#None of the rest of these will be this in depth.

[cr4yolaas]

WHIPLASH — LOOK BACK

work is horrifying. men are horrifying. the whole world is horrifying, and horribly against her. she tries not to let her structure crumble — but there are limits to everything.

002. that's the industry, baby! / masterlist / 004. distractor

"I hate him," she mutters under her breath. It's barely a whisper beneath the noise around them, but the anger laced in it is pungent. He watches her take one, two, three sips from her drink before slinking down onto the wooden counter.

"You still haven't told me why."

Her head slowly rotates, shifting around in the nook she's created with her folded arms, to face him in all his midnight glory. The music is nothing but white noise, and all she can hear is the subtle thumping of her heart against her ribs.

(She doesn't really remember how he looked that night. All she recalls is his signature hat and the pretty jewelry he wore.)

There's only a string of restraint left in her. Her rationale — fine-tuned and perfectly curated after just a few years of surviving through this industry — tells her to keep quiet; that any details about her irritation and regret, no matter how long they may fester in the pools of her stomach, cannot slip out. But when he lays down to match her position and whispers a question, one she barely misses, the little string snaps.

"I'll just listen, if you want. No advice. No input. Just an ear."

(What happens between that and the moment they find themselves outside is a blur.)

It all spills out, the reservoir that she's been carefully maintaining up until then bursting at the seams. She rambles on about shitty coworkers, who can't seem to stop relying on her, shitty editors, who don't have any sense of proper management, and a shitty ex, who used all of it to get his way. All of her — the people pleasing, the work obsession, the ease in which she let things happen under the guise that something good would come out of it all. She tells him about it all in chronological order (because it's the only way she seems to remember things these days), from the opportunities he'd stolen from her grasp and the arguments and the pure, bubbling humiliation she feels just from thinking about it.

And he listens. Like he'd promised.

A part of her finds solitude in the knowledge that her chances of seeing him again are slim to none. Another part longs to see him again — how can she resist when he looks at her like she'd hung up the stars over their heads?

(The rest of the night is gone to time. She can't recall anything — she actively tries not to, a subconscious decision made the day after. What she does know is that she regrets it — regrets baring her soul, wide open, for someone gone so quickly.

It's a necessary evil. She knows she can't grow attached. But part of her wishes he'd stayed, just for another hour.)

★ super short filler/interlude :) a little background on megs' and yn's history

★ this took place when yn just transferred publishing companies -- she wasn't a sport editor at the time, hence why she didn't recognize him

★ i'll leave this chapter up for interpretation buttt there is an actual plot behind it, mainly w/ what happened @ yn's old company

★ in the main tl, the aespa fangirls don't know abt this night nor anything that yn shared </3 they r under the assumption that she transferred js for the fun of it

★ they minus toge

★ i rlly don't like how this one came out but i couldn't figure out how else to write it without it getting too detailed. this night is meant to be a memory that yn tries to force down, which is why it isn't as in-depth

★ hope u all enjoyed :)

TAGLIST: @kameyyy @s777athv @solecitoszn @1l-ynn @valvoria @standcom @kissunday @hqnge @applepi25 @fushiguruuzzzz @reveurdoll @anotherwriternamedclara @sh0ot1ngst4r @starrysho @lizbix @diearama @cherryredribbons @asuritam @tiramizuloz @saltypuffin1040 @burnishingbagels @beepbopzlorp @reezerdotcom @tibibibi123 @carneries @gumims @chososcamgirl @anngelllla @fefesooli @anngelllla @tiramizuloz @vrxouei @s3ns4ti0n4l @lucentwings @sentifua @in-the-marina-trench

divider creds @/animatedglittergraphics-n-more

[wrenaspun]

Just wanted to tell you that I love your writing so much — I reread “one way or another” like once a month at least. And any fic where you write from Laurent���s perspective is automatically incredible showstopping never been done before etc. in my eyes. Nobody gets the depths of his horniness for Damen quite like you :)

Anyway for the prompt, how about Laurent and Damen trying to figure out the best way to tell Auguste (alive) about their relationship

Aw anon, thank you, that's very kind!! I'm so glad you enjoy the fic(s) enough to return to them <3 For the prompt, this ficlet ended up taking place in the same 'verse as burst the sky in my head, but it should also stand alone just fine! -

“You could hire a skywriter,” Damen suggested lazily. He had one arm behind his head and was staring drowsily up at the clear Ios sky, his sun-browned skin glistening in the sunlight, looking like some artist’s wet dream of a classical painting.

Laurent scooped up a handful of sand and threw it at him.

None of it landed above his shoulder, but Damen’s face scrunched up anyway, and he brought his free hand up to brush fussily at a few nonexistent grains on his nose. Then he reached out and took Laurent’s hand and brought it to his lips. “You could have one of those parties,” he said, while Laurent tried not to melt under the combined force of the sun and Damen’s sheer charm. “With the glitter, and the announcements — what do they call them?”

“Gender reveal parties?”

“That,” said Damen. He mimed a balloon popping. “Congratulations, it’s a boyfriend.”

“That is not what Auguste would say if I burst a blue glitter balloon in his face,” said Laurent, but he spent a few minutes thinking about doing it anyway, just for the look they would get.

The problem was, there was no good way to tell one’s older brother that one was seeing his nemesis-turned-friend. More — that one was in love with said friend, wanted everything that came with that, to get married, to spend their lives together. Laurent curled his toes into the sand.

Not for the first time, he wished Auguste was a little less straightforward. But that was unfair, because he loved his brother’s unflappable straightforwardness, his easy candidness. It wasn’t really his fault that it made things difficult for Laurent, who had come out to his mother at the age of fourteen by saying well… in a delicately sceptical tone when she talked about his bringing girlfriends home. The next week she’d said the same thing but about boyfriends and he hadn’t corrected her and they’d understood each other quite perfectly ever since.

Auguste, good-natured and oblivious, would not pick up on such a hint. He was quite useless at picking up any hints at all, as a childhood full of poorly-coordinated cover stories for Laurent’s attempts at mischief would attest.

But if Laurent couldn’t hint, the only alternative then was to say it aloud: Auguste, I’m in love with Damen. I want to spend the rest of my life with him. Laurent wanted it so much that it became impossible to say. His desire was so ravenously enormous that it looped back around to being mortifying. He felt as though he had a very large, very poorly behaved dog behind him all the time, trying to get at Damen. He’d never felt like this before about anyone.

“You could hire a musician,” said Damen. And opened one deep brown eye to peek up at him, his merriment poorly disguised. “To sing it at him.”

“Will you please take this seriously,” Laurent grumbled, but even his voice was conspiring against him, refusing to sound sharp. He sounded disgustingly smitten.

Damen sat up, brushed off his torso, and then in a single graceful movement of rippling muscle he manoeuvred himself onto Laurent, pushed him down into the warm sand, pinned him bodily in place. “Believe me,” he said; Laurent’s whole body was flushed and thrilled, “I’m taking this very seriously.” He drew his nose over Laurent’s jaw, and even that minute touch sent sparks down Laurent’s spine. He turned his head and pressed a vicious kiss to Damen’s neck, applying his teeth, revelling in the laughing groan this wrung from Damen’s chest.

“Laurent,” he said breathlessly. Laurent hummed, and Damen said his name again, his smile audible. “I have another idea.”

Laurent broke reluctantly away. “Tell me.”

“Auguste texted me ten minutes ago asking where we were.”

“He what?” Alarmed.

“Well, he’s on break too,” said Damen, in an eminently reasonable tone.

“Is he coming down to join us?”

“He said something along those lines,” said Damen. “I didn’t want to interrupt your lecture on Professor Euandros’ shortcomings.”

“Oh my god, shut up,” Laurent muttered. Teaching Professor Euandros’s third-year course on classical poetry had been a nightmare that he would need the whole summer break to recover from. The man hadn’t met an organisational system he didn’t hate with a violent passion. “So Auguste — but what was your idea?”

“Oh,” said Damen. He rolled off Laurent and sat up — a poor start. Laurent said so and watched as Damen’s teeth showed in a dazzling grin. “Here, sweetheart,” Damen said, tugging Laurent closer to him. “Let him find us like this, and you won’t have to say a word. I’ll do all the talking.”

“Like this?” They were both sitting up now, leaning against each other, skin to skin. Intimate, but very innocent. Damen made an affirmative noise. Laurent hummed thoughtfully, then let himself slide down until his head was in Damen’s lap.

“Or like this,” Damen agreed, stroking his warm fingers through Laurent’s hair.

Laurent hummed again. Then, teasing, he turned his face and nuzzled in a certain direction. Damen jolted. Laurent bit down on a smile.

“Not like that,” said Damen. The beach was empty aside from them — it was small and relatively unpopular, and the vast majority of people had gone back to work last week — but there was still the little thrill of exposure. “Fucking hell, Laurent.”

“You said ten minutes ago,” said Laurent. Desire was swelling in his chest, as wild and as wide as the sea.

Damen said, “Yes,” very carefully. A man who knew exactly the kind of trap that was being sprung on him.

Laurent said, “It takes thirty to get down here from the university.”

[yanderejustforyou]

Special for You

Geto x reader

The air felt thick, like it was choking you, and the walls of the room seemed to close in around you with each breath. You could hear the low hum of something—distant, almost too quiet to make out—but it only added to the oppressive atmosphere. The lights were dim, casting long shadows across the walls, but everything in the room was carefully arranged. Neatly. Perfectly. Almost like a showpiece for someone who was being carefully curated.

But none of it felt right. None of it felt real.

"This place has everything you need, but nothing you want," you whispered, half to yourself, half to the man who stood in the doorway, watching you with that smile of his—charming on the surface but sinister in its depth.

Suguru Geto’s eyes were dark, calculating, as he watched you take in your surroundings. The room was pristine, furnished with expensive taste, almost too perfect to be genuine. There was food—rich, decadent, far too much for one person—and drinks, fine glasses of wine that shimmered even in the low light. The soft scent of roses lingered in the air, but it wasn’t the comforting kind. It was cloying. Overbearing. A reminder of how little you had to say in any of this.

“You think I don’t know what you want?” Suguru’s voice was low, almost a purr as he stepped further into the room, his presence suffocating as he approached. His steps were deliberate, the way he moved like he already owned the space—because, in his mind, he did.

You swallowed, your pulse quickening despite your attempts to remain composed. He was close now, too close, standing behind you, his body towering over yours. You could feel the heat of him, the undeniable pull of his attention. He leaned in, his breath warm against your ear, sending a shiver through your body that you couldn’t control.

“I made it special,” Suguru continued, the words coated in something darker now, something possessive. “Just for you.”

The words were a twisted kind of compliment, something that should have made your heart flutter but instead made it race with panic. His presence was intoxicating, overwhelming, a drug that had no antidote. Every corner of the room, every little detail, had been tailored to you. A prison of his making, a carefully crafted web that now trapped you.

You wanted to escape. You needed to escape.

But even as you fought against the invisible chains that seemed to bind you, a part of you knew it was useless. Suguru had always been like this—always watching, always calculating. He knew you better than anyone, and he used that knowledge like a weapon, like a leash wrapped tightly around your throat.

His hand moved to rest on your shoulder, gentle but with an undeniable possessiveness, and you stiffened at the contact. He noticed, of course, because Suguru noticed everything about you—the smallest change in your breath, the way your body tensed under his touch.

“You can fight it, sweetheart,” he murmured, his lips brushing your skin as his hand slid down your arm. “But it won’t matter. You’re here now, and I’ve already made sure nothing gets in the way of us.”

