#again apologies for his lukewarm response but...

[kirozai]

—BETTER AT LOVING YOU.

Sae has always believed that playing football was the only thing he was good at. Meeting you drastically changed his belief. Sae is reminded again while trying to teach you how to play football, which you fail. Badly… BUT he still loves you nevertheless.

content warnings: established relationship, tooth-rotting fluff, fem!reader, present to past flashbacks pairing(s): itoshi sae x reader word count: 1600+ A/N: idek

PRESENT.

“I don’t get it! Why the hell are there so many rules to a game that's whole premise is just ‘kick ball in goal, win.’” you say defeated.

Sae knew that this wasn’t going to turn out very well, but after your constant pestering for about 4 minutes, he gave in. 

The result?

Pouty you lying on the turf of the empty indoor pitch after about… maybe 20 minutes? After sliding away every single time he tried to pass the ball to you, you seem to have given up. 

“What if I get hit by the ball or something?” you said before.

“Then move on?” he says questioningly.

You did NOT take that well.

With a great big sigh, Sae makes his way to sit near your body and look at your exasperated face. He brushes away the loose strands of hair in front of your face. His eyes trace yours, “mesmerized and in love” the public would describe. 

Well. Sae is not denying any of those allegations.

“It’s fine,” Sae insisted “You're not planning to be a pro football player any time soon anyways.”

“See but if I was anyone else would you be saying that?” you questioned.

“No.” 

“Hmph! See! It isn’t really fine.”

“You’re you and everyone else is lukewarm and boring. Why does it matter that I treat them differently?” He squints at you.

Your mouth is left agape at his response. 

Sae’s lips turned upturned at the sight. You reply with a big grin on your face. It’s always a treat to see your handsome lover’s smile you always say to him.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

PAST.

Meeting a girl being chased by a seagull was not on his agenda this summer.

Sandwich in hand you rain around the empty sandy beach being chased by one, no wait two, hold on now three?! To simplify it you were being chased by seagulls, many, many seagulls.

Sae watches you with curious eyes, head swaying left and right following you as you try to protect your oh-so-precious sandwich in hand. Finally, after much anticipation, you throw the sandwich at one of the seagulls in despair, but he could tell that you were out of breath. Your hands on your knees heaving after much running from the evil sea birds, you whip your head toward the pinkish-maroon head man. 

Sae not being too far away makes out the words falling from your pretty lips:

“YOU! WHY’D YOU JUST STAND THERE?” You point at him accusingly.

Running up the stairs and… pushing him down to the ground?

“Ah. Oops. I didn’t actually mean it-”

And that’s where your sudden story of love began. After the apologies and bickering you forced him to buy you new food as an apology. Sae looks at you with an eyebrow raised, hands in pockets. 

“I’ve seen a lot of fans trying to ask me out, but I’ve never seen someone as stalkery and insane as you.” He says as if it’s a fact. 

“You were literally watching me for the past ten minutes,” you reply blankly.

Seems like Sae can’t argue with that.

He finds out on your little rendezvous that you're here in Spain for vacation and you aren’t a stalker fan. Though Sae questions if that’s true ever so often. Your intentions are clear though, after this, you want nothing to do with him.

Which… is new...

So in your next days in Spain, somehow fate has linked you two together in some of the coincidental places Every. Single. Day. Much to your avail. 

Sometimes it’s bumping into him again on a random alleyway. Others it’s you getting scammed in a tourist trap and Sae is just “too annoyed” to see a tourist get their money taken away.

Except, every practice he goes to now he wonders if he’ll see you again today. His mind used to be filled with only one thing and that was football, but somehow you’ve wiggled your way into his mind.

Maybe even his heart.

His stone-cold expression to you is just a challenge to break the ice even more and you find yourself growing warmer to the emerald-eye man. 

Your odd compliments and your unique character stir something inside of him. He continues to tell himself that this is only temporary and he’ll forget about you after you leave.

Even though.

Even though, he doesn’t want you to leave.

His brain is now filled with more of you than football. He thinks about what he can do to make you smile, to laugh. He thinks about what gifts you’d like next and if you’d like churros more or xuixos.

You ask him questions past his athlete life and ask him about things he likes to do. Unfortunately, he has no reply. He’s known nothing more than football all his life. 

So you open him to the world of, well, everything else. You force him to go on walks with you and visit random tourist places that Sae’s gone to millions of times, but every time with you seems brighter than the last. You teach him about your hobbies and other places you visited. You talk about your home country to him and reminisce about the times in high school. This summer is different, more you.

