#This kind of went on a tangent but I think it's helpful for giving the scope of the region and who is a part of/subjected by it

[scoutofmymind]

hold on is the bi fic coming today?! might cancel plans w friends im not kidding

À Trois — { Luigi x Reader x OMC }

Content: NSFW — MDNI Another Situationship, Luigi is canon techie, reader is a chef, interesting new French-Canadian techie chef hybrid enters the arena, m/m/f, anal fingering, all kinds of penetration, general filth!, original Male Character insert

Wc: 6,415

Notes: Chaos erupts on a packed Saturday night when your sous chef quits, forcing you to call in a favor. Enter a quick-witted, intriguing French-Canadian with a mop of curls and an eye for opportunity — a friend of a friend who might just turn disaster into something much more interesting.

Hi! So I should probably give some warnings before this but I kinda just want you to read it blindly hehe🐇

What I will say, is if this isn’t your thing, just don’t read it! I have plenty of other things to read on my Masterlist pinned on my blog and if you don’t wanna read my stuff, there’s other accounts and shit to read, hon!!

I liked writing this almost too much, and I think it’s because (as I’ve briefly mentioned before) m/m content is what I’ve written the majority of in my time as a writer, so this was a good introduction to dipping my toes deeper in the straight smut shores. This piece focuses on vulnerability, specifically involving Luigi, and very deep and sexual fantasies and desires.

Additionally, I would like to add I very recently watched We Live in Time after I started writing this and Almuts culinary ventures encouraged me to keep readers ambitions as a chef. Was very much envisioning the Bear vibes, too.

Also, anon! I hope you went out with your friends because Mama Scout is a very slow editor! I swear I went as quickly as possible, but that might mean I left some oopsies.

This is a Pinterest board to help you envision my version of Alex — but with that being said, please feel free to imagine him in whatever way resonates with you!

•

"I just want to die." You say dramatically, though your voice caught no wind of your unseriousness, sounding as if you truly had meant it from the bottom of your heart. "If I have to fill another puff pastry to be graded by that fucking wrinkle one more fucking ti-"

Luigi had interrupted you by nipping at your neck, gentle and soft but enough to snap you back into the moment, shared there on the couch in your apartment.

"I hate him," He whispers against the delicate and sensitive skin of your neck, the prickle of his growing facial hair making you shiver. "N'I never even met the guy." His tongue flattens below your earlobe, wet and hot, tasting your skin. His hands tighten possessively at your waist, and you can feel the tension in his fingers, the way they press into you like he's trying to leave marks deeper than skin.

You huff softly and hook your fingers into his sweater, pulling him closer. "Good." Your hips are eventually aligned with his, nestled into the spot in his lap that fit the shape of you so perfectly. "Isn't that what friends are for? Hating the same people."

You can feel him nodding, and in the back of both of your minds the sentiment echoes.

Friends

Friends

Friends

The word hangs between you like smoke, heavy and suffocating.

His fingers trace absent patterns on your hip, each touch sending sparks through your clothes, and you wonder if he can feel you trembling. You wonder if he knows that every time you refer to each other as friends, it feels like a beautiful lie, a comfortable cage you've both locked yourselves in.

Your foreheads are almost touching now, and you can count his eyelashes, dark against his cheeks when he blinks.

The room feels too warm, too small.

This had all started innocently enough, but had tumbled into something that felt cathartic, and as natural as drawing the next breath. Luigi knew just how to soothe you when you went on a tangent, wondering if culinary is even worth the hassle, and you'd convince him to rest after spending hours, staring at the same code and expecting it to unravel itself.

On the other side of the coin, he knew just the angle you liked it when you were on top, and you knew which buttons to push when he was getting close to the edge. His hands would always find your hips in the dark, steadying, grounding, like he was afraid you might disappear if he let go.

All of that had lead here, two years later, drowning in debt but doing it together.

Your tiny apartment, always filled with the smell of your latest baking experiments and the soft glow of his laptop screen at 3 AM.

His coffee mugs mixed with your measuring cups in the sink.

Your cookbooks scattered among his programming manuals.

Neither of you had planned this.

But the memory of how it started still makes you smile.

That first night when frustration over finals had turned into something else entirely. Him, cursing at Java errors until 2 AM; you, covered in flour and close to tears over a failed soufflé. Somehow you'd ended up tangled together on the bed, comfort turning to kisses, friendship morphing into something neither of you had dared to name.

Now here you are, his thumbs pressing into your hipbones like muscle memory, your fingers twisting into his sweater — the same dance you've been doing for years, but it never gets old.

"You're thinking too loud," Luigi murmurs against your neck, and you can feel his smile against your skin. He always knows, somehow, when you're getting lost in your head. His hands slide up your back, pulling you closer, bringing you back to the present moment, to him.

"I just don't know what all this is for." You grumble, and it's the same sentence you rattle on once a week — even Luigi is starting to wonder if maybe you're onto something, this feeling so persistent it's become its own shadow.

But beneath that doubt, he knows better.

He's witnessed your passion in the way your hands dance through prep work at 3 AM, seen your drive in the burns and scars you wear like medals, and more importantly, he's watched your fierce determination to carve your place in a world that keeps trying to push you out.

Every time you prove another condescending male chef wrong, he sees that fire in your eyes that reminds him exactly what all of this is for.

•

It's day two of restaurant week, you're already down two servers, and your sous chef just threw his apron at you and stormed out — all because you dared to suggest his sauce was breaking. The dining room is full, tickets are piling up, and you're seriously considering whether arson is a viable career move.

"Chef?" Lucas pokes his head into the kitchen, looking nervous. "I might have a solution. My friend Alex — he used to run a kitchen in Montreal before getting into tech. He's moved nearby. He- he could help."

You're about to say you don't need some tech bro's help when three tickets print simultaneously and your saucier drops a pan. Although the worst images of Luigi’s grad class flashes before your mind, you’re resisting your fight or flight, landing on an almost comical freeze.

"Fine.” Your stare is blank, watching as the tickets roll in. “But if he can't keep up-"

"He can keep up, chef.” Lucas promises, already texting.

Fifteen minutes later, a tall man with messy brown curls walks in, already tying an apron.

He takes one look at your ticket rail and starts rolling up his sleeves, his arms crossed over his chest as if he’s admiring an art piece in a museum. "Alexandre Dubois," he says quickly, the earlier mention of his home in Montreal evident in his accent. "Where do you need me?"

You point to the chaos of your saucier station. "Can you make a decent béarnaise?"

His smile is quick and confident. "In my sleep, Chef. Traditional? or are we playing with modernist techniques?"

Before you can answer, he's already moving, grabbing eggs with one hand while adjusting your immersion circulator with the other. The next six hours are a blur — a whirlwind of perfect sauces, synchronized plating, and Alex's voice cutting through the chaos in a mix of French and English.

In the end, you couldn't tell anyone the details even if you tried, and you do, sat in a booth in the vacant restaurant, Alex sitting across from you as you scrub your hands over your face.

"I don't remember anything," you whisper, sipping from the glass of wine in front of you, having gone behind the bar to pour it yourself.

Your hands are still shaking slightly — adrenaline crash, or maybe low blood sugar.

Who’s to say.

"I think that's a defense mechanism.” Luigi murmurs, only a hint of humor in his tone. He's tucked beside you, shoulder warm against yours, and you lean into it slightly. Turns out, he had known Alex from KubeCon just last month — some massive tech conference downtown where Alex had presented his restaurant management platform.

You think that's what Luigi said, anyway.

You genuinely couldn't hear anything besides the imaginary ticket printer still squawking in your mind.

"You did beautifully," Alex says quietly, finally reaching for his wine. "That kitchen — you’ve built something special there. I had fun.”

You make a noise that might be a laugh or a groan. "A kitchen that nearly became a funeral march tonight." But you're smiling a little now, the wine and the company slowly unwinding the tension in your shoulders.

"I still can't believe you were actually cooking," Luigi says to Alex, shaking his head. "When I saw your presentation at KubeCon about automating kitchen workflows, I just assumed-“

"That I was another tech bro like you who'd never worked a line?" Alex's grin is knowing. "Non, I did my time. Ten years at home in Montreal, then Paris. The software came after — I kept seeing problems that needed solving." He pauses, takes a sip. "Who better to make restaurant software than a chef? Though I admit, I haven't jumped into service like that in.. Two years? Three?"

"Could have fooled me," you murmur, and his eyes catch yours, something warm in them that makes your breath catch slightly.

"High praise, coming from you," he scrunches his nose, freckles becoming more prominent as the wine warms his cheeks. "Luke told me about your kitchen. About you. I may have been particularly interested in helping tonight."

Luigi shifts beside you, and you feel him exhale slowly. "Funny," he says, voice carefully neutral. "Lucas told me some interesting things, too."

The air changes subtly, charged with something you're too exhausted to properly analyze, or maybe you're just not ready to acknowledge the way Alex's gaze keeps moving between you and Luigi, the way Luigi's hand has settled on your knee under the table.

The heat bouncing off of each of you.

The silence shatters with the unmistakable growl of your stomach. Alex's posture snaps straight, professional instincts overriding everything else. "Chef," he breathes, voice caught between concern and disbelief. "Tell me that wasn't-“

"I haven't eaten since breakfast," you confess, heat rising to your cheeks. The day had spiraled in that way only restaurant life can — you'd meant to cobble together something from prep scraps between tasks, but then the lunch rush hit, followed by inventory, and suddenly it was dinner service with nothing but coffee and determination keeping you vertical.

Alex's expression shifts from desire to decisive action in an instant.

He glances from you to Luigi, then back again, shoulders squaring with newfound purpose. "My place is three blocks east on Clark," he says, keys already appearing in his hand. The invitation is casual, but the glint in his eye suggests he knows exactly how to seal the deal. "Been saving a special bottle for the right occasion — Chateau Latour."

Unlike your wide-eyed response, Luigi maintains his composure, but his attention is caught by the way you practically vibrate with excitement.h His expertise lies in absorbing your rants about reducing sauces rather than reducing wine lists — and your own sommelier ambitions had been temporarily shelved when the kitchen claimed you — he finds your enthusiasm infectious.

The elevator opens directly into the penthouse — the contrast almost laughable.

Here's Alex, dark ink creeping up his neck from beneath a worn Black Flag t-shirt, keys hooked through his belt loop like any other line cook, standing in the middle of what could be an Architectural Digest spread.

His blue beanie comes off, revealing that mess of hair he was pushing back during service, as he pads across heated marble floors in scuffed Vans.

The space is all clean lines and floor-to-ceiling windows, but there are hints of the real Alexandre from Montreal scattered throughout — a battered leather jacket tossed over a $10,000 armchair, a crystal ashtray on the balcony holding the remains of his American Spirits, dog-eared Bourdain paperbacks mixed in with leather-bound first editions on the shelves.

The wine wall is a thing of beauty, a temperature-controlled showcase spanning an entire wall, though you notice he keeps his everyday drinks in a mini-fridge by the couch — sparkling water, craft beers and the kind of natural wines that come with cartoon labels.

The kitchen is a chef's dream — yours, in particular — Gaggenau everything, knives worth more than first cars — but there's also a well-loved cast iron pan that's clearly his favorite, seasoned by years of late-night cooking.

Luigi whistles low, taking it all in. "Never would've guessed, Chef.” he says with a grin, the sentiment still strange on his tongue. He knew Alex as a techie. Not a chef.

"Yeah, well," Alex shrugs, already heading for the kitchen with that familiar kitchen-swagger that both of you take heavy mental note of, eyes following him like he’s on a stage. “money doesn't make food taste better." He stops to light a cigarette on his way to the wine wall, the flame catching the faded stick-and-poke tattoo on his knuckles.

Your glances shared with Luigi across the kitchen island grow more frequent as the night deepens, like two regulars sharing secrets at the chef's counter after closing.

Each look is a silent conversation about Alex — the way his hands move with practiced grace, how his voice drops when he's concentrating, the slight curl of his mouth when he catches one of you watching. For Luigi, it's rediscovering someone he thought he knew; for you, it's discovering someone you wish you'd known all along.

His hand finds yours under the counter, warm and grounding, but doubt still gnaws at the edges of this moment. Maybe you're both reading too much into Alex's invitation — perhaps this is just what he does, this tech wonder with a chef's soul, feeding strays past midnight in his penthouse kitchen.

Your phone buzzes, Luigi's message lighting up the screen.

I'm gonna say it

You huff quietly, fingers dancing across your phone screen while feigning interest in Alex's enthusiastic discourse on his Japanese steel collection. He's talking about the way his yanagiba catches the light, but all you can focus on is how his own eyes catch it instead, bright and alive with passion.

Go on then

Luigi seems lost in a trance, captivated by the cadence of Alex's voice as he demonstrates proper blade technique with his hands.

The notification sits unread for two long minutes before he finally tears his gaze away to unlock his phone.

He's hot

The crude simplicity of it makes you bite back a laugh — trust Luigi to distill this magnetic pull into two blunt words. But he's not wrong. There's something raw and electric about Alex, the way he commands the space without trying, how his tattoos peek out when he reaches for the top shelf, the slight rasp in his voice when he gets excited about something.

You watch him plate with the precision of a surgeon and the flair of an artist, and your next messages to Luigi is equally succinct.

I know

We're in trouble

I thought you'd never touch another man again huh?? What happened to THAT??

Luigi's eyes roll dramatically at his phone, though his lips twitch with amusement. You've heard his declarations countless times — "I'm bi, but men are exhausting" and "I'm done with the whole scene" — always accompanied by that same frustrated wave of his hand, as if trying to brush away his string of romantic disappointments.

Dude it’s pride month and this is how you're going to treat me?

Your playful shove lands harder than intended, sending Luigi slightly off-balance. Your shared laughter, too loud in the intimate kitchen space, draws Alex's attention like a magnet.

He turns, wooden spoon still in hand, one eyebrow arched in that way that makes your stomach flip. "What?" he asks, voice low and amused, glancing theatrically over his shoulder as if checking for projectiles. "Do I need to separate you two?"

"Well, I'd apologize," you manage, watching Alex pour more of the wine with deliberate slowness, "but something tells me you're not actually upset.”

The corner of his mouth lifts, and Luigi's grip on your thigh tightens reflexively. The air feels charged, like the moment before a storm breaks. You're acutely aware of every small movement — the way Alex's shoulders flex as he sets down the bottle, how Luigi's breath catches when those dark eyes find his.

"Upset? Non." Alex circles the counter with predatory grace. "Curious, though." He stops just close enough that you can smell his cologne, see the faint scattered burns on his forearms from years in professional kitchens, matching yours. “About what's got two of the brightest minds I’ve ever met acting like teenagers in my kitchen."

Luigi makes a sound that might be a laugh if it wasn't so breathless. "Would you believe we were discussing network architecture?"

"No," Alex says simply, and the authority in his voice makes both of you straighten instinctively. "I wouldn't." His hand comes to rest on the counter behind you, effectively caging you both in. "Want to try again?"

The hunter has you cornered, and somehow, that's exactly where you both want to be.

You blink instinctively at Alex, your fingers wrapped around Luigi’s that twitch with sudden anticipation — of what, he wasn’t even sure. And cat’s got both of your tongues, because Alex laughs at the beat of silence that falls between you again.

“What’s the story here, hm?” He gestures lazily at your interlocked fingers and the way you hold Luigi’s hand between your thighs like it’s meant to be there; you realize now you’re closer than ever to experiencing one of your most beloved fantasies, the one you’d told Luigi a million times about after finding out he was bisexual.

“I’d literally cut my tongue out of my mouth to see you get fucked.” You blurt it over your oatmeal, causing Luigi to freeze, a long, drawn out sigh deflating him.

“Well at least then you’d shut the fuck up about it.”

The air grows thick with unspoken tension as eyes dart between the three of you in an electric dance. When Alex's hands find your thighs, the touch is deliberately slow, possessive. "No need to play shy now." His voice drops to velvet. "Are you dating? Fucking?" His gaze slides from you to Luigi, hungry and knowing. "Please fucking don't tell me it's neither."

Luigi swallows hard, and you watch his throat work. "We've been- we’ve had-“ The words tangle in his mouth, caught somewhere between confession and confusion.

"Ah," Alex hums, a sound of pure satisfaction. He doesn't need Luigi to finish; the truth is written in the way you lean into each other, in years of shared glances and stolen moments. His thumb traces circles on your thigh as understanding dawns in his eyes. He imagines the desperate moments over your kitchen counter after brutal workdays, knows about the languid afternoons when Luigi worships between your thighs like a man finding religion. "I see.”