You tried to ignore the way your heartbeat accelerated at his words, tried to focus on the anger that burned in your chest, the defiance that screamed to get away from him. But it was hard. Harder than it had ever been before.

Suguru didn’t give you time to think. His hands slid to your waist, his grip firm as he pulled you against him. His body was warm, and you could feel his heartbeat—a rhythm you knew too well, even if it made your stomach twist with discomfort.

“You wanted freedom,” he whispered, his lips brushing your ear again. “But all I’ve ever wanted is you. This—everything in here—it’s all for you. It’s perfect, just the way you like it.”

No. No, it wasn’t.

But the words caught in your throat, unable to escape. Because despite everything, despite your desire to resist, you felt the pressure of his grip around you, like it was slowly suffocating you. You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. His presence was too much, too consuming, a constant reminder that there was no escape.

Suguru chuckled softly, sensing your internal struggle, his hands sliding further down, moving over your skin like he owned it. Like he owned you.

“Don’t try to fool yourself,” he said, his voice dark with amusement. “You’re exactly where you belong.”

Every part of you screamed for freedom, screamed for release from the grip he had on you—on your heart, on your soul. But with each passing second, you knew deep down that the more you struggled, the tighter his hold would get.

This place had everything you needed. The food. The luxury. The attention. Everything you could ever want... except your freedom.

And that was exactly the point.

Suguru Geto wasn’t here to give you what you wanted. He was here to show you exactly what it meant to belong to him.

[crosshairs-dumb-pimp-gf]

Disgrace Chapter 9 : Crosshair x F!OC

It's been a bumpy ride and it's only getting bumpier as our story plunges into the depths of the pleasure planet. Our heroes are shaken and feeling a fear that runs deeper than the chasm they find themselves entombed in. As they quake from the struggles that have gripped them, deep underground, some truths may come to the surface. Is a confession still true if it's whispered in the dark?

Chapter Specific Warnings: Smut, PiV+ Cπ, skin to skin comfort, lots of talking, Crosshair slowly becoming allergic to clothing (not literal) Angst, Crying.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Authors Note: Not much going on visually this chapter, but we're back baby! Tie up some lose ends and ease you guys into the second half of this book.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Word Count: 6746

Dynamic: Princess x Guard, Speed running Co-dependancy, A Mangy Cat and his Aggressive little Chihuahua. She's a damsel, she's in distress- she can handle it. Murder is his love language.

<-Previous Chapter - Read On Ao3 {START HERE}

Music Inspo- Like A Prayer, Bigod 20 Cover

Listen on Spotify - Listen on Youtube

Chapter 9: Like a Prayer

It was a bumpy trip, as we slid down through the open chasm. The headlights danced wildly as rocks caught the undercarriage with the sound of tearing mineral, tipping the speeder to free fall several meters, back end pointed down. We hit a smooth, slanted plane that crumpled the trunk compartment with a crunch of twisting metal and a painful jolt through my neck. The engine sputtered out and the headlights died as we pitched forward with a crash, sliding down the glossy slope, first with a slow shriek and then rapidly, faster and faster, we plunged further into the abyss. 

I wrestled with the handling, trying to keep us straight and away from the eerily smooth walls, but with the engine out I was steering blind without the headlights or power assist. 

Crosshair had thrown himself against my seat as we plunged through the open rock, binding me in place with strong arms thrown about me for dear life. His arms still wrapped about my chest was the only thing reassuring me he hadn't fallen out. 

I was pumping the breaks, but without the engine they were useless. The starter was clicking as I punched the button which wasn't connected anymore, I'd have to get at the wires again… not happening at this speed, even if I could see what I was doing. 

The slope sharpened into a narrow tunnel, sections collapsing behind us as our crashing vehicle destabilized the tunnel, sparks shooting off the side of the speeder as it drifted against the tight walls. 

We were slowing, gradually as the tunnel evened out. Eventually we were spat out into a wider cavern, the dragging speeder catching in the sand, finally grinding to a stop. 

Listening to the tink and clicks of the cooling engine with my eyes closed… I felt like I had gone def at the sudden absence of shrieking, sparking metal. Our heavy breathing reverberated through the cave, adding to the soft, ethereal soundscape filtering through the shock. I opened my eyes slowly, half expecting to find we hadn't actually survived that. My knuckles were white where they gripped the steering, then I looked around.

The vision that greeted me pulled a gasp from my rattled lungs. 

The cave system we came to rest in was deep… the dark enclosing rock far overhead. The stone had the same blue tinge as most Ga'haiian bedrock, though the walls had been worn to a polished shine, evidence of long extinct glacial flows. The old water channels spread in all directions from this main vein, twisting in impossible shapes. 

None of that was the remarkable part however. 

Quartz deposits, clear from years of pressure, were embedded throughout the walls of stone. Occasionally these clear patches would glow with a crackling snap of white electricity, the current arcing through the stone to resemble lightning strikes dancing along the cave systems tunnels, providing a constant, flickering light. 

“What is that?”

“It's Iotryke. A conductive kind of quartz, we landed in a vein.”

“Why's it doing… that?”

“I-I've heard it's ‘cause of the storm… lightning striking the mountains or something.”

The mundane exchange was calming our nerves… it wasn't just me that was rattled. He wouldn't let on, but I could feel the tremors in his arms binding me to the seat. 

I didn't want to think about the whiplash we'd be nursing.

He moved, tossing off his helmet before unlocking my buckle and lacing his hands under my arms, hoisting me up and over into the back with him. I fell against his chest. My legs were still caught on the back of front seat, but his arms were fixed tight, not allowing me to right myself.

…

“… you okay, Crosshair?”

“I'm sorry.”

“... For what?”

“I shouldn't have told you to run, I miscalculated,”

…

“You got me back… don't beat yourself up over it,”

His arms only tightened on me. 

“It was stupid. What if I had taken longer to get to you?”

“I would have kept stalling… look, things always seem obvious from this side of it but I assure you all those other plans going through your head could have easily gone just as wrong.”

Scrambling to loosen his grip, I shifted carefully to sit on his thighs holding his face. 

“Today it worked out, we'll learn from it tomorrow… for now, well… we're trapped in a cave,”

He looked away, trying to find his pride somewhere other than my eyes. Then his gaze flicked back to me. He cocked an eyebrow, lifting the leather jacket with a finger to scan the tan, stitched together two-piece.  

“What… exactly, are you wearing?”

I guess the nature of my dress hadn't really registered in the frenzy of the rescue. I put on a haughty tone,

“A respectful representation of our first peoples,”

“... Uh huh,”

He cupped my cheek, pulling me into a soft kiss, before resting his forehead against mine. The cold shiver in us was difficult to ignore, bringing our attention back to the shaken feeling we could sense on each other. It was more than the bumpy ride through the cave. 

I was scared… truly… truly scared.

I wrapped my arms around his neck, something breaking in me, pouring out through sudden, hot tears rolling off my cheeks to fall against his. 

Crying again… twice in one day. 

But I couldn't stop it, a slow stream of salt, muscles rigid as the day's events sank into me. 

His lips were finding each stray tear, kissing away the wet stains on my skin…

“I'm sorry… so sorry, Tahny”

I pressed hard against him, finding his mouth with mine. I needed him… I needed to not feel like this. Weak, fragile. 

“I don't need apologies,”

My hands had already started tracing the lines of his breastplate, searching for a hold to pry it off.  

His hand closed around my wandering fingers. 

“Tahny, slow down,”

“I don't want to…Crosshair, please…”

His name had become a cry of desperation on my tongue, begging for the peace I only felt with him…

He kissed me again, his gentleness in sharp contrast to my rough escapism. 

“Just slow down,”

He reached up and the breastplate came off, sliding from between us. The series of clacks echoed sharply against the acoustic stone hall, pieces of armor falling away one by one. 

I slid my hands under the hem of the tight black top as it was exposed, taking his lead, pacing myself. Just feeling his skin, his lips against mine.

More clicks, and I rolled the hem up and over, lips parting a moment as I tugged the shirt off of him. He slid the jacket from my shoulders, and started to pick at the leather knots lacing my vest closed. The article hung open as the straps were loosened from their eyelets, and I hugged tight to him again, pressing my skin against his. His warmth sunk into me, chasing the stubborn chill from my bones. 

He held me there against him, hushing sobs that were already starting to slow. 

“He really got to you, didn't he?...I should have gotten there sooner,”

I shook my head… that's all wrong.

“He shouldn't have been able to… I'm not so easily threatened, I shouldn't be scared of someone like him… somethings wrong with me,”

Why was I so shaken?

He was stroking my hair, confused and a little concerned at my rapidly swinging reactions.

…

“So you're afraid to die, I think that's normal, Tahny… you’re supposed to care what happens to you…”

I looked at him through the curtain of my hair. That was exactly it. Somewhere, somehow… I lost the sense of invincibility that came with embracing death.

“It's all your fault,”

“Excuse me?”

“Me, caring about things… it's been happening ever since you showed up,”

His lips twitched, the corners turning up briefly with a short exhale before he forced his usual serious expression, clearing his throat.  

“Is that so? What's so bad about caring?”

I groaned.

“Caring karken kriffs, Cross… it makes you want to change things you can't and have hope and all that… hopeful stuff.”

“So I… make you hopeful?”

This time he let the smirk fly, squeezing me with his usual mischievous spark glinting back at me in the flickering light.

I rolled my eyes, letting my head fall to his shoulder with a thump. 

“That is the sappiest interpretation possible,”

“You didn't say I was wrong,”

His voice purred against my ear, sending sparks down my spine. I hissed at him,

“Your foolishness is contagious.”

He lifted me, crushing his lips to mine. 

The side door thumped open, Cross kicking it wide to give us room as he angled me to lay on the firm bench seat, not letting our lips part. His hips snugged between my thighs, and I sighed, wrapping my legs about him. 

I was trailing my fingers down his back, the muscles flexing against them as Crosshair moved over me. I found the dimples of his pelvis between his hips and paused a moment, tracing the dips before sliding around front, guided by his hip bones, to unhitch his belt letting it slide to the floor. 

Lips were tracing a warm trail across my jaw, Crosshair leading himself to the sensitive spot on my neck to graze his teeth against it, making me shiver. 

“I need you, Crosshair…”

The confession was whispered in his ear, pulling a low groan of desire from the man who clamped to the tender flesh of my jugular, sucking a new mark into the skin. I tugged at his waistband, pulling his blacks down to his thighs, trying to hide the notion I might mean more than his body; not entirely sure if I was trying to fool him or myself. 

His half hard shaft fell free to lay on my belly and he pinned me like that, in no particular hurry to rush into the next step. The feeling of his hardening length pressed between us was causing a heat to rise desperately in my skin, my core. Need. 

Channeling my frustration I ran my tongue up his neck to take his earlobe in my teeth. The salt of his sweat stung my lips as I nipped him.

“Let me have you li’nen… take it slow if you must but do so inside me,”

“...the things you say.”

His voice was a smooth vibration against my skin as he continued to leave small love marks down my neck and over my collarbone, ignoring my request. I tried to reach for him but he pressed harder against me, blocking me. 

The cock in question was sliding over the thin leather of the tiny skirt and thong, making me quiver pathetically as he bit his way down to my chest, licking over a breast before sucking the nipple between his lips, teasing it with his tongue. 

I groaned at the rush of electricity through me... I wanted to disappear into the feeling. Crosshair had other ideas. 

