly not the biggest fan of kid fics so I don’t think I’d ever actually write this, but…

I was thinking about Eddie’s expired condoms, thought about how in kid fics it’s always Steve who has a kid (or kids), and it got me thinking of a post-S4 AU, maybe a year or so later, and Eddie and Steve are a new couple who have only recently started being an official, exclusive deal. And then Eddie gets a blast from the past.

Slight spoilers in the below paragraph

Now, it could be anyone really from his past, but in my mind I’m thinking specifically of Paige from the Eddie prequel book, Flight of Icarus. It’s been say 3 or 4 years since they split ways and she went back to LA. Meaning, if during one of the times she and Eddie engaged in unsafe sex or sex with expired condoms, it’s feasible to imagine that she could have been unknowingly pregnant when they broke up.

Spoilers over

Now, imagine a social worker showing up at the Munson door because, as crazy as it is, Eddie has a 2-3 year old child suddenly thrust upon him after a tragic accident has taken the mother’s life and as the father listed on the birth certificate, he is the next of kin to take the baby (I picture a little girl, but it could be a boy).

The mother had been Eddie’s first love and, while he’s freaking out, he can’t brings himself to reject the innocent little thing, especially since the mother’s family has moved out of Hawkins following Vecna’s Curse. He knows he should give the baby up to them, but he simply can’t. However, he has Steve to worry about now.

After all, they just started officially dating/going steady. And now Eddie is a dad. He’s worried about it being too much for Steve, who may want kids of his own some day, but now Eddie is a package deal with a child that Steve has no responsibility for, a child that Steve never asked for. Eddie is certain Steve won’t want to be with him now but it’s his child; even though he can’t blame Steve, he’s not going to be like Al Munson and abandon his child.

Of course, Steve is understandably startled and needs to take a moment to consider everything. Ignoring the fact that Eddie has a child isn’t fair to the child itself. If things end poorly (which Steve is wracked with self-doubt and believes Eddie will realize he can do better eventually and leave him) then he doesn’t want to harm a child, and on the off-chance things don’t end poorly, is he ready to be a step-father figure now?

The answer is, of course, yes.

And so Eddie and Steve and the baby (and Wayne, who is absolutely delighted to have what is basically a grandchild though he would never admit it) find themselves in new adventures of being a new family.

For added drama, perhaps the mother’s parents end up finding out about the child being placed with Eddie and decide to sue for custody. In the end, the boys win however, and maybe the baby doesn’t have a mother, but it has two loving dads, a grandpa/great-uncle, and a whole host of uncles and aunts to love it and give it the best life imaginable.

(Robin is, of course, named godmother, and Dustin becomes the godfather.)

And though it wasn’t how they had originally planned it, both Eddie and Steve finally find the family they had always wanted.

[devyuence]

another controversial take: every character is developing at the expense of topmew's

this is going to be an itemized rant and my thoughts are messy rn but sue me, i guess. feel free to raise brows but if you can get to post rants, i can too.

1. boeing should've been introduced episodes ago (not in the latest ep). as much as i liked raymew closure aka ray realizing that mew is not in love with him no matter what, boeingmew would have made even more sense. but then again, if we never had that raymew scenes, ray will not have that character development, progress with sand, and sand's character development.

2. as much as daddy dan (lol) is a plot device for boston to realize or act on his feelings with nick, mew's revenge played a part. he 'somehow' became apologetic, it's evident on his face during the confrontation scene, for stirring up things in his friend group and arguably starting to value things that he used to be so nonchalant about because he is moving away.

3. now that points one and two are established, can you see that the other pairs except topmew are progressing? not only their relationships but the characters are progressing, having arguable character development idk, or developing.

do we have the word "progress" on topmew as a pair?

do we have the word "progress" on top and mew as individual characters?

zero. nada. zilch.

it's like the writing team thought: "ah, in episode 5 onwards, let's develop everyone else except topmew. tone it down aka cut the scenes because people will hate them. tone it down because mew should not overreact in the burning of drawing scene. tone it down. tone it down until the scene drown and disappeared like titanic. tone it down until it goes down the drain."