Time passes by and you two grow closer. Even his teammates see the subtle differences. They look shocked to see that Sae is doing something outside of practice.

At some point, the spontaneous meetings aren’t enough and at one of your meetings, you take his phone and add your number to him with a cute little selfie of you. You always remind him how much of a dry texter he is, but he always replies instantaneously even to your random texts at 3 am.

You’re “bearable,” he says. 

Bearable enough to have you as the only person who can bypass Sae’s Do Not Disturb.

Time slows when he’s with you, always experiencing new things with you.

Time doesn’t stop completely though.

At some point, you have to leave. It’s only summer after all.

And that fact leaves a bitter taste on his tongue.

You, however, don’t seem a bit worried. Sae frowns at the fact.

Until one day before your departure, he asks.

“Why don’t you seem fazed?”

“Hmm?” you say while stuffing all sorts of pastries in your face.

“About leaving I mean,” he says in a hushed tone.

“It’s not like this is goodbye though. We’re still gonna talk duh.” You say as if it’s a matter of fact.

Sae’s taken aback at your reply. He’s used to your random replies but this one seems so.. genuine. You don’t plan to leave this behind, your memories behind.

You don’t plan to leave him behind.

The day your plane departs is probably one of Sae disliked days. You wave at him but don’t say goodbye, instead it's a “See you Later!”

And you leave.

He wonders if you’ll text back if you’ll really keep your promise of staying in touch.

And you do.

You call him when your plane arrives back in your country. You tell him how bad the legroom was and everything else. He’s happy to hear your voice.

So after some weeks of constant calls, texts, and memes, you ask the dreaded question.

“So.. uh.. What are we?” you laugh nervously.

Sae is lying in his bed, it's currently 11 pm, very much past the time he should be asleep by now. 

“Saeeee…??” you drag out.

He furrows his brows, taking in the question. What are you two?

“What do you want to be?” He internally slaps himself at the reply.

“That’s so ominous.” You joke.

“I mean, I don’t know. Does the famous athlete Itoshi Sae have a secret girlfriend on the side right now?” you ask.

“No. Unless…” He trails off.

“Unless??”

“Unless you want to be mine.” He declares.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

PRESENT.

Sae smiles fondly at the memories. He blanked out out of pure embarrassment, but he recalls your reply being something like “Well you better ask me properly!” He remembers looking for flights for you to come back to Spain. And when you do things become official. You stay at his place because it’s “cheaper”, but you both know that it’s just an excuse. You spend time any time you can. He still clearly remembers the day when you called his penthouse your home. 

He knows he’s not very good at a lot of things out of football, but he knows he’s good at loving you. After a couple of years, he made you his wife. The one he’ll always come home to after a game or practice.

“Whatchu’ smiling about huh?” You beam.

He rolls his eyes.

“Did you just roll your eyes at me?!”

“I didn’t roll anything. You should be practicing rolling the ball around right now.” he says dryly.

“You’re so unfunny Sae.” You drag his arm down and topple on him.

“No more football!” You state loudly.

“No more football,” he repeats.

Sae never thought he’d be saying that line ever in his life. He never even thought of marrying anyone.

But sometimes fate can surprise us.

So while football was a bust for you it was still a good time spent in Sae’s egoist mind. Any time with you is a good time in all honesty.

You may not be the best at football, but that’s okay. He doesn’t need another football lover he just needs you to love him

And with this in mind,

Sae is good at football sure, but he’s pretty sure he’s better at loving you over anything else.

[cece693]

NOT ANOTHER GIFT

pairing: tony stark x male reader synopsis: You were tired. Not of loving Tony, but of trying to feel loved back without a price tag attached. Tired of him buying you gifts as apologies for missing important dates or almost dying while being Iron Man.

You weren’t ungrateful. Let’s make that clear.

The Aston Martin DB11 parked in the garage? A dream.

The custom Omega watch with your initials etched on the inside of the band? Timeless.

The Maldives trip he booked (first class, private villa, ocean-view everything) after missing your anniversary? Postcard perfect.

But it didn’t mean anything when he wasn’t there.

It was the dinner reservation he forgot—your favorite little Italian spot you both used to sneak away to before everything got so damn loud. The place where he once whispered over bruschetta that he thought you might be the last good thing in his life.

He forgot.

And the next morning, there was a new car parked in the driveway with a bow. Like you were some spoiled housewife in a romcom who could be pacified with horsepower and leather seats.

