#I don’t know how it is out of spite it just is

[hoshifighting]

rival fashion designer!minghao

— synopsis: where minghao flexes his fashion awards whenever your brand competes against him during fashion week. — WC: 3k — WARNINGS: explicit language, smut, reader uses a transparent clothing (just like rihanna in oscar x swarovski), oral (f. receiving) ENORMOUS DICK!MINGHAO, slight face slap, mentions of choking on a cock, penetrative sex—or trying to.

look, you weren’t trying to start beef with minghao. you don’t even know why the dude hates you so much. okay, maybe you said one thing about his fall line looking like it got snatched off the clearance rack at an IKEA. but that was a year ago. and also? you were drunk and kinda bitter ‘cause your show got bumped for his stupid avant-garde puff-sleeve renaissance clowncore shit.

but now, every fashion week is like a personal vendetta for him to humble you. you’ll be vibin’, sipping your overpriced latte in the designer lounge, and this man will just stroll in, decked out in some vintage runway piece that costs more than your annual budget, flashing that “i won best emerging designer again” smirk like it’s a fucking weapon. and then he’ll throw some casual shit like:

“oh, y/n, is that your collection over there? i thought they were setting up for the kid’s line showcase.”

[...]

so this year, you swore you wouldn’t let him get in your head. you’d play it cool, professional, unbothered. except you walk into your studio late one night, the day before your big runway debut, and this man is just there. sitting on your worktable. wearing a pearl-studded harness and leather pants so tight it should be a crime.

you freeze, halfway through the door, holding the iced coffee you begged your intern to grab five minutes before starbucks closed. “what the fuck are you doing here?”

minghao barely glances up from his phone. “your assistant let me in.”

traitor.

“why?” you slam the coffee on the counter, praying your voice doesn’t shake. the audacity of him just existing in your space is enough to make your blood boil.

he stands, slow as hell, like he’s got all the time in the world. he’s tall—annoyingly tall—so when he steps close, you’re immediately at a disadvantage. but you refuse to back down.

“just wanted to check out the competition,” he says, eyes flicking lazily over the chaos of fabric swatches and half-finished sketches strewn across the room. “cute line. very... simple.”

“fuck you, hao,” you snap, crossing your arms. “it’s called ‘minimalism.’ not that you’d know anything about taste.”

he laughs, soft and low, the kind of sound that creeps under your skin and lingers there. “oh, i have plenty of taste. i just don’t need to keep it basic to get attention.”

and here’s the thing: you hate how much he gets to you. he’s a smug asshole with an overinflated ego, but he’s also stupidly talented, and you can’t ignore the fact that his lines always sell out in under a day. or how his press coverage makes yours look like a local craft fair feature.

but what really gets you is how hot he looks right now, with his ridiculous cheekbones and the glint of that tiny silver chain peeking out from under his collar. it’s disgusting. you hate it.

you’re about to throw a cutting remark his way, something about how he’s overcompensating with all that jewelry, but he beats you to it.

“you know,” he murmurs, stepping even closer, “you’d look good in my designs.”

your brain short-circuits. “excuse me?”

“if you ever want to elevate your style...” he trails off, dragging his gaze down the length of your body like it’s a runway.

“you are so full of shit,” you hiss, but there’s no heat behind it, because your stupid traitorous brain is suddenly imagining what it’d feel like to have his hands on you.

he smirks, all teeth and danger, leaning in so close you can smell his expensive cologne. “maybe. but you’re thinking about it now, aren’t you?”

you don’t answer.

[...]

the next morning, you’re running on zero sleep, fueled by pure spite and caffeine, but your runway show? flawless. models everywhere, hair spray choking the air, seamstresses practically sewing on skin ‘cause the deadlines were that tight. and you were doing a thousand fucking things at once.

fixing a hemline here, shouting at a makeup artist there—“no, not clean girl aesthetic, we’re going full grunge today, wake up!”—all while struggling to get yourself into the swarovskied transparent gown you planned to wear for the night.

no bra, because tits were the least controversial thing in fashion. and the way the crystals draped over your skin looking likew pure art. nipples out and proud, paired with modern curls swirled to perfection and makeup that screamed chaos-but-make-it-glam.

by the time your collection hit the runway, your nerves were shredded. but watching the models strut, each piece shining under the lights... fucking worth it.

and then, the finale: your dress sweeping dramatically across the stage as you closed the parade. you bowed to the crowd, letting the cameras and whispers soak in every inch of you, and as you turned to leave, you felt it.

minghao’s sharp eyes.

you caught his eyes just as they traveled the length of you—from the swirl of your hair, to the unapologetic sharpness of your nipples under the crystals, to the shimmer of your dress, down to the towering heels on your feet.

you just smirked to yourself as you headed backstage, knowing full well your collection didn’t just crawl under his skin this time. it slithered under his flesh, wrapped tight around his ribs, and squeezed.

[...]

minghao’s models stormed the runway like it was their goddamn birthright. and of course, you watched. no designer worth their silk ignored the competition, and minghao wasn’t just competition, he was a walking masterclass in making everyone feel like second place.

he closed his show with his usual flare, stepping out like he already knew the applause was his. fast-forward two designers later, and the nominations for the fashion academy awards started rolling in. you didn’t have to look to know minghao had already claimed half the early awards.

you watched him backstage through narrowed eyes as he balanced four trophies—two tucked in his arms, two in his hands—posing for a picture with that smug-ass smile. you knew that pic was already blowing up on his Instagram. your jaw clenched, nails digging into your palm as the last nominations were announced.

and then, plot twist of the year:

your name came up five times.

designer of the year: you.

new vision in fashion: you.

collection of the year: your brand.

runway innovation: your brand.

showstopper of the year: your brand.

walking out with those five heavy-ass awards in your arms? victory tasted better than champagne. your models and team practically swarmed you, hyping you up ‘cause they knew how much blood, sweat, and tears went into this collection.

but what you really wanted... minghao. definitely minghao. minghao, in your line of sight. because after all the times he flaunted his wins like a smug bastard, you wanted him to feel this.

and lucky for you, fate delivered.

you spotted him in the back hallway, leaning against the wall, scrolling through his phone. clearly, he hadn’t heard the last nominees. his head snapped up when your heels echoed through the space.

“oh, hey, hao,” you called out, voice sweet as honey but sharp as glass. you stopped just short of him, shifting the five trophies in your arms so they pressed against your chest. the weight of them pushed your tits up just enough to catch his eyes.

“looks like I’ve got... a plus one on you this year.” you smirked, shaking the awards a little for good measure, the motion making the crystals on your dress catch the dim hallway light.

his eyes flicked down—brief, subtle, but not subtle enough—and then back up, his expression neutral, but you could feel the shift in his ego.

“congrats,” he said, the word clipped like it physically hurt him.

“thanks, babe,” you purred, turning on your heel with a sway of your hips. “see you next season. maybe.”

and with that, you left, letting the click of your heels carry the weight of your victory.

[...]

days later, you were lounging in minghao’s big leather chair, legs crossed up on his table, showing the expensive ass high heels you always wore. his assistant had let you in with barely a question, and you weren’t one to waste an opportunity.

when he finally walked in, his eyes narrowed immediately. “what the hell are you doing here?”

“relax,” you drawled, leaning back like his office was a spa. “your assistant said I could wait. guess they like me more than you.”

he folded his arms, leaning against the doorframe. “didn’t think you’d show your face here after the other night. thought you’d be busy polishing all those trophies.”

you grinned, slow and smug. “oh, i polished them. just thought i’d stop by to see how you’re doing. must be hard, you know—losing.”

his jaw tightened, but he didn’t rise to the bait. instead, he stepped closer, looming over you. “you done?”

“not even close,” you said, standing up to match his energy. you stopped just shy of his chest, tipping your chin up. “but don’t worry, hao. i’ll let you borrow a trophy sometime if you really need the validation.” you patted his shoulder.

he scoffed, his lips curling into something between a smirk and a sneer. “you know, i like your attitude.”

you raised an eyebrow. “yeah? you must, considering how much you stalk me every season.”

“maybe that’s why we should work together.”

you laughed, loud and sharp, tossing your head back. “oh, that’s rich. you? work with me? what, so you can take credit for my ideas and call it a ‘collaboration’?”

he tilted his head, eyes narrowing slightly. “i’m serious. we’d be unstoppable.”

for a second, you almost believed him. “unstoppable, huh? what makes you think i’d even want to work with you?”

“because you like the challenge... admit it. you love it when i push you.”

“you’re intolerable.”

“and yet,” he murmured, stepping so close you could feel the heat radiating off him, “you haven’t left yet.”

your laugh came out breathy this time, your pulse quickening as his hand grazed the curve of your hip. “you think I’m staying here for you? please. your assistant let me in, remember?”

“sure,” he said. his thumb traced slow circles against your side, almost lazy. “but you’re still here.”

you were about to snap back with something cutting, something to wipe that stupid smirk off his face, but then he tilted your chin up with two fingers, his gaze locked on yours like a predator sizing up prey.