apologies. i love mew and i am his number one defender but his character in the recent eps is stagnant and the latest one? ooc at that. at the same time, i feel bad that he is straight-forward and knows what he wants but becomes a stagnant character going back in circles. it's like everyone around him starts to have character development or redemption but he is reduced to, according to some viewers, an annoying brat. yeah, this is what happens when you toned down book's crying during his confrontation scene with top showing how he loved top so much as well as not showing more scenes that mew is really hurt and felt betrayed. he didn't have a proper breakdown aka crying scenes on his own but instead jumped on revenge era. the things are not grounded. people cannot sympathize with him because they do not fully know top and mew. they lack screen time to show who they are as individuals and as lovers. but that's just me.

what pisses me off the most is that he becomes a stagnant character and in the process, top is also hindered to progress. i mean, you know that at the beginning, i don't like top but he made his way on my fave list.

top was considered by others as someone without depth (at least that is what majority says no matter how much people explain top's nuances anyway). he is boring, bland, playboy, someone who is smug. i mean, when every character in the show gets to cry out loud and scream their hearts with proper build up except one or two, you will find them boring. book mew crying his heart out in the confrontation scene but was toned down? force top crying about him and mew at the silent disco while discarding the scene where he tried to find someone new but he cannot because he loves mew so much? like why are other emotional and crying scenes have proper build up and more nuanced but top, this is coming from a not-so-fan of top before, and mew do not have?

it's funny because top is reduced to mew's ex or lover (what are they anyway rn?), who (mew) happens to be reduced as a plot device for the character development or redemption of ray and boston, which had a domino effect on sand and nick's character.

ah. my lovely top and mew, especially my favorite, mew. i'm sorry that you are reduced to this which could have been fixed should people have more backbone and your characters have been thoroughly discussed in the writer's room.

anyway, i had low expectations on this show because as much as i liked the director, expectations lead to disappointment. now, im not expecting anything from this show. topmew is barely salvageable and is hanging by a thread. and if we don't see top's trauma next episode but more of NC scenes (i'm okay with it but to use it to appease fans is not), i'm sorry but... heh.

you know what is funny? for topmew to be based on real people, lovers at that, only to be reduced as plot devices and have a terrible state aka stagnant in the recent episode is peak comedy.

[dreamsy990]

so 358/2 days, amiright? heres my thoughts

this game is just. god its an emotional rollarcoaster

i guess ill start with the things i dont like!! which is mostly the gameplay. i dont really mind the mission structure shockingly (i like being able to roam around but having a clear goal makes things easier for my adhd ass, and i think the miniature storylines are very good for the most part) but i simply could Not get into the combat. especially coming off of kh2 it feels so stiff and unfun to play the only part of the game where i enjoyed the combat was fighting riku at the very end. i think the panel system is okay but i dont like that levels take up space. why did they do that.

story-wise, i dont like the retcons!! a lot of the ones i take issue with are very minor but things like roxas only fighting riku once instead of the implied multiple times (even the dialogue doesnt make sense when you change that, why does roxas say 'how many times do i have to beat you' when theyve only fought once?) are the kinds of inconsistencies that just annoy me.

im also a little bit annoyed at the very concept of this game at all. i think roxas worked just fine as a character without this game. it feels sort of unnecessary in the grand scheme of things. also, xion. i love xion, dont get me wrong, but i dont think she adds anything to the series over all. thats not to say she doesnt add anything to this game because shes a great character and i love her, but shes just. kind of like this game in that if you got rid of her i dont think it would really change the narrative so much.

BUT DESPITE THAT ALL!!!!!!!! i fucking ADORE this game. it is genuinely so full of charm and soul that i just cant bring myself to dislike it. i think this is one of the best written games in terms of dialogue. every scene (at least for me) hit exactly as emotionally hard as i think it was meant to. i was laughing at demyx's antics and crying at xions death and yelling at saix and i think thats exactly how the game is meant to be seen.

days at its heart is a slice of life. its working a 9 to 5 its going through a depressive episode its losing friends its grieving its making fun of your coworkers its living. its a game about life and i love that.

this game really did make me forget that axel roxas and xion dont get a happy ending. i spent so much time looking forward to them making up that i forgot that roxas ran away. hell i almost forgot that xion died.

days is emotional and its story and its characters are just so fucking good. the conflicts all felt very real and you can tell exactly where everyones coming from. the way axel roxas and xion fall apart hits so fucking close to home. but god damnit if axel had any good communication skills like half of this could be avoided

its also one hell of a love letter to axel's character. hes always been one of my favorites (he recently earned first place) and i think this game does him a lot of justice. hes trying to do good. he wants to keep everything together he wants to be there for his friends he wants to make things right but he just cant. its just AUGH its so fucking good

that thing about axel's characterization really also applies to roxas. i dont have much to say about him beyond the fact that i think it does his character very well. also tism. hes so autism.