Releasing my breast with a soft ‘pop’ he came even with me again, framing my face with his forearms to look into my eyes, pulling me back to focus with his protective posturing.

“I won't let it happen again, I promise… so you don't need to be afraid,”

You can't promise such things…

I was about to protest, but a look in his eyes caught me, bringing me to the meaning behind his words… a plead for me, needing me, to believe it… begging me to, so that he could. 

The gears in me whirred as I contemplated taking the weight of such responsibility. 

I can do that… if I want to believe you I can.

I cradled his chin in my hands, 

“Don't you dare break such a promise.”

His lips found mine with a renewed fervor, a restored sense of purpose as he slipped a hand between my legs to tug the thin strip of leather separating us aside. 

I moaned into his lips as he adjusted to press himself into my folds, coaxing his length into me, interlocking. The seat creaked as he shifted his weight to his pelvis, sinking as deep as he could. My legs snaked around his, hooking the heels of my boots around his calves. 

An ache bloomed trough my pelvis, my flesh was tender after our previous days together and I inhaled sharply at the stretching sensation. 

“Did I hurt you?”

“No, just a little bruised,”

“...I should have known, should I stop?”

I shook my head, pressing my cheek against his.

“Just, this once… be gentle,”

He hummed back, our arms wrapping tighter about each other as he reclaimed my lips. 

We sprawled over the backseat, entangled as he warmed himself in me, not yet moving. There was no frantic race to get as much out of this as we could, frankly, we weren't going anywhere anytime soon. 

His shooting hand cupped the back of my neck, calluses rough against my nape as his tongue dove against mine, pulling me into deeper and deeper kisses. Moans rose softly from me against his lips, letting out an occasional squeak when he'd grind his hips, sending a sudden wave of pleasure through me with the friction. 

Cross pulled his lips from me, whispers hot in my hair. 

“How long’s it been?...Since the night we picked you up?”

It was a difficult question to focus on, pinned to the seat as I was. Four days on the transport, the moon and all the in betweens…

“Two weeks tomorrow,”

I mumbled into his neck, tightening my thighs about him. 

“Kriff, really?”

“Mhmm”

…

“Just two weeks…”

His pelvis pulled back a moment, thrusting back home, I bit into his neck, stifling the moan that ripped through me. His hips kept that rhythm, slow, forceful, sinking my hips into the back seat with each thrust. 

I let his skin slip from my teeth, harsh gasps spilling from my lips to whisper back to me from the cave walls punctuated with pitched moans in time with Cross’s movements. 

“Say it again, Tahny... That you need me,”

“I need you.”

It barely left me before his mouth was on mine again, ungraceful and frantic as his thrusts picked up pace. I lifted my thighs to wrap higher around his back, angling him to hit that spot just right, bruises be damned. 

With his free hand his knuckles drifted down, dragging against my skin till he sunk his fingers into my hips to hold me still; Carefully, Crosshair stroked into me, the weight of his bare chest pressing hard against my arching form as he moved his hips. My eyes fluttered against the waves of bliss pulsing through my brain. 

“I'm so close… take me there, Cross,”

My thoughts felt fuzzy and warm, the skin against mine hot and heavy and comforting. His breath was becoming ragged against his own rising pleasure. 

“You're mine Tahny,”

He moaned it against my lips, thrusting hips starting to snap in an erratic desperation. 

“Say it… I need you to say it,”

…

“I'm yours, Crosshair,”

The delirium took us, my body taught and rigid as I came for him. Cross pulled my hips against his, groaning softly as he poured into me. 

He was trembling from the intensity of the release, hips still bucking weakly as if to deny the pleasure should end. 

Our gasping breaths chorused back to us, filling the cavern we were stranded in. I listened to the sounds of our mingled voices, watching the false lighting zig zag across the ceiling, slowly coming back down to the backseat of the wrecked speeder. 

“Just two weeks?”

He breathed it against my neck, air hot from exertion. I shrugged,

“We can pretend it's been longer,”

“I'm not sure that's the point…”

~~~

My shoulder burned from the stretched position leaning into the hood of the vehicle. I found another loose wire and clipped it in. 

“Okay, tap it again.”

Crosshair touched the wires under the dash together and waited. 

Clicking, but no start.

I flicked the vibroblade open again in a huff, angling it into the thin space to try to see with the dim light it cast. 

No, all these connections are plugged here fine… 

I leaned a little farther, wedging my slight form deeper into the tight space. Couldn't see much… but,

There was a faint ‘tink’ of something dripping. 

I carefully wiggled to face the fuel tank and sure enough, a gasket was knocked ajar of its clamps. Readjusting the fitting and tightening the fasteners I finally worked my way out of the engine block. 

“Alright, try again.’

To my surprise the engine finally roared to life and I thunked the hood back down, Casting a look at the man in the driver's seat wearing a mildly impressed expression.

“You actually did it,”

Not wanting to waste water I scooped sand off the floor and scrubbed at the grime on my hands. I scoffed back, masking my shared disbelief,

“Told you, these things can take a beating,”

The rest of the speeder was rough, paint stripped from either side and trunk mostly crumpled but it was up and hovering again. 

Thank the void.

The idea of walking from here to any part of civilization was far from appealing. Not like we could try to get back to Estkle from here, the southern tunnel that dropped us in here was steep and who knows how far down we really were. There was no way to get the speeder up to the opening again anyways. The cavern was riddled with passages but there was only one that was ground level.

So, according to the dash-comp, North it was, and further down too from the looks of it, but the path was wide enough to drive through. We had the fuel, might as well use it. 

I slipped into the passenger side as Cross shifted us into gear angling the nose of the vehicle down the corridor we had decided on. Yanking my bag from where it had gotten wedged under the seat, I pulled out some dry rations and handed one over to him while I counted the rest. We hadn't touched them since leaving the moon but there was only half a duffle of food. Maybe five days if we're careful, but we'll most likely be in trouble if we don't find an alternative at some point. 

Especially if we can't find a way back above ground…

I scanned about the wide cavern flickering with spectral lightning. There was no light leaking into the chamber, no way to tell how far underground we really were. We were betting a lot on the water trails leading… somewhere, but with us sliding down so far I wasn't sure anyone would be able to find us if they tried to follow from the surface. 

“Ready?”

Crosshair was biting down on his nutrient bar looking to me for the final word before we broke the first rule of being lost and left the cavern. 

“There’s got to be another side, right? Might as well get started.”

He pressed the accelerator, gradually increasing our speed when no immediate obstacles presented themselves till we were at a comfortable cruising speed. 

We moved ahead in a shared anxious silence, the sandy floors of the cavern passing smoothly under us as we drove further into the dark shaft. 

Hours went by, quietly at first as we basked in the seclusion of the tunnel system, then with light conversation, shouted over the car noise. A comment about the stone, a wonder about the water, a lesson on the geological makeup of a tidal locked world. 

It was boring, the tunnel tight and uniform as it stretched under the mountain. There were fewer fragments of quartz in the long channels so the headlights guided us through. No obstacles, no turn offs, just a dark tunnel that seemed to go on for ages. 

The clock on the radio worked, and if it was correct, it would be early evening Ga'haiian. Too bad we couldn't get any signal down here for some music, the sound of the engine reverberating from the rocky walls was somewhat maddening and made the chit chat difficult. 

So I sat, leaning against my door watching the clone drive. He was relaxed, angled into his own door's armrest steering one handed. His armor plates were carefully stacked in the back seat, black top folded with them, leaving Crosshair in only the skin tight bottoms and boots. 

He casually gave the accelerator more pressure, feeling my eyes on him, and our speed started to edge on reckless. 

“Ease up, fuel burns faster like that…”

I had to shout to be heard but we decelerated. 

“That's no fun,”

He sighed, and I understood the lament. There wasn't even anything to look at down here. 

I etched the time, direction and our speed onto the dash with my vibroblade, calculating how far we'd traveled and trying to remember how many kilometers it was from Estkle to the Trimecca farm lands between the range and Sohn. We were no doubt still a ways off. 

The tunnel gradually widened and dropped into another dried out reservoir. Crosshair slowed and pulled the speeder to a stop. 

The new bur offered us a few routes to take, the tunnels spitting into two wide enough for the vehicle. I stepped out, walking to the mouth of the first passage. The air was still and dark and I debated the cost of fuel versus calories in scouting out which one might be more useful. Cross spoke up from the car,

“Maybe we should rest here for now…”

I didn't like the idea of extending our stay, but it wasn't worth pushing ourselves. Standing was already releasing some of the tension from the long drive… Might as well stretch our legs. 

I nodded and he cut the engine, plunging us into momentary darkness as our eyes adjusted to the inconsistent Iotryke flicker. 

We spent some time pacing about the new cave. I ran my hand over the smooth walls, warm wherever the sparking quartz was exposed. The caves were cool now, but the closer we got to Sohn the hotter it would get. I wasn't sure how far we'd be able to travel beneath the surface, or how far the atmosphere shields of Sohn extended. 

I was starting to get overwhelmed. The immensity of what it meant to be lost down here crushed into me all at once. Closing my eyes I filled my lungs, holding it a moment before sighing it back out. 

Heat gave away what the soft sand didn't as Cross came near, drawn by my tense exhale.

He enclosed me in his arms, warm skin pressing against my back. 

“Credit for your accounts?”

“Just trying to calculate our way out of here.”

“What if we’re here forever?”

He whispered it through a smile in my hair and I tilted my head back to look up at him. 

“There's nothing alive down here Cross, that doesn't bode well for making a life of it,”

“You so sure about that?”

He tilted his chin to guide my gaze to a shadowy crevice in the otherwise smooth walls. If you squinted, and looked long enough… it shimmered with movement.

I made my way to the wall, as close as I could get to the elevated crack. In the dark, fist sized… crustations? Clamored about each other, disappearing and reappearing in small burrows in the exposed rock. 

“We could always eat the wall bugs,”

I shot him a look for his word choice, but it was good to see something thriving. 

“No way to know if they're poisonous…”

I was bluffing slightly, given enough time I could usually figure out how to butcher something safely. I've had to learn some odd skills to keep my father's clients happy. 

“My stomach can handle it,”

“That explains the thirty two rotations…”

“Does it?”

“No. You're going to have to… expand on your story, How the kark did you manage that again?”

“That would take a while,”

“All we have down here is time,”

That smile again, making me chuckle in exasperation,

“I don't believe you, we're trapped and you're happy about it,”

“If we weren't, and we had made that train we would have what… hours?”

Maybe less. Kark, my father must be looking for me by now. 

“And you prefer certain death?”

He sloped over, pushing me against the wall,

“We won't die, I won't let you, though… I could get used to the idea of having you the rest of my life,”

He leaned in to nip my neck and my face flushed. 

“Let's try to make it a long one, yeah?... What do you think’s in the trunk?

I squirmed out from under him and he groaned in frustration.

~~~

Nektu, becktu, nah men’dah…

I threw the tight ball of plastic ration packaging up again, catching it as I stared hard at the tunnel openings from where I was sprawled on the speeder hood. 

Nektu, becktu, nah men’dah…

It wasn't the most accurate way to make a travel decision…

Nektu, becktu, nah men’dah…

That and my mind was wandering. 

“You’re quiet again, what's eating you?”

Crosshair huffed and leaned against the trunk he had been messing with, insistent he could get the damaged lock pried open with the tiny vibroblade. He was working up a sweat trying to prove himself right. I was staring and he raised an eyebrow. 