“stop thinking,” he whispered, leaning in just enough for your lips to almost touch. “you might actually enjoy yourself.”

his lips were soft and plump, moving against yours so fucking good that felt unfair. his hand slid to the small of your back, pulling you flush against him, and you couldn’t help the soft moan that escaped.

your hands found his chest, the fabric of his shirt warm under your fingertips as you pushed him slightly, breaking the kiss with a smirk. “you’re bold, i’ll give you that.”

“you’re still thinking,” he teased, catching your bottom lip between his teeth before pulling back.

your hands slid up to his shoulders, gripping just enough to feel the flex of his muscles. you threatened to sit on his table.

his eyes widened slighty, his hands immediately grabbing your ass to lift you up, making you yelp. “don’t!”

“what? scared i’ll break it?” you teased, wrapping your legs around his waist.

he places the needles that were spread lazily on the table, inside of a box. he turned, his grip firm as he carried you a few steps and sat you on a nearby armchair.

“there were needles on that table, genius,” he scolded, his tone sulky but his fingers tracing slow lines along your thighs. “you’d be bleeding before I even got started.”

“aww,” you cooed, dragging your nails down his neck. “you worried about me, hao?”

“no,” he muttered, kneeling, dipping his head to kiss along your jawline, his teeth grazing just enough to make you arch towards him. “just don’t want to ruin my night with a trip to the hospital.”

your laugh turned into a soft moan as his lips found the spot just below your ear. “guess you’re not as heartless as you act.”

he pulled back slightly, his smirk sharper than ever. “you talk too much.”

you pulled him in for another kiss, your tongues colliding this time. when you tried to take control, tilting your head for a deeper angle, he pulled back just enough to make you chase him.

minghao’s hands were firm on your thighs, his thumbs brushing against your skin like he wasn’t about to wreck you in the middle of his office. his eyes dragged down, lingering on the way your skirt was pushed up, the space between your legs bare and unapologetic.

he clicked his tongue, a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. “no panties, huh?” he said. “came here like this?”

“what can I say?” you shot back, shifting slightly so his hands pressed harder against your skin. “i had a feeling you’d end up on your knees.”

his smirk deepened, his fingers tightening slightly as he leaned in, close enough for you to feel his breath. he pressed your legs further onto the armrests, spreading you wider, his hands splayed like he wanted to leave imprints.

his tongue flicked out, close enough to make you tense—but he didn’t touch you. instead, he pulled back, his eyes locking with yours as a smirk tugged at his lips.

he leaned in again, his tongue brushing so close you could feel the warmth from his breath, but once again, he pulled back just as you tilted your hips forward.

“hao..” you warned.

“what?” he teased, his lips hovering over your folds.

your hands gripped the armrests as you glared down at him. “if you don’t stop playing, i swear—”

he cut you off with a broad, strong lick, dragging his tongue from your entrance, through your folds, and up to your clit in one unbroken suck. your head fell back as a gasp tore from your lips.

“that shut you up,” he muttered, his voice muffled as he dipped lower, his tongue swirling around your entrance before moving back up. “needy much?”

“shut up and do it again,” you shot back, your voice sharper than the way your thighs trembled under his grip.

and he did the same. your clit throbbing at the rough skin of his tongue, making you melt on his armchair, he smiled at the sight, he knew how a good head felt after months dealing with needles and sparkly cloths.

his lips latched onto your folds, sucking them into his mouth before he pulls back just slightly, his tongue flicking against your clit in quick, teasing strokes. you let out a pornographic moan, before your clap a hand on your mouth, remembering the team outside the office. he chuckled darkly, his hands tightening on your thighs to hold you still. his lips wrapping around your clit again. this time, he sucked it fully into his mouth, his tongue flicking against it as his eyes flicked up to yours.

“you’re so good at this, hmm—fuuuck!” you said, your nails drowning in the leather of the armchair. “you must’ve practiced on a lot of other girls, huh?”

his eyes narrowed slightly, and his teeth grazed your clit just enough to make you wwhimper. “jealous?” he asked, his voice smug, though he didn’t stop the relentless motion of his tongue.

“please,” you shot back, though the way your breath hitched betrayed you as he did a zig-zag on your bud with the tip of his otngue. “you’re better when you’re silent.”

he smirked against you, his lips curving as he pulled back just enough to speak. “then shut me up.”

your fingers tangled in minghao’s hair, tugging him closer, harder, until his face was buried against your pussy. his groan vibrated through you, desperate, and his hands clamped down on your thighs to steady himself as you rolled your hips against his mouth.

“that’s it... mhmm, just like that...”

he obeyed, his head bobbing as his tongue slid against you in broad, wet strokes, his lips sealing around your clit every few seconds to suck, deep and rhythmic. the wet, obscene sounds filled the room, and your nails scraped lightly against his scalp as you held him there, guiding him exactly how you wanted.

the heat in your core coiled tighter, and you barely had time to register your orgasm hit.

your back arched, your mouth falling open as moans spilled out shamelessly. your hips rolled against his face as you came, and minghao didn’t stop—not for a second. he worked you through it, sucking and licking as though he felt your climax before you did.

he only pulled back when you began to squirm, your breath coming in sharp gasps as overstimulation took hold. his lips and chin were slick as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes glinting as he looked up at you.

“had fun?” he asked, sarcastically.

you gave a breathless laugh, your chest heaving as you leaned back in the chair. “you talk too much for someone who just spent five minutes swallowing my pussy.”

his smirk widened, and he stood, his hands braced on the armrests as he leaned down, his face inches from yours. “and you talk too much for someone who’s about to beg me to fuck her.”

your gaze flicked to his lips, and then lower—to the bulge straining against his pants. “big words,” you said. “let’s see if you can back them up.”

his hands slid to your thighs, lifting you effortlessly as he walked you back toward the desk—no needles this time. you didn't even had time to register what was happening before your skirt was pushed higher, his fingers brushing over your thighs as he settled you on the edge.

his hand worked his belt, the clink of the buckle making you clench around nothing.

“this isn’t gonna be quick,” he said as he freed himself, the sheer size of him making your breath catch. it was big both in length and girth.

you swallowed hard.

“relax... mhmm”

he teased your entrance with the tip, sliding it slowly against you, and the stretch was immediate, even as he slightly pressed in. your breath hitched, your hands gripping the edge of the desk as he pushed forward, achingly slow, giving you time to adjust.

“ngh—fuck!” you gasped, your voice breaking as he filled you inch by hard inch.

“breathe,” he murmured, his tone gentle despite the tension in his body. mouth glued on yours to make sure he feels your puffs of air.

“trying”

he paused, his hands tightening on your hips as he leaned down, his lips brushing your ear. “you’re okay,” he whispered. “just breathe for me.”

you hiccuped, your chest rising and falling in shallow gasps as your body struggled to adjust.

“there you go,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your jaw as he waited “good girl. just like that.”

you exhaled slowly, your body relaxing slightly helping him to slid in further, the fullness stealing the air from your lungs.

your hands gripped his arms, your nails digging into his skin as he finally bottomed out, his body pressed flush against yours.

“fuck,” he muttered, his voice tight as he buried his face in your neck. “you’re—so fucking tight.”

you swallowed hard, your head tilting back as you tried to catch your breath. “you’re—so fucking big.”

he pulled back slightly, his eyes meeting yours as a smirk tugged at his lips. “think you can take it?”

your breath hitched, and you nodded, your hands sliding to his back as you wrapped your legs around his waist. “try me.”

minghao hips pulls back just an inch before thrusting forward experimentally. the sound that left your lips was somewhere between a moan and a strangled gasp, your nails biting into his shoulders as your body clenched around him.

he paused, a smug smile tugging at his lips as he tilted his head to the side, his eyes flicking over your face. “yeah, knew that’d happen.”

“don’t—” your breath hitched as he moved just slightly, a tiny shift that made you clutch at him even harder. “don’t fucking smile like that.”

his laugh was quiet, he leaned down, his forehead brushing against yours. “why not? you’re almost cummin already.”

“i’m not—” the words caught in your throat as he slid just a little deeper, your body trying desperately to adjust to his size.

“not what?” he asked, his tone playful as he stilled again, waiting for you to catch your breath.

“not—cumming” you managed, though your voice shook with the effort of speaking.

“hmm.” his thumb grazed your clit, circling it trying to soothe your nerves. “then why are you holding on to me likethat?”

you glared at him, though the effect was probably ruined by the way your mouth fell open with a gasp as his thumb pressed down just slightly harder.

your body tensed as he began to move again, sliding in slowly, each inch dragging against you in a way that made your head fall back. the wet squelch of your body adjusting to his girth filled the room, obscenelly.

“shit,” he muttered, his voice tight as he wrapped his arm around your waist, holding you steady. “you’re so—tight. feels like you’re trying to squeeze me out.”

“maybe i am.”

he laughed softly “you’re all talk,” he murmured, his thumb still circling your clit. “that pussy is begging for me.”