i kind of like the very limited graphics too. sue me i enjoy low quality games. the hands are not animated and they all have two expressions (blinking and not blinking) and their weapons are flat and im living for it. the very few fully animated cutscenes are good too!!

the (real, i dont count riku) final boss is unfortunately very easy. you can just stand directly in front of her and mash a she wont hit you its too easy but vector to the heavens did mess me up a bit. also earlier scene but "ill always be there to bring you back" with the other promise playing over it? fucked me up man. yoko shimomura is once again killing it

i cant believe roxas didnt get to go to the beach.

i have to give this game a 9/10. its writing is incredible but the gameplay could use a lot of work. its just not fun to play. but again the characters, emotions, and music all make up for that tenfold.

[unreadpoppy]

bg3, infographics, mysogyny and you

Preface: this is a long ass post that I wrote some many weeks ago, and that because of some stuff I've seen, I'm compelled to finally post it. It's very like a spurn of the moment thing, not extremely well thoght out but I still think it's relevant.

.

Recently, a few people have posted some, in my opinion, really insightful infographics showing the difference in content to how many works (in AO3) there are to the female characters vs the male characters of BG3 and I've been thinking about how it relates to fandom in general, but also...everything.

As a quick rundown, what happens is: almost all of the female characters have a lot less content when compared to their male counterparts (at least writing wise). And I think this is a great moment to stop and think on why is that.

There's a lot of point to begin with but I want to begin with something larger and that is the society most of us are raised in. Obviously, I can't speak for everyone, but I think it's fair to say that most people grew up in places that had its fair share of sexism and give it or take, that does shape how we view the world.

I'll speak from my own experience. Even thought I had a mostly liberal upbriging, I went to a very conservative school and when I was growing up, I saw a lot of videos on youtube that anaylized media in what i can only describe as "god forbid women do anything". Video after video, I saw people commenting on how x female character was a mary sue, how she made no sense and ruined the plot, so many video essays on the """strong female character trope"""" that would end up just enforcing gender roles again. And I'll be honest, this DID affect how viewed female characters.

The best example I can give of this is with bg3 itself. There was one day that I stopped and realized that Minthara was the first time I ever obsessed over a fem character as much as any male character. And the second thought I had after this was 'oh my god why???'

Why did I always cater more to the male characters than I did to the female ones, when most of the times, I liked a lot as well?

I'd like to point out that I've seen the topic of "Most fic authors are cis straight women" being brought up a lot and frankly, I'm not the biggest fan of it. First, because I think it's overall a very...heteronormative way of seeing stuff and it's assuming a lot of stuff that puts a sour taste on my mouth (as a queer woman myself, I really don't like that implication but that's on me). Second, because saying that 'obviously women are going to write more about men' feels very...weird. Third, I just think that this argument fails to really question the why of it all and gives too simple an answer to something is anything but.

One can make the argument that these female characters are written differently than the men, and yes that is true and it's even historical (I wrote a whole project on the invisibility of women in theater through the ages and a lot of it has to do with how women were written, but that's a story for another time).

But I don't think that's true for all cases. It's easy to blame an imaginary writer's room than question that you might have internal biases.

Because at least it's what happened to me. I grew up hearing how female characters were inferior to the male characters and it affected how I viewed them. It's something I had to stop and reevalute and it led me to appreciate characters I once loathed.

And it sucks to realize that. It sucks to realize that even as a woman myself, I was not immune to commiting sexism, that I hadn't fully outgrown the shit I saw as a kid. Does that make me a bad person? No. You're not to blame for being raised in a way that leads you to have certain prejudices.

But it doesn't mean you can't do anything about it.

And no, the solution is not to suddenly go write a bunch of femslash. Because no one is saying that you should feel ashamed for writing more for men, or forcing you to like female characters. But, I ask you to do something much simpler.

Think on the why. Why, even when we love female characters, we don't show them as much love as we do to the male ones. Why we might feel more compelled to write for the men than for the women. Because sometimes it's questioning ourselves that we can find something about us we didn't know and change how we engage with media.

And you can brush this off as just fandom stuff, but I think it does, in some ways, also reflect a bit on how we act as whole as a society. Hell, writing this whole thing made me think of how the way I was raised still interferes with my own sexuality (which is a very personal topic for me to get on here but it was worth mentioning). What I'm trying to say is that sometimes something small is an easier way for us to understand the bigger, systemic issues around us.