“Just… who was Rah’dehko working for… and how they're related to my Vah'hadarr”

“What makes you think your father's involved?”

“Rah'dehko Den. After our little run in, Va’hah would have wanted to keep tabs on him…whoever he answered to has to have ties to my family,”

“What does it matter?”

“Did you notice his gang?”

“Was hard to miss them,”

I shot him a look, trying to be serious. 

“Zygarrions. A few of them… separate from the rest.”

“Slavers.”

“Slavers.”

Zygarrions were almost never seen on Ga’hah, having both a bad history with the Katjarl clans and opposing cultural views on free will with the planet at large. 

“So it's about the recording then?”

“This is all about the recording… isn't it?”

A loud screech and a triumphant grunt brought my attention back behind me. The crumpled trunk finally popping open to creak up lazily. 

“You got it!”

I slid off the hood making my way to Crosshair's side. 

“Too bad… nothing really of use in here.”

He was right. The empty fuel canisters and hover dolly weren't exactly gonna blast a hole for us. It was high hopes to think we might have some extra food or water… I reached in and pulled out some dingy shop blankets. 

“These might make camping in the car more comfortable…”

He took the blankets from me, tossing them into the back of the speeder. Reaching in for his belt and a fresh toothpick. 

“So your father deals in slaves.”

It wasn't a question, and ice slipped down my spine. It had been a suspicion ever since we overheard that secret conversation, but it hurt a little for him to say it so openly. 

“Slavery is a very blatant term suggesting conquer and all that, here on Ga’hah it would be more…contractual,”

“... What's the difference?”

“Mm. Slavery is… was frowned upon by the Republic. They wouldn't have traded with a planet that deals in flesh traditionally… So there's the Ga'haiian cultural loophole.”

“Do tell,” 

He was leaning on the side of the car, watching me. His interest in the topic seemed to be wanning. I ducked under his arm to slide between him and the speeder. 

“Ga'hah is a culture steeped in the pursuits of pleasure, One such being complete devotion, or more bluntly, to be completely owned by another… voluntary,”

Cross paused a moment as the meaning hit him. His hand came up to cup my chin, crooning suggestively,

“A willing slave…”

I shot him a look of incredulity,

“Willing being the operative word, the Republic looks the other way as long as there’s measures to make sure the contracts are entered into by choice,”

“Semantics, the jist is your father is building a sex den for a political figure… it's not exactly mold breaking, Tahny,”

Not just any politician.

Neither of us wanted to say that part aloud, though that was something that bothered me too. This was one figure in the whole political scene of Coruscant who was reputedly as squeaky clean as they came, and from my brief observations… not interested in the ecstasy held in flesh. What he'd want with an array of slaves picked with my father's expertise, to a preference no less…

Either way it would be a scandal if the new Emperor was found to be dealing in trafficking right out the gate. Thinking back to the recorded conversation, trying to remember why it sounded familiar. Who was my father talking to? I was there, I know I had heard it before… and I must have been seen… is it really just me though? 

I looked up at the man stroking my jaw, more focused on my lips than the conversation.

“Crosshair? You said my parents were supposed to be on the transport… right?”

The military vessel assigned to us by his eminence himself, stocked with those of shakey loyalty to the new regime, or maybe simply… disposable.

“Up until the last minute,”

“And when were you assigned to the escort?”

His eyes focused back on me, narrowing.

“About an hour before we left Coruscant.”

It had to have been Crosshair that tipped him off. 

The clone in question had caught up to my reasoning, leaning back slightly,

“If he was spooked by me, why leave you on the ship?”

“The ship still needed to keep to the expected schedule, and he can't have known I would be targeted off of Coruscant… or at least thought it less likely,”

Crosshair scoffed at that and my brow furrowed in irritation. He can't be under the impression my father would sacrifice me and more importantly,

“Why would you be instructed to take me to the safe house if Va'hah thought you were an assassin?”

His cheeks suddenly flushed and he stepped away, running a hand over the back of his head which was… an odd response. 

“Cross…what is it?”

He turned back to me, biting his pick in half as he thought a moment before spitting it out, licking his lips and leaning back over me.

“It was supposed to be Hervos.”

“Hervos?”

“Lieutenant Hervos was supposed to escort you to the moon.”

I raised my brows.

“How was he supposed to do that?”

“He couldn’t have, he'd never have been able to keep you safe,”

Debatable. A diplomatic approach might not have been so bad a move…

“So… no, Crosshair, how did you get the encryption code?”

He leaned in closer, resting his forehead against mine with his eyes closed.

“The Lieutenant kept it on him, I took it as we were leaving.”

“You picked his pocket?”

“No, I looked him in the eye and took it, what was he going to do? Stop me?”

I pulled back, catching his eyes in the flickering light. 

“What happened to following orders?”

“The last orders given to me was to guard you from harm, get you home…”

“So you stole it?”

…

“I stole you,”

His hands trailed the length of my arms to lace his fingers in mine. 

“If you were going to be stranded alone with any one… it was going to be me.”

…

“Then why were you so hesitant to have me… once we were alone?”

“It wasn't about that, if I had let any one of those… any one else and you would have died, it's my job to make sure that doesn't happen,”

He was suddenly tense as he leaned against me, his palms coming up to cup my cheeks,

“I wasn't worried about having you, you're invitation was… clear, but you had to be safe, I was supposed to get you home first… but I needed you that night and- you couldn't die, I couldn't let you go knowing you would die,”

I went rigid, a sudden overwhelming feeling making my face hot and my eyes sting. 

That's not fair…

“What's wrong?”

Everything. 

My voice came out strained,

“This was supposed to be simple, idiot.”