“hao,” you whispered, your hands clutching at his arms as your legs tightened around his waist. “i—fuck, i can’t—”

“you can,” he said softly, his lips moving against your neck. “breathe for me, baby. you’ve got this.”

you exhaled shakily, your chest rising and falling against his as you tried to relax, tried to let the tension in your body melt away. his thumb pressed a little harder against your clit, insistent, coaxing pleasure to override the discomfort.

“that’s it,” he murmured, his voice soft as his arm tightened around your waist. “just like that. let me in.”

your head fell back, your eyes fluttering shut as he finally slid deeper, his hips pressing flush against yours. the sensation stole the breath from your lungs, and your fingers dug into his shoulders, desperate for something to anchor you.

“you okay?”

you nodded weakly, your hands sliding up to grip his hair as you whispered, “move.”

he chuckled as he pressed a kiss to your temple. “not yet.”

your eyes snapped open, frustration bubbling in your chest as you glared at him. “hao—”

“relax,” he murmured, his thumb circling your clit again, making you cry out slyly. “i’m not gonna ruin you all at once. gotta make sure you can take it.”

“i can,”

“we’ll see,” he said, his tone smug as he finally, finally pulled back, his cock dragging against you.

“hao, just—fuck me already.”

his laugh was quiet. “you’re not ready for that yet, look—” he roll his hips, making you hiccup again. “but don’t worry—I’ll get you there.”

“how about you?” you ask, feeling your orgasm building up as he circled the thumb faster, your hips rolling slightly, weak, like the cock inside you was to heavy to make you roll them freely.

“i can get off just by looking at this pretty face...” he slaps your cheek weakly, twice, making you squeeze around him. “listen to what i'm telling you… you're still going to model for my brand.” he chuckles.

“i’d rather choke to death than work with your brand.”

“why don’t you choke on something else, then?”

[dykedvonte]

I think a big misunderstanding is the power people give Curly to actually change things about the way the pony express operates or could’ve done things on the Tulpar.

We are talking about a company that docks pay for bad synergy despite mandated psych evals that should tell which staff members would work well together, only allots for 5 hours of sleep despite having literally no other tasks to truly do and locks all resources behind the access of one person. The last one is likely to manage resources and make it easier to justify collective punishment and blaming one person for it; someone needs something in “excess” or the captain gives in? It’s all on them your pay is docked. Instant resentment.

It’s insidious how the company works, it’s by design to distract you from coming after them, to force tensions to line their own pockets. With all the restrictions and forced interactions, altercations are bound to happen. 5 hours of sleep a day, limited sources of entertainment, no real tasks… the monotony alone would cause bad cabin fever, mix that with just only one absolute mediator and you get the exact environment that allows shit like in the game to happen.

The idea he could just complain and try to throw his weight around to get them to dig into their pocket for the crews comfort is laughable and misses the predatory and dehumanizing aspect of capitalism the Pony Express represents. Curly was and is still just another asset to them. Being a top show pony doesn’t mean he’s anywhere close to the actual top. He is the top of the working ladder, not whoever’s in corporate, he wouldn’t even be on the bottom step unlike what Jimmy perceives. The resounding recommendations he would get are almost mocking as they throw him out like nothing just like the rest. Being a shitty fucking company, how much do you bet they’d mean anything anyways, especially since he wanted to leave the field all together.

He made a fuss and they didn’t listen, he says he should’ve done more but you can tell he knows it wouldn’t have changed anything. Jobs like this are willing to make a sacrifice if it means even a penny more. Curly makes a bigger fuss they likely would’ve just found an “unrelated” reason to fire him, hired a more pliable guy or, terrifyingly, promoted Jimmy. The company was failing, going to shut down whether anything happened on the ship or not. But knowing that they were shutting down and that everyone, including him, would be out of a job with this being their last paycheck, he had to factor in not destroying the last bit of their financial stabilities combined with every other issue on the vessel and his own. He gets another cryopod or locks and then he has to break to them that they are not only fired but there will be substantial cuts to their paychecks due to the “upgrades” (things that already should’ve been in place on their part) on top of anything else that could be docked along the way.

You can blame him for saying it so early into the trip but then again, if he mentioned it later who’s to say it wouldn’t have been worse? On the capitalism side alone how would people in a galaxy away from home, out of a job and already stir crazy react? Don’t get me started on how Jimmy would have reacted if he realized he only had two days left to fix what would be a very hard to miss “problem” in his head…

I can’t even consider explaining this as devils advocate because it’s just facts of the world we and they live in and factors that heavily affected the situation. People are just so quick to make claims on the ease of the choices when P.E literally makes it hard to choose to do anything but suck it up.

[writingmeraki]

patch you right up — a r.c drabble.

★ pairing: rafe cameron x frenemy!reader, enemies to ?? ★ genre: hurt/comfort, unresolved feelings. ★ warnings: cussing, mentions of being drunk, violence, mentions of wounds and treating them. ★ a/n : urm very...random, silly, might not make sense but it was rotting in my mind, lmk what you think <3 ★ w.c : 1.1k

“This was very fucking stupid of me.”

Hissing in pain as the hydrogen peroxide made contact with your torn knuckles on your hand, you held your bruised jaw with the free hand and looked away from the blood glistening because of the light above.

“Oh you don’t say?” His voice was mocking, nothing new but it held an underlying annoyance you could somehow detect. 

Sighing, you pulled your hand abruptly, which earned you a sharp turn of his head in your direction and his dark blue eyes glaring at you, “What are you doing?”

“You don’t have to do this-”

“Shut up.”

“No I mean it, Rafe. It’s my fault, ‘ll patch it up myself.”

It did not help how horrible your head seemed to ache as you shut your eyes briefly, everything felt overwhelming, especially with him being this close to you. Him just anywhere near you was enough to drive you a little over the edge and it seemed to get worse when you had a bit too much liquid courage in your system. 

“Look at me.” You hated how easily you complied as you opened your eyes to find him staring at you, only this time, they were much softer.

That wasn’t hard to do, considering the position you were in. On his impossibly large bathroom counter as he stood between your legs, really you didn’t have much to look at. 

“It’s not your fault, alright?” You spited it when people would always give you fake sentences for the sake of being ‘kind’, it was all sugar coated shit to you. But somehow when Rafe Cameron said that to you, your heart felt like it would combust then and there.

It didn’t help how the daziness was elevated as you scanned his features up close. He was unrealistically beautiful, carved gently.

Because he was who he was, you knew he meant what he said. For all the time you knew him, he was one to be honest. About how he felt, about what he felt and for who he felt. Though, when you questioned yourself what he might feel for you now, you’d say you don’t know.

Nodding along to his words, you leaned to your left, luckily having a wall to support you and not embarrassingly falling, you’d done enough that night. 

Without more words, he gently grabbed your hand and finished cleaning up the burst skin and spilled blood. You once again shut your eyes, this time tightly as you clenched your jaw when he applied ointment.

“ ‘hurts.” The treating part made you wince even more than when you were getting the injury. Probably how most of the adrenaline wore out by now.

“I know, ‘almost done.” He gently spoke up as he concentrated on patching up a bandage around your hand.

A quiet silence filled the space for a moment, and even though you did feel out of it, you could sense he had something to say.

“Why-why’d you do it?” He said as he finished with your hand, instructing you to sit up straight. His hand on your jaw did make you more alert even though he was very…gently doing it. It was colder than you expected, and you were sure he could feel how warm you were getting when he was slowly caressing it with a delicate touch.

“That’s outta bruise badly.” His eyes held remorse and his frown deepened. You didn’t even realize your own gaze lingered on his lips.

Gulping, your eyes darted away from his face. Maybe it was the guilt or the buzz, but you murmured out,

“...I- it was well…It was stupid but I- couldn’t control myself. I got mad.”

His hand paused and he raised an eyebrow in curiosity. This was new. 

“They- they were saying stupid shit. I knew they were doing it to rile me and well they did that just right. It was fine when it was about me, I ignored it but I couldn’t stand the rest.”

Something in his chest flared as his confusion was slowly turning into realization but he continued letting you speak,

“They began talking shit about…about you.” You recalled the tone they used, the words they called him and you could feel the familiar annoyance and anger build up as they replayed in your mind.

“And I couldn’t stand it alright. I just…no one talks shit about you. No one except me. I mean, the fucking audacity to even say those…those things when they’re probably even worse!”

He blinked a few times to make sure he heard you right. You’d looked to the side, scowling as you clicked your tongue.

“Next thing I knew, I’d just hit someone and then the same happened to me. I guess maybe I deserved one but you should see the other idiot’s face.” You finally looked back into his eyes, a slight smile on your face when you recalled hearing the other dude’s nose definitely crunching and you were sure it would never be the same. You’d made it very sure.

He did not know what to feel. Amusement? Shock? Disbelief? But over them all, his heart fluttered wildly as his eyes scanned your face. The same one that had been haunting his mind since the first time he’d seen you, the first time he’d ever have someone make him more mad than anything yet made him want you closer. You were simply driving him insane since he’d met you. 

He just never realized, until now, that maybe he was never the only one who felt the same.

Tilting your head, you licked your lower lip, his gaze moving there for a brief moment, you said, “But you know what?”