You stood in the doorway that morning and looked at the gift—gleaming, beautiful, impersonal. The thing is, you never asked for any of this. You just wanted him. In all his sarcastic, over caffeinated, too-smart-for-his-own-good glory. But he was always in meetings. Always flying off with the team. Always bleeding on a rooftop somewhere before sending you a sheepish text that he’d be “a little late.”

You could handle danger. You loved him, not a ghost. Not a hero. You just wanted to feel like his partner, not a liability he bribed to stay.

You confronted him on a Tuesday. Because Tuesdays didn’t matter, and you didn’t want this conversation to ruin a Friday or stain a weekend. So: Tuesday. Over lukewarm coffee in the penthouse kitchen.

He was skimming through a briefing on a holographic display, shirtless, hair tousled, a bruise blooming across his ribcage. Another night. Another mission. Another near-death. You waited until he reached for his cup, then softly asked:

“Do you even know what color my eyes are?”

Tony paused. “What?”

“I’m not trying to trap you.” Your voice was calm. Too calm. “I just want to know because I feel like you only look at me when you’re holding a gift. And even then, it’s through the lens of guilt.”

He lowered the tablet.

You continued, heart thudding. “You almost died again last week. And your response was a new watch. I don’t want a watch, Tony. I want you to come home. I want you to keep your promises. I want to stop feeling like you only remember I exist after a battle or a board meeting.”

His eyes flickered. “That’s not—"

You sighed. “I know you love me. But I don’t feel it anymore. And I’m tired of pretending that a car or a villa or a fucking rooftop brunch with a personal violinist makes up for you not being around when I needed you.”

Tony was quiet for so long it scared you. Then:

“I’m sorry.”

And for once there was no gift behind it.

The next few days were strange. No packages. No keys left in your jacket pocket. No "I'm sorry" bouquet from a florist you’d never met. Just silence and then Tony vanished. A full week. No texts. No check-ins. Pepper said he was “working on something,” and that was it. You didn’t cry. Not exactly, but you were disappointed.

Until one day, he showed up at your job.

In a hoodie, no paparazzi, no dramatic fanfare. Just Tony Stark. Standing in the doorway of your small office, hair a mess, eyes rimmed with exhaustion.

“I didn’t want to buy you something,” he said. “So I built something else.”

You blinked. “If it’s another suit—”

“It’s not,” he cut in. “It’s a calendar.”

You stared. “A what?”

Tony pulled a slim digital pad from his pocket and handed it to you. On it was a detailed, color-coded breakdown of his time. He’d cleared two months. No missions. No meetings after 5 p.m. Two planned trips—with you, this time. And a weekly date night. Non-negotiable.

“I talked to Rhodey. He’s covering the next few ops. Pepper’s handling the board. And I’ve even installed a nasty little subroutine in Friday that'll lock me out of the lab if I try to cancel a dinner with you more than once a month.”

You opened your mouth, but Tony stepped closer.

“I can’t promise I’ll never mess up again. I’m me. I run on ego and espresso. But if you’ll let me—I want to show up. Actually show up. No receipts. No diamonds. Just me.”

And for the first time in weeks, you saw it—the man you fell in love with. Behind the money, the tech, the guilt. You smiled, slow and soft.

“You’re such a dumbass.”

Tony grinned, relief washing through his shoulders. “You say the sweetest things.”

You pulled him into a hug, burying your face in the crook of his neck. “No more gifts.”

“Well,” he muttered into your hair, “you say that now, but wait until you see what I got you for our next anniversary.”

“Tony.”

“…It’s not a car. Probably.”

[helluvathings]

Some thoughts on Ozzie's response at the trial

One moment that caught my attention, and I've seen a few reactors comment on it too, is that Ozzie's defense of Blitzø's right to a fair trial is lukewarm compared to Bee's. She gives a character reference, speaking about him almost fondly, while Ozzie offers one understated line.

He speaks lightly, but isn't that the kind of phrase usually accompanied by a side-eye and a pointed, "You do have a good explanation, right?" And I've seen a lot of Ozzie call outs for not just "sharing the truth," since he "knows what's really going on."

But the more I think about it, the more I feel like his slight involvement probably makes things look worse from his perspective. Tbf, the dialogue disparity could be timing constraints and wanting to make use of Kesha. Still, I honestly suspect Ozzie knowing more than Bee would make it likelier he'd be reluctant to outright vouch for Blitzø's character even if he supports a fair trial.