I hopped up to perch on the door, wrapping my legs about his waist to pull his lips to mine in a fervent, frantic desperation. 

~~~

A whimper cut through my wispy dream state, too soft to echo but stirring me from my light sleep. My eyes were already adjusting and taking in the darkened cave. The crumpled trunk hood was still raised from us prying it open, lightning flashes reflecting wildly down on me from the dented metal. 

My skin was hot and I reached down for a bottle from my bag, taking a small sip of water, before sitting up and shifting to lean over Crosshair. He was sleeping in the reclined driver's seat,  a whimper low in his throat again as I watched, face twisting into a pained grimace. I ran my fingertips over his brow bone and cheek, soothing his twitching muscles. 

“Shh, li’nen…”

He gasped awake, jerking under my hand, fingers snapping to the side of his head as he half sat upright. 

“It's okay, Cross, I'm here… we're alone,”

“Where-”

Eyes widening, he follows the lightning across the ceiling.

“We're in the Iotryke caves,”

“The… the caves.”

He closed his eyes and leaned back again. I stroked his cheekbone resting my forehead on his brow and his breathing started to slow, hands finding mine in the bright darkness. 

“... Where were you?”

He was quiet, thumb stroking the hollow of my palm. I pressed him this time, 

“Kamino?”

“...No, before that…”

His fingers brushed his scar and he flinched, as if it hurt anew. 

I pressed a kiss to his temple. 

“Tell me… how'd you get this?”

He looked away… it was subtle, but he was suddenly avoiding my eyes. His brow was knitted with concern, fingers tapping mine in an agitated kind of way. 

“I'm not gonna force you, but… you can tell me, don't think you can chase me off now…”

“We're trapped in a cave.”

“And we could have all the stars between us, yet I'll still stand at your back,”

…

“... Ion Cannon,”

“... Like on a ship?”

“Yes,”

“You… you what? Got too close?”

“... Yes,”

“Crosshair.”

His eyes flicked to mine in the dark, holding my gaze a moment before sighing,

“It was clone force 99.”

“Otherwise known as your brothers…”

His brow pinched again, but he corrected,

“My brothers.”

…

“Burned you with a ship's Ion Cannon?”

… 

“How’d they manage that?”

He sighed, breathing deep,

“They blew up the casing after I trapped them inside… and had my men fire it. I ended up in the line of fire instead, and they escaped.”

He spat his words, looking away again with the defensive air of ‘are you happy now?’ I should've been more surprised at his words… but I wasn't. I understood the story though it wasn't told in a language I knew. 

“So you tried to fry 'em up but got burned?”

He winced, pointedly avoiding my gaze. 

I crawled into his seat, resting my body against his chest. Brushing my lips to his, I whispered against him.

“And you think this would frighten me?”

“It should… if you were sane,”

The guilt in his voice was obvious; The unsure tenor of someone now doubtful of actions they felt justified in the distant moment. If this was to make him a threat to me… no. I've known far worse monsters, ones who torment for the thrill of it… for fun. At times I've been one. 

“I'm perfectly sane and I say it doesn't,”

He rolled his eyes but the tension started to leave him, strong arms founding their way around my back. 

“Maybe Hunter deserved it anyways…”

“Oh yeah? What’d he do to deserve being melted?”

“He wouldn't have been melted,”

He looked almost annoyed I would suggest it, adding pridefully,

“They’re too good for that,”

“That's a varp of a heavy gamble, Cross, even for you…”

“I out maneuvered them and the imps at every turn. If I wanted them dead… they know damn well if I wanted them dead they would be. Hunter…”

There it was again, the name of the ninety nine’s leader accompanied with a distant hurt in his eyes. 

…

“He knew about the inhibitor chips.”

I tensed, 

“The what chips…Cross?”

His turn to stiffen but it didn't last as he crumpled beneath me, defeated, surrendering the secrets he'd been holding.

“The clones are programmed. Controlled.”

He formed a gun with his fingers, and pressed it over his ear. 

“Through a chip. It's how they got them to do it. Turn on the generals… ‘Good soldiers follow orders,’... Buzzing through their heads, their words and thoughts, it's like they're hypnotized,”

A chill dropped through me… compulsion was, well… blasphemous. Not to mention the depth of government secrets he just revealed. He shouldn't be telling me this…

“And Hunter knew what exactly?”

“... That I…”

He gritted his teeth,

“He knew there was a possibility I may have been controlled, and left me to that… fate.”

There were hints of shame in his voice. 

“With what you just told me, you think he could have bested you?... Taken you against your will?”

“Of course not.”

“Well now you're contradicting yourself. What was he supposed to do?”

…

“So… Were you being controlled?”

“Does it matter?”

“I don't think you would have fired a ships engine with them inside of it and just… trusted that they'd get themselves out, not without some external reason,”

“And what if there wasn't a reason, what if I really wanted them to burn for leaving me behind?”

“That still sounds like a reason… just less noble.”

He snorted dryly. 

“Well… you have more confidence in me than he did… asking when it stopped influencing me.”

“I don't think he meant anything b-”

“I don't want to be around people who think I would choose to hurt them. The fact that he even considered I would try to kill them, the child, uninfluenced…”

He was coiling tight with a disembodied indignation. 

“They don't know me. If that's what they think I'm capable of, they never did. Harsh, yes, willing to do what they won't. Always… but I'm not a child killer, All those years as comrades for nothing.”

He sighed, some of the fight going out of his words. His fingers brushed the melted scar over his ear, eyes clouded in reminisce.

“There was fire, and pain, searing pain… and then it was like I woke up; Burned, confused, the lights of the Marauder leaving me behind… again. I tried to pursue, scuttle their engines and catch up… but they left, I suppose more like ‘got away’... The result is the same, I've had no idea what to do since, every decision seems wrong,”

I kissed him again, desperate to steal some of the hurt from his voice, as if I could draw it from him like venom from a wound. He pressed back, subdued and broken, making my heart ache. 

“I'm gonna have to have a word with this ‘Hunter’”

…

His brow furrowed,

“That would be to exchange words, not…?”

I grinned against his cheek,

“I'm going to fight him.”

His lip twitched at that,

“You think you can take Hunter?”

“I have my ways, he'll never see it coming,”

He chuckled, nuzzling the hair against my neck,

“That's my girl…”

He met my lips again, less reserved, pulling me to press into his bare chest. His hands roamed down my back feeling the shape of me. 

Shifting back and crossing my arms on his chest, I rested my head to look up at him. 

“What does it mean… to be yours?”

…

“I'm still working that out myself…”

“Do you wish to be mine?”

…

He fell silent, running his fingers through my hair, letting the strands fall slowly to catch the sparks like dew in a spiderweb. 

“Can’t you see, Tahny?”

His husky voice was barely a whisper, like a private prayer, yet…it echoed through the silent chamber.

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Tags: @feral-ferrule @thecoffeelorian

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[thebrisingamen]

Total Drama Island

AKA the reboot reminded me of this ridiculous series so I did a stupid thing and made them all Pokemon/Pokemon Trainers. So here's a crossover no one asked for or cares about but I wrote up anyways

THE ORIGINAL TDI/TDA/TDWT CREW:

Beth, The Wannabe

As a Pokemon: Grumpig, due to her growing up on a Farm and being somewhat aware of her surroundings, since Grumpig is a psychic type. It's also a very bizarre pokemon and can be useful, even when people underestimate it, so I thought it would be fitting for Beth.

Her Team: As befitting her backstory, I gave her Grumpig and Miltank, some pokemon that can be powerhouses when used correctly. Dedenne due to her excitable nature and again, being underestimated and kind of easily manipulated. The same for Combee; a go with the flow, follow the leader type. Ditto for her desperate desire to fit in.

Sandshrew is the star of her team, as Sandshrew would be Beth's pokemon that shows her burying her feelings and curling up into a defense, but eventually evolving into Sandslash, a powerful ground type, reflecting Beth's nature as being more down to earth eventually.

Grumpig

Dedenne

Combee

Miltank

Sandshrew -> Sandslash (in TDA)

Ditto

Bridgette, The Surfer Girl

As a Pokemon: Floatzel, feels pretty obvious. Kind and goes out of her way to help people, pretty decent water type but not much of a fighter and has a very chill personality. A bit more responsible than our other surfers, which you'll see down the list.

Her Team: Obviously, I went with a water based team for Bridgette. Mantine and Dewgong being chosen as both of them are pretty chill types of pokemon, and you can surf on Mantine in Alola, to carry you from island to island. Spinda is representative of her incredible clumsiness on land and the constant running gag of Bridgette in physical comedy. Comfey also represents her soothing and calming nature in comparison to her teammates. Pelipper is Bridgette's powerful side coming out and probably her best pokemon.

Honestly I don't have a reason for Vaporean, other than it is an Eeveelution and Bridgette strikes me as the type to pick a popular pokemon and just evolve into a water type.

Mantine

Dewgong

Vaporeon

Spinda

Pelipper

Comfey

Cody, The Geek

As a Pokemon: Magnemite, as its a more modern pokemon, but like Cody, still "young" for a pokemon and according to the pokedex, can cause a lot of damage. Tends to show up and appear randomly when needed. Can be useful but hasn't "grown up" quite yet.

His Team: Cody's team I decided to keep mostly electric and strange pokemon, to reflect his nature. Magneton and Porygon reflect his kind of geekiness and general desire to try to be useful, but ultimately isn't as much. Phanphy and Treecko are more of a reflection of his kind of naive nature that grows overtime. Klefki represents his inability to respect boundaries. Beheeyem is Cody's intellect, but again, a weird pokemon that most people forget about/don't really respect.

Porygon

Magneton

Beheeyem

Treecko

Phanphy

Klefki

Courtney, The Over-Achiever/Type A

As a Pokemon: Espeon. Mainly because Courtney doesn't actually grow as a person until she gets actual friends in the series, and to tie-in with her intelligence and drive. Psychic type because while Courtney is competitive, she is not underhanded enough for me to think on her being a dark type. An Eeveelution due to her popularity as a character.

Her Team: Courtney's Team is reflective of parts of her personality. Tyrogue is often trying to better itself and constantly training. That she would make sure it evolves into the most balanced of the Hitmon's is 100% Courtney. Oranguru's entries commend it's command abilities, but in actual battle, this doesn't seem to come up, reflecting Courtney's need to have authority. Wigglytuff reflects her massive ego that can be easily injured, and the anger that comes with it. Ninetales follows the same footsteps, with the grudge to match it. Salazzle evolving shows Courtney's dedication to winning, using some tricks to distract others, but unlike Alejandro, Mal and Heather, they never go beyond distracting. She'd also pick "pretty" pokemon that are useful for her main team.

Oh and she EV trained the shit out of every pokemon. Courtney came to win.

Tyrogue -> Hitmontop

Oranguru

Salandit -> Salazzle

Wigglytuff

Ninetales

Vivillion

DJ, The Brickhouse with a Heart/The Teddy Bear

As a Pokemon: Audino. DJ is definitely a healer/support type Pokemon, but it had to be Audino, as the Chansey line is ALWAYS female. Audino fufills the same purpose and is SURPRISINGLY strong in battle, making it a force to be reckoned with at times.

His Team: DJ's first three pokemon represent elements of DJ from Island; Buneary for Bunny, the pet Bunny he found. Pachirisu for the squirrels and Stantler for the deer episode. Blissey represents his caring and kind nature that can also manifest into being able to punch you into submission, if he's pushed to do so. Tsareena represents DJs ability to eventually stand up for himself and again, despite being a grass type, doing well despite everything. Cyndaquil is his buddy, and represents DJs connection to everyone he meets; Cyndaquil would also be chill and help him with his cooking.

Buneary

Pachirisu

Stantler

Tsareena

Blissey

Cyndaquil

Duncan, The Delinquent Heartthrob

Jeez, he's had the most titles! Like Duncan has Four different introduction titles, according to the wiki.

As a Pokemon: Houndoom, because of course. An extremely popular character, Duncan would be reflected in an extremely popular pokemon--being Dark type was a necessity. Houndoom has been depicted as 'not all that bad' before, and that it looks scarier than it actually is.

His Team: Also would have a Houndoom on his team, as well as a Nidorino, reflected of his constantly tough persona and needling of others. Haunter and Purrloin allude to Duncan's prankster nature and kind of 'its not like a care' attitude, while also being able to help with the reflection on his criminal record. Krookodile is also an allusion to his 'tough but can be sweet' attitude. Granbull is the same thing, and honestly was the last member of his team, gotten after he met Zoey.

Houndoom

Krookodile

Nidorino

Haunter

Purrloin

Granbull

Eva, The Female Bully

Wow they like...made her cardboard, huh. Ah Well. It's Eva, everyone.

As a Pokemon: Surprising no one, she is the angriest of all Pokemon, a Primeape. It's really hard to find too much to say about Eva. A lot of her team is going to be like this as well.

Her Team: Poliwrath and Primape should be obvious; angry, aggressive pokemon whose wrath cannot be stopped. Hitmonchan and Steelix show her side that constantly works out and tries to improve. Charizard is quick to anger, but quite popular; an allusion to her return to the island that no on expected and her odd friendship with the E-Scope team. Stufful. Stufful is Eva's very rarely seen sweet side, though still incredibly destructive, albeit just by its nature and not because it is trying to be.

Hitmonchan

Poliwrath

Primeape

Stufful

Charizard

Steelix

Ezekiel, The Home-Schooled Guy

Again, a pretty low bar character. I mean its total drama I don't expect much, but c'mon y'all.