"And do you both want this?" Alex asks, his thumbs still tracing maddening circles. "Because I've imagined it. Every possible way." His voice drops lower, intimate. "The way Lui would look taking my cock while he's inside you.”

Luigi's breath catches sharply, and you feel him gravitate toward you as Alex's hand captures both your chins, tilting your faces together like he's arranging a masterpiece.

"Look at each other," he breathes, and the command sends electricity down your spine. When your eyes meet Luigi's, your heart stutters — his pupils are blown so wide the brown is nearly swallowed by black, his full lips parted and flushed deep rose. A beautiful flush stains his cheeks, and you've seen him like this countless times before — desperate, wanting, on the edge of losing control.

But this is different.

The weight of Alex's gaze transforms something familiar into something thrillingly new, dangerous and electric.

It's like seeing Luigi for the first time all over again.

Alex's thumb traces Luigi's bottom lip, and you watch, transfixed, as it parts beneath his touch. Your breath catches at the raw intimacy of the gesture, at how naturally Luigi yields to him despite barely knowing him.

His other hand slides up your thigh, stopping just short of where you're aching for touch. "Tell each other what you want," he commands softly. "Both of you."

Luigi swallows hard, and you watch his throat work. "I want-" he starts, then breaks off with a shaky exhale when Alex's thumb presses slightly into his mouth. "I want to see if you can keep up with both of us," he manages finally. "Wanna see if you’re as strong as you look."

The words send heat flooding through you, and Alex's grip on your chin tightens slightly. "And you?" he asks, dark eyes fixed on your profile as you stare at Luigi. "What do you want?"

Your voice comes out rougher than you expect. "Want to watch you fuck Lu," you breathe, feeling Luigi's fingers dig harder into your hip at your words. "Want to see him come undone for someone else.” Your fantasy uttered aloud almost makes you moan, so close you can taste it. “I’ve thought about it for years.”

"That can be arranged," Alex says softly, “Give him some love.” He directs you to kiss Luigi, and you do — all soft lips and delicious spit, again, something so normal, so written in your code feels so new and different.

You know Luigi must be aching for some sort of friction, his hips stuttering against the seam of his dickies as he pulls away. The two of you finally look to Alex again, like lambs before a wolf — willing sacrifices to his altar. "My room is just around that corner." He gestures to a room with sweeping views of the city lights, dominated by a luxurious king-sized bed. The decor grows more personal the deeper you look — still expensive, but uniquely Alex; rich leather accents, dark wood, carefully chosen art. "Attendez-moi, mes petits anges."

Despite years steeped in French cuisine and culture, you've never understood French the way you do in this moment.

You and Luigi stumble into his room in a tangle of limbs, falling onto the plush bed where you undress each other with trembling fingers and burning intent. "You're finally going to get what you've always wanted," Luigi teases, his clothes scattered across the hardwood floor, mingling with yours until there's nothing left between skin and silk sheets.

"Don't act like you haven't been dreaming of this too," you swat his chest playfully, taking a moment to drink in your surroundings. Then doubt creeps in, and you turn to face him, voice softening. "You do want this- want that- want him — right?"

Of course he does. You can see it in the way his pupils have swallowed the rich hazel in his eyes, the slight tremble in his fingers when they trace your skin. He's a leaf caught in a storm now, ready to be carried wherever this night leads.

But..

"Oh, Lu." You cradle his face between your palms, unable to suppress a fond smile as you drink him in. He's ethereal like this — flushed and wanting, a stray curl falling across his forehead, skin practically luminescent in the dim light. "Are you nervous?"

He blinks slowly before nodding, following it with an overdramatic sigh that's so quintessentially Luigi. "What if I-“ he trails off, and it's jarring to see this crack in his usual confidence. For all his natural sensuality, there's a new vulnerability in sharing this first time with you, in letting you see him completely undone. What if seeing him like that - seeing another man inside him — changes everything?

What if you can't look at him the same way?

"C'mon." You settle between his legs, hearing the distant clink of dishes from the kitchen where Alex tidies up. It's almost amusing how the day's hunger has transformed into something else entirely.

The soft tear of tinfoil drifts from the kitchen — dinner waiting patiently to be revisited.

Luigi lies before you like a Renaissance painting, all golden skin and flush-stained cheeks, dark curls falling across his forehead. His breath comes in gentle pants, chest rising and falling with anticipation, fingers twisted in the sheets beneath him, cock stood proudly against his belly, flushed pink and leaking little dribbles of excitement over his bellybutton.

You can't deny your own nerves, haunted by the same fears but in a different key. It had always been you and Luigi — this delicate dance of yours, this perfectly balanced equation. Until Alex came along with his sharp wit and gentle hands, his ability to speak six languages and still leave you both speechless.

"You have no idea, Lu." The words spill from you like a confession as you drag your tongue along the underside of his cock, feeling it pulse against your tongue. Your fingers dig into his thighs, grounding yourself in the moment, in the taste of him. "How beautiful you are when you really fall apart.”

And yes, you've witnessed Luigi's pleasure plenty before, seen him come undone beneath your touch — but there's always been this unspoken limit, this boundary you've never dared to cross. Your body, beautiful as it is, lacks certain equipment, and you've never found the courage to suggest alternatives, to ask him to trust you that deeply.

"Oh, petite étoile," Alex's voice carries from the doorway, rich as aged cognac. You don't stop your attention to Luigi, but you feel the shift in the air, the electric charge of being watched, and the familiar act becomes something new, something thrilling under Alex's appreciative gaze. "Making you feel good, hmm, mon coeur?" His accent wraps around the words like a spiders carefully weaved silk, and you feel Luigi shiver beneath your tongue.

He whines — a delicate sound he tries to swallow back, as if embarrassed by his own pleasure. You know better, know exactly how to unravel him. Your tongue swirls around his cockhead with deliberate precision, a dance you've perfected over countless nights, and his attempt at restraint crumbles like sugar in rain.

Another moan escapes him, deeper this time, as his gaze flickers between you and Alex who’s taking his time, each piece of clothing removed with maddening slowness, like unwrapping a gift he plans to savor. You arch your back, rise slightly on your knees — a subtle invitation.

It works.

You hear Alex's sharp intake of breath, feel the heat of his approach even before his hands find your hips.

And then he’s to his knees at the foot of the bed, his tongue eager to taste you, his fingers buried in your heat almost immediately. “Fuck,” you whisper, watching Luigi’s eyes light up with adoration, with love, with uncontainable lust.

You had thought this through in the last moment — the best way to ease his uncertainties would be to show him just how beautiful vulnerability can be.

"Ooh," Alex's groan resonates through you, his fingers working with practiced precision, curling just right as his thumb traces maddening circles against your clit. Each movement is deliberate, calculated to make you tremble. "You watching, Lu?" His voice drops to a velvet whisper as he tears his gaze from where his fingers disappear inside you, seeking out Luigi's face with an intensity that makes the air crackle.

"Take notes," you manage through a breathy giggle, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along Luigi's inner thighs. You feel them tighten beneath your lips as another wave of pleasure courses through him. But Alex, the choreographer of your shared desire, seems to have another act prepared — some new way to push your boundaries, to guide you and Luigi through uncharted waters just when you think you've found familiar shores.

"Get him ready for me," Alex commands, his hands spreading you open with reverent curiosity, watching as your arousal creates dark constellations on his bedspread. There's something almost scientific in his observation, mixed with raw hunger. "Lu, I don't want to assume but — out of practice with the boys, oui?" His words are careful, considerate, even as they drip with desire.

A moan escapes him then, pulled from deep within by nothing more than the tableau before him.

You, displayed and wanting, and Luigi, trembling with anticipation.

"Couldn't blame you of course," he adds in a whisper that carries layers of meaning — an acknowledgment of what you and Luigi share, a testament to your completeness as a pair, and wrapped within it all, his profound gratitude for being allowed into this sacred space between you.

Your cheeks flush crimson, heat blooming across your skin as you meet Luigi's gaze, finding in his eyes the same mix of shock and raw desire that must be evident in your own. Your glance darts to Alex, words stumbling as the full weight of his suggestion settles over you. "You- you mean-"

The small black tube rolls across the sheets toward you and Alex's confirmation comes in the form of a slow nod, punctuated by the teasing press of his cock against your entrance, making you gasp until the sound morphs into something more determined, more primal — a wordless promise that you're ready for whatever comes next. "Jesus," the word escapes you in a reverent whisper, heavy with the realization that tonight is becoming a dizzying sequence of fulfilled fantasies. "I guess we're making all my dreams come true in one night."

That simple phrase draws twin laughs from them both, your own joining the harmony as you return to your devoted attention between Luigi's thighs, pressing tender kisses against his heated skin.

Alex begins to ease himself inside you, a careful, measured claiming that ends with him fully seated, drawing a soft sound of pleasure from deep in his chest. "Mmm, my angels," he breathes, the endearment floating through the air like a dizzying, poisonous gas. From his position, he has the perfect view over your shoulders, watching Luigi's features contort in exquisite pleasure as you work a single, slick finger into him with careful precision. “So good to each other.”

The sensation is entirely new — sex has become something different, something more.

It's overwhelming in its intensity, but already you feel yourself becoming addicted to this heightened state of being; the one where your hips move in a gentle rhythm against Alex, who maintains his controlled pace, ensuring your careful ministrations to Luigi aren't disrupted, and between your thighs, Luigi trembles and shakes, his cheeks painted with twin flames of need and vulnerability.

The crimson flush spreads down his neck as he surrenders to this new experience, caught between desperate want and the sweet ache of exposure.

The vulnerability only heightens his arousal, his cock twitching against his stomach as his composure crumbles.

His jaw goes slack, lips glistening in the amber glow of city lights that filter through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Far below, the city hums its nighttime symphony, a distant urban lullaby that feels worlds away from here. "Fuck," the word drags out of him, long and desperate, "Gimme more, baby.”

You're eager to grant his wish, your chest swelling with an unexpected cocktail of emotions — fierce pride, profound tenderness, and pure awe at his trust in you. It's a strange and beautiful revelation, this moment of watching Luigi surrender to pleasure, to vulnerability, to you.

The pride that floods your chest now somehow eclipses even that sun-drenched day in when you watched him cross the stage in his graduation gown — a comparison that would be comical if it weren't so achingly true.

"Mm," your hum resonates through the heated air as you introduce another finger, watching in rapt fascination as Luigi's body responds. His back arches like a devotee at prayer, offering himself up completely on this altar of shared desire. In this moment, he's transcended simple partnership — he belongs to you wholly, and tonight, by some beautiful alchemy, to Alex as well. "Where have your manners gone?" The words barely leave your lips before Alex responds in kind, quickening his own pace inside you, a delicious reminder that in this dance, every action demands an equal reaction.

"M'sorry," Luigi's whisper comes ragged and desperate, his bottom lip caught in a vice between his teeth. The indentations left behind are deep enough to threaten blood, a physical manifestation of his struggle to maintain control. "Fuck — please," he begs, the words carrying both surrender and demand, need stripped bare of any pretense.

To quell the tremor in your hands, the rising panic, your mouth finds solace, purpose, on Luigi’s cock. Hard and slick with his need, it strains against your lips, a silent plea you answer with a fervent pull.

He tastes of himself, of salt and arousal, but tonight, a sweetness blooms somewhere in the back of your throat

Alex’s hands tighten on your hips, anchoring you as he sets a bruising pace. His eyes, dark with desire, flicker between you and Luigi, a connoisseur appreciating the interplay of flesh and longing, a masterpiece rendered in sweat and gasps.

Beautiful.

Shattering.

Luigi’s gaze is fixed on you, raw and unguarded as Alex’s hips slam against you, a friction that echoes the storm inside you both and you meet his look, swallowed by the vulnerability etched on his face, the pleasure that paints his features.

His breath hitches, a strangled sound that mirrors your own.

“Tell me,” Alex breathes, the words catching in his throat, his chest heaving, each inhale and exhale a testament to the shared precipice you’re all teetering on. “Tell me where you want it, darling.”

You don’t have to speak.

Your fingers and mouth are too preoccupied with their work on Luigi. You let your body do the talking — leaning back gently, pressing yourself against Alex’s groin, pushing him deeper inside, your body tensing around him to keep him there. And that’s enough.

He fills you with a familiar warmth, but one different from Luigi’s.

Welcomed, of course.

But different.

When he pulls away, a gasp tears from your throat. “Don’t worry,” he whispers, reading your mind. You haven’t finished, and that simply won’t do. “not done with you.”

Alex coaxes you onto your back beside Luigi, skin touching skin again. Your hand reaches out, cupping Luigi’s cheek, feeling the warmth radiating from him. “Think she’s done enough?” Alex asks, his gaze falling on Luigi, who nods slowly, nerves flickering in his eyes, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. “Yeah?” Alex coos, soft praise laced with understanding.

He’s packed with muscle, similar to Luigi, yet as Alex hovers over him, their bodies seem to fit together like perfect opposites. Luigi, usually all rigid edges and tough exterior, has softened into a vulnerability you’d only dreamt of witnessing — flushed cheeks, pupils dilated beneath a heavy-lidded gaze that finally finds yours.

He looks desperate for a kiss, for any type of comfort — and that’s precisely what he receives.

Your lips brush against his, soft and reassuring, while Alex's hands smooth over the taut muscles of his stomach. Alex then positions himself above Luigi, their bodies aligning, a symphony of muscle and limb, toned and intertwined, and you’re captivated by the exquisite beauty of the scene, the raw vulnerability on display, until a low groan is wrenched from Luigi's throat, a sound you’ve only heard once before, a sound that has echoed in your memory, a sound you've yearned to hear again.

It's a sound that speaks of pleasure bordering on pain, of surrender and release.

“That’s it,” Alex whispers, his voice a gentle caress, his touch even gentler as he moves slowly, deliberately, deciphering every nuance of expression that flickers across Luigi’s face, attuned to his every need, every shift in breath and muscle. He savors the moment, prolonging the anticipation, building the tension with each measured stroke. “Good boy.”

You can’t tear your gaze away.

The raw beauty of this moment, this unguarded version of Luigi you’ve fantasized about for years, captivates you. None of your imaginings, even the most intensely focused, had done him justice.

Perhaps some of those fantasies bordered on fetishization, but that intensity, that yearning for vulnerability, has always been at the core of your connection with him.

And this is it, you realize.

This is that vulnerability, unleashed in its most potent, breathtaking form.

You watch his face contort, muscles tensing, then relaxing as he rides each wave of pleasure. Finally, he surrenders to the riptide, a cascade of whispered moans and gasps escaping his lips as he seeks yours, then Alex’s, in fleeting, fervent kisses.

The sounds he makes are unmistakably Luigi – raw, rough, deep, and passionate; a symphony of raspy breaths, soft puffs, and pouty sighs. "I'm-“ he huffs, his damp curls, looser than usual, a messy halo of hazelnut brown. The scent of vanilla and tobacco mingles with the tang of arousal. "Fuck," he groans, tilting his head back, exposing his neck, an invitation for your wet kisses. “I’m gonna-“

"Up you get," Alex murmurs, gesturing for you to join them, creating space amidst the tangle of limbs. Muscle slides against muscle, a compelling juxtaposition of strength and softness. You settle over Luigi, guided by Alex's hand as he aligns Luigi’s cock with the slick remnants of himself still glistening on your thighs.

A chorus of moans follows the connection.

Somehow, improbably, this position works.

You rock your hips against Luigi, slow and gentle, a rhythm usually reserved for lazy Sunday mornings. Now, however, the languid pace isn't about leisurely pleasure, but about carefully navigating the edge of overstimulation, reluctant to let go of the exquisite sensation.

But even this tempered pace is overwhelming, a delicious overload of sensation.

He’d become a mess beneath you, torn between focusing on the sensation of Alex fucking into him, that little spot that made him feral nudged each time, and you — the ever so familiar warmth of all of you, and the wetness of the mess Alex had left for him to add onto.

Alex kissed gently down the sides of your neck when you sat up again, changing the angle in which Luigi had been seated inside of you, his perspective something he could have never dreamt up in a million years, but god, what a sight. “Fuck, Lu.” You whimper, reaching back to tug at Alex’s curls, similar to Luigi’s, but different in their own respects.