I do plan to touch on a few separate points. But the BIG thing I haven't seen brought up: Ozzie is the only person in that room who may know the extent to which Blitzø's use of the grimoire has actually, undeniably endangered Hell. I feel like this fact has sort of slid from people's minds, but as a reminder:

IMP obliterated part of Ozzie's ring directly outside his club. In a setting where there are likely security cameras, and at the very least, his bouncers were shown to be in the general vicinity. And there were cherubs with high tech battle suits visibly involved. Assuming Ozzie investigated this, his additional knowledge isn't actually in IMP, Stolas's, or Blitzø's favor at all.

Rewinding to touch on what Ozzie actually knows about Stolas and Blitzø's situation:

Ozzie is aware that Stolas has feelings for Blitzø.

He could guess, if he ever thought about it, that Blitzø must’ve been getting to earth a different way beforehand since his business precedes the crystal. However, he's never told this. Depending on how much he cared to look at the particulars, it possibly didn't occur to him at the time (though if he looked into the Lust Ring attack, he likely figured it out).

He also has no confirmation that Blitzø has feelings for Stolas. Fizz has probably speculated, maybe he shared Blitzø had come to Lust for toys—but Ozzie has only seen them together at Ozzie's, when he was more concerned with helping Fizz revenge-ruin their date than drawing any relationship analysis (except in the ways that helped him revenge-ruin their date).

Ozzie may also know about the anti-Blitzø parties, or at least that Blitzø has a poor history with relationships. Fizz knew his "love life [was] a pile of shit," and that giving the stage to Verosika during House of Asmodeus would get results, so at the very least, he seems familiar with Blitzø's bad habits. If Ozzie doesn't know Stolas is different, a very possible explanation might be that Blitzø had been using Stolas’s feelings to get the book. Not "forcing himself," but not really Lust King-approved.

I.e. Ozzie can assume “not forced,” but not “mutual feelings,” or “Blitzø did nothing wrong." Blitzø has also told him one of his skills is "killing things without giving fucks," so again, the background knowledge of Blitzø isn't necessarily a good thing here.

Then after Apology Tour, Blitzø went into a depression slump and probably cut off contact with friends, including Fizz. From Fizz and Ozzie's perspective, the day Blitzø got the crystal, his thing with Stolas outwardly ended, and he likely never shared much about what happened (if he didn't deflect outright). Fizz may have noticed and commented on Blitzø acting strange, but the circumstances are ambiguous.

To summarize: Ozzie can guess Andrealphus is full of shit, and that some sort of setup is happening. But he doesn't know "the truth," in the sense he could speak up and clarify everything.

What else he possibly knows:

IMP had a massive fight with well-armed heavenly beings in the middle of the Lust Ring.

This was shown to have caused substantial damage. Loona destroyed what looked like one of his buildings, on top of other property destruction, right in front of his club. If they had security cameras, Ozzie probably knows this. Like I mentioned before, two of his own bouncers were outside, alongside dozens of witnesses. If he investigated at all, there are ways he could piece together what happened.

A frequent reaction has been, “Ozzie knows everything Blitzø did was above board, he could’ve clarified.” But Ozzie has a lot of facts that actually look awful? Depending on what surveillance caught from that fight, Ozzie very well could've connected IMP to cherubs coming to Hell. To his ring specifically.

Two conclusions to be drawn from this:

If Ozzie has recognized as much, he hasn't said anything. Which is both him already covering for IMP, but it also means he's hiding something Satan would desperately want to know.

Ozzie has a legitimate reason to be upset at Blitzø and Stolas for bringing him into this. First because Stolas wasn't up-front about the formerly illegal details of Blitzø getting to earth (let alone moments like in Truthseekers where there's already been major transgression). Then afterward, when the spillover of their indiscretion caused damage to his ring and possibly got Lust Ring demons killed.

Ozzie is involved enough that all this could cause trouble for him if he's implicated

I've seen people say he'd be immune because of his rank. But while he'd physically be fine, Mammon was already going at him and Bee about their partners. Mammon has also threatened that Ozzie would "regret revealing" his love for Fizz, in pretty clear foreshadowing. Ozzie has a big, well-known weak point.

Also, Blitzø was on trial about unlawfully going to the human world (or doing it "unwittingly" as a pawn of the evil Mastermind Stolas). And this all happens while he has a registered Asmodean Crystal on his wrist. He even tries using it to get to Stolas while they're dragging him away. The more Ozzie speaks up, the more closely Blitzø is examined, and the clearer it is that Ozzie is involved with something illegal.