I know that it sounds like there's nothing to be done cause fandoms have always been like this. But, personally, this sort of conformity to the norm causes more harm then good. Things won't change unless you decide to do something about it. And the good thing about fandom is that it's small enough that doing literally anything can create some impact than, I don't know, trying to solve big, real life societal issues.

This is getting long so I'm gonna try to wrap this up quickly. No one is shaming you if you write or obsesses more or even care more about male characters than you do female ones. I just ask you to think about it and be honest with yourself. Because then maybe, just maybe, next time you engage with another media, you might end up enjoying a female character much more and obsessing over them just as much.

[dreamerinthemoonlight]

Notice Me (Kaeya, Ayato, Tartaglia)

The alternative title to this is “Notice Me, Senpai”, in which three of our favorite little shits try and get your attention. I may do another one for twisted wonderland, Maybe.

Reader is part of the adventurer’s guild.

Genre: Fluff

Fem!Reader, very few third person pronouns used

Asks and Requests are OPEN

Kaeya

Let’s be honest, he has his work cut out for him

His first tactic is to lay the flirting on heavy. Which doesn’t work very well. You just think he’s being extra obnoxious or trying to get you to do some of the tedious jobs for him and so, you just ignore it

Cue several days of drinking with Rosaria while he wonders what he’s doing wrong. Eventually she smacks him over the head with the obvious and he gets down to thinking about how to win your attention and maybe score a date in the process

It takes him awhile. He never thought he’d actually be dating someone. His secrets make it less than feasible, but you’re a special case. And special cases take special effort

He ends up going to Lisa for advice. Of everyone in Mondstadt, he figured she’d be the best help. She ropes him into enabling her laziness for a few weeks only to hit him with some super simple advice, “quit hinting and say it to her face, you idiot. Flowers are good too”

He doesn’t show it, but in his mind he makes a funny face. Directness? Upfrontness? Honesty? Kaeya? I love him, but he’s a roundabout kind of person. Never the less, he really, really wants to to notice him, so he listens. 

He gets Flora to for up a rather large bouquet of flowers (he may have looked up flower symbolism just to make sure he gets the point across) before having Katheryn direct you to his office for a “specially requested commission”

When you get there he presents you with the bouquet and a well-rehearsed confession that he still manages to stumble over

He’s the happiest knight ever when you agree to go on a date with him

Ayato

He goes the secret admirer route, at least to start with

Sweet letters, flowers, he’s rich and he uses it to his advantage lol

When he has the time, he’s always offering to help you with your commissions in one way or another or just as often having Katheryn giving you special commissions that involve helping Thoma and thus reporting back to him

You get teased a lot about your secret admirer, Everyone in the guild has their own theories. One of the most popular ones is that it’s Thoma trying to court you from a far

Anyone Ayato falls for is bound to be intelligent, so you’re quick to dismiss that idea. Instead, you’re pretty sure it’s his boss that’s behind it all. The flowers are too nice and the paper too expensive. The beautiful handwriting doesn’t match Thoma’-- you know full well that Kamisato Ayato enjoys calligraphy, not to mention the sheer number of times you’ve stood in his office recently. It wasn’t the hardest connection to make.

 After you took a peak at the paper on his desk, unsurprised to find that the penmanship matched perfectly--almost perfectly, he seems to have put extra effort into the letters he sends you--you spent some time thinking about what to do about this information

In the end you decide to let things continue as they have been

You’re familiar enough with him to know that he has a sense of mischief and enjoys having the upper hand. Letting him continue to think that he has it, while starting to think of how you’re going to use the information seems like a fun idea

He doesn’t know it, but you turn it into a game. One where you have the advantage

After several weeks of basking in the attention--and knowing he doesn't know you know--you request to see Ayaka, who you’ve also come to know fairly well

At your behest, Ayaka starts to leave flowers on Ayato’s desk. One here, one there. These are of a far lesser quality than the ones he sends but so sue you, you’re not a pretty rich boy, thank you very much

It doesn’t take long for him to catch on. That kind of subtle affection and communication isn’t Ayaka’s style, Thoma keeps a very professional relationship (and is directly involved in helping Ayato woo you), and no one else would dare do something like that. Seriously. 