Alex’s hands roam your torso, they slide over your chest, one wrapping gently around your throat for a few moments before he uses them again to get better leverage with the position you’re in.

Breaths become synchronized, the crescendo building to a fever pitch, your half-squeal, Luigi’s muffled groan, and Alex’s breathless whine as the same warmth he’d imparted onto you had been shared with Luigi, and the sticky, delicious mess inside of you made messier.

“My little angels.” The sentiment leaves his lips again, and both you and Luigi have the same thought — you wouldn’t mind being his angel again. Whenever he wanted, so long as Luigi was by your side.

He watches as you collapse beside Luigi, your bodies tangled together as as you held each other through the last waves of pleasure, Alex arriving again eventually to feed you both, refusing to allow you to lift a finger, fed patiently from the same fork shared between the three of you.

[serpentface]

Are the Urswali-Dain people/the dainlands apart of Imperial Wardin?

No, Imperial Wardin is relatively small (though in-universe is pretty damn big. Most societies are small scale, singular state-entities that control this much territory are an outlier.). It is Interactive with some of the Dain-speaking populations on the other side of the Viper (and has some wholly unrealized expansionist designs against them), but no territorial control whatsoever. (Also there's been a lot of revision since they were last brought up, Urswali do not speak a Dain language family tongue).

A lot of fictional pre-modern empires are modeled after The Big Ones with massive territorial claims (or to be real, Rome specifically rather than other Big Ones like the Mongol or Incan empires) so I think that a lot of people have that in the back of their minds but like. Nah it's a relatively small space of land (my current estimate is like..... about the size of contemporary Spain?? give or take?????). The models I've referenced for designing its structure and logistics are geographically smaller states (I would consider the Aztec, Mali, and Maybe the Athenian (via Delian League) states to be decent analogues in very different ways, though none are actually like. Close analogues.).

It's composed of eight provinces all deferential to the Usoma ruling out of the Wardin province- a core alliance between two former kingdoms and a city-state (Wardin, Ephennos, Godsmouth/Odkottonos respectively) two that were fully conquered and made into provinces in state-formation (Erub and Erubinnos), and two former 'tributary' states that have fully lost their self-governance and are now provinces (Jatsait and Lobera). Each province is comprised of a core territory (usually a former kingdom or city-state) and its own tributaries (conquered/controlled non-citizen regions that retain a degree of self governance in return for economic tribute), with Lobera effectively being the biggest province via having most of the northern half of the region as a tributary. Finnerich was conquered as a tributary in a particularly aggressive manner (its self-governance was Extremely nominal and it probably would have been fully absorbed as a province if everything went nice and smooth for the Imperial Wardi side) but is completely independent at this time.

Non-Wardi ethnic groups native to the region and existing wholly within its claimed territory are the Hill Tribes, Cholemdinae, North Wardi, and Jazait. Some Wogan groups exist within its claimed territory, but most of the population is further east. 'Wardi' as a quasi-ethnic descriptor is very, very complicated, and what distinguishes someone being of Core Wardi identity and not is entirely due to the historical trajectory of assimilation, rather than actual close shared ancestry. The core 'Wardi' group is composed of 10 major tribes that self-assimilated or were assimilated into this shared identity, while the Cholemdinae, North Wardi, and Wogan groups represent descendants of other related tribes that did not assimilate (on population rather than individual levels). So like as an example- the South Wardi (mostly the former Wardinae tribe) share the Most recent common ancestry with the Cholemdinae, and less recent common ancestry with the Ephenni. On POPULATION levels, the South Wardi and Ephenni both culturally/religiously assimilated while the Cholemdinae did not, and therefore are both 'Wardi' (with some sense of subcultural identity) while the Cholemdinae are still Cholemdinae.

'Imperial Wardi' identity complicates this further, in that it is based on religious affiliation, Core cultural practices, and legal citizenship rather than ethnicity (and includes several major foreign migrant/diaspora groups). For example, the Yuroma-Wardi population is mostly a diaspora group from outside the region, but are part of the Imperial Wardi cultural sphere due to shared religious practices, cultural integration (with retained subcultural identity and practices), and citizenship, as well as a fairly long history in the region. Or alternatively, some individual people/groups of Cholemdinae, North Wardi, Wogan and/or Hill Tribes descent are Imperial Wardi as citizens and cultural-religious adherents, while not being 'Wardi'. Contemporary Wardi identity is now treated as a specific ethnic identifier, but Imperial Wardi identity is (at least ostensibly) accessible regardless of ethnic origin.

So that might clear up the full extent of the state/it's cultural sphere lol.

[neverendingford]

.

[wstviewvidal]

boulevardier- w. maximoff

pairing: rich!wanda x r

summary: sparks fly at a chance encounter

a/n: first part of dirty cash!! i finished this early december but i was so nervous to post it but i don’t want to keep yall waiting any longer. i hope yall like it!

dirty cash masterlist

next part

minors do not interact

looking over at your friend, you give her a glare as you watch her mingle with some potential business partners. being dragged to a fundraising banquet as your friend’s plus one was a way you did not want to spend your saturday evening. especially a night that is full of rich privileged people— a place that you surely don’t feel you belong.

“but you owe me from when you needed me to bail you out of that date a few weeks ago, remember?” was what she told you— and it was true.

the said date went downhill in record time, not even lasting a full thirty minutes before you had your friend call with a fake emergency. your date continuously went on and on about the state of the economy and how people should be investing in stocks to grow wealth rather than focusing on a day job.

needless to say, your friend pulled through and gave an overly convincing act to get you out of there quickly.

your friend is now immersed in a discussion with a man in a suit, probably trying to win him over in hopes to find an investor for her small business. you slip away quietly and let her work her charm.

walking around the banquet hall, you admire the decorations and the ambiance, something you’re not used to being around. you watch as women walk around in either suits or beautiful dresses, you can’t help but admire and feel a little out of place. you’re not used to the flashy life that the people here live— you’ve never had the ample opportunities that the people in this room have had. feeling a sense of jealousy and insecurity run through your veins, you try to snap out of it. it’s not healthy and you know it, but you can’t help but wish you’d be in their shoes.

sighing softly to yourself, you you find a vacant seat at the open bar and order a drink while you people watch. you can hear the live music playing, the chatter of everyone’s conversations, clinking of champagne glasses, the expensive laughter.

imagining your life in their shoes while you nurse your cocktail is how you spend the next few minutes occupying your time.

“is it any good?” you hear a smooth, confident voice ask beside you.

glancing over, you’re met with a dark haired woman with captivating green eyes smiling at you— the kind that disarms you before you even realize it. you smile back and shrug a bit, “it’s a drink. i needed one.”

you joke, now looking over at her well tailored suit and dark makeup. she’s beautiful.

chuckling subtly, “i’d ask you how your night is going, but based off of that sentence— i think i know how it’s going so far. i’m wanda, it’s nice to meet you.” she puts her hand out for a handshake, the glint in her eyes showing her amusement in the introduction.

her hand is warm when you shake it and you can smell a hint of expensive perfume as she gets closer to you to sit in the seat next to you. she speaks with confidence and an alluring charm.

you introduce yourself and laugh, “i didn’t mean any bad by it, it’s just not my.. environment,” you gesture to the crowd around you, “the rich pretentious crowd, it all seems fake to me. dressing up in your finest jewels just to fake altruistic behavior.. it’s not real to me.”

perhaps the drink was already getting to you. maybe that’s the reason you’re letting out a word spill to the beautiful woman who just wanted to know if your paloma was good.

or maybe it’s the way she giggled along with a small nod of her head as you spoke your mind. either way, she wasn’t put off by your tangent. in fact, she continued to sit with you and entertained your preferred topic of discussion for the next few minutes.

wanda watches you with an amused smile on her face. her eyes linger a bit longer on your lips longer than they should.

“fake altruism, huh? what would make it real?” she asks, with a small tilt of her head. her eyes squint the tiniest bit, her grin showing genuine interest. her voice is inquisitive, almost like she’s trying to probe you for something.

had you gone too far? you hesitate to respond, realizing you’ve possibly offended her— wondering if you’ve crossed a line. instead, wanda’s smiling and leaning into you as she wants to hear more.

noticing your slight hesitation, “you know, not a lot of people have the guts to say that. i really like it,” she chuckles softly. wanda looks over your features with a small smile as you move on to talk animatedly about your line of work. she’s enamored by how you’re wearing your emotions on your sleeve— something she struggles with.

you catch yourself, “i’m so sorry, wanda. i’ve been talking at you this whole time.” you inwardly cringe at how you’ve been holding her up with your rambling.

she shakes her head and puts her whiskey down on the bar gently, “no, please, i’m enjoying you. this is quite possibly the most entertainment i’ve had all night so far.” she puts a comforting hand on your forearm that’s resting on the bar in a comforting approach, she’s giving you a genuine smile. her gesture lasts a second too long, her gaze feeling a bit more personal than it needs to be.

“what are you here for?” you shake your head and change the subject to her, wanting to know more about her and why she’s still here wanting to be with you.

her eyes flicker towards the crowd and she hesitates for a moment, almost debating whether or not to be honest with you, “i’m just here for work, requirement by the job.” she shrugs and avoids eye contact, switching the subject back to you. she plays with the rim of her cup, not quite giving you her undivided attention like she just was.

weird.

you don’t spend too much time on it, not wanting to push her away. “i’m here for my friend. she recently started a new business and is hoping to find an investor here, make a good connection.”

you tell her as you gesture to your friend who’s now moved onto her next target of the night. she’s speaking with a woman this time, half interested in what she’s talking about.

wanda nods and follows to where your gesturing, “hm, i’ll have to check her out later.”

you two laugh and talk about different topics over the next ten minutes— ambitions you two have, where you two went to school, where you want to travel. the conversation is lighthearted but the both of you are enjoying the other’s presence.

shaking her head with a laugh, “paris is overrated. you’ll spend more time in traffic than seeing the eiffel tower.”

she watches your expression with a teasing smirk as she says this. she can tell paris is the one place you have always wanted to go to, but she wants to rile you up a bit. pure enjoyment is written on her face as she watched your face contort in mock and offense.

scoffing and looking at her with an incredulous glance, “so tell me where you’d recommend since you’re so well travelled.”

you place your chin in your hand as you await her response. your eyes are slightly glazed over and wanda can’t help but melt at the way the lights are reflecting in your eyes.

wanda grins at your tease, “vienna. no contest. it’s beautiful, and the pastries there will ruin everywhere else for you. you need to go if you ever find the opportunity.” she’s gazing at you intently as you take in her words, the way you’re nodding along to what’s she’s saying with genuine intrigue.

you are just about to respond right as a man taps her on the shoulder and says something under his breath that you can’t quite catch. he leans in with a hint of impatience and you can see how wanda’s posture goes rigid and her jaw tightens.

wanda grimaces and lets out an exasperated sigh, “i’m sorry. they’re calling me for work. i’ll try to find you after, okay? please don’t leave until i see you again. i’d hate to lose my best conversation of the night.”

she gets up from her chair and gives your shoulder a squeeze, lingering a bit longer than needed, her thumb brushes against your skin. she smiles at you warmly just before she takes off in the direction of the man.

you watch as she leaves, noticing how people look in her direction with a hint of awe as she walks past. it makes sense since she had you wrapped around her finger in such a short amount of time.

you leave the bar to find your friend, glancing in the direction wanda left with a love struck smile on your face.

you find her and ask how the networking went. she lets out a sigh of content, “i can’t believe i got to talk to so many people! i gave them all my buriness card and i hope they’ll get in contact with me sometime this week.”

you nod along as she speaks, but subtly looking around the room for any glimpse of the well dressed brunette who had you captivated as soon as she spoke to you.

“did you meet anyone? you’ve been cooped up at the bar all night,” your friend asks as she nudges your shoulder playful with a grin.

rolling your eyes, “actually, yeah. i was talking to a woman, she seems sweet.”

your friends eyes lighten up and she grabs your arm with a small squeal. you laugh at her excitement about your (potentially) blossoming love life. she has continuously tried to set you up on dates in the past, but it never works out.

you groan and cringe, “i know, i know, but remember that i just met her and we don’t even know if-“

your friend shushes you with a stern look, “stop, look! that’s the ceo, the one i told you about earlier i hope i can get in with. she sponsors and invests in a lot of companies and schools. if i can get in with her, it’s like winning the lottery.”

you furrow your eyebrows and turn around to face the stage she’s pointing you to. it takes you a second to find a gap to look in between the bodies in front of you.

and there she is— wanda. your wanda. only now, there she is smiling in all her glory, waving at the crowd that is now forming in front of the stage. the faintest smile on her lips as she gently waves to the crowd.

“oh my god,” your blood runs cold and you freeze in place. you look over at your friend with a terrified look, eyebrows pulling together and eyes wide.

heat rushes to your face and you begin to replay every word you’d said to her at the bar. did she think you were mocking her? your hands begins to clench in nervousness and you want the ground to swallow you whole.

you messed up.

your friend looks at you with a confused look, then pieces it together slowly as she gauges your facial expressions. “oh my god,” she grabs your arm, “oh my god!”

people around look at you two, some shushing you with judgemental looks on their faces. she giggles and mouths, ‘no way.’

she’s filled with excitement at the potential in, you’re filled with dread and embarrassment as you mule over the fact that you complained about this event to wanda. wanda maximoff, the ceo of maximoff industries— founder and organizer of the charity event you’re attending.

your face heats up in embarrassment and you try to hide behind your friend as wanda speaks.

“good evening, everyone,” she stands tall and poised, her voice steady and confident, “thank you all for being here tonight. together, we all share a common goal: to invest in the future by supporting the education of our children.”

you muffle out wanda’s words as you try your best to stand still and not make any sudden movement. maybe if you’ll suddenly become invisible if you stand still enough.

unbeknownst to you, wanda was trying her hardest to spot you in the crowd. unfortunately, the stage lights kept her from being able to clearly see beyond the podium.

you feel queasy and lightheaded as you quickly walk to the restroom. you lean against the sink and try to steady your breathing as much as you can. of course you would somehow offend a ceo at their own event.

you groan as you force yourself to suck up your ego and walk back out into the now booming crowd.

you try to keep a low profile as you walk parallel to the wall— the last thing you want is to offend someone else here.

“there you are,” wanda walks up to you with a two glasses of champagne in her hand. she hands one to you with a smile, “i thought you left me.”

you take the glass with a polite smile, then cringing inwardly as you remember your word vomit at the bar. “listen, wanda, i’m so sorry about what i said. the event is beautiful and i love what you’re doing for the community. it’s amazing, really.”

the words come out rushed and wanda can see a flush on your cheeks. she chuckles softly and shakes her head, “hey, you’re okay. it’s okay. i didn’t take any offense, in fact, i really admire your honesty. it’s rare that i get that nowadays. you really.. stood out tonight.”

you groan and avert your eyes from her. she looks you over and admires you silently. she wants to laugh at your now embarrassed demeanor, a stark contrast to your extroverted energy at the bar.

she realizes she’s been looking at you for too long , clearing her throat and bringing the champagne up to her lips. she looks over the rim at you, trying to be as subtle as possible. your side profile is illuminated by the string lights on the ceiling, your eyes twinkling a bit more than before. perhaps the alcohol now settling in your blood stream? or maybe the fact that wanda actively sought you out after her speech.

you turn to wanda with a small sigh, “are you sure you’re not offended?” you play with the bracelet on your left wrist to try and ground yourself. you feel horrible and uncomfortable in her presence now.

wanda placed a warm hand on your forearm with a gentle look, “i promise. i mean, maybe don’t write off an event before you know what it’s about. people can surprise you, you know?”

wanda’s voice is teasing but soft and comforting. her eyes show no sign of telling a lie and you let out a small laugh at the situation. wanda nudges you with her shoulder softly as she goes to stand next to you.

for a split second, you want to throw caution to the wind and get to know her. you want to ask personal questions— hope there’s something more there.

but you don’t get the chance to. the same man who pulled her away earlier is now speaking into her ear and you can see how irritated she quickly gets with what he’s saying. nodding at what he says, she turns to you with an apologetic look on her face.