One corner of your lip turned up as you smirked lightly, “I don’t regret it. I’d do it again in fact.”

His tongue felt heavy as the words clogged up in his throat, he gulped down the knot formed as he clenched his hand that was beside you, over the counter edge. He stared intently into your eyes, you could feel your heart beating faster as you leaned closer. 

Before you knew it, his lips were on yours as you fluttered your eyes shut, hand going over his neck and pulling him impossibly closer. His hands moved to your hips, pressing into them as if he was afraid you’d disappear and it was all a dream.

It was messy as you’d expect from two people whose own feelings were a mess, your non-injured hand ran over his hair and he groaned into the kiss. You might as well have just combusted then and there. 

Feeling the need to breathe, you gently pulled away, resting your forehead on his as his hand came up to your face, caressing it gently.

“You’re fucking insane, you know that right?” He breathed out as he tried to steady his own breathing and rapidly beating heart.

“Over you? Fuck yeah.”

extra a/n : ...yeah I'm sorry if the uhm kissing part sucked...it's been a very whole while.

all written works as well as images and edits (unless credited) belong to pri. do not plagiarise, repost, re-edit or claim as yours. pics mostly found on pinterest.

writingmeraki Ⓒ 2024

feedback is always appreciated 💌 ! links : main navi ! | misc masterlist | main masterlist | info !

[coeurify]

“it’s november.”

the words have you jumping, the unsolid, rounded edges of the stool you’re currently standing on wobble with the movement of your foot. a squeak follows, rushing to find your balance— which is fine so by pressing your hand against the wall you were trying to reach the top of.

the hand that’s currently holding a string of multi colored christmas lights, the green trail of side dropping below you, your stool and the wall you had already pinned them to.

“it’s november,” the voice repeats— belonging to your girlfriend ellie, who walks behind you and peers up. the sweater she wears is pushed up to her elbows, pooling the cloth in a way that makes her look a little silly. as silly as the tone of voice she uses as she continues her obvious teasing. “and you’re already putting christmas lights up?”

your lips pout out immediately at the words, huffing as you press your sock clad feet. “november is almost over el. this is an absolutely valid time to put these up.” you wave your hand holding the clump of lights around, much more steady on your little wooden stool you were using for some added height.

“babe, thanksgiving hasn’t even passed,” ellie continues— and you can see her shaking her head even out of the corner of your eye as your head turns back to the wall— jaw clenching as you press up on your toes again to hand the light over the next pin. the small chuckle that the sight of you struggling to reach the spot seems to bring only annoys you more— head snapping to look over your shoulder with a look ellie liked to call your ‘scary eyes.’

“you can’t even— baby you can’t even reach. how did you get all that up?” ellie tries not to laugh but she can’t help it, the bursts of giggles slipping from her lips before she can stop them, green eyes trailing over the soft and cozy living room you two shared. somehow, alone with your little shitty stool.. you had covered at least half of the room while she was napping. “let me help,” she offered, a hand reaching out to steady your leg.

“no!” you complain, kicking your leg out a little to shrug off her hand. it only brings the wood below you to rock some more, which makes ellie grip a little harder. “you’re being judgy. i don’t want your help.” you sound petulant, maybe a little hurt by her amusement that you were doing this now.. alone.

“i am not being judgy,” ellie soothes her hand over your leg as you reach forward and successfully hook the sting of wired lights over the next spot. “you are, and you’re basically the same height as me— you can’t reach shit either.” you continue, the dig at her height a teasing one, paired with an eyebrow raise and fleeting glance back at her.

“ow?” ellie’s free hand clamped over her chest in faux hurt— the ragged cut strands of deep auburn hair shaking with her head. you find yourself watching the movement and fighting away a smile. “i meant by keeping you steady but if you wanna be mean i can totally let you do it all.” ellie pinches your leg over the fuzzy sweatpants you’re wearing. if it was anyone else you might be a little worried she was actually hurt.. but you can hear the humor seeping into her words and drawing out her sentences.

“fine,” the sigh that comes with the tingle word makes it seem like this decision was just absolutely the most difficult one you’ve had to make— the dramatics always evident. “i guess you can help. but only if you quit saying i’m doing it too early.”

honestly, you had planned to finish this little light hanging before she was done with her nap. she worked a long day with joel, you wanted to surprise her. and okay.. maybe you had seen one or two too many videos about the holidays that had given you the itch to decorate something and right then. but clearly the surprise element was lost, and ellie’s sarcastic taunting had replaced it. so now maybe you’re doing it out of spite. who knows, maybe you’ll even put on the santa clause after.

ellie’s fingers raise to her mouth, fake zipping them and nodding quickly. the urge to roll your eyes is one you act on, scoffing at her before you turn again and feel the steady warmth of her hands on both of your legs now, shifting you a little bit further down the wall for the next spot.

your lip falls between your teeth again, toes straining against your feet as you push as high as you can to get the next spot and—

“okay but you can admit most people wait for after thanksgiving right?”

“ellie!”

[vigilskeep]

Do we know enough about how Crow succession and talonship works to believe it would be possible for Viago to take the seat of first talon either through some sort of non-violent coup in the absence of an heir to house Dellamorte or through marrying his kid (rook) off to Lucanis? Asking because I really don't know and would love to write something in that direction...and you seem a crow enthusiast...also love your blog

THEORETICALLY. yes.

we haven’t seen the talons shift directly, but they do shift, with regularity. house arainai was first talon in living memory and then fell slowly downwards to their current point where they’re struggling in and out of eight talon like a drowning man who keeps finding his way to air for just enough breath

the eight talons system, if you’ll allow me the tangent, is a really fascinating choice of fantasy hierarchy because it is such a clear hierarchy. among a bunch of ambitious killers whose prime goal is notoriety. you can only hold each position here if everyone below you is too afraid to do anything about it. what an anxiety trip it must be to decide whether to push someone down just one rung or to try to destroy them entirely; do you want to leave your rival with more opportunity or more motivation? but crow power is also all about theatre, all about perception—you are first or fifth or seventh talon primarily because everyone agrees that you are—so making a failed gambit for a higher talon has got to be incredibly damaging. which is a risky setup. it discourages attempts, but when someone does make an attempt, they will not be fucking around

anyway ignore all that we’re talking about soft takeovers today. okay so house dellamorte has a dying core family, theoretically. we’re making the assumption that no surviving young children from any branch of the family are mentioned because none exist. we have two heirs, neither very acceptable (my apologies to caterina’s delusions), both men in their 30s with (again, assumed) no children, and neither making much progress in that regard. (arguably dependent on player choice when it comes to lucanis, but since he can fall in love with and express his undying devotion to any kind of rook, we can at least say he’s not making that much effort.) within a generation the core family may die out. but that is a LONG TIME to wait. you still have to deal with the current ones, they’re pretty robust

lucanis is the current first talon as of the end of veilguard. can he be convinced to give this up and hand first talon over to someone better suited? i do believe it. mostly because i need to believe, for my mental health, that we can get him out of there. but he also now has a fairly bulky support system full of people who love him and will notice how bad this is going to be and convince him he deserves things like a life he doesn’t hate

as always your main problem is caterina. caterina is not going to allow a takeover, soft or otherwise, while she is still alive. caterina didn’t give up first talon when they murdered her children. there’s probably an emotional plot in here where she can be made to accept what she’s done to her family, far too late, but with time left to save just one by letting him go. on the other hand, i’ve also been experimenting with plots in my mind where she tries to quietly get rid of viago or romanced rook for having too much influence, with the added benefit on hopefully being able to steel & refocus lucanis on defending the house against whoever she frames. or plots where she blames lucanis trying to leave and not being the boy she remembers on his, you know, demonic possession, and attempts to forcibly remove or destroy spite. so. there’s potential ups and downs, here.

i don’t know how helpful rook de riva/lucanis is. most of your problem here is that everything that sets this ending up by giving the de rivas more power, and by giving any rook more power over lucanis, is something that in my mind would crank caterina’s wariness all the way up. house de riva surely has to move up from fifth already after the events of the game and look more like a contender, and i don’t think even caterina’s delusions about lucanis’ suitability for first talon could make her blind to the effect rook can obviously have. i definitely think she would delay on a marriage and have the power to do that

i think it’s worth saying that rook de riva at any point bringing up to lucanis the idea of handing things over to viago would be a hell of a conversation. i know lucanis never remotely suspects rook of any agenda and trusts them completely, and i know i agree with rook here, but you’ve GOT to see how “i love you and having power is bad for you and what you should do is hand it all over to my talon” sounds. i truly could not blame him for a bit of doubt here especially if caterina was around to suggest it

sorry this is a completely messy and disconnected response. i don’t even know if i had a point. you might have to wait for caterina to actually die? is that my point? i can see rook de riva/lucanis being helpful to ease a transition of power to house de riva then. i also think it’s worth pointing out that teia might be the better contender for all this out of the two lovebirds. what quietly makes teia probably the most dangerous talon in the crows, if she ever chose to be, is that everyone likes her. i’m not joking or trying to handwave crow politics, it’s a form of soft power and the result of her cultivated skill that nobody ever suspects teia of anything. even caterina treats her gently, and literally a talon who tried to murder all the others in tevinter nights was delaying murdering her because she was his favourite. if anyone can handle a gentler transition like what we’re talking about, maybe it’s more likely to be teia

[planetpedri]

Heyy I’m wondering if you could write a part 2 with angst/comfort of the waiting room Pedri fic I literally need to see them get together so badly (⋟﹏⋞)

Waiting room p.2 — Pedri González.