As A Pokemon: Sableye. Just. His storyline basically fits him turning into a Sableye, living deep in the caves and being obsessed with treasure.

His Team: Mudkip, one of the most hated pokemon designs of Gen 3, at least when it was coming out; reflects Ezekiel's standing amongst the rest of the cast, especially the girls. Kecleon shows Ezekiel's ability to fade into the background and hide, especially in WT. Drilbur, Dunsparce and Sableye reflect his descent into the darkness, living in the Caves of the island in ROTI. Macargo is the volcano he fell in.

Like does any one pokemon reflect him? No. his personality is about as much there as Eva's.

Mudkip

Kecleon

Sableye

Drilbur

Macargo

Dunsparce

Geoff, The Funniest Guy Around

As A Pokemon: Surfing Pikachu. Geoff is basically super chill, super likable and no one on the island seems to actually hate him at all. Like. It's kind of hard for even Chris or Chef to hate him? Up until the clip show later, Geoff is shown to be a pretty nice guy

His Team: Ludicolo and Togetic reflect Geoff's just likable, partying nature. Lapras shows his care for others and ties him to Bridgette more. Corsola is Geoff's environmental nature, and Kingdra can be where Geoff gets a bit full of himself. Surfing Pikachu is the same; Geoff's ego is his downfall more often than not.

Surfing Pikachu

Ludicolo

Togetic

Lapras

Corsola

Kingdra

Gwen, The Loner/Goth Girl

As a Pokemon: Frosslass; She's kind of cold and off putting, a strange person who prioritizes her alone time and freezes out people she doesn't like.

Her Team: Her team was a bit difficult; I gave her Cofigarius to relate to her fear challenge in TDI. Gothitelle, because obviously they keep calling her Goth Girl and it is able to predict the future and is often a loner. Smeargle to relate to her sketching hobby. Frosslass for the same reason; a lonely pokemon who doesn't seek others out, but can be fun. Liepard, because it is beautiful and moody, and unexpectedly vicious. Dusknoir because it is scary and kind of alien, receiving transmissions to transport the dead, and goes along with her "goth" aesthetic.

Dusknoir

Liepard

Frosslass

Smeargle

Gothitelle

Cofigarius

Harold, The Dweeb

Ah yes, Napoleon Dynamite joke character. Another pretty one-note dude.

As a Pokemon: Nincada, due to his obsession with Ninjas, and the annoyance he causes everyone.

His Team: Ninjask and Ferrothorn to call to Harold's Nunchuk "skills" and ninja obsession. Parasect because it is a strange and odd pokemon, reflecting how Harold is a strange and odd person; the same with Clefable. An inability to relate to others at times. Cradlily, because its useful and kind of creeps people out. Heliolisk, because Harold does a lot of posturing and is quick to claim he's good at something, without having the firepower to back it up.

Ninjask

Parasect

Clefable

Heliolisk

Cradlily

Ferrothorn

Heather, The Queen Bee

HBIC herself, Heather. How these kids didn't figure her out earlier is beyond me.

As a Pokemon: Vespiqueen; lots of minions, kind of aggressive and can kick ass where she needs to, when she has to do things herself.

Her Team: Beedrill and Vespiqueen, because of course she'd have the Queen Bee pokemon. They're also quite aggressive and powerful bug types. Salazzle and Dragalge, her other Poison types that show her manipulative and toxic side. Seviper because it is ruthless, like her and Heracross, as a powerful fighter that she usually has on her side.

Beedrill

Vespiqueen

Seviper

Salazzle

Heracross

Dragalge

Izzy, The Insane or The Psycho Hose Beast

Again, TDI didn't really know what to do with her; Izzy is kind of nuts. there's a lot and then again not a lot to work with here.

As a Pokemon: I settled on Kecleon, since Izzy changed her name and identity several times over the shows, and that is kind of Kecleon's thing to do.

Her Team: Kecleon and Dodrio, to reflect her constantly shifting names and personas she takes on, as well as her escaping the RCMP. Ariados and Ursaring as a call backs to when she was pretending to be a giant spider on ROTI and her rivalry with the Bears on TDI. Haunter for her playful but scary personality and Gourgeist for the same, but also with her kind of crazy tied in.

Kecleon

Ariados

Ursaring

Dodrio

Gourgeist

Haunter

Justin, The Jaw-Dropping/The Eye Candy

Once again, very basic but also a lot to work with here.

As a Pokemon: Very obviously, a Milotic, Shiny as Justin is one of the prettiest players in canon.

His Team: All of his team is based on wealth, popularity and appearance of said pokemon. Mienshao is there because while beautiful, it can be deadly and Alolan Meowth is Dark Type, alluding to Justin's manipulative streak on TDA

Milotic

Alolan Meowth

Glameow

Furfrou

Eevee

Mienshao

Katie & Sadie, The Besties

Listen these two were easy because they are about as developed as Eva and Ezekiel.

As Pokemon: What do you know, it's the worst Pikachu knock-offs, they're Plusle and Minun. Can't function without each other. Their teams reflect this. They Specialize in Double Battles.

Their Team(s): As you can see, most of these pairs are already twinned pokemon or pokemon that evolve from a similar first starter, like Beautifly & Dustox. I had to get creative for the last three sets; Pachirisu and Emolga SHOULD have been an evolution line, but it wasn't and they're similar, so they became part of Katie and Sadie's set. Clefable and Pyukumuku also had a similar problem; I had to pair them with similar pokemon, but not quite the same. It does give these two some differences.

Plusle & Minun

Illumise & Volbeat

Beautifly & Dustox

Clefable & Wigglytuff

Pinchurchin & Pyukumuku

Pachirisu & Emolga

Leshawna, The Lively

Very good, made it easy to create her team.

As a Pokemon: Leshawna is a pretty powerful pokemon, and with all the new ones out, I think she'd be a Tsareena; powerful, tough and graceful.

Her Team: Zangoose, as a rival to Heather with her Seviper. Pangoro, as Leshawna is not afraid to throw down, but only if you make the mistake of making her your enemy. Charizard as Leshawna is incredibly likable, but not always having the same presence as Geoff. Tinkaton, because she's very powerful and will smack everyone down, and looks good doing it. Larvitar because Leshawna never gets the chance to evolve it into it's final form due to the network, but shows her popularity and ability to stand against this crap. Hydrapple, for Leshawna's ability to do teamwork and how well she works with others.

Zangoose

Pangoro

Tinkaton

Charizard

Larvitar

Hydrapple

Lindsay, The Ditz

Her title is mean but true. This girl is dumber than a box of rocks, but she's really very sweet.

As a Pokemon: Ponyta, because she's very clearly a rich girl who loves Horses, based on her bike, and Ponyta is very much a 'head empty, run in field' type which suits Lindsay.

Her Team: Galarian Ponyta, as Lindsay herself is pretty pure as a character, not really wanting to hurt anyone or get into a fight with anyone. Alcremie, the style because it is rare and hard to get, like her nail polish. Honestly, She just found the last four of her team and got them to join James' style; with love and affection. Her team is more fairy type as Lindsay is truly one of the nicer characters...Ever.

Azumarill & Altaria are Lindsay losing her cool and actually being mean, for once.

Galarian Ponyta

Alcremie (Rainbow Swirl w/ Love Sweet)

Azumarill

Altaria

Whimsicott

Flaaffy

Noah, the High IQ/The Schemer

Not very schemey; he often thought himself smarter than he was and was pretty insufferable. But I thought about his team and hope it reflects him.

As a Pokemon: I started Noah out as a Natu; a future-seeing bird, who eventually evolves into a Xatu, as he reappears on Ridonculous Race.

His Team: Natu and Abra represent Noah's self-importance and complete lack of wanting to participate in the team based challenges, which ultimately got him kicked off said team, as well as his over reliance on his intellect. Pidgeotto and Donphan for when Noah actually got to doing things in RR and Wyrdeer as Noah strikes me as the type to somehow evolve Stantler first and act like he meant to do that the entire time.

Natu —> Xatu

Abra —> Alakazam

Bronzong

Wyrdeer

Donphan

Pidgeotto

OWEN, The Big Guy/The Party Guy

Owen was a little tougher, as there is the low-hanging fruit to go for, but also at least something there to work with beyond one note. At least there are two!

As a Pokemon: Munchlax, to go for the low hanging fruit and evolving into Snorlax by the time RR happens, to showcase his growth.

His Team: To slightly subvert expectations, instead of putting a Snorlax or Munchlax on his team, I figured Swalot would work for his insatiable hunger. Being poison type is also fitting, considering Owen's running gag. This is also why he has Skuntank on his team, as well as Vileplume. Quagsire is a call to Owen's very open and friendly demeanor, Musharna to represent his sleepwalking and eating, and Misdreavus to showcase his 'fun' side that can turn sour when he goes too far.

Swalot

Musharna

Misdreavus

Quagsire

Skuntank

Vileplume

TRENT, The Cool Guy/The Deep & Mysterious

TDI did him dirty and once again, there's not much to work with here. But I tried.

As a Pokemon: Gogoat. Trent is supposed to be pretty cool, lots of people like him but...that's where the buck stops. Unlike a lot of other characters, he doesn't get to have a shining moment beyond physical comedy and the canonical ship with Gwen. But, he's cute! and sorta popular!!

His Team: Obviously, he'd have a Gogoat. Espurr is there for Trent's reliving of his horrors. Lapras because he, like Geoff, can be caring and supportive. Shuckle to represent his odd fears and the obsession with the number 9. Flygon as Trent In-Universe is supposed to be a super cool dude. Now.

Zubat. Zubat represents the show and fandom reactions to Trent, as well as tying into his penchant for getting poisoned/stunned/etc. TDA it evolves in to Golbat and finally, in WT, Crobat because Trent FINALLY ended a lot of his personal drama and got...Crobat.

I didn't use any of the musical pokemon for him, as I felt that would be too obvious.

Gogoat

Lapras

Zubat —> Golbat —> Crobat

Shuckle

Flygon

Espurr

Tyler, The Jock

Tyler, oh Tyler. Kind of forgotten about, and once again mostly used for physical comedy.

As a Pokemon: Passimian, which is the sportiest pokemon I could find and thats how Tyler would define himself.

His Team: Passimian and Machamp to represent his passion for sports; Bewear and Linoone, both useful pokemon that are described as kind of klutzy, especially Linoone (can't break and can crash...often). Wooloo, for the same reason. Tyler is not kept down by his injuries. Armarouge, for Tyler's dedication to constantly trying, and often being a good sport.

Bewear

Passimian

Machamp

Linoone

Wooloo

Armarouge

Alejandro, The Arch Villain

And boy does he deliver this well!

As a Pokemon: Oricorio, Baile style most of the time, but he can switch between all four, depending on who he is needing to charm/talk to or what moves he needs in the moment. As one of the few pokemon capable of this, I felt this suited him; he never fully transformed into a different person, which is why I didn't go with Ditto.

Also, WT definitely leaned into his Spanish/Latin origins, which this pokemon also does.

His Team: Alejandro is a threat and that's why he has our most powerful starter, Blaziken. Also representative of the fiery volcano he faced in the finale. Sneaseler and Meowstic (F) are the pretty pokemon that are quite powerful and ruthless on their own. The same can be said of Galarian Linoone, but that is representative of Alejandro losing his facade. Zorua and Meowscarada are similar reasons; Meowscarada because it's whole thing is luring other pokemon into a false sense of security before ambushing them with it's moves, and Zorua due to the illusion ability it has and it's cute and disarming appearance (hence why not Zoroark).

Meowscarada

Zorua

Galarian Linoone

Meowstic (Female)

Blaziken

Sneaseler

Sierra, The Obsessive Uberfan

Oh Sierra, she's a funny character.

As a Pokemon: Mimikyu; constantly obsessed with and wanting to have everything ever of the TDI team, to the point of being creepy about it all, and surviving attempts to pry into her own backstory.

Her Team: Mimikyu, for her obsessive tendencies. Nickit, to steal "Keepsakes" from the people she's a fan of, Cosplay Pikachu to showcase her obsession/fangirl tendencies again. Morpeko represents her quick switches from 'Nice' to 'MEAN' rapidly when it involves Cody. Dragapult as its entries paint it and its line as kind of crazy and obsessed with their interests, which is definitely Sierra. Flareon is more because Sierra's aggression is not obvious, but can be deadly when unleashed, and its cooling off ability only works for so long.

Mimikyu

Dragapult

Morpeko

Flareon

Shiny Nickit

Cosplay Pikachu

[mipexch]

there's something so beautiful about rain world's art style that i can't properly put into words

[snickerdoodlles]

some thoughts on writing humor for anyone interested;

if you want to incorporate more humor into your writing, what you really want to practice is timing. writing humor is rarely about writing an individual funny line-- you don't remember the punchline because of the line itself, you remember the punchline because of everything else that came before it. a punchline without a proper build up or proper timing is just a non-sequitur.

so, when writing a humor fic, a good thing to remember is that the punchline comes last. you can't have your funniest line at the start of your story. think of it like action-- if your first fight is the boss fight, any fight of lower stakes or difficulty that follows is going to feel lackluster in comparison. you want your story and your jokes to build to the final line, or else you'll step on the joke and lose its impact.

and this does take practice! putting the joke at the end doesn't always feel 'natural' at first, learning how to structure and build a humor story is a skill the same as learning how to do it for any other genre. personally, i'd also say humor is something that really comes out in the editing stage more than the initial drafts-- humor is very reliant on timing and rhythm, and it's hard to find and stick to a story's pacing when you're still working on the overall story structure. i mean, this sort of thing tends to go for any sort of writing, but nothing makes humor fall flat faster than wonky pacing and so (for me at least) editing is the stage where the story goes from "oh, haha" to actually funny.