“it was refreshing talking to you,” she wants to say more, wants to offer to get you another drink— but she can’t, “take care of yourself, okay?”

and just like that, she’s gone into the crowd. maybe this wasn’t meant to continue on past tonight. maybe meeting wanda was just meant to be a chance encounter.

your friend walks up to you with a furrowed brow, “you’re seriously going to just let her leave?”

you can see the subtle hint of frustration on her face, the wild gesturing in wanda’s direction making it evident she wasn’t happy that you let her leave.

shrugging softly, “i’m sure she’s got better things to do.”

your voice is soft as you stare at wanda speaking with a group of people. she’s got an effortless grace and charm to her, something you don’t have.

following your friend to the exit, you try to push back the thought of wanda and the ‘what if.’

but the memories of her lingering touches, the laughs at your jokes, her soft smiles are now engraved into your mind. you don’t expect to see her again, but a part of you so desperately wishes you could.

[ddawnee]

hobie’s seen some of miles’ graffiti work and took interest in it himself, so one day he asks miles if he could spray paint a spider on one of his plain tees to give it pizazz.

usually, miles isn’t really worried about his graffiti art being perfect; but this time it’s different. hobie’s cool as hell, what if he doesn’t like the finished product? that’d destroy his ego.

so he’s been circling around the t-shirt that laid on the floor, shaking a can of black spray paint for about ten minutes now. it was simple, really; all he needed to do was a circle and then the spider on the inside, but he couldn’t bring himself to start just yet, because what if the circle comes out lopsided, or he doesn’t make the spider big enough to fit four legs on each side?

it didn’t really help that hobie leaned against the wall in front of miles, observing miles circle around like a nervous mess.

“miles.. you good?”

“huh?”

“you’ve been doing..” unsure of what to call it, hobie motions with his hand, “this, for the past ten minutes. do you like.. need some inspo?”

“oh no, it’s not that, it’s just..” he isn’t sure how to cover it up, so he just is honest, “i don’t wanna mess it up, it’s gotta look nice.”

“it’s fine, no big deal if it’s messy.”

“you sure?” miles stops his pacing, looking down at the blue tee. it was modified, the collar and bottom hem messily torn off to fit hobie’s style more, and now miles felt a bit stupid for overthinking his craft; hobie was all about messy!

“yeah, the shirt don’t got any sentimental value for me yet, so i’m not gonna get mad if you absolutely fuck up the spider.” hobie shrugs.

miles raises a brow. “yet?” he’s really curious about what that means, and even finds himself hoping it means what he thinks it does.

he totally isn’t sure why though, of course.

“yeah, right now this shirt is just like, basic.” hobie starts, and miles doesn’t realize it but his voice gets a bit softer. “it doesn’t really have a meaning, but once you give it your touch it gets its value, because it’s your craft that you’re giving to me, y’know?”

there’s a lot more that hobie wanted to say, but he couldn’t get the courage to do it. he realizes he kind of went off on a tangent, and possibly annoyed miles, if it weren’t for the wide eyed look on the boy’s face. “sorry, that was a bit too much.” he grimaces.

“oh, oh no, it’s fine!” miles reassures the other, a smile on his face. “i appreciate your appreciation a lot.”

he shakes the can of spray paint, a hint of determination in his eyes as he looks at the tee once more.

[justmeinadaze]

Inescapable: Letters (Steddie X You)

A/N: I give you treat my dear friends. A glimpse into inmate Steddie. I'm going to write a full story but for some reason the idea of them writing back and forth burned into my brain. Think of this as a prequel so to speak.

Enjoy!

Warnings: Older (Early 30s) Prisoner Steddie & Young (Early 20s) Fem college student Y/N, Everything is in letter format. Mentions of smut, some dirty talk, angst (because I'm me), both men were convicted even though they are innocent, near the end we get some glimpses of toxic behavior, Jealous Steddie <3, cliffhanger esc ending.

Word Count: 2918

"You can build a prison of stone and steel, but you merely present the prisoner with a challenge. Any truly determined man will find a way out but love, love is the perfect prison. Inescapable."-- Wilson Fisk (Daredevil)

July 1996

Mr. Munson and Mr. Harrington, 

I know you don’t know me but my name is Y/N Y/L/N and I’m a student here at Hawkins University. I’m supposed to be doing a project for my criminal justice class and with your permission I’d like to do it on you. 

I’m working towards getting my law degree and so many kids in my class are doing theirs on people like Bundy or Gacy. How does that help teach them? I’ve done research on your case and I feel like you both are innocent. Add in the fact that the judge wanted to make “an example” out of you two… it’s ridiculous. 

Neither of you had a prior history of violence and Mr. Harrington, your parents are prominent members of Hawkins! UGH! I just don’t get it. 

Sorry. I went off on a bit of a tangent there… I just hate how you both were treated. 

If you don’t want me to utilize your case for my class I’ll completely understand. If you don’t respond I’ll take that as a no as well. 

Thank you,

--Y/N.

################

July 1996,

Sweetheart,

You have no idea how good it made us feel to have someone reach out to us, let alone agree that we are innocent. Society forgot about us a while ago but thankfully Steve and I have each other. 

And now you we hope : ). 

We have no problem with you doing your project on our case. What do you need from us? Details I imagine but what else? Are we allowed to know more about you? We know your name is Y/N, you’re a law student, and judging by the intoxicating scent that wafted when we opened your letter you smell really fucking good. 

Please feel free to be open with us.  We’re nice guys we swear.

-Eddie

Y/N,

I hope Eddie didn’t come off too strong with his letter. I told him we need to be respectful but like he said people kind of forgot about us. It’s nice to feel appreciated. 

We have no problem with you using us on your project and you don’t have to tell us anything you don’t want to. I understand that talking to someone in our circumstances can be a bit scary especially for a young lady like you. 

Are you only going to be speaking with us or do you need to talk to our families to? My parents gave up on me after I was found guilty so they probably won’t be much help. Eddie’s uncle Wayne Munson is a nice guy. You can tell him we sent you and he’ll answer your questions. We also have some friends people who were around the time we were arrested who can help to. 

We look forward to hearing from you, 

-Steve

P.S. You can call us Steve and Eddie. We already feel old enough : )

####################

July 1996

Eddie & Steve, 

Thank you so much! You have no idea how important this is to me. I don’t just want to do this for my class but I’d like to use this case for my graduation project as well. But we don’t have to think about that now. I barely like to think that far ahead so I use the excuse of that is two years away. 

Eddie didn’t come on too strong : ).

I AM a law student and a sophomore at Hawkins U. I’ll be 21 in a few months so I can finally move up to being a bartender at the restaurant I work at. College is expensive but soon it will be worth it. I’m attaching a picture with the letter just so you have an image of who you’re talking to. 

Growing up I heard all about you two. Hawkins High used to have your Hellfire Club, Eddie, but they disbanded it a couple of years before I graduated. The parents said they didn’t think it was right for their kids to belong to a club created by someone such as yourself. Since Dustin Henderson wasn’t there to advocate for you guys anymore…

I don’t have to reach out or talk to anyone you don’t want me to. I know most of the people involved in your case aren’t even in Hawkins anymore. 

I’m so sorry. It must be hard having everyone you know disappear. 

My parents aren’t exactly fans of my chosen profession. My mom hates lawyers since her divorce lawyer wasn’t able to get her more alimony from my father and my dad is cop so enough said hahaha!

I’ve been with my boyfriend for a few months. He’s a film major and keeps begging me to allow him to do an interview with you two. I keep telling him no. You’re people not circus animals. 

Let’s start with you two telling me whatever makes you comfortable in regard to your case!

-Y/N

####################

December 1996,

Sweetheart,

Merry Christmas! 

Did Wayne give you the presents we bought you? My uncle said it’s important for college girls especially soon to be lawyers to have tape recorders. I’d love to hear if you liked it and if you can use it in your classes. 

It’s been a couple of days since you called. I hope everything is alright. We miss the sound of your voice…

Y/N, I know I can come off a bit forward but I hope I didn’t scare you away by talking to you the way I did during our last conversation. I can’t help it, you know? You’re just so gorgeous and you’ve been so good to us that my brain promptly goes into flirtation mode. 

Anyway, yeah, I want to hear how your Christmas went and if Derek’s family was good to you.

-Eddie

Honey, 

Merry Christmas! 

Ed forgot to mention that we did get your gifts and are incredibly thankful for the books. Since I was arrested I’ve opened my mind when it comes to reading and Munson’s fantasy books at least take me away mentally to a different world. 

He’s right by the way… you are incredibly beautiful. 

Would you be open to seeing us in person? 

Just a nice friendly visit where we can talk about your project and get to know you more. 

If not we completely understand.

-Steve

##########################

February 1997

Eddie & Steve, 

I’m sorry I haven’t come by or answered the phone. After our last visit, I just…

I love Derek but I care about you both so much. When you kissed me We have to keep this professional. Not just because of my boyfriend but because I’m studying to be a lawyer. How would it look if I fell in love started a relationship with inmates I’m working with?

Please understand.

-Y/N

#######################

February 1997

Sweetheart,

We understand but you have to also understand that we’ve never met anyone like you. You’re so kind and beautiful. You listen to what we have to say and actually care about us. I can still feel your lips against mine and nothing in my life has ever tasted as sweet. 

Can you still feel me, princess?

For the first time in almost 11 years, I actually have some hope. 

Does he make you feel like we do, honey? Your heavy breath against my mouth when I kissed you tells me no. I know we’re trapped here for the next 14 years but, baby, we can still take care of you. We just have to be a bit imaginative with certain things but….

No one has to know, baby, not even Derek. 

-Steve & Eddie

#######################

February 1997

Baby, 

Fuck, sweetheart, you have no idea how hearing you touch yourself over the phone got us going. If we could have private phones we would have stroked our cocks for you so you could hear how much you turn us on.

I can still hear your heavy pants in my ear while you fucked your fingers. 

I’m playing with myself right now at the thought of how tight that young little pussy is. Fuck… picturing those sexy hips slam against me as you ride my dick. Do you like it rough or nice and slow? Delicate, just like you, pretty girl. 

Shit. I just came so hard. 

Would you let Steve and I fill you up? Make you really ours?

I wish we could fall asleep with you between us. I’d give anything to hold you in my arms and play with your hair. 

Can’t wait to see you again, princess. 

-Eddie.

############################

April 1997

Honey, 

How did your test go for your class? I’m sorry we weren’t more helpful but I’m glad you brought your stuff to show us what you’ve been working on. It makes us so happy to see you working so hard and achieving your dreams. You deserve all the good things in this world. 

I’ve been thinking about you since we last saw you. Aren’t you glad now you wore that sexy skirt?

God, I can still smell you on my fingers. I loved feeling you cling to my arm as I thrust them into your tight little cunt. We have to work on silencing those moans a bit more : ).

I keep having dreams about your pretty mouth wrapped around my cock just looking up at me with those big, beautiful eyes while I fuck your throat. 

Do you think about us? Tell us all your fantasies, baby. 

We love you. 

-Steve

#######################

April 1997

Eddie & Steve, 

You are such bad boys, you know that? I like it though…

Sometimes when I’m writing to you, Derek will walk by and I feel naughty but giddy. I’m doing something I definitely shouldn’t be doing. When we have sex, I don’t see him anymore. 

I just see you two. 

I wish I could take care of you the way you do me. I want to feel you both inside of me, stretching me open. I want to choke on Steve’s cock and ride Eddie till I can’t walk. I want to feel you both cum inside me and make me yours. 

I love you to…so much… 

I hate to ask this after everything but Derek would like to film you guys for his project. I’ll be there to so you won’t be alone with him and I can use the footage when I start working on my graduation project later down the line. 

After everything, if you don’t want to I completely understand. 

I’ll call you both tomorrow. 

-Y/N

##########################

May 1997

Please, 

I’m so sorry! The prison said you aren’t allow visits for the next month after what happened and you aren’t taking my calls. 

I didn’t know those were the questions he was going to ask you, I swear. 

After the stupid bullshit he pulled, I broke up with him and kicked him out of our apartment. 

I know you both are innocent and I don’t feel the same way he does. 

I love you so much. 

-Y/N

################

May 1997,

Don’t break up with him. He’s right. We’re fucking criminals and—

Y/N,

Eddie is still upset but we do believe that you didn’t know he was going to blind side us. We just needed some time to compose ourselves. The questions Derek asked about those kids, Nancy, and then seeing him kissing you when we walked in just fucking… It was too much. 

Add in the fact that he made some points, you know?

By the time, we get out of here we’ll be in our late 40’s essentially starting over. It’s going to be so hard for us to get a job and other things like a house or a car. People will always look down on us for something we didn’t do but they believe we did. 

You’re going to be this badass attorney with men your age groveling at your high heeled feet to give you the world. 

We’re scared about dragging you down with us. You deserve the world, baby girl.

Just give us a bit more time, ok? During this time, I want you to think about if being with us is the life you really want. Really think about it, Y/N. 

We love you to… no matter what.

--Steve & Eddie

###########################

August 1997

Eddie & Steve, 

I’m sitting in my first class this semester and I am already exhausted. I started my new job at The Hideout and I left at like 3am. I got some good tips though so that will help with tuition. I can also send you guys anything if you need something. 

I heard your appeal was denied again. 

I’m so sorry.

With cases like yours, it’s so hard to get those pushed through and approved. 

I’m thinking about you two every minute. When I crashed, I kept wishing I had your arms around me. 

I’ll call you tonight before my shift. 

I love you!

-Y/N

########################

August 1997, 

Baby, 

Yeah, we’re kind of over it now. After so many denials, you just kind of give up trying. It was like that with my dad and his case. Then again he was just a repeat offender and I’m a murderer so.

You didn’t tell us you were working at The Hideout. I used to play my guitar there with my band when I thought I would be a rockstar. I’m not gonna be anything now.

I’m sorry, sweetheart. I guess we’re just a bit low right now. 

I wish we could be there with you to. I want to fall asleep to your voice talking to me about everything. I could listen to you talk for hours, babe. 

Don’t overwork yourself. 

Love you,

--Eddie 

Honey, 

You never have to worry about sending us anything in here. We make enough money and then Wayne gives Eddie some to get by. 

My mom was there at our appeal. It was nice seeing her face again after all this time even though she didn’t talk to me or stick around to meet with me at the prison. 

I imagine my father didn’t know she was there. 

I agree with Munson, don’t over work yourself. 

We miss you. 

--Steve

######################

October 1997,

Y/N, 

We didn’t mean to scare you, baby, when you came to visit. We just… you were supposed to come visit us last week and you didn’t. You don’t answer when we call. 

We get worried. 

Please, sweetheart, answer the phone so we can talk. 

We love you, pretty girl. 

--Eddie

#######################

October 1997,

FUCK YOU! 

You don’t get to treat me the way you did when I took time out of my day to come to see you! Steve, you have no right shouting at me and degrading me in front of all your cell block friends. Eddie, you don’t get to grab my wrist and command that I “Lower my voice” when you both are sitting there talking down to me. 

The three of us know you weren’t worried about me but fucking jealous I’ve been brushing you off for someone else! 

I have shown you both nothing but respect and opened my heart to you from day one!

I’m sorry your both in the situation you are in. I genuinely am but I have given you no reason to think I’d ever hurt you by fucking cheating on you. 

I wouldn’t put my career and heart on the line like I have just to fucking throw it away that way. 

--Y/N

######################

October 1997

Little girl, 

I know you get off on being a bad girl but we swear to God, Y/N. You don’t get to talk to us the way you did during our visit. We understand that you have a busy life but that doesn’t give you the right to not show up or not answer the phone when you say you will. 

We may be convicts but we still have feelings. 

Telling us to “fuck off” or saying that bratty shit you said like “I’m sorry I’m busy” is not ok. 

Respect is earned. 

Let’s also not forget, Y/N, that you cheated on your boyfriend with us. It’s not farfetched for us to think you may spread your legs for more tips at the bar you work at. 

Don’t play this game with us, princess. You won’t win. 

Eddie & Steve

#########################

October 1997

Edward Munson & Steven Harrington, 

I always win and I have more self-respect than you both seem to think I do. 

We’re done. 

--Y/N

#########################

October 1997

Ed and Stev, 

I hate you sooooooo much. I fell in love wit you and did things with u I’ve never done with ANYONE! Except fucking obviously : ). I never did get to feel those “big cocks” streting tearing me open. Why is that? Oh yeah…because youre in jail!

I was willing to wait bcause I loved you. I didn’t care if you’d be 40 someting when you got out. You will NEVER find someone like me again. 

I’ll move on though. Always do.

Hey check out this cute boy I met. I took a picture of him sucking my neck. I’m not drunk enough to send a video but you can use your imagination. 