Pairing: Pedri González x Fem!Reader

Summary: He was all you thought about for weeks after you saw him and you finally get yourself to grow up and seek him out.

Word count: 1.74k+

Disclaimer/s: this is a majority angst but will end in fluff! this is also a part two! click here for part one !

A/N: “sleeping with the lights on” by searows is so like im clawing at my head!! this is what it’s based on !! this was so rushed soz.. also!! it’s pedri’s birthday so i will be posting quite a lot of blurbs for him today ^_^~

The dim lights that lit up the porch of a home you’d once known no longer casted a welcoming glow over you. They were cold and whispering for you to leave, to get out of there before you made another mistake.

Your eyes closed for a moment as you collected yourself. You were here. You had been planning on doing this for the past week, you couldn’t go back now.

You don’t get the chance to walk away, the door cracking open and in it appears a blonde. Your heart sinks the moment you see her, but it goes away quickly. Behind her is a man you recognized, Fermín. Great.

The blondes eyes shoot wide in surprise, “shit, is that who I think it is?” He clambers down the steps, his girlfriend—presumably, in tow. “Long time no see, Pedri’s inside. We’re the last to leave.”

You force a warm smile, trying with all your might not to topple over. “Fermín! Wow! How nice to see you.” Your brain goes fuzzy as he offers a short conversation, one you desperately wanted out of.

When he does finally leave, you take a few steps up and onto the porch, now only a few feet from the door. You take a long, calming breath before knocking on the door.

“Did you forget—“ Pedri’s words die on his tongue the second he opened the door, his breath being knocked out of him.

Something flashes in his eyes, something you couldn’t quite decipher. The second it appeared though, it was gone in a simple blink, a look of vacancy filling his expression.

“Come to personally give me your.. invitation?” He sighs, not bothering to allow you into his home, instead opting to close his fist tighter around the door handle.

You look away, staring down at your feet for a moment as you gather your bearings. When you look up, your mouth opens and closes, seeking out words that never come.

From his stiffened posture, the spite in the crevices of his expression, you know he wants you to leave.

Forcing yourself to speak, you run a hand over your arm in a smoothing up and down motion. “Do you see a ring?” It came out a lot more sarcastic than you meant, but when Pedri’s gaze flickers to your hand, you see something short of relief cross over his face.

Pedri looks up, meeting your eyes for the first time since you’d arrived. “What happened?”

You. You happened.

“It doesn’t matter.” You shake your head, “I just… I, uhm, I miss you.” You felt pathetic—weak even, showing up to his house like this. Your fiancée loved you, yet here you were on the porch of a man who’d never one uttered those words to you.

Pedri doesn’t look at you anymore, his gaze fixing on the ground as he shuffles uncomfortably, silently battling between his heart and mind.

“You can come in, it’s cold out.” He steps aside, making room for you to enter into his house.

You give a small nod, hesitantly walking into the house. It had changed a lot, but still held remnants of the past. Everything that you’d helped decorate, was gone. Every ounce of you in that house had vanished. Your heart cinched when you caught a glimpse of the drawing you made of Camp Nau on the shelf beside a few trophies, which the collection had significantly increased since you last saw him.

But, there was no familiarity beside that. The decorations were different, the furniture was different—except for the lounge chair his mother had gifted him as a housewarming gift.

“Sit, I was just making coffee.” He says, disappearing into the kitchen a few feet away.

You wander further into the living room, fingers trailing the cream colored couch. There were blankets scattered across them, and you were quick to figure out why. A black puppy laid on one edge of the couch, clearly sleepy, but watching you with curious eyes.

You smile faintly, slowly sitting down beside him. His collar read, ‘Nilo’. Pedri had always wanted a dog, he was so good with pets.

“I made you a cup, in case you wanted some.” Pedri announces his return, handing you the mug carefully. The second it was securely in your hands, he let go, as if being that close to you would make him catch some sort of virus. He choses to sit on a seat a few feet away, watching you closely and silently.

You weren’t sure what to say to him, so you start with the question you’d ask any old friend. “How have you been?” You hum, taking a sip of the coffee he’d made. A jolt of surprise hits you when you realize he hadn’t just made any coffee, he’d made your special coffee. The one that only he and you knew how to make.

He’d remembered something like that?

“Fine.” He answers bluntly, “and you?”

Setting the mug on the coffee table beside you, you meet his eyes. You were here to be honest, to not hold back anymore.

“Well, I broke off my engagement, so. Not great, but not terrible either.” You exhale, thankful to at least get that admission off your chest.

Pedri’s eyes widen momentarily. He hadn’t expected you to be the one to break it off. “Oh, i’m sorry. Was the guy an ass or something?”

You chuckle lightly, shaking your head. “No, he was a great guy. I just..” Now or never, now or never.. “I just couldn’t love him the way he loved me, I suppose.”

The raven haired man knew he shouldn’t have felt happy about that but, a part of him was. “I’m sorry to hear that.” He was giving you small and short answers, like he couldn’t form anything but.

He so desperately wanted to ask why.. to pry something out of you. He holds back though, because why risk prying when it could potentially leave him hurt once again.

“I know you probably don’t want to hear from me, I know I shouldn’t have shown up unannounced.. but Pedri?” You speak quietly, ashamedly, beckoning for him to show you a sliver or something other than indifference.

Pedri’s tongue darts out to wet his lips before he speaks. “Yeah?”

“I couldn’t love him because..” Just say it God dammit! Just— “Because he wasn’t you.”

A weight lifted off your shoulders the second the confession left your lips. Running a hand through his hair, Pedri laughs in disbelief. “You waited years to give me an hint of.. of anything!? Jesus, I’m trying to move on from you!”

Your eyes glaze over and you blink rapidly to push down any hurt his outburst had caused you. Then, you pause, confusion flashing across your face. “Wait—wait, what? You? Hint? Pedri. I waited for you?”

He blinks, “you waited? I—I thought.. what?”

A tight, tense air fills the room while the both of you sink in the revelation. Pedri’s the first to break it though, pushing himself up and off the chair. “Come with me.” He pushes his hand out in your direction, waiting patiently for you to take it.

You stare at it curiously, reaching out and connect your hand to his. A jolt shoots up your arm at the contact. That was the first time you’d felt him in years.

Without another word, Pedri tugs your hand and leads you out back, to the place you’d thought about every time you saw his face on the screen when watching Football.

Nilo’s collar clinks and clangs as he pads behind the two of you, which you smile at when his soft fur brushed against your leg.

Once Pedri reached his intended location, he motions for you to sit. Your eyebrows are pulled together as you lay in the grass, the bristles itching your back when your hoodie rides up.

Lying down beside you, his hand still in yours, he gazes up at the sky. “I thought that one day,” he starts, tracing the big dippers outline with his eyes, “that when I said I hoped you’d find requited love one day, you’d realize I was talking about me. That I would be the one to do that for you.”

“Then why did you get with whats-her-face.” You ask quietly, heart burning at his confession. Leaning your head against the itchy grass, you study his side profile. While in the midst of burning every single difference in his face compared to the last time you saw him, Pedri doesn’t look at you.

“Because I told myself you could do better, that you deserved better and there was someone out there that would love you better than I could.” He does turn to you now, “but I was wrong. Nobody will love you nearly as much as I love you.”

You felt dizzy, like you were floating outside of your body. This had to be a dream, right? You had dreamt of a confession similar to this since you were a teenager.

“Say something.” Pedri whispers, eyes flickering across your face trying to decipher what you were feeling throughout your long silence.

“I..” You cough lightly, a small laugh slipping through. “I can’t believe I let you push me away.”

His gaze drops to the grass for a moment before it raises back to you. “I can’t believe I pushed you away.” He admits, “i’m sorry.”

Forcing w small smile, you take your hand out of Pedri’s, pushing yourself up onto your side. “I’m sorry I never told you.”

“Tell me..?” He tries not to frown at the loss of contact, but does anyways, telling himself it was just because he didn’t understand what you were saying.

“I love you.” You frown, “I love you so much I ruined a potential marriage without even knowing if you felt the same.”

Pedri pushes himself up onto his elbow, his face mere inches from yours. “Is it terrible of me to say i’m glad you did?”

A soft laugh escapes your lips and you shake your head. “Not terrible at all.” Your eyes fall to his lips, quickly flickering back to his eyes. “What would be more terrible would be you making me go another minute without knowing what it’s like to kiss you, no?”

Pedri’s eyes roll with amusement. He cups your cheek, mumbling, “that would be a crime,” before his soft lips were against yours.

likes , comments , and reblog’s are all appreciated. lmk if you’d like to be tagged in future pedri posts.