The legitimacy of Blitzø's behavior on Earth is a bit dodgy as well. Remember how Verosika let Blitzø win that bet because she was wary of getting into trouble for the conspicuous monster? They’re clearly supposed to keep a low profile. If Ozzie linked IMP to the Lust Ring incident and realized they've been stirring up trouble topside, his lack of interference may indicate he's already making allowances he legally shouldn't be.

Do I think the imagery of Ozzie and the other Sins falling in with Satan during the song may go complicated places? Possibly. And Ozzie clearly did want to help after Fizz’s text and seemed to feel he couldn’t. I don't think he's exactly blameless, in the sense he's aligned with a messed up system here. I also have no idea if the writers considered any of this, or if we're ever going to see Ozzie's thoughts or feelings about the attack on Lust. Maybe that was just a cool fight scene to set up the cherub/DHORKS threat, and it won't have further relevance.

But honestly, the fact that illegal use of the grimoire brought trouble to Ozzie's doorstep makes me more willing to shrug off his muted response at the trial. Even if Ozzie isn't aware, Blitzø and Stolas's lawbreaking led to an attack on his ring. If he is aware? It’s already iffy to expect he'd stick his neck out in a hopeless situation where it’d only get scrutiny turned his way. Wanting him to do so despite associating IMP with a heavenly threat and massive property damage? That's a big ask.

Maybe overthinking, especially if it’s revealed he doesn’t have much intel on the Lust Ring attack. But I feel like Ozzie knowing more about Blitzø's situation makes it harder for him to intervene, as opposed to easier. He may even have legitimate reason to feel like IMP has been endangering Hell, but has kept quiet for Fizz's sake.

Mostly, I wonder if it's coincidence that the show made that Lust fight visually, noticeably destructive, then next time we see Ozzie, it's Bee vouching for Blitzø's character, while Ozzie's statement focuses on getting an explanation. Her defense seems to be "he's cool, I don't think he'd do this." Ozzie's is more coded like, "It's fair to see what he has to say." Like maybe he's thinking it would be in character for Blitzø to have done something illegal and ill-advised that puts Hell at risk, so he'll stick with a safer defense. And honestly, I love Blitzø... but I also get why Ozzie might be ambivalent.

[ivysprophecy]

My my my...

warnings; bitchy!reader and cocky!benedict, i think thats literally all lol, mentions of threesome??

word count; 1022

summary; we've all heard of 'the other woman' but what are you to do when the mistress is actually a mister? and what are you to do when that mister is someone you cannot escape in public?

[ masterlist ] [ prev. part ]

You would rather be anywhere else right now. Not in this rather uncomfortable gown that's too tight, sipping lukewarm champagne, in this stuffy ballroom that hasn't got any circulation, watching your husband laugh with that traitor Benedict Bridgerton.

Granted, you'd thought highly of him before the events of last night had happened. You'd never spoken to him for too long, however a friend of your husband's is supposedly a friend of yours.

He'd never made a fuss, never a crude comment your way, or of any woman for that matter.

That might have to do with the fact he's not one to pay attention to girls of the ton, if last night was any indication.

"Isn't he just delectable?" Your friend Julia's voice grounded you back to reality. Sadly.

"Who'd that be?"

"Benedict Y/N, I'd just mentioned him before. Are you quite alright? You seem out of sorts tonight."

Truthfully you knew you could do a better job of hiding your negativity but you just couldn't muster up the energy for pageantry. Clearing your throat you answer her question, "My apologies Julia, how rude of me. I do admit I feel a rather dreadful pain in my head."

"Oh Y/N, is there something I can aid for you?"

"I think I require some fresh air, if you'll excuse me for a moment. I'll find you the second I return," leaving your friend with a friendly touch on the arm and a weak smile you make your way toward a balcony behind two French doors, which you decide to close.

The cool air wasn't crisp enough to ward you away, just enough to wish you had your shawl that you'd handed to a maid earlier in the evening.

A creak behind you distracts you from the cold, turning to see none other than the second eldest Bridgerton.

"Should I acquire us a witness? Or are you here to scandalize me further."

"That sounds as though I have taken advantage of you Lady Y/L/N."

"You have. Not in a sexual sense however. You took advantage of my trust in my husband, and you took advantage of my husband's naivete."

"And what would you have to say if I came to you with an apology?"

What is it about Benedict Bridgerton that continues to leave you without rebuttal? Very few have made the accomplishment in your three and twenty years. How is he different?