You’re good at that especially when u r imagining me cheating on you with men like him. 

Assholes…

--Y/N

######################

October 30th, 1997

Trick or treat, little girl.

See you tonight. 

--Steve & Eddie

##########

Donate to me

@nailbatanddungeon @dashingdeb16 @hardladyheart @thwippyparker @micheledawn1975 @utterlyinsanity

[sailorholly]

Strictly Business Pt 1

Summary: Spencer wants to gain sexual experience before asking his out his dream date. You just want a way to release stress. What could go wrong?

Pairing: Spencer Reid x F. BAU Reader

Warnings: Descriptions of crime scenes/cases. Friends with benefits. Eventual smut.

W/C: 1.5K

You roll your eyes at Officer Brewer. The handsome cop came on pretty strong with his cheesy pickup lines. Each one was more inappropriate than the last. It’s not that you didn’t find him attractive, but in your five years at the BAU, you had learned not to hook up with the officers you were assisting.

You had only been with the team three months when you were called in to help Portland’s local police on a case. Deputy Julian Lopez had been assigned to assist you on the field and you quickly fell for him. It took six weeks to catch the unsub. During that time, you and Julian were sneaking around, having a secret relationship.

You were heartbroken to learn he had been using you for information he fed to the media to make himself look like the sole hero on the case. What made it worse was the scolding Hotch gave you. You should have known better.

You and your favorite coworker, Spencer were on your way out of the small police station to see the medical examiner. A jogger had stumbled across two bodies in the woods on their daily route. The two of you were going to see if you could find any similarities between them.

“Hey beanpole, take care of my girl for me.” Brewer called out to Reid, winking at you in a way that made bile rise in your throat. “You don’t actually like that guy, do you?” Spencer asked once you left. “No way! I just flirt with him to make sure he cooperates with us.”

Spencer took his plump bottom lip between his teeth. You watched the innocent act wondering what it would feel like to have his teeth sink into your lip like that. You were attracted to Spencer, there was no denying that. It was purely sexual though. You knew the kind of hectic life JJ and Will had. You wanted no part of that.

You didn’t understand why there wasn’t a pile of women at his feet at all times. But so many thought he was too awkward or talked too much. You found it endearing when he shared the information his brain retained from reading something only once.

The two of you were closest to each other out of everyone on the team. You read together on the way home from cases. You would let him look at the latest book you were reading. He would finish it in three minutes, then continue with his own. Once you had finished, he would discuss it with you. You loved that about him.

You mostly read smutty romance, and you looked forward to the blush that would flood his cheeks when he read a particularly spicy scene. Sometimes he would clear his throat and shift in his seat. Those were your favorite moments. You spent most of your spare time together watching movies, you were teaching him how to cook and he taught you how to play chess. You paled in comparison to his skills, but he enjoyed playing with you.

When you returned to the police station, Spencer started giving statistics about the unsub. You watched as he scrunched his nose when he got to a part he found particularly interesting. You were practically drooling when he started talking with his hands. You couldn’t help thinking of what they would feel like against your skin.

You squeeze your thighs together trying to suppress the throb in your panties. Most everyone hated when he went off on a tangent, spilling every detail he knew about something, but not you. You never interrupted him once he started. You thought it was incredibly sexy how much endless information was stored in that brilliant mind under his messy curls.

After four long days, the case was finally solved. Morgan had captured the unsub when he went back to visit the crime scene. The whole team and the local police went out to the closest dive bar to celebrate. You were three shots in when Officer Brewer asked you to dance.

You decided it wouldn’t hurt, and you felt a little bad for shamelessly flirting with him all week. To your surprise, he was a great dancer. He spun and dipped you like a professional. When the song ended, you both walked over to the large booth both of your coworkers had settled in. Brewer placed his hands on your hips pulling you tightly against his body. He pointed at Spencer. “That’s how you woo a lady, Einstein. I’ve seen how you look at her. Just know she’s in good hands. She will be sleeping with a real man. She’ll be screaming my name tonight.”

You quickly remove his hands from your body. One glance at Spencer was enough for you to know that the jab had hurt him. Luckily, Brewer wouldn’t be able to tell. But you could read Spencer like a book. You grabbed the nearest drink off the table, splashing it in his face.

“You pompous ass! I wouldn’t sleep with you if you were the last man on Earth. For your information, Spencer is more of a man than you’ll ever be. He’s the perfect lover. He knows the female anatomy like you know your ABC’s. He can spell out Webster’s Dictionary in its entirety with his tongue when he goes down on me. He’s incredible.”

Spencer looks at you in disbelief. His brown eyes widen as he takes in what just happened. You take his hand in yours. “I’m ready to go.” He stands and walks out with you. You go back to the hotel spending the rest of the night watching rom coms on TV.

When you were back home, everyone was talking about what you said at the bar. Most importantly, you had to explain to Hotch that you and Spencer were not involved. He didn’t want to deal with all of the paperwork or the drama if it didn’t work out.

Penelope, Emily, and JJ cornered you by the coffee wanting every dirty detail of your hookup with Spencer. They were understanding when you explained you made it all up to defend him. Rossi seemed amused by the gossip. When you tried to set the record straight, he said “What you kids do behind closed doors is your business.”

Morgan was a different story entirely. He greeted Spencer with a high five. “My man! You could have told me. You and Y/N, huh? I’ve seen you two all cuddled up after cases. I should’ve guessed.” Despite Spencer denying anything between you, Derek couldn’t be convinced otherwise.

A few weeks passed, the gossip had been long forgotten with all the cases you had been working on. Your first free weekend, Rossi invited everyone to his house for a cooking lesson. The wine was flowing, even Spencer had a few glasses.

He was chatting with Derek about some girl he met through his Dr Who fan club. Spencer described her as his dream girl, but he was nervous to ask her out. Derek slapped him playfully on the back. “At least you’re not a virgin anymore, Pretty Boy. You should have plenty of confidence with the ladies now.”

Spencer’s face fell. He stormed out of the house. You followed after him, concerned for your friend. “Hey, what’s wrong?” You catch up to him, sitting on the step beside him. “I’m just tired of all the comments on my personal life. Just because I don’t have a different girl in my bed every night doesn’t mean I’m a virgin. Can I ask you something?”

“Sure, anything.” You reply laying your head on his shoulder. “Why did you say all that stuff at the bar?” He places his head on top of yours. His mop of messy brown hair flowing down your cheek. “I didn’t mean to offend you. I was just trying to stand up for you. I wasn’t going to let anyone talk to you like that.”

“I know that. I meant… Never mind.” He lifts his head and scoots over, distancing himself from you. “What is it? You know you can talk to me about anything, right?” He sighs looking everywhere but at you. “Why did you say I was a perfect lover and that thing about the dictionary?”

“It just kinda came out. I guess I said it because that’s what I always imagined it would be like.” Finally he looks at you. “You’ve imagined doing that with me?” His voice raises several octaves when he asks. You nod your head in response. You could tell the conversation was taking an awkward turn so you change the subject.

“So tell me about this dream girl. You’ve been keeping secrets!” He smiles sheepishly. “Her name’s Chloe. She’s brilliant. We like a lot of the same things. She speaks three languages. I want to ask her out on a date, but all that stuff Morgan said is messing with my head. What if I’m not enough for her? I’ve only been with one woman. I’m not exactly skilled in that department.”

He swallows hard, self doubt sketched all over his soft features. “I would like to have more experience before I take her out. So I can be more confident.” “I have a crazy idea. You can say no if you want. But what if we slept together? You want more experience and I haven’t been with anyone in a long time. It would be great practice for you since we are comfortable with each other. I would tell you what you need to improve on. And it would be a good stress reliever for me. What do you think?”

Spencer studies your face carefully looking for any signs of this being a cruel joke. When he is certain you meant it, he answers. “What about our friendship? I don’t want to mess this up.” He gestures between you.

“Of course we will still be friends. It’s not like we are going to fall in love. Think of it as a business transaction. We won’t let emotions get in the way. It will be strictly business.”

“No feelings?” He asks reaching his outstretched pinky towards you. “No feelings.” You confirm hooking your pinky with his.

Part Two

Tags (if you want to be added let me know)

@cindylynn @potter-puff007 @multifandom-worlds @mochie85

[beans-core]

Some batkid reactions to being hassled by the press and other PR related shenanigan (inspired by this post by @timdrakewhump, it got the brainworms shmoovin)

(edit: added a cut here because DAMN this post is fucking LONG and I know it’s clogging up other people’s pages too)

Dick: the humble founder of the batkid “troll the press” train, so he has a lot of experience and stories. As a kid, he charmed the pants off of everyone but was a handful to interview because he kept going off on random tangents. And it was just. the most unrelated and weird shit ever, like his favorite species of beetle or how he used to think when he was little that all clouds were pollution so he hated cloudy days. Things so off-topic it was practically unusable material. Bruce once asked if it was on purpose, and Dick responded “sometimes!”. He’s also the king of petty but ultimately inconsequential pranks because of growing up where he did, a place where the job was bringing joy and entertainment. If someone was an asshole to him (or anyone really) in his presence, they’d better prepare to be on the receiving end of the most manipulative, career-devastating smackdown delivered by a pink-cheeked, gift-to-the-world, curly-Q babychild— who’s now got tears running down his face because of them. It’s joever. This performer stuff helps when he’s trying not to get caught (ex: the pranks). As an adult, he wears the most butt ugly outfits (even to “important” events) but can dress stylishly if he wants. That’s usually how the press will notice which events Dick actually cares about, and Dick utilizes this to get better coverage on the more meaningful events. It’s fucking hilarious when ppl can't even really comment on the outfits because even if the clothes aren’t great, Dick somehow manages to make it look decent. When he’s out casually in public, he’s notorious for wearing shirts with puns and dad jokes on them. The shirts started ironically, but now it’s a whole thing. He gets them as presents too, Tim giving him shirts that have horrible brainrot on them. Additionally, when someone is more comfortable talking in a language other than English and Dick can speak it, he’ll switch over. But the flip side is that he knows the best insults in that language too, so if you piss him off, his roasts are both more accessible, personal, and devastating.

Jason: Snuck books to read into boring events like clockwork, and Bruce never really tried to stop him. (It’s hard to be upset at your kid for reading of all things, especially when you’d rather be doing the same too.) But Jason’s favorite activity was spreading lies and slander. He dragged everyone into it whether you were kind or bitchy, and had barely any limits. (Dick was really proud, even of the particularly wicked rumors, but tried not to show it too much else Jason go wilder.) Jason has the most fun with the gossip-distribution method of old-rich gossips who are just incapable of shutting the hell up— it’s like one big maze traversing the social cliques and making a plan of action. He gets to map out how it all works and then find the best way to wreck it, and he lives for it. Overall, he made up such an astronomical amount of bullshit that photographs were practically the only thing the paparazzi could reliably use. And even then, Jason still trolled them by wearing the same type of common plain hoodie over every outfit out in public (when he wasn’t at some special event). Present day (post-death), anytime Jason goes into the manor (not often if possible), he sneaks in. Absolutely refuses to use a door. One time, someone gets a blurry picture of Jason sneaking in, and the figure is visibly packing heat. The person who got the photo went to the police immediately, and it sent the media into a frenzy. Bruce had to make up some story about an attempted robbery and how the (non-existent) security guards he’d hired were able to take care of it. Jason thinks it’s the funniest thing ever, and can barely keep his face blank whenever he remembers it. Tim got the articles/papers printed and framed as a gift, and Jason begrudgingly accepted it (it’s proudly displayed on a shelf). He’s also secretly pissy that he can’t blatantly make up rumors for the gossips anymore because of the whole “being dead” thing.

Tim: holds grudges to hell and back if you’re not a loved one. If you happen to be more than just an average-everyday amount of douchebag and mess with him or someone he cares about, he’ll make sure you know he dislikes you by basically passive-aggressively harassing you back (when it won’t have immediate/future bad-time consequences). It’s obvious he’s being unkind only to the person/people it’s directed at, and it’s an art form Tim has been honing since the age he first understood what ‘passive aggressive’ meant. One example: once, some person said how odd it was for Mr. Wayne to keep taking in children who looked like him and “forcing them” to take the Wayne last name. The man said it in that condescending tone of people who try to imply something’s “wrong” with you without actually saying it (you know what I’m referring to). Even though Tim was visibly disgruntled in the video, it was still published. (Tim hacked the site, unpublished, and deleted the recordings out of spite… but it’s the fact that they did it in the first place!) So now whenever he sees that news station he refuses to answer them until they address him by “Timothy Wayne” (his last name is hyphenated and he doesn’t mind answering to either— usually). When Tim’s not in the mood to be passive about his aggression, he’ll just fuck with rude ppl anonymously. Hacking to mess with files/programs, deleting important info, digging up dirt and publicizing it, recruiting Jason’s help to concoct a fake scandal (Jason tries to pretend that he doesn’t love the chaos but he really obviously does), and other ways to constantly annoy/inconvenience them. Tim also accidentally adopts Jason’s habit of scoping out and analyzing the famous gossips of Gotham. It was something he’s been proficient at as a kid out of necessity, but he actually gets into it when he becomes Robin, beginning to view it like one big puzzle he can solve and use to his advantage. As a child, he’s not in the immediate focus of the news as much as you’d think. The Drake’s keep him out of the way unless he can be useful somehow (PR mostly— the Idealistic Loving Family tactic and Cute Kid Distraction are utilized often). (This becomes Pretty Boy Distraction and Desirable Man Distraction as he gets older.) They think that controlling his media presence is easier than doing damage control if he makes a mistake, as all children tend to do, which inadvertently ends up protecting him from some of the more despicable side of modern media… as long as he doesn’t seek it out himself… but as we know, Tim Drake is a very curious kid.

Damian: the perfectly behaved Wayne child, but rude without realizing (of course he realizes, but the press doesn’t know that… or won’t mention it, at least). The Wayne family PR team has long-standing beef with this kid and has had to put up with him repeatedly for PR training and other PR nightmares of his creation. He refuses to act childish in front of the media unless it’s for a mission or some other gain. (He can look like the cutiest patootie on command now, but it’s something he had to work on in his PR training, unlike some of his other siblings who have charm oozing from their pores.) The only thing that reveals Damian’s discomfort to those who know him is how he’ll stay near his family members' side, following them around like he’s stuck with glue. Once he got overwhelmed by a sudden crowd, and didn’t notice one mic coming his way until it was shoved in his face— he reacted instinctively, punched the mic (it goes flying), and ducked low into a fighting stance next to Bruce. The others poke fun until they realize he’s genuinely upset he couldn’t stay calm, so they don’t mention it again. Even though Damian loudly rebukes and scoffs at his family’s shenanigans against the press, he still secretly wants to be included. So, when he doesn’t want to be talking to someone, he’ll slowly shift into speaking Arabic and pretend not to notice. More than half the time, the listener will feel too awkward to point it out and will find some way to leave the conversation. Dick takes him to his favorite dessert place when he does this for the first time, and brags about Damian finally joining in on the family tradition all day, so he keeps doing it.

Cassandra: leans heavily into the “can’t speak” thing that she’s been mistakenly assigned just so she doesn’t have to talk to the press as much or be a center of attention. If someone does approach her she just stares at them with wide unblinking bug eyes until they back off and/or are distracted by something else. But really, she isn’t even approached that often because she sneaks around everywhere. When she is found, it’s because she feels like teasing someone that day. (It’s a bonus when her family gets all giggly seeing her mess with the press because yeah, it’s practically a Wayne family tradition at this point.) Also, everyone knows by now that Brucie will unabashedly raise hell to defend his loved ones, so even years later, when media people are like “okay wait shouldn’t she be able to talk by now??” they keep their ignorant mouths shut lest Bruce Wayne descend upon them with the power of a thousand suns lawyers. Misinformed media-people assume she’s deaf or hard of hearing all the time because of her use of sign language, and sometimes, in the spirit of trolling, she’ll feed into it indirectly. Because if you’re calling over to her for a comment and she happens to not answer, it’s your fault if you “connect the dots” and assume she didn’t hear you because she’s deaf/HOH. This also leads to her getting away with absolutely everything, because she’s a (assumed) deaf woman which means she gets infantilized, meaning she can obviously do no wrong! /s It would piss her off more if she gave a fuck about what the media thinks, but she really doesn’t, so she just uses it as another tool when she wants to cause havoc.