(i also bring this up because fandom has a lot of jokes about not editing a finished draft before posting-- and like, totally feel you, i'm not huge on editing after i reach the end of the draft. however, i have noticed in fic circles where people will get caught up on and sometimes even discouraged by trying to be funny in the fic larva stages when the framework to be funny just isn't there yet. personally, i highlight the humor lines i'm unsure about and move on. then, when the fic's closer to 90% done or so, it's much easier to skim the overall story and cut/format/refine/etc any jokes because they're already highlighted for easy finding.)

another thing to keep in mind is that humor as a writing device is often used to release tension. i would say this is a large part of why humor often falls very naturally into scene transitions; that natural release of tension is very useful as an 'end bracket' to a scene while also setting up the audience to be freshly wound up again. this feature is useful for stories aiming for a more light-hearted tone overall, but in general stories often incorporate humor as a way of controlling a story's pacing so that the tension doesn't get too tight too fast. even if a punchline isn't your end goal, you're still building up to something and it's really helpful to edit your humorous lines by asking "does this fit with my scene/story's pacing, or is it disruptive to my buildup?"

it doesn't really matter how funny an individual line might be on its own-- if its disruptive to the story's overall flow, the joke's effect is going to come off as strained and forced. because humor is really an exercise in structure and story rhythm, the most ineffective way to study humor is to fixate on the individual jokes you remember in your favorite stories-- instead look for the threads that came before the joke that made it memorable, and then practice doing that in your own writing. usually when humor falls flat in a story, it's because either the specific joke pops out of nowhere (missing the build-up) or the joke is in the wrong spot in the story (disruptive, breaks reader immersion). sometimes the fix is as easy as reshuffling a few lines, other times it's a matter of adding more to the build up, or even cutting it altogether so that something else packs a bigger punch.

tl;dr-- i'm repeating the old adage "in comedy, timing is everything." if you want to get better at writing or incorporating humor into your stories, it's honestly more important to practice when to drop a joke than the specific wording of the joke itself.

[cherrysnax]

need to preface this by saying I looooove Felicia sm but god it’s so frustrating that when she pops up she gets to keep her personality, her depth, her everything, even in like her very few appearances but MJ has to get EVERYTHING WIPED AWAY even in the comics??? but literally the only close to faithful adaptions of her are spectacular, some of the 90s show and PART of the raimi movies and it’s only slivers!!!! And usually if mjs around Gwen doesn’t exist so we never the catalyst to her and peters bond, their shared grief that Peter can’t understand at first <\3

[c6jpg]

FUCK YEAHHHHHH ❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗

[cipheramnesia]

I would like to read it.

All I'm saying is Ridley Scott went out and hired the giant mutant genitals artist to design the Alien, and H.R. Giger delivered a monster with a giant penis head, a vulva-outline space ship, a birthing egg with an opening made of two crossed vaginas, a facefucking vagina monster fertilizer and a lil baby dick form that kills the host - the man 100% delivered on his artistic principles.

And because of this, it is just a little bit funny how the penis and vagina designs are enshrined in pop culture, forever being passed between creators who seem to less and less think for a minute that they're working with genital monsters and it turns most of the movie franchise and comics into an exercise in unintentional absurdity where a character can be fleeing from a rolling vulva like the boulder from Indiana Jones without a single shred of awareness or subtext.

[orcelito]

Actually it is SO weird to me to remember that I was an engineering student and that later on I had been pursuing a minor in statistics

I may be a IT & com person in the end, but I do have the foundations of engineering and statistics in my brain too. Wild !

[desertdragon]

T/////Eight story amounted to basically nothing so I guess I'm back here to the other stupid as shit game I give too many chances on a more full time basis again (minus still writing my As///u/////Lil////i fic I love that thing too much and people in my DMs are counting on me for more)

At least I'll always have my friend and her best ending

And her faggot

EDIT: Ok it was nonsensical and full of holes like swiss cheese but now that i've calmed down this was always a goofy silly dumb game that cares less about taking itself seriously as it does being cool and fun, so while im disappointed and im allowed to be disappointed, im not running away with my expectations on this like others have. Tekken is still fun and will always have a place in my heart. And I do appreciate receiving some things I've always wanted regardless of my upsets with their execution flaws. They were finally able to make me feel like my favorite characters have closure on some level regardless, and that has to be commended.

[rafecameronssl4t]

Tell ur girl || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: Topper’s new girl being a bitch so you just have to remind her where her place is.

Warnings: swearing, drinking

word count: 431

a/n: send me requests pleaseee 🫶

MASTERLIST

divider by @yoonitos

Posted up with my dogs, Scooby Doo type shit. She grippin’ all on my balls, I gotta move type shit. Diamonds, they cover my flaws, I got that brand new type shit.

You step into the dimly lit space of the party, left hand sporting a red plastic cup, your other holding your purse as you move amidst the chaotic atmosphere. The pulsating bass of Future’s ‘Type Shit’ reverberating through the air, the scent of alcohol and sweat mingles with the thrum of excitement, creating an intoxicating ambiance that electrifies the senses.

You navigate through the crowded room, your gaze fixed on Rafe, sat on one of the couches with a few people around, his presence commanding attention wherever he goes. You catch glimpses of familiar faces—like topper and kelce—their expressions a blend of excitement and indulgence, but your focus remains on Rafe.

He hadn’t noticed you as he was talking to a guy standing behind the couch, but Topper did, and he tapped Rafe on the shoulder and cocked his head to your direction. He watches you as you come closer with that grin you knew all too well. He let his eyes wander down your figure as you couldn’t help but feel your cheeks burn up.

Without even setting down your purse or cup, you immediately leaned over to Rafe as his hand rests on your hip, your lips meeting in a kiss. All while this was happening, you could hear Topper ushering the girl beside him to move to his other side. Your eyes move to an unfamiliar girl, her blonde locks cascading around her shoulders as she’s pressed up against your boyfriend’s arm, her expression one of casual indifference.

Your eyes then flicker towards Topper’s hand resting on her thigh. So this must be Top’s new girl, Cassie I think her name was. “Yo Top, tell your girl to move over yeah?” Rafe leans back on the sofa manspreading as his eyes lock with Topper’s behind the blonde girl’s head.

You notice the subtle change of demeanour in Cassie as she looks down at her painted nails. “Babe, just move here,” Topper pats the free space on his other side as she scoffs. “Why should I? I was here first,” she scoffs, glancing at you as she dismissively tosses her hair.

Rafe watches Cassie with a measured gaze, his eyes betraying none of the amusement that flickers in their depths. “Cassie, right?” The blonde blinks up at you, “Could you just please move over? You’ll still be sitting next to Top,” You assert, your tone firm but composed. Rafe’s lips quirk up in a barely contained smile.

“Nothing,” She shrugs, “I’m just not moving,” she declares defiantly, crossing her arms over her chest in a gesture of defiance. In your peripheral vision, Topper closes his eyes briefly before letting out a breath, “Cassie, it’s not a big fuckin’ deal, just move and let Y/n sit there.” His tone agitated.

Your patience wears thin at her stubbornness, frustration simmering beneath the surface. With a sigh, you shoot Rafe a pleading look, silently urging him to intervene. But Rafe merely watches the exchange with a hint of amusement, his lips quirking up in a barely concealed smile.

Before you can respond, Rafe’s deep voice slices through the thick tension in the room, calm yet imbued with an unmistakable authority. His eyes lock onto yours, his expression firm but not unkind. “Come on, Cassie. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be,” he says. His words resonate with a weight that leaves no room for argument.

“Fucking forget about it,” your voice cuts through the air as the three of them watch you set down your things on the glass table. Then, without missing a beat, you settle onto Rafe’s lap, his arms instinctively wrapping around you. Your boot-covered feet find their place on Cassie’s lap, causing her eyes to widen in shock

Topper stifles his laugh as Rafe smirks, his large hand resting on your exposed stomach. Topper’s laughs become audible, drawing a sharp glare from Cassie. “Fuck you all,” she snaps, pushing herself off the couch and shooting you a withering look before stalking off into the crowd.

“Jesus Christ, Top, where are you finding these girls? Bitch island?” You shook your head at him as he rolls his eyes, leaning back on the couch. “Fucked If I know. Maybe I should steer clear of blondes,” Topper grumbles. Rafe snorts, “That’s about the smartest think you’ve said in a long time.”

[adiraargent]

In a world full of boys, he's a gentleman <3

Synopsis: the Slytherin boys and the 'gentleman' things they do Warnings: None :) Characters: Mattheo Riddle, Theodore Nott, Tom Riddle, Blaise Zabini, Jasper Rowle

This is Part 1 :)

Mattheo Riddle: opening doors for you

"Hey there, my love," Mattheo greeted, flashing a grin as he held the door open for you. You rolled your eyes playfully at the endearment, a fond smile tugging at your lips as you looked up at your boyfriend.

"Always the gentleman, huh?" you teased, stepping through the door of the Slytherin common room as he held open with a light chuckle.

"Hey, gotta treat my girl right," he replied, trailing behind and falling into step beside you. He nudged you gently with his elbow, his laid-back demeanor effortlessly charming.

He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to the side of your head. His lips lingered for a moment, and you couldn't help but blush at the tenderness of the gesture. "You're my everything," he whispered, his voice filled with genuine adoration.

Whether they were heading to class, grabbing a bite to eat, or just strolling through the castle halls, Mattheo made it a point to hold doors open for you. It wasn't a grand gesture, just a simple act of courtesy, but it spoke volumes about his thoughtfulness.

"You spoil me too much, you know that?" you remarked with a grin, as Mattheo held the door of his dorm for you.

He chuckled, his eyes sparkling with affection. "Can't help it. You deserve the world," he shrugged, following you inside. He wrapped his arms around your waist, playfully throwing you on the bed before snuggling up next to you, holding you tightly against his chest.

Their laughter filled the air as they chatted about anything and everything, discussing everything from stupid things their friends had done recently to their favourite movies. Mattheo listened intently, his eyes lighting up as they shared their stories.

Theodore Nott: Holds your face with both hands when kissing you

"Hey," Theodore greeted softly, his fingers trailing gently along your jawline before cupping your face tenderly, drawing you into a sweet kiss. His touch was always gentle, his palms cradling your cheeks as if you were the most precious thing in his world.

"Hi," you whispered against his lips, smiling as he leaned in to press another soft kiss, his touch grounding and comforting.

"Did you have a good day?" Theodore asked, his thumb brushing lightly over your cheek as he held your face in his hands.

"Mmm, it was alright. Nothing compared to this though," you replied, your voice softening as he leaned in for another kiss, his touch sending a shiver down your spine.

He pulled back slightly, his hands still cupping your face, his eyes filled with warmth as he gazed at you. "You always make everything better."

"You too," you said, feeling a surge of affection as his touch lingered, his fingers tracing delicate patterns along your skin.

"Can I just kiss you forever?" he murmured, his forehead resting against yours, his touch never leaving your face.

"That sounds like a plan," you chuckled, enjoying the feeling of his hands on your cheeks, grounding you in the moment.

As he leaned in for another kiss, his hands framed your face once more, holding you gently but firmly, his touch sending a rush of warmth through you. Each kiss felt like a silent declaration of his love and care, his hands a constant reassurance that you were cherished.

"Promise me something," he said softly, his gaze intense as he held your face in his hands, his touch so tender it made your heart flutter.

"Anything," you replied, feeling a rush of emotion at the sincerity in his eyes.

"Promise you'll never forget how much you mean to me," he whispered, his hands trembling ever so slightly against your skin.

"I promise," you said, your voice barely above a whisper, overwhelmed by the depth of his feelings.

Theodore smiled, his touch becoming even more gentle, as if he was memorizing every contour of your face. "I love you," he murmured, his lips brushing against yours in a feather-light kiss.

"I love you too," you replied, feeling a surge of emotion as his hands cradled your face.

Tom Riddle: Subtle things to make sure you don't get hurt

In the midst of a quiet classroom, Tom and you sat side by side, the ambiance filled with the hushed tones of a lecture. You were unconsciously fiddling with your quill as your tired eyes lingered on the teacher, doing your best to listen to whatever he was saying.

A small sigh slipt from your lips as your dropped your quill, the small object rolling under your desk. As you leaned down to retrieve your quill, Tom subtly shifted, his hand discreetly finding its place at the edge of the desk, ensuring you wouldn't hit your head upon rising.