Your arms unconsciously cross over your front, as if to guard you somehow. "I'd say its unnecessary, unwanted, and untrue."

"You haven't a clue how wrong you are. On all three accounts. Tis absolutely necessary, you were correct when you said I had taken advantage of the situation presented to me for personal gain. I'm most certain it isn't unwanted seeing as last night you demanded an apology from Henry, you deserve one from me, even more so than him. Because my apology is genuine. Henry is... he hadn't a clue of how this could go before he'd met me. He'd been concerned about his commitments to you and I urged to continue our agenda."

Again, your words are caught in your throat, but you refuse to stand there with your jaw slacked looking helpless. "So you're taking full responsibility?"

"I am," his eyes soft, his voice edged with sincerity. It almost is enough pretend none of this happened.

"If only it were true. Regardless of it being your idea, or persistance, whatever excuse you have lined up to defend him, he made the choice. He dug the hole, now he must lie in it. Unfortunately I have to lie next to him."

"And what if that didn't have to ring true?"

You couldn't hold back the scoff that escapes you with the British army. "How could that be possible? Keep my thoughts to myself? I think not."

"I come to you with a proposition."

"If that proposition is letting you continue to fuck my husband quietly for some pennies I do not wish to hear it."

"My my my you truly do have a mouth on you..." Is that a smirk on his face? Does he find this amusing? The audacity...

It wasn't until now you realized you'd both closed the space between you, not intimate by any means but closer than you'd like.

"You talk of my mouth when you were just using my husbands last night? You are mental. Truly out of this world, have you no sense? I know Violet raised you better."

"This isn't about my mother Y/N, this is about how you can both find pleasure in this situation, if that's what you wish to call it."

You take another angry step forward, "Dare I ask how?"

"Join us," How many times is this man going to render you speechless? "Henry was going to bring it up to you after the ball tonight, however I had a feeling you wouldn't hear him out."

"And what makes you so sure I would listen to you?"

"Because as much as you want to ream me out for what I have done you are curious. I see it in your eyes, tonight you couldn't keep your eyes off of us two. What was going on in that marvelous mind of yours while doing so?"

You couldn't believe this. What he is asking of you, of Henry, it's... preposterous. It can't be, it won't.

"Turn around and go back inside Benedict. I won't entertain this any longer. Leave me be and go find my husband so he is not a basket case. Because he will find no comfort *or* pleasure from me. Ever again."

He looks at you with an overly confident smirk, his eyes knowing that the wheels in your head are turning without your permission, and something between your thighs has a mind of it's own.

"I shall leave you to the fresh air Lady Y/L/N", apologies for the intrusion," he nods before re entering the ballroom leaving you with your thoughts and your breath steaming the air because now you feel rather warm with the thought of his proposition.

[kaiserposting]

Michael Kaiser — Mean

PAIRING: Michael Kaiser/Reader WORD COUNT: 6.4k TYPE: Fake dating, This is not fluff or angst but a secret third thing (with a cheerful ending) WARNING(S): Depersonalization/identity issues

The first time you meet Michael Kaiser, you get a bad impression.

Yeah, sure, he doesn’t have the most stellar reputation, anyway. You’ve met all sorts of unpleasant people in your life and he manages to disappoint even when the bar is so low, the only way to go lower is through digging.

You don’t exchange a word with him, but rather you have the misfortune of having to listen to him talk throughout the entire meeting. He starts countless arguments, some valid to an extent. You can tell he’s just doing this because he’s addicted to the sound of his voice and speaking to people like they’re unimportant specks of dust all while commanding their attention. There’s no point to his fussing either because he ends up signing the same contract you do.

Waste of your goddamn time — he might as well have not signed it and saved you the trouble, since the ordeal ends up lasting three hours because of him.

Maybe you should’ve not signed it yourself, but your PR manager was salivating at the idea of fake dating as a publicity stunt, especially with Kaiser who’ll be posing with you for a photoshoot in a few months, so you said ‘whatever’ and here you are. In this predicament with an insufferable man you imagine you won’t get along with, which already predisposes you to never giving him a chance.

___

The first time you speak to Michael Kaiser, you unsettle him.

It’s unlike him to feel disturbed, let alone at the slightest thing. He’s met all sorts of sickos, so he considers himself unflinching in the face of anyone who has anything off about them.

But he’s fifteen minutes late to the ‘date’ you’re supposed to use as a tool to subtly launch your fake relationship and he’s expecting a scolding. Kaiser spots you and heads in your direction, taking the seat in front with a shitty smirk and an ingenuine, half-assed apology on his lips.