ᝰ.ᐟ tags @halfwayhearted @sakashq @ar4ujos @hrts4havertz @spidybaby @gadriezmannsgirl @unx100to @st4rgirl-ellie

[underatreedrinkingtea]

Something Golden, Something Glistening

Chapter Summary: Lucanis, Rook and Spite spends some time together in the quite, early morning. There is some light flirting and teasing involved. Rook/Lucanis/Spite

Hello again! I enjoyed writing these idiots so much and think I will add more chapters to this. Might just be small snippets in their down time when they are not running around saving the world. Im not quite confident enough writing fight scenes and following the main story and what not. We shall see what direction this takes! Again, english is not my first language so if you see any mistakes I will do my best to correct them. Enjoy! Added a picture of my Rook if you wanted to know how I visualise her.

Chapter 2

The first thing he notices when he wakes up is that he feels...well rested. His mind is clear, sharp. Then suddenly sits up and panics, how long has he been asleep? Did Spite try anything while he was out? Did he hurt anybody?

“Mmh. Why would I? I can behave!” Spite appears before him and smirks. Lucanis regards him for a second, he sounds sincere, at least as sincere a demon can be. But Lucanis does not trust him, he knows Spite. And Spite has never given him a break before so why is this time any different. He always makes Lucanis' life more difficult in some way when he falls asleep.

“Spite, you always misbehave. Tell me what you did. How long were you up causing trouble last night?” Lucanis asks. The demon gives him a long look, and seems to think before he answers.

“Sleep well?” He asks with a small knowing smile. Like he is in on some kind of joke. Lucanis shakes his head and begins to demand an answer from Spite when he hears the kitchens open. Somebody is here for breakfast then. He needs coffee before he can handle Spite in a productive way anyhow. Lucanis begins to move towards the door when Spite suddenly inhales and exclaims;

“Smells like vanilla, old books and candles. Rook!” He sounds way too excited and Lucanis doesn’t like it one bit. ‘Mierda.’ He still wants that coffee. 

When he enters the kitchen and makes his way to the small kitchenette with the coffee pot and cups Rook is already there, making herself something to drink. When she hears him entering she turns around to greet him with a big smile. There’s several books on the table along with some paper and ink, no doubt belonging to Rook.

“Good morning, Lucanis! I see you slept in today, good for you.” She says in a cheerful manner. His eyes widened, oh did he really sleep that long? ‘Damn’ Rook sees his panicked expression and gives a breathy chuckle, shaking her head. 

“I’m only joking Lucanis. Don’t worry, it's still very early. We are the only ones awake actually. You are way too easy of a target not to.” Rook is smiling even bigger now, cloudy eyes radiant. And he is a fool

“Hah! Rook is fun! Lucanis. Believes. Anything. Rook tells him!” Spite is having way too much fun and he is sick of it. He does not feel well rested anymore. ‘Damned demon.’ Lucanis looks his way and gives him a hard stare and thinks ‘Spite, enough. Let me have some peace and quiet.’

‘Will you. Beg?’ Spite now wears a wicked grin on his face. If it was possible to somehow punch a demon, he would find a way. Spite’s grin grows and begins to make gestures as if he got hit.

“Spite please. It’s not nice to tease before a man has had at least 2 cups of coffee!” Rook looks between the two now, and compared to Spite, a soft welcome expression on her face. “And one needs a full stomach to handle..your bite.” She teases back with a sparkle in her eyes.

Spite drops his smirk and looks to Rook. One could say he almost looked like a disciplined pet. Shocked, Spite is shocked and doesn’t know what to answer. 

“But!” He looks to Lucanis and then back at Rook “You just did! Ugh, you tease him!” Spite lets out a frustrated huff. She gives him a pointed look and after a moment he is gone. Lucanis feels a tight knot in his stomach, hot and flustered. No doubt this is Spite, and tries to shake it off. This just leaves the two of them.‘Right, Rook can hear and see him." Lucanis thinks and clears his throat.

“I’m sorry about him. He is…extra annoying this morning.” Lucanis scratches his neck and looks down. 

“Oh no, that’s fine. I shouldn’t have encouraged him by teasing you…I.”

“I’m s-“ she starts off. 

“No it’s-“ he exclaims at the same time.

Rook lets out a quick laugh and clears her throat. “How about that breakfast now hmm?” She leans closer, smiling up at him. 

“Yes, let me get it started.” Lucanis turns quickly and begins to prepare for the meal. He needs something to do with his hands and get out of this awkward situation as soon as possible. Lucanis makes his way to the pantry to get eggs, bacon, bread and fresh fruit. He spares a quick look in Rook’s direction and her expression is..unsure and one of disappointment. She’s fidgeting with her books, looking for something to occupy herself with

‘Let her help! Don’t ignore her! Rook wants to talk. With us!’ Spite bursts out in his head, scolding him. Lucanis hates to admit it but Spite is right, and he wants to spend time with Rook as well, she is a breath of fresh air. He has never really gotten close with many people before. But with her, with this team…it feels like it could grow to be one of the good things in his life. He should cherish this, see where it goes. The complicated feelings he has for Illario and Caterina, the love he has for them is unshakable and mighty. But being shackled and caged for a year by Zara has left both Spite and himself split open, full of torment, with jagged edges ready to maim. Now more than ever before. He pushes those thoughts away for now.

“Can I trust you with cutting the fruit Rook?” Lucanis offers in a soft tone. He feels Spite’s approval.

Rook shuts her book at the sound of his voice, meeting his eyes she gasps;

 “The famous assassin is giving me a knife?! Is it because it’s the dullest blade that you’re trusting me with it?” She blurts out in jest. It seems Rook is quick on her feet with her playful jabs. And Lucanis finds himself enjoying this side of her, basking in her attention. Surrendering into this feeling. 

‘Go on..’ he hears Spite softly muttering, hopeful. Lucanis flexed his hands and went to pinch the bridge of his nose. With a quick breathy laugh he said to her;

“Yes, I fear the fruit has a gruesome fate waiting for them. But don’t worry, I’m extremely skilled in cleaning up a crime scene. The others will not know a thing.” The amusement clear in his tone. ‘You do know how to be fun.’ Lucanis ignores him, full focus on Rook now. She looks away from his gaze and shifts down at the floor, pulling at her fingers. He makes out rosy cheeks growing ever so slightly redder. He catches himself thinking he likes that colour on them. ‘Taste like joy, lightning in the stomach, honey and passion. Delicious. Pretty Rook.’ Spite voices in his head. Now Lucanis' cheeks start to feel warm. He wants to ignore him and the tingling butterflies within him. But he agrees with Spite because she is radiant, like an angel. He snaps back to reality by the sound of her laugh.

“Well I’m in the mood to murder some oranges this lovely morning, are there any left since you and Bellara went to the market? How about some cheese too?” 

“Cheese and oranges? You mean to have that for…breakfast?” Lucanis asks bewildered. Bellara warned him about Harding’s eating habits, but nothing about Rooks. 

“When I woke up today it just felt like an oranges and cheese kind of day you know?” She answers like she didn't just tell him the most ridiculous breakfast combination ever. Now Spite decides to chime in cheerfully. ‘I agree with Rook. Feels like cheese and oranges. Today!’ ‘Of course you do, you exist to torment me.’ He feels Spite’s amusement before he gets a reply;

‘Now there is one more!’ 

They work in comfortable silence for a while before Rook drops what she's doing and cries out;

“Oh, I forgot about my tea! I need to try that new one Harding grew in her garden for me.” Chair screeches against the stone floor followed by hurried steps towards the kitchenette. The knife in Lucanis hand stills and he feels like choking on his tongue. The tea is for her. Spite brings him back to the present by adding ‘She wants honey! In her tea.’ 

[queerespresso]

✨ Kant & Bison ✨

How I perceive their relationship so far. There’s for sure s*xual attraction..lots of it. That was apparent from the moment they interacted at the bowling alley. They were both very okay with it being a ONS. So I don’t perceive their night as a ‘love at first sight’ scenario.

Kant day dreaming about Bison felt like he was reminiscing on a very good night 😏 + maybe a bit of fondness for Bison’s personality. I was talking to a few mutuals about it and I shared in similar feelings that Kant is intrigued by the honesty and push back from Bison. Maybe he isn’t used to it?

♨️💭 The same can be said for in the bedroom. Kant may see Bison’s ability to put him in his place as an indicator that Bison may be capable of meeting that intimacy desire. I’m not sure how much experience Kant has had with his submissive side or if he’s consistently been relegated/more comfortable dominating or not partaking at all in SM with others (which fair if so, as you need trust).

Bison on the other hand, like I said in his personal post, he wants to be seen for himself. Not as an assassin. I think he’s probably lonely. When Kant gives him attention and is clear about wanting to be his boyfriend, that was appealing to Bison. He’s not clueless though. Kant is too smooth with some of his lines which is why Bison rolls his eyes or teases back. Kant is also consistently encouraging intimacy (maybe with multiple motives). It’s possible for Bison, he’s testing to see if Kant’s affection is real by holding off on more intimacy.