Duke: doesn’t get bothered too often compared to most of the others, and subsequently doesn’t give a fuck. Was offered PR training just in case by Bruce and he took it, but he could hold his own just fine before. Sometimes he’ll get approached by those sidewalk interviewers as Signal, and if he has the time he’ll stick around to quickly answer a few questions because he finds them funny. He’s always terribly vague though, and taken out of context you just have no earthly idea what he’s on about. Clarification? Duke doesn’t know her. As someone who hangs out with a family consisting of some rich white people who are often in the public eye of other rich white people, he likes to make the annoying ones squirm by interpreting everything they say to be offensive, just. Fucking with them until they’re panicking, having mini heart attacks thinking of the PR nightmare they’re gonna have. “So young man, do you think you’ll go to college?” “Why do you ask? Think a black kid wouldn’t be able to?“ “I didn’t—” “Think I’m not as capable as anyone else?” “NO no no of COURSE NOT—” Damian, Cass, and Dick think it’s genius so they take inspiration from him and do it too in their own ways. Duke usually goes straight from Bat Business to the manor, entering from the batcave but when he does visit normally, he’s pretty discreet. All that to say that when he’s first noticed hanging around the batkids + co. it’s in public areas. There are definitely some rumors going around because Duke hangs out with them like all the time. the media are left wondering where the fuck another kid came from, why Bruce hadn’t introduced his new kid, etc. Bruce comes out with a vague summary story to get the majority of the press (the ones who didn’t bother to do more research) off dukes back, and after a while, they go back their normal level of invasive.

Stephanie: will get pissy if someone calls her Bruce’s child but won’t deny being part of the family. Loves to spread misinformation like Jason, but it’s only ever fake news about herself. At one point, half of Gotham is convinced she’s some estranged Wayne (some third cousin, or was it second?) and the other half thinks that she’s the secret affair child of Martha Wayne (even though the timeline zero sense). She drives the celeb-focused conspiracy theorists bonkers by introducing herself by different names, bringing up fake relatives, sharing absurd fake stories, etc. Then, she’ll throw in an absurd truth, someone will connect the dots about that one thing being real, and it’ll start another conspiracy frenzy because wait, if that’s true, what else is??? She's also mastered how to use makeup to make her features look different for undercover missions, but will wear it out in public too so it makes sneaky pictures and videos look doctored/fake. One time, she applied some fake facial prosthetics too for fun, and a paparazzo got into hot water for trying to pass off a picture of ‘some random woman’ as Stephanie Brown. She decided to frame the best of those articles written (framing “best-of” incidents is kind of a thing now). She’ll always be excited when one of the bats comes to her asking her to disguise them for a mission because they all know that the price of her work is that she gets free reign of what the disguise looks like (as free as you can be within the mission parameters, but she finds a LOT of little ways to entertain herself).

[chai-berries]

features a reader that is exclusively chubby/fat and femme. requested by anon. this is not the final version of said request. i just really love this and wanted to share 🎀

In this scenario, Abby is immediately head-over-heels for you right from the beginning but you keep turning her down because you think Abby is just playing around and doesn't actually mean anything by it. At one point, Abby gets annoyed and tired of you giving her half-assed excuses on why she can’t take you on a date. Eventually, she comes to your house and confesses her feelings and swears to you that they are true.

“And if you truly do not like me like that, I will stop asking and we can just be… friends.” The word looks quite painful for her to say.

You stand there in the pause after her confession, just overwhelmed in the best way possible. You can’t help but ask “Wait really? Do you truly like me? No joking?"

Abby's heart breaks at the sadness and disbelief in your voice. “Yeah! The moment I saw you I thought you were the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.”

Abby slowly gets closer to you as she says this until her hand is able to lay on your cheek. You don’t flinch like you were known to do, your body constantly preparing itself for rejection. She gently brushes her thumb over the apple of your cheek, feeling the soft skin. “I just want you to know that your weight means little to nothing to me. I am not bothered by that. I am bothered by the way you feel about your body. I don’t know how you don’t see it but you are so fucking gorgeous, like holy shit. And you’re so kind and funny and pretty, and your impression of stitch from lilo and stitch shouldn’t be as cute as you make it.” She’s trying to joke, to make you smile. You give her a small one. That’s enough for her, for now.

You feel your eyes get glossy and your nose starts to tingle. Abby catches this and takes her other hand to fully cup your face. She holds your gaze. “I really, really, really like you… So what do you say?”

You laugh wetly, your face still in Abby's hands. You move your own and use them to keep hers firm but soft against your face.

”I really, really, really like you too! I’m sorry I kept turning you down," Abby makes a face at your apology but doesn’t interrupt you. “I don’t have the best history with dating, in fact I've never really dated. I went out with two different people freshman year and they both somehow ended with me inhaling a pint of Ben and Jerry’s”. You both laugh at that, both of you favored the brand over any others. Another thing in common you’ve learned about each other. “It ruined the idea of dating for me.

“And then I met you, and you were so sweet and I wanted to say yes the first time you asked me. I wanted to assume that the first hang out was a date, but it felt too good to be true, I don't know." Abby's hands move from your face to hold your hands.

“You’re too good to be true,” she whispers and kisses the knuckles on each of your hands. You cannot stop the soft sigh you let out at the gesture. “I'm sorry you felt that way. But I promise you, I think you’re so beautiful and,” Abby’s face suddenly reddens. “I think you’re pretty fucking hot too!”

You laugh and go to hide your face in her body, but Abby catches your gaze. She intertwines your fingers with hers, swinging them between you both. “I'm being so serious, like holy shit you're so gorgeous! And for no reason, like what-”

You smile and tug your joined hands before her tangent of compliments really gets going. ”Okay, stop, I get it.”

”I’m not gonna stop telling you that. I’ll pause for now because I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable, but I plan on replacing every bad thought with good thoughts because you are worth it. Understand?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

Abby nods quickly. “Good. Now, will you please go on a date with me? A proper one, with romantic intentions and if I'm lucky, a kiss at the end.” You laugh at Abby's goofy grin and over-exaggerated wink.

You nod in affirmation, “Yes, I'll go on a date with you.”

Abby thrusts her fist in the air, letting out a quiet “yesss” which makes you laugh even more, which is exactly what Abby wanted to do. Your happiness is everything to her.

[anemonelovesfiction]

20~ Age Gap

So’lek x Fem! Human Reader

Warnings ⚠️: P! In V!, fingering, unprotected sex

Part two to this

Not proofread

MDNI 🔞

It’s the last day of Heatwave In Pandora and I’m saddened by this but also excited for having been a part of all of this with y’all. Thank you so much for those who participated and enjoyed my stories as well!

Word count: 2.2k

To say I was embarrassed about what happened during just before the comet’s raining across the sky was an understatement, I had been completely mortified of the situation, I’d basically masturbated in front of So’lek, and I think he did too? But the fact that I had been caught talking in my sleep- like I do most nights- had been too much for me to attempt to show my face around him again. I’d practically grown to avoiding him during any situation possible.

He’d attempted at steering my mind in the opposite direction that night by helping me draw giant penises on my coworkers masks, making sure each of them had a different kind of drawing on it. And the comets also helped for the time being, each of them pretty much being wished upon as they flew past us in a beautiful shimmer.

But another reason I had to learn to avoid So’lek was his age. He was in his forties and I was only twenty two, I was undeniably too young for him- and not even the same species. That was a considerable age gap and I’m sure the reason he doesn’t have a mate is because everyone in his clan had perished, but had any woman from his clan caught his eye, I’m sure he would have been mated with children by now and I’m certain he doesn’t even tolerate me to begin with- I’m human!

I’d been avoiding having to come into contact with him, strategically avoiding all of the areas he frequents, ensuring that I had something to do far from our base whenever they had their meetings -or went up or down on a different level when it was raining- and when all else failed and he was near I either ignored him or found a way to push someone else into his direction to hold a conversation with him. It was pretty easy considering Priya was a chatter box, she often went off on tangents, and did very well at allowing me the perfect amount of time to escape.

But today was a different day. Priya had gone on a patrol with Anqa while all of the Sarentu were busy doing some kind of training quest without So’lek, and here I was trying to look into a way I could quickly disappear while being in his sight, finding it futile to find a hiding spot and not being able to find a single one I give high hopes that Eywa is listening to my prayer that he wouldn’t need anything from me only to be proven wrong.

“You and I need to talk.” He stated as he stands directly in front of me, arms crossed and his hip tilted to the side, he looked so babygirl, but I couldn’t even think to laugh at a time like this. I could feel the adrenaline starting to course through my bloodstream and I felt jittery.

“In private.” He adds after having looked around before staring right at me. I could only gulp and nod at this moment wondering why the great mother would betray me at my most vulnerable moment, I can see So’lek turn around and motion with his head for me to follow him, and like a lost puppy with my head hung down in defeat, I do.

It hadn’t taken us long to reach the fourth floor which housed all of our rooms. I’d ended up spacing out long enough to pass him before looking up and realizing he was behind me, turning to face him and realizing I’d cornered myself between a wall and his body. Damnit.

“Why are you avoiding me?” He asks without beating around the bush and I start to think of a million excuses in my head, opening my mouth to spew whatever first bullshit lie could come out, closing it as he speaks again.

“Don’t lie to me.” He states as he crosses his arms waiting for my answer and I couldn’t help but chew on my bottom lip.

“I was embarrassed.” I admit and cross my own arms to try to shrink into the wall, my room was just around the corner and if I bolted I think I could make it, but I looked down instead.

“Why?” His voice is deep and holds me captive as I stand there looking like an idiot and shrug.

“If you have forgotten already I joined in too. You saw the evidence on the ground.” He speaks so steadily that I’m tempted to look up past my lashes but refrain from doing just that.

“Thats not it- well mostly- but not all of it.” I pull myself closer together and pray to Eywa that I could disappear at this moment to walk away from the conversation but feel his finger underneath my chin, lifting it up and forcing me to look into his eyes.

“Why are you avoiding me?” He asks once more and I couldn’t stop the shiver from running down my spine.

“I know you won’t reciprocate my feelings, I’m too young for you, and I’m not Na’Vi.” I stated honestly and want to look away but can’t find it in myself to do so, only for him to throw his head back with a chuckle, I could feel the embarrassment creep up on me once more and anger from him laughing at me.

“Whats so funny?” I asked with a huff, wanting to hit him on the arm for laughing at me.

“I do not care that you are tawtute nor your age. You are old enough to make decisions for yourself and you can choose if you want me or not, that is what matters to me.” He responds and seems genuine for his answer and it causes me to freeze.

“What are you saying?” I asked as the confusion was settling over my features, brows lifted and furrowed together, eyes searching his for clarification.

“Must I show you?” He asks simply and I’m still confused.

_________

He sits me onto my own bed as he kneel’s before me, being taller than me even if I’d been standing, he cranes his neck down and captured my mouth with his, his hands on my hips as he slowly shimmies my pants and underwear off in one go, tossing it off elsewhere without breaking the kiss. His hands returning toward my thighs as he squeezes them gently, his tongue inserted into my mouth as soon as I gasp, my own moan following after.

Our tongues don’t battle for dominance as I knew he’d win, his massaging mine as our lips toss and turn for him to do whatever he wanted to me, I didn’t even know how wet I’d gotten until he’d inserted a finger into my cunt and it slid right in. Another moan slipping through my lips as I lean my body back for him to get a better angle, finally breaking the kiss.

“So’lek~” I moaned right as he inserts a second finger easily, I’d thrown my head back at some point, lifting it back up to see him looking right at me with a smirk.

“Wipe that smirk off your- f-f-fuck,” I cuss as he moves his fingers swiftly in, caressing my sweet spot the entire time he’d gone in, my head lolling back and eyes closing as I attempt to focus on the pleasure.

“Lay back.” He instructs and I listen, laying my body back onto the bed while my legs dangled off the bed as did the bottom half of my ass, but I didn’t care at this point as the pleasure was too good.

“Lift your legs up and don’t let them touch the ground.” He stated again, I lifted my legs and settled the hells on the edge of the mattress, feeling his breath on my cunt and constricting myself around his fingers, a dark chuckle rasping through, driving me absolutely wild. His tongue takes a swipe up my cunt and I couldn’t help but gasp followed by a moan as he thrusts his fingers back in.

“Fuck, please go faster-“ I struggled to get out as he continued thrusting his fingers in and out of me, kissing my sweet spot periodically and making me thrash my head around the bed, surely adding knots to my already messy hair.

“I want to make you cum.” He mutters before placing his lips around my clit and giving a harsh suck, my hips jumping up at the sudden contact, a wail escaping me as he continues suckling and fingering.

“So’lek, fuck!” I yell out as he runs a stripe along my clit, his rough tongue catching in it and rubbing against it deliciously I couldn’t help but buck my hips upward. A pleasing hum running through his body and from the depths of the obscene noises happening in this room, I could hear a gentle rumble, almost like a purr.

“I’m coming-“ I could feel my eyes crossing behind my eyelids and my vision turning white as I feel myself rhytmically grasping his fingers, his movements never ceasing as he continues to plow through my own orgasm and I could feel myself start to lose my own breath in the process.

“You taste delicious.” So’lek comments as his fingering comes to a standstill, I lift my head and open my eyes even when they felt too heavy to keep open and looked at him with a lopsided grin. He only stares right back at me, taking his fingers out of my cunt, and sensually licking the juices off them. I could only stare at him as my own grin fell, the heat returning to my core as I watched him and heard him continue to purr with approval, I lunged toward him and brought his face onto mine and kissed the ever living fuck out of him, breaking the kiss as I started breathing heavily to catch my breath and placed my hands on the fingers of his loincloth.

“You are eager.” He mutters.

I look up at him and see he’s smiling down at me, I blindly undo the knot keeping his loincloth on as I stare into his eyes as well, the look of surprise crossing his features as he looks down at himself to see his loincloth falling off. His cock coming up to slap him in the stomach.

“I’m efficient.” I corrected him and watch the amusement dance around his eyes.

“How’s about you take a turn on the bed while I play with you?” I ask with my hand on his chest running it down his abs sensually, looking back up at him through my lashes.

“You couldn’t handle me.” He threatens and I take that as a challenge.

“Oh yeah?” I asked with a brow lifted as if I was taking him up on his challenge.

_________

I bounced on his cock again as I could feel the fire in my belly growing larger, one of his hands had been settled on my hips, guiding me up and down his length, his purring had returned tenfold from the moment he’d slipped the tip in, and here I was taming him and taking his cock like I promised.

“How is it you can take so much of me in your tiny body?” He strains through his teeth as I continue bouncing off his cock not bothering to quiet down.

“P-pu-pure w-will,” I rasp out while continuing my task, leaning my body over to rest slightly as I move my hips up and down his giant cock, close to the edge already.

“So’lek, I’m- fuck- I can’t!” I wail as I feel my clit being brushed against his pelvis every time I slam myself down.

“Let go, I’m right there too-“ He squeezes my hips tight and I look up to him eith my own eyes struggling to stay open, his own eyes closed as he basks in the pleasure I’m providing him, deciding to fight to keep my eyes open to see his orgasm face when a sudden thought occurs to me.

“I w-wanna s-see you,” I rasp out desperately as I slow down in my pace but continue going rough. I feel his other hand carefully caress my cheek up toward his face, his eyes already opened and looking at mine, and with that I come, it took everything in me to not close my eyes but the euphoria I felt dancing around my body.

“Fuck!” He groans out loudly as his hands go straight to my hips, holding me down on his cock as I feel the tip of him kissing my cervix and explode all over my womb, spurt after spurt of come hitting my womb in a way that sent tingles through my toes.

“Holy shit-“ I mutter as I feel my body ramped up into yet another orgasm, feeling entirely spent as my body limply falls onto So’lek’s my breathing heavy as I attempt to catch my breath, the orgasm still coursing through me as my pussy contracts around him, his own purring dying down as his hips slowly push up against mine.

“No no no, wait-“ I begin before feeling his knot forming and pushing into my body, locking us into place for the time being, but I was too spent to fight it anymore.

“I’m sorry yawne, I didn’t plan for this to happen.“ So’lek begins apologizing but I shake my head as I struggle to lift myself for him to see me.

“It’s okay, we’ll just have to stay here for a bit.”

“You do not mind being tied to me?”

“Think of it as our version of Tsaheylu.”

[minnlahzz]

amethio, silver x hex maniac reader.

requested

amethio and silver! oreo and jalapeño duo (this is separated.) sorry for the big wait, school is biting my toes. uhh silvers is very short, because I feel like ive mentioned most of the things silver would do in other fics. I don't wanna seem repetitive or uncreative!