What he gets in response is a blank look — almost… unimpressed, which naturally someone like Kaiser takes as a challenge and already sets the tone for the rest of the conversation — and it’s as if you’re staring into his soul. Then in an instant your expression flips to convincing joy, your warm smile contrasting his snide one, and you say, “Let’s act like we’re really stoked.”

A chill runs down his spine. On a logical level Kaiser knows you’re faking it, but it looks real, and that’s what he finds freaky. Also, the speed.

“Let’s not,” he says. “You’re weird,” he adds after you don’t respond.

You don’t react to this information either and settle for maintaining your smile.

The barista decides to spare him from having to look at you while you don’t say anything. He’s pretty sure you’re doing this deliberately, to torture him. When you attempt to order something, he talks over you and asks, “Can you give us one of those shitty milkshakes with two straws in them?”

She stares at him in bewilderment. “We don’t sell those,” she says eventually.

“Can you make one?”

“No…”

“You’re scum,” you tell him, dropping the happy facade. Again, the quickness strikes Kaiser as disturbing. Then you give her a valid order, and he asks for water since they offer that everywhere and he can’t be bothered to read the menu. After the barista leaves, you say, “I could have lactose intolerance.”

“You could. I could be trying to kill you.”

“I don’t know if a milkshake would be enough to kill me.”

“Maybe I was trying to give you a stomach ache,” he concurs.

You don’t dignify that with a reply either.

Kaiser tries to speak with you again, “I really fucking hate milk.”

“Then why’d you do that?”

“To embarrass you, of course,” he says, like he’s revealed to you the natural order of things.

“Hm.” You consider this new information. “I’ll definitely think of a way to get back at you.”

The lukewarm threat seems to amuse him more than anything.

Then you proceed to have a hostile few hours together in public as instructed. You end up throwing napkins at his face.

Kaiser isn’t good at pretending to be in love. The only such image he seems capable of projecting is one of a middle schooler who’s failing to find a balance between playful and mean. Though it also doesn’t matter to you because you mostly teeter on the edge of mean, slightly left of apathetic. Nothing really matters to you.

___

For your second court-ordered date with Michael Kaiser, your manager tells you to get caught holding hands with him at a park after the cafe meeting doesn’t spark much controversy. The notion itself has you scrunching your face, but you don’t complain about it or voice your opinion.

Again, he’s late picking you up by a not negligent amount of time, leaving you to stand in front of your building, motionless and impatient.

Instead of announcing his presence in a more acceptable manner, Kaiser blares the car horn until you realize it’s him. After you crawl inside the passenger seat, you turn to look at him and see that he looks very pleased with himself. It’s obnoxious.

“I hope we die in a car crash,” you greet.

“We won’t.” You don’t know why, but his brain interprets this as an opportunity to brag. “I’m an excellent driver.”

He’s not. Somehow you make it to the park without getting into a catastrophe — which, as established, you wouldn’t have minded.

You exit at the same time and Kaiser frowns at you by the time he circles his way around to you. You don’t care enough about what’s bothering him to raise a questioning eyebrow let alone ask, but he tells you, “I was going to open the door for you and then offer to help you up. You ruined everything!”

You roll your eyes. “How gallant.”

“Get back in,” Kaiser says, pointing (as if the gesture will be enough to convince you to play along). “Let’s redo it.”

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing. I have a vision for these kinds of things, that’s all.”

“Your vision is trashy and uninspired,” you reject promptly.

Kaiser seems to be the first person in the world who finds your attitude funny rather than objectionable because he grins at your response. But he’s more so looking at you like you’re a bug he finds fascinating in comparison to the rest, without any real respect or acknowledgement. 

“I admit maybe it was a bit cliche,” he says. “Would’ve made me look good, though, if someone caught it on camera.”

You smile that ghoulish smile again and grab his hand like you were told. His fingers are cold and yours even more so, making the grasp clammy and uncomfortable while you begin your stroll. You don’t even know what you’re supposed to talk about with him. Soon enough, you scowl, both the silence and the sensation of getting touched proving too much for you to hide your displeasure, even though Kaiser seems content with letting the silence fester.

“Oh? Why’d you stop? I’ve started enjoying your creepy masquerading.”

“I’m disgusted,” you say.

“Disgusted,” he repeats. “By what? Me?”

“It’s making me sick. Who knows where your hand’s been or what you’ve done.”

Albeit visibly offended for the first time if the lack of an annoying smirk is anything to draw judgments from, Kaiser drops it first. Your arm hangs by your side again, limp.