"Thanks love," you whispered, meeting his eyes for a fleeting moment, noticing the faint blush that graced his cheeks as he quickly looked away.

"Wouldn't want you getting hurt," he murmured, his voice barely audible, trying to cloak his concern with an air of indifference as his eyes went back to the teacher.

"I appreciate it," you replied softly, a small smile playing on your lips, acknowledging his unspoken worry.

Throughout the class, the subtle ways Tom looked out for you were apparent. Whether adjusting his posture to prevent you from bumping elbows or discreetly sliding a book closer to your reach, his actions spoke louder than his reserved words.

As the lesson progressed, you dropped a parchment, and before you could react, Tom swiftly picked it up without a word, his gaze briefly meeting yours with a hint of concern before retreating into his usual stoic demeanor.

"Thanks," you said, your voice warm with gratitude, feeling the corners of his lips twitch into the faintest hint of a smile before he composed himself.

"Merlin you're an idiot," he mumbled under his breath, a small smile twitching on the corner of his lips. He loved you, and he did his best to show it. To some, these may just seem like small gestures, but to you, these acts meant everything.

Blaise Zabini: Looking after you while you are sick

"Blaise, I think I'm dying," you groaned, your voice muffled by the mountain of blankets you'd buried yourself under. The room echoed with your misery, and you could practically feel Blaise's amused gaze on you.

"Quite the melodrama you've got going on there," he chuckled, entering the room with a tray in hand.

You peeked out from under the blankets, giving him a weak glare. "This is not melodrama. I'm genuinely dying. I might need to write my will."

He raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. "Last I checked, you're broke. And if you're going to die, at least wait until you've cleaned up the mess in the bathroom."

You shot him a scowl before returning to your cocoon of misery. "I'll have you know that this is a serious illness. I even got Pansy to get me a book from the library so I can read about my symptoms."

He set the tray on the bedside table, glancing at you with a mix of amusement and skepticism. "And let me guess, according to Dr. know it all, you have a rare tropical disease only found in the depths of the Amazon rainforest?"

"No, it says I have a severe case of man flu," you deadpanned, voice muffled by the blankets.

Blaise burst into laughter. "Man flu? Really?"

You shot him a glare from under the covers.

He shook his head, still chuckling. "Ok, ok. I come bearing gifts to nurse you back to health."

He lifted the tray to reveal a steaming bowl of soup and a cup of hot tea. Your eyes lit up, and you managed to sit up, sniffling pathetically.

"Ah, the healing powers of chicken soup," he declared dramatically, handing you the bowl.

You took it gratefully, inhaling the comforting aroma. "You're the best, you know that?"

"I try," he said with a wink, settling onto the bed beside you. "Now, eat up. We can't have you wasting away on my watch."

As you sipped the soup, Blaise watched you with a soft smile. "Feeling a bit better already?"

You nodded, the warmth of the soup soothing both your throat and your mood. "Maybe I won't die today after all."

He chuckled, running a hand through your hair. "Good to know. I was planning on having a quiet night in, not attending a funeral."

You swatted him playfully, earning a smirk from Blaise. "You're lucky I'm too weak to defend myself properly."

"Consider it a mercy on my part," he teased, taking a sip of his own tea.

As the night wore on, Blaise stayed by your side, occasionally offering more soup, fetching tissues, and regaling you with stories to keep your mind off your misery.

"You're surprisingly good at this whole nurse thing," you admitted, snuggling into the blankets.

He grinned, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. "Well, when the patient is you, it's almost enjoyable."

You rolled your eyes, but a small smile played on your lips. "I must be really sick for you to admit that."

He chuckled, wrapping his arms around you. "Maybe you're just bringing out my softer side."

You sighed dramatically. "I never signed up for a softer Blaise Zabini."

"Too late now," he replied with a smirk, holding you a little tighter. "You're stuck with me, even if I have to nurse you back to health every now and then."

You leaned into his embrace, feeling grateful for the care and comfort he provided. "I suppose I can live with that."

And as you drifted off to sleep, wrapped in blankets and the warmth of Blaise's presence, you couldn't help but feel that maybe being sick wasn't so bad after all, especially when you had someone like him to take care of you.

(This is my favourite for sure)

Jasper Rowle: Doing your shoelaces

The sun had dipped below the horizon, casting a soft golden glow into the room as you and Jasper sat comfortably on a bench in Hogsmede just of to the side of Zonko's, enjoying a leisurely stroll that had turned into a serene moment of shared silence.

"Oops," you pouted, looking down at your untied shoelaces, a small sigh falling from your lips as you went to go and tie your laces.

"I've got it darlin'," Jasper said with a gentle smile, bending down on one knee before her.

"Jasper, you really don't have to," you protested, a faint blush gracing your cheeks at the unexpected gesture.

He shook his head with a grin, his fingers deftly working on your shoelaces. "I've got it, can't have my girl tripping on her own shoelaces, can I?"

You chuckled softly, unable to hide your affectionate smile as you watched him tie the laces with care. "You're too good to me, you know that?"

He glanced up at her with a warm smile. "'Just don't want you getting hurt."

As he finished, he ran his thumb over your knee softly a few times before standing up and placing a gentle kiss on the top of your head, causing your heart to flutter. The simple act filled you with warmth and adoration.

"Thank you," you murmured, touched by his gesture.

"Anytime, my love."

Their fingers intertwined as they resumed their stroll through Hogsmede, the cool breeze carrying the faint scent of baked goods, more than likely from a stall near by. The world seemed to slow down around them as they walked hand in hand, enjoying each other's company.

Hi all! This is my first post, hope you enjoyed it :) I take requests for many different fandoms and characters <3

[temis-de-leon]

He has a nightmare where he rejected you

Characters: Lucifer and Mammon (x gn!reader, separately)

Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4 , Part 5

Main Masterlist

CW: very OOC since they'd never reject you to begin with, but hey, that's why it's a nightmare

A/N: the rest of the brothers, as well as the dateables, will have their own part too, but I'm writing the requests and the fics for the 500 followers event at the same time, so everything will take some time <3

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Lucifer – You weren’t his first choice

Under the fear and the mistrust, you showed a clear interest in him since the beginning.

He couldn’t blame you; he was handsome, after all, and he knew his attitude was attractive to most.

And while he found you beautiful as well, you meddled too much in his family’s business and your defiance to him only felt irritable.

You were a nuisance. A threat to his Lord’s wishes.

He made sure to keep you at arms’ length except the few times he felt the need to threaten you.

Surprisingly, the more you forced him to know you, the more he couldn’t say no.

Your shared time turned enjoyable and you soon started to hang out in his office late at night or, if you were an early riser like him, in the morning during breakfast.

He should’ve expected your romantic feelings towards him, something he saw before you had the chance to tell him. The way you looked at him or blushed when he paid you attention, how you searched for his presence more and more.

He rejected you before you could even talk to him about it.

It was brutal, in a way, cold and straight to the point. He didn’t bother to pour his heart into his apology.

He had his duties to Lord Diavolo, to his family and the kingdom.

The attraction he felt for you, the love that could’ve been, wasn’t enough for him to stay.

There were two types of pain in his chest when he woke up: the pressure in his sternum caused by the sharp edge of the desk and the sting in his heart from the hurt in your eyes.

He didn’t do that, did he?

He accepted you, he accepted your love with open arms, gave his in return. Lucifer could remember the smile in your first kiss just as much as the sincerity in your voice each time you reminded him the depth of your feelings. He always opened his ribcage like you would with a book to show his reciprocation.

Staring at his paperwork in horror, the pool of saliva slowly drying under his distress, Lucifer searched for memories that could prove the existence of your relationship. Your weight on his lap, your scent in his clothes, the last message you sent him, the last time he treated you on a date.

When was that?

How many days ago?

Weeks? Months??

His fingers trembled when he pushed his hair back and he knew the sting in his eyes wasn’t due to fatigue. Now gasping, eyes wide open in panic, he got up and paced around the room, the false reality of his dreams thankfully fading away and letting him see himself pouring two drinks while you stared at him in adoration, setting you on top of the table to kiss you carelessly or letting you drag him out of the office for a good night sleep.

 “Dear Diavolo” he mustered to himself, taking his coat off and letting it fall to the ground before breathing deeply. “How stupid… Stupid…”

Although not entirely, the embarrassment of suffering such despair for a nightmare washed the panic away, making him thank everything that would listen that none of his brothers were there to witness his fear and desperation.

It was the last thing he needed.

However, still hating the oneiric sight of your heartbreak, Lucifer refused to stay in the office. Reading official documents and signing them with his beautifully practised handwriting seemed like proper torture now and he knew that going back to his work would only give him more suffering dreams.

Would you hug him for the rest of the night if he asked or would you rather have the roles reversed, as it usually was? Oh, what he would do to feel your fingers through his hair and your heartbeat under his cheek. He’d stay awake forever if that meant never letting you go the way he did in his dream.

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Mammon – He wouldn’t admit the truth

He thought so lowly of you during your first week in the Devildom that once he caught feelings, admitting them was simply mortifying.

The second born, Avatar of Greed, falling in love with a human? It was embarrassing at best and pathetic at worst.

Yet, he followed you every step of the way. Going to classes, to the cafeteria, back to the house once the day was over...

As days went by, he even spent more time in your room than his; watching a movie, taking a nap, studying or just hanging out.

And when he wanted to do something else? Something more… illegal and underground?

Oh, you followed. You followed him just as blindly as he followed you.

It was painful, yet wonderful.

How full his chest felt whenever you smiled or even looked at him, the complicity in your conversations, the comfortable silence you shared.

The quiet sobs that closed his throat each time he insulted you because he accidentally showed too much of himself, the horrifying emptiness of his room that engulfed him when you finally had enough and wouldn’t let him visit you out of the blue anymore.

Your feelings for him were as clear as the ones he had for you, but none of them were spoken about.

Yours came and went, first hopeful and then neglected.

His stayed.

He still followed, you just didn’t look back anymore.

He woke up crying, body hyperventilating and sweating and mind still in the horror that his dream had created.

He recognized the sheets as the ones from his bed, but everything else looked blurry and too dark to pay attention to. However, Mammon could feel the spot next to him still warm and the silhouette of your figure was visible on the mattress. A quick glance at the door and the lights of the bathroom shining through helped set his heart in a steady pace.

You were there with him, unavailable for just a couple of minutes, but soon to return to the comfort of his arms. Your clothes were mixed with his on the sofa, he was charging his DDD with your charger because his was in your room.

Even if it was hard to say out loud, Mammon loved you too much to ever let you go, as did you.

There was no possibility of that nightmare ever being real.

“Did I wake you up?”

There you stood, above him, hair completely dishevelled, eyes half closed, either from grogginess or the temporary blindness from light exposure, and hands reaching out for him. Your fingers intertwined with his as soon as they found each other and your lips slowly came down to clumsily kiss the corner of his mouth.

“What was that?” he softly laughed, quickly forgetting about the nightmare.

“Shut up, I can’t even see you”

He could only observe in tenderness and relief as you climbed over him, ignoring your side of the bed in favour of his entire torso, but, just when you were settling in, you licked your lips and stared at him, even if you weren’t entirely able to see.

“Baby, are you crying?”

“No, I’m not” he immediately answered in a defensive stance, blushing in embarrassment.

How could you know being blind as a mole?? Did you taste his tears when you kissed him?

“Mammon”

You tried to look serious, but the exhaustion betrayed you, turning your glare into a pout. He could’ve laughed at you, and he would’ve in any other situation, but the feeling of being too late to freely love you still crushed his heart and the only thing he wanted to do was to keep you close and hope you were still there by morning.

“I’m not crying” he insisted, this time in a softer tone.

That seemed to reach whatever was left of your consciousness, so you finally let your head fall on top of his chest to continue your slumber, talking one last time only to say what he needed to hear the most.

“I love you, Mams”

“I love you too” he sighed.

He’d tell you again once you were awake. And once more after that, just to make sure.

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[llycaons]

it's like I always say. only 6hr26min left