Now is Kant’s affection real? In my perception, sometimes. I feel like he’s a bit too smooth and thought out with the lines. I (personally) tend to trust people who fumble a bit more. It is entirely possible he really is just that smooth and confident without preconceived thought. But when he is quick to offer a relationship title to Bison without knowing him well, while having the police pressuring him to find information, it’s hard for me as the viewer to know what’s genuine or not.

For me, the moments where their foreheads are close to touching seem genuine (could be me being a romantic). Like they’re both overcome with their affection, even if it’s a crush or attraction at the moment.

While Bison IS having his “he likes me 🥹” moment right now, it could partially be a reaction to the attention or a crush. He doesn’t have consistent friends with their constant moves and is used to ONS after all. Bison also didn’t leave his phone number after the ONS and he was worried when Kant initially came to the dinner instead of simply happy so I think he’s not totally gone. He only started showing more openness once Kant made his intentions more clear. But of course that means the brat/teasing side came out to play.

I think Bison’s love will grow slowly as they build trust through moments where trust naturally grows: intimacy, trying to win over Fadel, persistently pursuing in spite of the obstacles, prolonged contact, revealing vulnerable information, etc.

I think it’ll be an internal struggle for Kant as he’ll sometimes forgets his mission and slip into his emotions. I truly think Kant will ‘fall’ in love and have oh sh*t 😳 moments. He’ll be very far in eventually and realize f*ck…I love him.

*Disclaimer: I am a bit of romantic but I tend to overthink various perspectives. No worries if you perceive their romance differently 🫶

[autumnmobile12]

Ambush Sim:  Touya and Hawks’ Relationship

I don’t want to call it complicated; how I write them is they’re both relatively straightforward with each other, but there is a distinct divide in how Hawks views Endeavor the hero vs how Touya views Enji his father.  That's not a part of their dynamic they can ignore, so this is the only way I can write this ship with any sense that it's a healthy one:

Hawks doesn’t know the full story and is also aware he can’t just pry it out of Touya, but he can tell with the father-son interactions that something is wrong and he has the understanding that whatever is causing Touya’s animosity is probably warranted. (He has heard the rumors other Pros share about Endeavor, has uneasily discounted them for lack of evidence and the fact none of the family members ever came forward, and has since come to the conclusion this stance may be naïvely optimistic.)  The same is true of Touya knowing Hawks has a reason to admire the hero but not knowing exactly what that reason is.  He has three main reasons for keeping silent about what his father did:

It is rooted in the years he’s already spent keeping silent in order to avoid the fallout should their family’s story go public.

It is also a matter of compassion.  He is not vindictive enough in this AU to completely ruin Hawks’ perception of his childhood hero, and this also a stance he took with his piano students.  True, there is the debate on whether or not it is honorable or even healthy to withhold that kind of information, especially when the likely response to finding that out is, ‘Wow, I wish you’d told me sooner.’  But this is the razor line everyone in this family walks in regards to their patriarch.

He's made this compromise with his sister; he figures he can do it with his partner.

So the result is Touya and Hawks have an unspoken and very temporary compromise of shelving the Endeavor issue.

They both know this is eventually going to be a discussion that can’t be avoided.

...

One thing I've noticed while writing, though, is their relationship very closely resembles these two:

And I'm pretty sure that's subconscious, but it's the personalities that match up for me.

Shinra is a more comedic character, but he's the character type you don't know to take seriously until they do something extreme and worth your undivided attention. Shinra will be joking and laughing with Celty in one scene, the next he'll be threatening a guy with a scalpel.

In the same manner, Hawks is similar. Trickster/goofball one moment, legitimately threatening the next.

Celty is also a bit of a silly character when you get down to it. In spite of being a serious and levelheaded fairy creature who's calling is to retrieve the souls of the dead and dying...she's clumsy, she misplaces things, she gets flustered, she's afraid of aliens to the point cheesy 80s sci-fi horror films scare her, and she's a terrible liar. What makes her comparable to Touya, however, is the theme of chasing something seemingly unattainable. Celty is a headless horsewoman whose head was stolen from her and she lost centuries of memories with it.

She could survive without her head, but she couldn't live without it.

And then there's Touya chasing after his father's recognition, surviving without it, and slowly learning to live without it in the Ambush Sim AU.

So in spite of the toxic elements of their relationship (and there are a few,) the way Shinra and Celty come together and balance out the bad with the good where it otherwise shouldn't happen...is adorable in all the wrong and right ways.

These two in the Ambush Sim AU are very slow-burn.

Hawks makes the slow-burn a writing requirement because of the demisexual headcanon I gave him. Putting it in the simplest terms, demisexuality is primarily needing an emotional connection first and foremost, and then there’s Touya who’s determined to keep everything emotional locked down due to past trauma. So the thought process is, 'That's a major incompatibility hurdle. Is that even gonna work?'

It's definitely one of the more challenging ship dynamics I've worked with, but after playing with the Trepha ship in the Castlevania fandom for the past couple years, I think I've got a good grasp of how to do it without it coming off as unnatural or toxic. In any case, it is an interesting ship to explore and I hope to do more with it in this AU because Touya and Hawks are very much black cat and golden retriever energy and I love that.

...

“So did you want me to cook or are you good with airport food?”

“Are you kidding me,”  Hawks laughed as he followed him.  “With how I was eating in America, I feel like I should fast for a week.  So many carbs.”

“I hear they have a good cultural variety.”

“Oh yeah, my first day there, I had barbeque pirozhki for lunch.  I don’t quite know what that is, but it was delicious.”

“I’ll find you a recipe then.”

“Really?”  He beamed at his turned back.  “You’re the best, you know that?”

“Yeah, yeah.”  Touya pulled out his phone.  “How do you spell that?

[ladyintree]

her eyes narrow in on her,   offended that she’s speaking like that isn’t something on tai’s mind.  it always is,   because she hates that mikayla didn’t get the life she deserved—  free of her father but more than that,  too.   not what actually happened to her.   she wants to ask if she was supposed to stay with her out of some obligation—   but she has enough restraint not to go there,  not when it doesn’t feel accurate.   she loved mikayla,   she loved her more than anything even when they did break up,   but it’s because she loved her that she felt like they couldn’t go on like they were.  she always thought that someday,  there would be a chance for them again — when they were both in the right place — but that never happened.  she didn’t realize then that saying goodbye was final for her.  ❝  that was not my response to … that,  ❞   she mutters in frustration,   quickly glancing to their surroundings,  then back to her.   ❝  i wanted to be there for you, ❞   she reminds her, like it’s simple to her.  ❝  i wanted to be the person you could still come to when you needed to talk, but—  but that wasn’t enough for you, ❞   she reminds,  letting out a scoff.   her eyes close when mikayla admits to never reading them;  part of her always expected that,  because surely,  something would’ve caught her attention,  but it still hurts.  taissa was still trying.   ❝  that’s not what i was doing.  what the fuck?  i cared about you,  ❞    she says,  voice slightly louder now,  growing with frustration.  

 it’s starting to feel embarrassing, the way mikayla throws that in her face.  it does feel like it’s spiting her—  but she didn’t necessarily believe mikayla would do that on purpose.  this is just her own insecurities getting the best of her,   a blatant reminder of how much she’s failed,  despite giving up on the love of her life to try to make something of herself.  ❝  excuse me if i don’t want you to do something you hate, ❞    she argues with a scoff.  ❝  i know it’s not about me.   you’ve made it clear you don't think about me at all,  ❞    she points out, rolling her eyes at the thought,  because even the worst company from the wilderness,  those still alive to run into at any moment,  tai still thinks about them,  so she can’t fathom why it's so easy for mikayla to have let go of her— her wife.  she holds her hands up as she shakes her head.   ❝  no.  good for you, mikayla.  ❞   her words come off condescending,  but she doesn't actually mean it that way.  she's is happy for her, despite it all.  ❝  if you're happy—  good for you.  that's all i wanted.  ❞    she just couldn't have the weight of it all on her own shoulders;  it felt consuming,  like it was going to suffocate her trying to be everything mikayla needed in there.  leaving entirely might not have been the best option,  but it felt like the only one back then.     