At that point, he decides to end the game

Like Kaeya, he choses a private sort of place, only he has class about it

He sends you another anonymous letter, inviting you to the estate at midnight on a full moon. (Moonlight rendezvous? Super romantic, definitely private, totally awesome)

Of course, knowing the game that is being played, you’re happy to go

When you meet him you don’t even bother acting surprised (though the full dinner, candles and all, wasn’t totally expected). Instead you happily sit and eat with him, dropping the formality that you usually use when dealing with him

It’s the first of many games between you, this time the result is certainly a win for both of you

Tartaglia

uhhhh

I think he takes a three pronged attack method when it comes to catching your attention

The first is some fairly subtle flirting. Just because his preferred method of diplomacy involves fighting to the death, doesn’t mean he can’t smooth talk when he feels like it

And he feels like it. He thinks you’re pretty and likes to make sure you know it. It’s a huge confidence boost for you

It definitely makes you suspicious because unlike a certain Mondstadt cryo user, hard-core flirting is not his default. 

Second, instead of offering deadly bouts of violence he decides to train you up. You’re not the most proficient swordsman, specializing in less violent commissions (Baizhu bubu pharmacy loves you very much)

“I want her to be my girl and I want to make sure she can protect herself”

Also, it gives him a valid excuse to touch you without being pervy. Any other time, he keeps his hands to himself, but when training you, if he has to adjust an arm or shift your form, well, that’s just part of training (uh huh, sure.)

His third method of catching your attention is showing off his martial skills

He loves showing you how strong he his, how fast he is, and how many different weapons he can use

Honestly, he’s so obvious about all of it that it only takes you a couple months to catch on and confront him about it

He doesn’t bother denying it and instead takes the initiative to ask you out

It turns out you liked the flirting, the little touches, and found his showing off to be amusing, so you happily accepted

[antianakin]

Maybe I'm being a bit nit-picky but I guess it as kinda odd Ahsoka is constantly getting more and more powerful whenever the plot demands it. The most recent one being able to see the past from the starman. I forgot the exact name of the ability but it was introduced as not only something very rare but also being a burden on the users. I wouldn't really mind Ahsoka being super powerful, but I wish we got more build up because otherwise it's just very Mary Sue-ish. And really I hope they didn't neglect Ezra's character and abilities in favor of making Ahsoka the Most Powerful™.

I think you're talking about psychometry and how it feels like Ahsoka's starting to be able to use that power. Previous characters who have had it are most notably Quinlan Vos and Cal Kestis, and yeah, generally it's considered a power that only a very few are sort-of born with and it's a skill that can be very painful if not honed. Ahsoka has never EVER been one of those characters who has had psychometry, either in TCW or in Rebels.

It's hard to tell whether the show is going for her using psychometry specifically or if they're just... really stretching what regular Force users can do. Because we know that they CAN pick up impressions from things, strong emotions and the like. Anakin and Ahsoka can feel the pain and screams of the people who died during the Temple bombing, for example. But what she does on the show, where she's able to pick up a specific image/memory by touching something, might've been super useful in that particular moment and she doesn't use it at all.

As far as I know, psychometry isn't a skill one can just "learn" if they get strong enough, you're either born with it or you aren't. But I would've said the same has always been true for Force sensitivity in general - you're either born with it or you aren't - and this show has already chosen to throw THAT out the window with Sabine (and possibly Hera, too) so the idea that they might be willing to decide psychometry is a thing someone can just learn isn't exactly outside the realm of possibility here. They haven't CALLED it psychometry on the show yet, but that doesn't mean that it isn't fairly obviously doing the exact same thing that we all know to be psychometry if you're familiar with the skill via Quinlan's stories or the recent video games with Cal.

Ahsoka HAS been dictated as very powerful from very early on, in fairness. There's an episode where Anakin notes in front of the Council that she's "advanced for her age" and they make a big deal out of how she's pretty young to be assigned as a padawan. So she IS supposed to be more powerful than the norm, usually, but psychometry is such a specific skill to have and at no point in any of her other appearances has she ever shown the ability to use it in the way she's been doing on this show.

I don't think that's nit-picky at all, personally, but I'm told that I'm a fairly nit-picky person, so what do I know. It does frustrate me, too, that this show is playing fast and loose with Star Wars worldbuilding just to suit Ahsoka's storyline. Sabine being a Jedi, the butchering of the Rebels characters, Ahsoka's overpowered qualities, etc. All of it is done so that they can tell a very specific story for Ahsoka without any care to how it breaks previously established lore and plot points.

It's one of the things I like the LEAST about this show and that's saying something because there's a LOT that I dislike very much about this show.