— AMETHIO

amethio would initially be unsure what to make of you. your eerie aura and cryptic way of speaking would intrigue him, but he’d be cautious. he’s logical, so he’d view what you do as something he needs to understand rather than dismiss, because every person is different why judge them. he’d probably think, "are they like this all the time?" when you casually mention something spooky like the “ghosts watching over” him.

amethio’s edgy demeanor and your crazy words would balance each other out. he’d act as the grounded counterpart to your whimsical nature, often giving you a deadpan look when you go off on a supernatural tangent.

“amethio, the spirit (random gengar) says this battle will be tough.”

“the spirit is stating the obvious.”

your comments often catch him off guard, not because he gets scared of it. it's just becuse you just say it so randomly it's kind of concerning, leading to some amusing exchanges.

“The ghosts approve of you, amethio.”

“good to know. now, tell them to get out out of my way.”

your unpredictability often throws him off balance. whether it’s your cryptic compliments (“the spirits find you quite handsome today”) or your sudden affection, he finds himself flustered more often than he’d like to admit.

your spooky vibe complements his calm and calculated style perfectly. he’d use your unnerving presence to throw off opponents while he plans a precise attack. he might even ask you for “spiritual advice” during critical missions, though you’re never quite sure if he’s joking or went insane.

he isn't really phased from ghosts, neither is his pokemon. ceruledge is one of the few pokémon that isn’t fazed by your team. it often stands protectively between amethio and your more mischievous Pokémon like (for example) misdreavus, who enjoys pranking people by floating off with their belongings. ceruledge gets really paranoid and assumes all your ghosts are evil at first.

amethio never disregards your interests, and tries his best help you enjoy them, even if he's not a fan of it himself.

— SILVER

silver is honestly pretty game with whatever crazy stuff you do, he didn't stop loving you after you did questionable things in order to see ghosts (he'd be apart of it anyway.)

first time meeting you silver already felt discomfort/concern. (not negative) he’d wonder if you had some hidden agenda, but over time, he’d notice how kind and sincere you are, even with your random outbursts, which would ease his initial distrust.

silver reluctantly tags along when you explore spooky ruins or abandoned buildings to “connect with spirits.” he’d grumble about how impractical it is, but goes anyway. (his honchkrow becomes your flashlight during these adventures.)

your spooky jokes and ghostly references catch him off guard, but he grows to enjoy your sense of humor. he won’t laugh out loud, but the corner of his mouth quirks up when you say something particularly clever. silver might even use them too, but to an extent. gold never understand the jokes...

when travelling on a mission sent by professor oak by the dex holders (gold, and crys mostly) he makes sure to find and pick up eerie trinkets and paranormal items to give to you on his return. he'd just silently sneak them in his pocket without the other two knowing, sometimes what he does though leads to a bigger problem.

"hey silver what are you doing! this place is completely abandoned don't touch that!" crys silently yelled (if you get it) in the corner.

silver unresponsive, shrugs and picks it up... suddenly a locked door opens "WHAT DID YOU DO?" gold yelled from the other room, echoing through the entire building.

"silver you pay for my life insurance."

"it's just another room, there might be something important we could give to professor oak there. you guys are just overreacting."

"GHOST!"

silver knows alot of paranormal information because of you, and it definitely saved the 3 idiots lifes maybe twice. lesson learned: don't go to abandoned haunted building, (unless you're a hex maniac the ghosts are pretty cool with you.)

it's not just him that gives the other trinkets, it's also vice-versa! you gift silver supposedly "haunted" charms, he's skeptical but carries it around anyway. when he wins a tough match, you proudly point at the many trinkets you gave him.

"the spirits were with you, horray!" you say celebrating.

"or maybe it was my training, but you know that works too."

silver has a beef with your pokemon, doesn't matter which he hates them and they hate him. (don't worry though) your pokemon like taunting him and whenever he complains, you brush it off as them bonding together.

“tell your pokémon to stop stealing my items,” he says, holding up a poké ball with a stone faced expression.

“it’s just trying to bond with you!” you reply.

“...bond less.”

[bogor-o]

ok... but like OBSESSED with your mother au, like literally kicking my feet over here!

so excited for the rocky recovery, suffering and emotionally kicking narinder cause his ass is both mortal now and also... actually, thinking about it, where is narinder and mother's relationship at during the time they start becoming more lucid? or what did he think of their mental situation before being usurped? what the cat doing now with everything? genuinely so curious and invested rn

FIRST OFF SOBBING THANK UUU;; im always giddy hearing that ppl like my au oihtrgrtg

GOSH im still thinking abt what way i want to dig into it more art/writing wise BUT as far as where they started, narinder felt inconvenienced by the constant hesitation they would have doing anything until the crown had them calm enough to "listen to reason", and by that i mean playing to Mothers delusion of growing their family and inadvertently giving them the idea that it would be their family together

so as you can see, Mother has a very skewed idea of their and Narinders relationship here but narinder leaned into it just enough to keep them motivated not considering this would have consequences. so the fight is the first time Mother seems furious, but seems to calm down as soon as its over only because in their mind this is just a hiccup in a relationship :)

hes miserable for a while because hes stuck dealing with that and it feels like its own, but as mother starts bringing back his siblings and aym and baal to boot, is when things start turning for him and he does start to feel guilt but no idea how to remedy it and for a very very short time does he get to kind of enjoy the attention they give him.

but as mother is helping the former bishops, theyre starting to come to, because theyre being merciful and kind but slowly the anger seeps in watching them be happy. helping shamura is especially a big contributor because hearing the reasoning for everything happening made Mother feel sick.

when narinder finally makes an attempt to breach the subject of their mind is the breaking point for them, and once ovidia jumps out hes not ready to hear what they have to say.

and from that points its "you can stay, but you will stay away from me, that is the only warning i'll give you." and by then the guy already has feelings getting the cold shoulder is rough, not as rough and how ovidia is having to feel all their grief at once when they finally finally have a chance to

its a long road before theyre even on speaking terms, and a lot of it is narinder finding out who they are, as ovidia and not just as Mother. eventually they get there, after a LOOOOOOOT of things in between but i already went on a tangent here but this is like the rough of it eroihgterhr

[ninyard]

re; ur kevin homeschooling post

i think about it ALL THE TIME. especially in the way that i think kevin also just really struggled with general life skills when he got out the nest, and struggled with the foxes reactions to his inability to do very ‘basic’ ‘normal’ tasks

like the foxes realising that kevin does Not know how to do like.. very regular things like he does not know how to cook or make a reservation or call his doctor or drive a car or take the bus alone or or or and and i do think they would tease him at first and laugh at oh silly kevin and his lack of human normal person skills but when they see that’s he’s actually kind of upset at not being able to do pretty average stuff without asking for help or getting really nervous about trying it in case he does it wrong i, in my gentle heart, do hope and believe they would all be sweet and patient to him and actively try to subtly teach him the skills that, to no fault of his own, he genuinely just never got taught because hey where’s the time for learning interactive skills in ur underground cult school eh!

anyways i just think it’s a very sweet image to think about nicky patiently explaining recipes to kevin and showing him each steps or matt volunteering to take him around the city on the bus to get the hang of the routes or all the little things andrew does for him !!!!

maybe this comes off coddling or a bit odd but also maybe i just wish kevin had been treated a little more gently in canon in what was truly a traumatic and deeply sheltered upbringing brushed off into like oh kevin is annoying and not personable bla bla bla

sorry this went off on a tangent i just love you kevin day and want to hold ur hand on the bus

thisthisthis oh anon don’t get me STARTED

The thing about Kevin, though, is that he is very, very, very good at hiding things. He had to be. Kevin knows how to act natural when someone walks in on him doing something that he shouldn’t, no reaction on his face. Kevin knows exactly how to look like he’s doing something when he’s doing nothing at all, when he’s listening in on a conversation that’s happening across the room. Kevin learned how to keep himself out of trouble as much as possible, and that meant becoming sneaky, becoming careful, becoming subtle.

I think that when Kevin comes out of the nest, it’s almost impossible to notice just how far behind his ability to function is. He doesn’t give anybody the chance to notice, regardless - he avoids cooking in front of anyone where he can, avoids doing the things he knows he can’t do where people can see him.

As you say, it comes to calling the doctor, or taking the bus, or tying a tie, or understanding social cues, or knowing how to order food over the phone, or grocery shopping. It comes to childhood songs and rhymes and games and Kevin doesn’t have a clue.

Wymack is the first to notice, obviously, and it’s a little while before Andrew notices too. The thing about this is not that it’s a big blinking red sign that says KEVIN IS INCAPABLE OF FUNCTIONING. It’s the little things, the things people deem common sense or muscle memory. He doesn’t know how to use a washing machine, or a coffee machine. He doesn’t know how to properly wash dishes.

But Kevin is very good at avoiding the things he can’t do. He’s very good at making sure his teammates don’t find out how incapable he is of doing certain things. It’s not his fault, it’s the way he was raised, but he still feels… embarrassed by it, in a way. When Nicky looks at him and says, “Kevin Day doesn’t even know how to make a grilled cheese?” and laughs, it hurts. It hurts when Allison throws a comment over her shoulder about how he doesn’t know how to talk to people, or when the team are playing some common childhood game and Kevin has absolutely no idea what is going on. He wishes he knew, he wishes he was raised to know, but he doesn’t.

(David teaches him how to tie a tie, naturally. When Kevin has an ear infection, and Abby and Wymack aren’t around, maybe Renee is the one that writes out a script to make a doctors appointment, “Hi, I’m sorry to bother you, I’m looking to make an appointment for…”. Matt shows him how to take the bus, and Dan shows him how to do laundry. Maybe Allison teaches him how to flirt, or put up boundaries. Maybe Andrew teaches him how to drive, and maybe Neil shows him how to light a fire or tie a knot. Nicky shows him how to order a cab. Aaron teaches him how to make Mac and cheese. Once they all see how much it actually effects Kevin that he lacks these “basic” skills, I think they all find their own ways to teach him little things. Whether they mean to or not.)

[fuck-customers]

This was a couple of decades ago when I worked in sales, let’s say for an electronics company or appliance company or something similar to that. We had an older gentleman come in and he wanted to buy some high end stuff and quite a bit of it, so we were more than willing to help him out. Things started getting out of hand with him pretty quickly though. He was starting to demand that during the delivery and installation we would do stuff above and beyond what we could do because what he was asking for was against corporate policy. When we started to explain some of this to him he was all “You don’t know who I am, do you?” and he started to tell us that he used to be the ceo of a global company that I’ll leave unnamed. Think something big like energy, tech, or media. A company that has products in almost every household. He was telling us how corporate policies are all about lawyers and accountants and he doesn’t give a damn about that kind of stuff. If anything went wrong he wouldn’t hold anyone accountable and we could take him for his word. He said he used to make multimillion dollar deals on the golf course or over dinner with nothing more than handshakes and promises of phone calls over the next week to further hash things out.

We all thought this man was full of shit but he was willing to spend a lot of money, so we just let him keep on talking while we figured out ways to talk him down from his unrealistic expectations. It felt like a hostage negotiation. From time to time he would go on tangents and give us his “insider knowledge” about this company or that. It was all far from insider knowledge. It was everyday stuff that could easily be learned by reading Forbes or The Wall Street Journal.

I was the main salesperson and his first point of contact so I talked to him the most. He talked foul and looked completely disheveled. Everything about him and the whole interaction was the exact opposite of the types of corporate businessmen I was used to dealing with. I was starting to think we were getting conned. After about two long and painful hours the sale was completed and payments went through, much to my surprise. While a lot of equipment needed to be delivered, I volunteered to load the stuff we had on hand into his car. When we got out to the parking lot I saw that his car was a busted up and rusted out relic from the mid ‘80s. I thought that there was no way an ex-ceo of a global company would be driving something so crappy. I was convinced that he was just taking us for a ride for God know’s what reason.

When I got home from work that night I googled his name. Lo and behold there he was with photographs and articles. Tons of them. Not only was he who he said he was, he actually downplayed his career. I printed out some of the articles to take into work the next day. My boss, my coworkers, and I went over them, just dumb struck. We just couldn’t believe it. This complete asshole was exactly who he said he was. We ended up calling the installers to give them a heads up and warn them that they were probably be going to deal with one of the most difficult customers they’d see that year.

We never saw him again. On the one hand we were happy because none of us wanted to deal with him again. On the other hand we were kind of disappointed. He spent money without even trying.

I believed he was who he said he was before you said you looked him up.

The really rich people (worth billions) will drive a thirty year old car, wear clothes decades out of date, and expect a lot of things "extra" on everything they do buy. That's how they stay rich. The CEO of our company is still using a flip phone and came to our meeting (when I was still in corporate) in jeans and a t-shirt. And that dude is worth billions.

The showoff's (flashy car, new phone/bag/shoes) either are millionaires that will not be rich their whole life. Or celebrities/influencer's that need to have that image of wealth.

At least that's my experience in retail corporate and working security for the mouse.

-Rodney

[katelynnwrites]

Think I Forgot How To Be Happy, Something I’m Not (But Something I Can Be) | Felicitas Rauch

warnings: reader’s prior messy break up

word count: 3642

summary: you leave north london broken but maybe in germany, you’ll meet someone who helps you to heal, part two can be found here

a/n: requested, some fluff for my fellow germany fans. also my brain kinda went off on it’s own tangent here so this is what it is 🥺😂

Germany is not somewhere you thought you would ever live in. Yet here you are, in your new and empty apartment, having signed for Wolfsburg.

Arsenal had been your home for as long as you could remember and you had never planned on leaving your childhood club.

You were happy there. Until you made the stupid decision to date a teammate.

That’s where it had all gone wrong for you.

The way your relationship had ended, you wouldn’t wish that on anyone. The initial dismissal and pulling away by your ex had left you with trust issues.

The inevitable break up led to you falling out of love with North London. All the little corners and places in the city that you had once loved so much and therefore shared with your ex were now tainted with painful, sour memories.

So encouraged by your Arsenal teammates who have had a front row seat to the way your relationship had fallen apart, you had left the only home you had ever known for Wolfsburg.

******

You arrive in Wolfsburg to Jill’s open arms, the former Arsenal player having been instructed to look out for you.

She picks you up at the airport and brings you to the apartment where you would be staying.

The Dutch woman offers to stay and help you unpack but you give her a small smile and tell her you would be fine on your own.

You don’t want to say it but you need a moment alone, to process this enormous decision that you had made.

Jill understands and leaves but promises to be back so that you can carpool with her to your first training session with the German club.

Alone in your apartment, surrounded by cardboard boxes, you sigh and sit down to think.

******

Jill introduces you to your new teammates. They’re all welcoming, friendly and nice, excited to meet their new English teammate.

You’d remember a few of them, from international friendlies.

Lena Oberdorf especially because she had almost taken your ankle out with a solid tackle.

She rushes to greet you first, saying she is so glad to meet you and worrying if you hold any hard feelings towards her.

You didn’t and you tell her as much, giving her a warm smile.

Svenja Huth is next, taking her duties as captain very seriously and wanting to make sure you are fitting in okay.

The following faces you meet kind of blur together, unfamiliar German accents being the only thing you catch.

Until a brunette steps forward, meaning to introduce herself only for a blonde to interrupt her loudly, ‘I’m Jule and this is Felicitas.’

‘Don’t call me that.’ She mumbles, making Jule giggle.

‘Ignore her please. I’m Feli and it’s really nice to meet you.’

You laugh and shake her hand.

Feli smiles and you give her one in return.

******

As lovely as your new teammates are, you’re still not letting them in and keeping your guard up.

It bothers them, when you make excuses to miss team meals and leave team bondings early.

You play well with them on the field, connecting easily and creating goal scoring opportunities. Your talent is not something that was ever in doubt but now it shines through. The German style of play suits you.

But your distance concerns them enough that they ask Jill, the only one who you seem willing to open up to about why you seem so closed off and sad.

Jill tells them about your messy break up and how much it had hurt you.

She doesn’t share enough to violate your privacy but what she said had been enough.

Your Wolfsburg teammates are kinder to you after that, patiently waiting for you to let them in.

Especially Feli who is particularly enamored with you. With your English accent and smile.

The German has been trying to keep her growing feelings for you under wraps but it’s been getting harder for her to do so.