her jaw clenches, and mikayla doesn’t have to finish her sentence for taissa to know what she’s suggesting.  but even now, as angry as she’s been with taissa, and even given how estranged they feel—   she still thinks she would do anything for her.  taissa knows she’s alive because of what mikayla did for her out there,  not just physically,  but mentally.   she believes the same is true for her, too—  but mikayla keeps suggesting she’s wrong.   ❝  she—  i didn’t give up on you,  ❞  she corrects.   ❝  maybe you just never understood me.  ❞   but taissa doesn’t believe that, either.   she thinks mikayla would’ve understood her better than she understood herself.  her eyes narrow in on her and she shakes her head.   ❝  maybe if you listened to anything i said that day,  or let me finish,  or —  read my fucking letters —  you’d know the truth.   but i guess you like your story better,  where i’m just the bad guy.  ❞

taissa rolls her eyes,  because mikayla doesn’t need to defend herself for that—  she’s already made it clear she doesn’t care about taissa.  ❝  didn’t say you did,  ❞    she mutters,  taking a deep breath and forcing herself to stand taller,  trying to pull herself together again.   ❝  seems like you’ve been sitting on that one for a while, though,  ❞   she says, nodding back to her,  wondering just how long she’s been antsy to call taissa out on it.   her jaw clenches when mikayla goes on,  because that’s not what she thinks.  it’s never been what she thought,  even when so many people did assume the worst of her before things got bad.  taissa always saw more in mikayla.  she’s also never been loved by anyone the way she was loved by mikayla—-   which is exactly why it’s so difficult for her to comprehend mikayla wanting absolutely nothing to do with her now,  because how did she just turn that off?  ❝  i don’t think you're heartless,  mikayla.   you know that,  ❞   she reminds, her eyes narrowing in on her.   ❝  there’s a difference between being heartless and being so willing to give up on people when things didn’t go your way,  ❞    she adds, ignoring the fact that that’s basically exactly what she did to her first.  

after everything has mikayla on the verge of snapping the way she promised asher she wouldn't. her jaw clenches tightly, teeth grinding together as she takes a slow, deep breath, holding back the rant that's going on in her mind— how it was taissa who gave up on them after everything, who decided that what they had meant nothing out here, like it was just something to get them by in the wilderness, something they no longer had any use for anymore. “ i just killed my dad, tai, ” she reminds her calmly, because it feels like tai's forgotten. “ i almost died. and your response was to— to fucking dump me. so yeah, i cut you out of my life. but you're the one who decided you didn't give a fuck first. ” maybe tai never said that specifically, but it felt that way. “ i didn't read them, ” she admits, keeping her voice flat. “ wasn't really in the mood to hear you try to make yourself look better. sorry doesn't really erase what you did. ” it killed her, not knowing what those letters said, throwing them out before the temptation could get to be too much, but she figured it was what was best for herself— and since it was clear that tai didn't care about what was best for mikayla, she had to focus on that instead, even if it meant ignoring the only woman she'd ever loved.

she looks away, annoyed, because she doesn't think she could ever get tai to understand, not when she got to grow up with parents who supported her, while mikayla only had a man who put her down, who used every opportunity to make her feel like nothing. “ i just fucking told you why. it's not my fault it's not what you want to hear. because you'd rather hear me tell you it's to spite you, right? that it's about you, not him? ” she lets out a cold laugh, her head tilting slightly. “ well, i'm fucking sorry, but not everything has to do with you. ” it doesn't feel like tai knows her, because playing out of spite is something mikayla would have always done— especially now, when most of her choices have been stripped away from her, forcing her to turn back to soccer, because it's one of the few things she's ever actually been good at, whether she liked it or not. “ i'm not miserable, ” she lies, but she's trying to believe her own words more than anything. “ it sounds like you're just pissed off that i'm doing fine without you. ” she's not, but she's learned to accept that, telling herself that happiness no longer mattered, that it wasn't even something she wanted anymore, because she can't stand the thought of losing it again.

mikayla doesn't want to have this conversation at all, but her pride won't let her walk away. she can handle the pain, she thinks, because it's all she's ever felt anyway, but that doesn't mean she enjoys it. “ i was in love with the person i was with out there, ” she clarifies. “ you know— the girl i married. the one i would've— ” killed for, died for, done anything for, but she stops herself before she could go there, feeling like she shouldn't have to. “ but you're not her, taissa. and maybe i was just wrong about you, and you never actually were the person i thought you were, but— the girl i loved wouldn't have fucking given up on me just because it was hard. she would have tried. so i don't know who the fuck visited me that day in prison, but— that wasn't her. ” that's what she's told herself the last few years in her determination to move on— because it was easier to separate tai into two different versions: the one she loved, and the one who hurt her, because that made it easier to come to terms with the fact she lost her.

her jaw clenches again, realizing she fucked up, but it's easy to brush it off like it doesn't mean anything, her shoulders lifting in a small shrug. “ nat, obviously. but trust me— i never fucking asked. ” that's not entirely true, either; there's been a few times when mikayla has, telling herself that it's just because they went through something horrible together, so of course she's curious, never stopping to consider the fact that she can't say the same about some of the other survivors. her head falls back in annoyance when tai, again, accuses her of not giving a shit, because it's not true, and she's sick of hearing it. “ okay, yeah, you got me. i didn't give a shit, ” she agrees sarcastically, because arguing against it seems pointless when tai won't listen. “ nice to know you think i'm as heartless as everyone else does. ”

[enjamin-the-benitor]

I’m gay??? I’m straight??? It’s a hoax??? One big hoax??? A fairytale attributed to me??? But it’s a lie??? Fake news??? This will destroy my credibility???

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

I feel like, if he could, Satoru would choose to take on his spouse's last name, just like Toji did

ANON . I’M GRABBING YOUR SHOULDERS SO HARD RN CAN YOU FEEL IT .

I AGREEEEEEEEEEE . I’VE NEVER AGREED WITH ANYTHING MORE . as cocky as satoru can be i truly believe the gojo name is an INTENSE weight on his back. one that he’s grown used to. :(((( so if he met someone who made him feel like he could let go off that weight…. he absolutely would. i think satoru wants to be Yours more than he wants you to be His, you know? he wants to be let into YOUR life, not the other way around, because his own life is so bleak in comparison. i think he’d get sooo giddy at the idea of having your last name 🥺🥺

….. it’d also be a very big “fuck you <3” to his clan and the higher ups . which he’d find fun. (he corrects people VERY sternly if they ever refer to him as gojo instead of your last name …. it’s a little scary)

[onpie]

Noodles and Tea’s work inspired me fr

[moxxiemisfire]

A deep, concerned, frown etched itself on Moxxie’s face as he stared across at Blitz — he didn’t believe him. Not in the slightest. However, he’d come to expect the dismissive way that his the taller imp would dodge any display of genuine vulnerability. That why, when Blitz took a moment before amending his previous statement, Moxxie know just how huge of a deal that was. In all the years Moxxie had known Blitz (and truly, it had been quite a few at this point) the assassin had never admitted when he wasn’t coping well. It was a step. A significant one.

Moxxie let out a soft hum of affirmation, “Mills told me some stuff…” he began to explain, “I’m aware the two of you went ghost fucking…you know, in spite of them not existing…and that you stumbled into a possessor demon — who you both, and I directly quote, ‘beat the ever lovin’ crap outta’” There was a gentle calm to Moxxie’s words, his eyes focused intently on the taller imp as though the back of his head could provide any kind of clue as to how he was feeling. “I figure there’s a lot I don’t know,” he admitted with a loose shrug of his shoulders, “Despite what you might think, Mills doesn’t tell me everything — I think, maybe, she understands that there are things you probably don’t want her sharing…things that you’ll share with me in your own time if you want to..?”

It was weird to think that there was anything the couple didn’t share: considering how they were joined at the hip. However, the pair had a rich and varied relationship with Blitz and generally agreed that they weren’t owed any of the information the other was privy to. Moxxie agreed with Millie, he didn’t want to know personal details about Blitz because Millie had brought him into the loop. He wanted to know because Blitz wanted him to.

Moxxie felt a familiar tightness in his chest, eyes beginning to sting with tears that he blinked back into his eyes desperately. He’d always hated how easily he cried: it seemed to be his natural reaction to any even mildly intense emotion. If he was really happy? he cried. If he was sad? he cried. If he was angry? you guessed it, he fucking cried! It was mortifying. Fists clenched by his sides as he whipped his head to face the taller imp, a scowl written across his features in spite of his glassy-eyed look. “I-If I’m that useless then why don’t you just fire me?” he snapped despite his better judgement, “…maybe it’d be better for both of us…”

Feeling utterly hopeless, Moxxie wondered if Millie would reopen the portal if he begged really well on the phone to her. Hell, would his phone even get any connection here? It might be worth a try. Worst care scenario, it didn’t work and he’d gained nothing. Moxxie was pulled from his thoughts by a hand on his shoulder. He flinched visibly at the sudden touch, so lost in his own mind that somehow he’d not heard Blitz approaching.

The irritated glare that was plastered onto his features instantly crumbled at Blitz words. Instead, he just gazed up at the taller imp with a doe-eyed look of confusion and, perhaps, a glimmer of concern. Moxxie blinked a couple of times, just staring silently, as though he’d had some kind of internal system error. He parted his lips to speak, then closed them again. Fuck! This was huge. What if he said the wrong thing? What if he said something stupid and sent them straight back to square one? “I-I…You don’t—…I mean, I didn’t think…” Moxxie cringed a little at his absolute inability to form a coherent sentence, he was making it weird! “…Thank you…f-for the, uh, apology — are you okay?”

[soullessjack]

idk i just think it’s a little weird that almost every character who gets the “innocent baby” / “little ray of sunshine” treatment usually ends up just having neurodivergent traits and actual negative traits in the show that nobody pays attention to. like idk man it just feels like diet infantilization to me and it’s a teeny weeny bit uncomfortable to see all the time

[puppyeared]

I made a lmk oc