She loves spending time with you, adores the way your eyes light up when you find something funny.

When she finds out you’re a dog person, she brings her dog to training.

Feli watches as you laugh, letting her poodle lick your hand. Her heart skips a beat when you look up at her, a big grin on your face.

The sound of your laughter gives her a warm feeling inside, so much so that she’s smiling like a fool.

Jill leans against the wall with her and quietly says, ‘Well done. This is the most relaxed I’ve ever seen her since she got here.’

‘I just want her to be happy.’ Feli murmurs, shrugging lightly.

In that moment, Jill realises exactly how smitten her teammate is.

******

You weren’t blind. You know that your teammates know what is up with you.

But slowly and surely, their patience and kindness begins to pay off.

Feli is a big part of that.

The German player had caught onto how much you love her dog and had repeatedly invited you to a park not far from the training grounds.

At first you had made your usual excuses but Felicitas had been gentle but persistent in her asking, so much so that you had acquiescenced.

In the time you spend with Feli and Cinnamon, you get to know them both.

Cinnamon loves getting the spot behind her ears scratched and Feli loves her coffee.

As you grow more and more familiar with a certain German, you find yourself developing feelings for her.

Eventually it gets to the point where you wake up one morning, on an off day and catch yourself excitedly getting ready to see her at the park.

You don’t go that day.

You ignore all her subsequent texts and calls.

They are anxious and worried at first but soon get even more frantic.

You hide under your blankets and keep your phone far away from you.

So great is the pain in your heart and so heavy are the thoughts in your head that you forget that you gave Jill a spare key when you moved in.

The depth of Feli’s feelings for you are not to be underestimated because soon enough, she’s there with Jill.

Jill who takes one look at you in your room and quietly sits down beside you on the bed, where you’re curled up.

‘Schat, I know that you’re scared of what you might feel for Feli but for what it’s worth, I believe that she couldn’t be more different than your ex.’

The Dutch woman waits a moment and upon not getting any response, sighs.

‘She was so worried you know. Feli practically begged me to come here and check on you.’

‘Was she?’ You softly ask, tearing up slightly as Jill talks about the German woman who has found her way in your heart despite your best efforts to keep her out.

‘She still is. I couldn’t convince her to go back to her apartment so she’s here. I managed to get her to wait in your living room till I spoke with you.’

‘She’s here?’

You panic and stand up, rushing to pull your bedroom door open.

Felicitas freezes, she’d been pacing you think.

Cinnamon barks happily and runs up to you. The brown poodle gets an absentminded pet from you before you straighten back up.

You keep staring at Feli and barely notice Jill leaving the apartment after saying that she’d give the two of you a moment.

‘Hi.’ Feli softly says.

‘Felicitas.’

‘You’re the only one who I don’t mind calling me that you know? Well, other than my parents.’ The brunette gives a tiny laugh before she takes a step towards you.

‘You mean a lot to me. The way I feel about you isn’t a secret.’

The sharp inhale that escapes you is loud. You didn’t know that your feelings were returned and the anxiety her confession causes must be clear on your face.

Feli’s eyes widen and she quickly says, ‘I know someone hurt you badly and I want you to know that I would never do that. I really care for you and I'd just like you to know that if you ever want to let me in, I'll be here. You don’t have to feel the way I feel but I'm here. I'm always going to be here for you. I'm not going anywhere, I promise.’

‘You promise?’

The way your voice wavers makes your unsurety apparent.

It’s why Feli doesn’t hesitate to answer with certainty, ‘I promise.’

You stay silent, trying to see if she really means it.

After a moment, you decide she does. You trust that she does.

‘Okay. D-Do you still want to go to our park now?’

It’s a tiny nervous step from you but a step nonetheless.

‘Of course.’ Feli is quick to agree, a wide smile on her face.

The fact that you had referred to the park as yours and hers, gives her butterflies in her stomach.

******

You join your teammates for lunch.

If Feli had to bring Cinnamon and sit beside you for the whole meal, she didn’t care.

Neither did your teammates who are over the moon that you are finally comfortable enough to start letting them in.

They don’t explicitly say anything to you but the way they grin and hug you, shows you that they care.

The meal is lighthearted and fun, situated at a pet friendly restaurant, to accomodate Cinnamon.

By the end of it, you have decided that getting to know your teammates outside of training wouldn’t be so bad.

Especially if Feli was going to hold your hand every time she thought you were anxious.

******

You begin going over to Feli’s apartment.

She convinced you to come over one day, after playing fetch with Cinnamon, saying that she’d like to introduce you to proper homemade German food.

You’d hesitated but she had looked at you so pleadingly you could not say no.

So you said yes.

And that is how the twice a week dinners started because the food that Felicitas makes is just so good.

You might even say that it makes you fall a little harder for her.

Feli tries to teach you how to cook but it doesn’t really work out. It’s almost laughable really, how hard the both of you try, you to cook and her to teach you.

Eventually the two of you just resign yourselves to the fact that it wouldn’t work and settle into a new routine.

One where you go shopping for groceries together and cook together in Feli’s apartment.

A routine where you insist on paying for the groceries since she cooks and where you sit on the counter, sneaking pieces of food to Cinny as you watch her cook.

******

As the months pass by in Germany, you make sure to keep in contact with your old Arsenal teammates.

Your English teammates you still see at camp but you miss your other teammates.

Especially Lia who you have always been particularly close to.

Lia who you call one night, to have her answer your video call with a knowing smile.

‘Lia?’ You nervously question.

‘You’re falling in love.’

‘What? Lia no.’

‘I was watching the game today. I saw you run to a certain Felicitas Rauch as soon as she went down. You were the first one by her side.’

‘I care a lot about all my teammates. I’d do the same for you.’

Lia doesn’t just laugh, she giggles.

‘Yes but you wouldn’t be smoothing sweaty hair off my face or helping me sit up. Or holding my hand as you walk me back to my position.’

You frown, remembering the moment from earlier.

Feli had been tackled and had gone down holding her ankle. She had not got back up, so you had sprinted right over.

Upon hearing her pained gasps, you had immediately tried to soothe her pain as best as you could.

It hadn’t occurred to you that it would be broadcasted on live television.

You had just been so focused on Feli and the fact that she had been hurting. Everything else was unimportant then.

The way Felicitas had gratefully held your hand as the medics checked out her ankle, it assured you that you had made the right decision.

Lia’s new fit of giggles brings you out of your thoughts.

‘I’d hold your hand and walk you back to your position if you wanted.’ You grumble.

The Swiss woman laughs once more before looking at you seriously.

‘I’m so glad you’re healing. It wasn’t easy to see how broken you were before.’

‘Feli’s been…’

You trail off, not knowing how to explain exactly how kind, patient and warm the defender has been to you.

Lia nods, ‘I know Feli and I know you. I also know that you’ll be good for each other.’

‘I don’t know Lia. I’m just so scared. Feli means so much to me and she’s been incredibly sweet but there’s always the chance that this all goes wrong. I love Germany and I feel at home here now. I don’t want to lose that again.’

Your former teammate nods once more, understanding your fears.

But then she asks something you should have asked yourself a long time ago.

‘Why does Germany feel like home?’

The answer is one you know deep down. Germany only feels like home because of Felicitas.

******

You curl into Feli’s body, your palm resting on her stomach.

She shifts, allowing you to get more comfortable.

‘Thanks.’ You whisper, so as to not disturb the rest of your teammates during the movie screening and she presses a kiss onto your hair in response.

You don’t stop her when she presses a second and then a third affectionately.

If anything, you relax even further into her.

With her so close, you can hear and feel the way her breath stutters every time the movie picks up.

It seems that Feli scares easily and you find that adorable.

******

Twice a week dinners at Feli’s apartment become a nightly occurrence.

One evening when it’s her turn to host team bonding, you answer the door.

Jill smirks.

You roll your eyes.

She catches you alone, in Feli’s kitchen later on.

‘Whatever you two are, it’s not just friends.’

‘I know.’ You say softly and despite Jill’s excited follow up and slightly invasive questions, you don’t say anything else.

******

Despite how close you and Feli are, she’s not your bus buddy.

Your bus buddy is Jill and hers is Kathy.

Today though, Felicitas is having a hard time.

It didn’t matter that Wolfsburg had won the game. By her high standards, she had played an awful game and she’s just so tired. She is exhausted and furious at herself.

All she wants is to go back to her apartment and sleep. And maybe cuddle with Cinnamon a bit.

Feli is so out of it that she doesn’t notice Jill nudging you and not too quietly murmuring, ‘Go to her.’

Kathy switches with you easily once she sees you coming towards her.

It doesn’t occur to Feli that you have noticed her change in behaviour and would want to check in on her.

So when you slide into the seat beside her and reach out to hold her hand, she jumps with surprise.

‘I got you.’ You promise and guide her to lean against your shoulder.

Felicitas does so with a breath of relief.

When you carefully kiss her cheek and pull her even closer, Feli thinks that everything is going to be okay.

******

You’re more affectionate with her than ever and Feli loves it.

She loves how comfortable you are around her now, from holding her hand on team walks to cuddling with her on her couch.

Now, having traveled back to North London, for the Champions League, Feli is especially glad you’re letting your walls down.

She knows it would be hard for you to be back in your old home so she wants to be there for you, as best as she can.

Svenja had given out the room assignments and you had eagerly pressed a kiss onto Feli’s cheek when you found out she would be with you.

‘Hi roomie.’ You’d teased and she had held out her hand to you.

‘Hello.’ Feli murmurs, smiling when you take her hand.

As she follows you into the elevator, she makes a mental note to thank her captain.

******

You’re so excited to be back in North London. You’ve missed the city and your friends.

You’re even more excited to take Felicitas to your favourite cafe.

She loves coffee more than anyone you have ever known and you hope that she likes the coffee there.

Unfortunately that has to wait till after the game. You will have a chance to do that tomorrow, before you fly back to Germany.

First you have to play and hopefully win against your former team.

But for now, you’re content to watch Feli get ready for bed.

Felicitas who looks so cute with her glasses on.

So you tell her that and she blushes, making you laugh.

******

Feli squeezes your hand in hers as you line up in the tunnel. The Arsenal players aren’t here yet so the defender takes a moment to check on you.

‘You okay?’ She asks and you nod, wrapping your arms around her waist and burying your face into her neck.

You take a deep breath in and Felicitas rubs your back soothingly.

She smells nice and you allow her to calm you down.

Feli places a brief kiss onto your forehead and then steps back as the Arsenal players join your team in the tunnel.

‘Lia!’

The Swiss player hugs you immediately. Lia’s eyes meet Feli’s and she mouths, ‘Thank you.’

******

Your game ends as a draw.

As you go around shaking hands and sharing hugs with your former teammates, there’s a lot of laughter.

But when you’ve made your rounds, you’re back at Feli’s side, slipping your hand into hers as she walks back towards the tunnel.

Feli looks at you in surprise.

‘Don’t you want to spend time with your old teammates?’

‘I have.’ You answer but Felicitas squeezes your hand.

‘Don’t you want to spend more time with them?’

‘Nope. I want to spend time with you now.’

‘Oh.’ Felicitas’ cheeks turn a bright pink and she brings your joined hands up to her lips so that she can kiss the back of your palm.

If Lia or your ex sees the short moment, they don’t say anything.

If your ex-girlfriend glances at Lia, the Swiss woman’s only response is to shrug as if to say, ‘You’ve lost her.’

******

‘To go or having here?’ The barista asks.

Feli eyes you in question and you say, ‘To go please.’

As you wait for your coffees to be ready, you explain, ‘There’s somewhere I want you to see. It meant a lot to me when I was growing up here.’

Felicitas simply holds your hand and smiles at you reassuringly in answer.

When you leave the cafe, she deposits your joined hands in her jacket pocket for warmth. In doing so, she catches the expression of complete adoration on your face and feels the familiar butterflies in her stomach flutter around.

‘How’s your coffee?’ You ask, as you lead her down the street.

Feli grins, ‘It’s good. I understand why this is your favourite coffee.’

‘It isn’t anymore.’ You whisper.

‘It isn’t?’

‘Yours is.’

Felicitas visibly tries and fails to fight back her smile.

‘It’s the cinnamon I put inside isn’t it? I told you it would grow on you.’

‘You were right.’ You admit and Feli laughs. Her thumb brushes over the back of your hand and you duck your head to hide the way your cheeks burn.

‘Come on. We’re almost there.’

‘Okay.’ Feli murmurs.

******

It’s only a short walk from there and it’s spent in comfortable silence.

When you reach a small side street, you gently tug Felicitas with you, into a park just beside it.

‘It’s beautiful here.’ Feli quietly says.

‘It is. But you should see it in the summer. There’s so many flowers then.’

You and Feli sit down beside each other on the bench. You rest your head on her shoulder and Felicitas exhales.

She finishes her cup of coffee and then sets it aside.

‘Why’d you bring me here? Not that I don’t want to spend time with you but why?’

Sitting up properly, you look at Feli for a long moment.

Her eyes are so pretty you think.

Gingerly, you reach out to trace the contours of her jaw. Felicitas melts, leaning into your touch.

Very very slowly, you begin to close the gap.

Feli catches on immediately and she gently stops you.

Your eyes widen with hurt and you pull away, making the German player rush to stop you.

‘Liebling I want this. I really really do. I just need to make sure that it’s what you want too.’ She softly says.

‘Felicitas…’

Feli tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. It’s an infinitely sweet gesture that has your breath catching.

‘You met your ex-girlfriend last night and I know you’re saying you’re okay but that couldn’t possibly have been easy for you.’

‘It wasn’t. But I am okay Felicitas.’

‘But you-’

‘Feli I don’t care about her. I care about you!’

Felicitas stares at you wordlessly.

‘I never brought her here, I’ve never brought anyone here except for you. This is the park where I first learnt to play football.

Your voice is barely audible when you say, ‘It means the world to me and so do you Felicitas.’

This time, when you try to kiss her, Feli doesn’t stop you. She meets you halfway instead.

Dutch Translation:

schat - darling

German Translation:

liebling - love

[sapphic-agent]

Rereading MHA for research on my Rewrite AU made me realize how hypocritical Aizawa really is.

Like...holy crud! It's such a gut punch when you take into consideration that Erasermic (which is a bit toxic canon wise) is what got me into MHA. I’ve been fed Fanon!Aizawa for so long, I was oblivious to the truth. Oh my god.

I initially wrote Stryxxxer (My AU version of Aizawa) hating his past self as a joke. But now...it's becoming more and more like a reality.

Oh yay, I haven't torn down Aizawa in a while >:D

If there's one thing Horikoshi is good at, it's plot manipulation. As in, the way the narrative frames Aizawa, it's so easy to buy into him being a "good teacher." The story is literally shoving that fact down your throat at every turn. I wasn't aware of it myself until I rewatched Deku vs Kacchan Part 2 when I was looking for evidence to support my hatred of Bakugou's character. When you're looking at material with fresh eyes, especially when you're specifically looking for faults in the narrative, you catch a lot more than when you experienced that material the first time.

To sum it up, rewatching/rereading MHA with more critical thinking (and common sense) means you can easily see through Aizawa's bullshit hypocrisy, ineptitude, and double standards.

My absolute favorite piece of evidence of him being a shit teacher is the Final Exam. Bakugou 100% should have failed for being uncooperative and violent with his teammate. And yes, our first instinct is to point out Sero's unfair failure by comparison (justice for Sero), but for me that's not even the worst part. While Aizawa is busy coddling Bakugou and giving him every concession, HE HAD FIVE OTHER STUDENTS WHO CLEARLY NEEDED HELP FAIL. And that's not counting the students who nearly failed because they didn't know what to do because of course they didn't Aizawa doesn't bother to fucking teach!

*deep breath*

Sorry, kind of went off on a tangent there.

To your point of fanon Aizawa, it's actually so jarring to look at Aizawa's canon behavior and then get bombarded with Dadzawa fics. And to be honest I wouldn't mind Dadzawa if so many people didn't bash All Might to make Aizawa look better. Especially because most of those fics perpetuate Aizawa's canon behavior and project it all onto All Might. And it's so prominent in the "Bakugou Katsuki Faces Consequences" tag that there are so many fics that had potential or caught my interest that I can't even stomach to read.

Good on your rewrite, though. Having Aizawa reflect on his past behavior and actually grow as a person is all I wanted from him as a character (and it's something All Might actually does in canon in case anyone needs to be reminded)