“Let go, then. Or do I need to do everything myself?” That’s quite a dramatic sentiment coming from a man who has done nothing all day besides a short drive and taking a few steps.

“But my manager said-”

“Who cares? I think my manager’s lucky I agreed to this bullshit in the first place,” Kaiser says. “By the way, my hands haven’t been in any sewers or anything to warrant this reaction, thank you very much.” He must be the type of person who only ever says thank you as if being grateful is some big joke.

“I’m not being literal. I know who you are and what people say about you. My disgust is conceptual.”

“Flattering.” Kaiser’s pleased again with the mention of this tidbit, like the mental image he’s getting of you searching him up gives him immeasurable amounts of satisfaction. One thing you’ve come to notice about him since your last outing is that he’s shameless. “You’re not special, though. Lots of people know who I am.”

“See, this is exactly what I’m talking about. You’re scum.”

“Do you usually talk to people you barely know in this way or is it preferential treatment? I’d love preferential treatment, but the other option is amusing too.”

“Usually,” you say in a monotone. “That’s why I don’t speak much. More so supposed to be looked at rather than heard, and so on.” You finish off your explanation with a flippant gesture. That’s what it’s like for you — ‘shut your trap, it ruins your appeal.’

“Well, I-” there’s an emphasis on the word ‘I’ because Kaiser always thinks his opinion matters, “-think your worldview is pathetic and embarrassing. What’s the point of being looked at if no one will listen to you? How can you be fine with that?”

Fair point. You concede in your head, but don’t commit to agreeing with him out loud. “You’re not special either. Most people gross me out.”

“You hurt me this time.” He’s sneering, though.

After a while of walking, you find yourself sitting on a bench next to him. A few pigeons strut around near your feet, bobbing their heads back and forth, almost catching a groove. “If I had any bread, I’d feed them.”

“I’m not surprised you’d feel interested in such a commoner’s activity,” Kaiser says, as if he is somehow superior to you for not wanting to participate in this.

“Vile,” you say, voice still neutral. You’re not looking at him either, attention glued to the birds.

He doesn’t know which part of it you find dismaying — was it the class shaming or what? “So you like pigeons, but you hate humanity. You’re one of those.”

“I don’t hate humanity,” you say. “But nature is repulsive by default. It’s not amoral. When we’re cruel and ugly, that’s a conscious and opportunistic decision. Every day CEOs throw their employees and workers under the bus for more profits. Someone’s getting murdered as we speak. We’re faking a relationship to attract brand deals. I’m getting sick just thinking about it.”

“Get a hobby instead of thinking about stupid shit like that. Caring about how ugly and bleak everything is won’t get you anywhere,” Kaiser… advises.

“Look at the pigeons.” You’re watching the one with the missing claws, wobbling and struggling to get around. “Humans domesticated them and then abandoned them. I love flora and fauna. They’re interesting and exist much more differently than we do.”

“Does that mean you like my tattoo then?”

“Not everything needs to be about you. It’s not like people will forget you exist when you don’t force yourself to be at the center of conversation.”

This stings him the tiniest bit. Either you’re probing into an insecurity or he’s reading too deep into what you’re gathering from your conversations with him. “If I wanted to have a pseudointellectual conversation, I wouldn’t ask a vapid model to psychoanalyze me.”

“Your opinions are unoriginal and stereotyped just like your ideas about romance,” you say, finally turning around to face him again with those haunted eyes. He’s unamused now, clenching his jaw and all. “A stupid athlete wouldn’t be my first choice for a ‘pseudointellectual conversation’ either.”

“You look down on others and judge them, so what makes you so different from all those ‘scum’ you hate? How are you exempt from your own standards?”

Do you realize you’re displaying similar behaviors to those you’re scolding him over?

“Well, there’s a simple explanation for that,” you say. Kaiser is expecting an argument or something, but you kind of floor him with your follow-up. “It’s called hypocrisy. I’m probably just as disgusting as the average person.”

“Your life must be miserable if you look at everything through this lens. What was the phrase, rose colored glasses? Yours must have shit smeared over them.”

You shrug then make a 50/50 motion with your hand. “My life’s neither good nor bad. I’m indifferent on the subject.”

“Uh huh.” Kaiser considers this, then his lips twitch up, and then his smile broadens — it’s snide and smug again, and you come to the realization that he probably doesn’t know how to smile in any other way — before he inches a little closer to you. Not enough to brush against you, but enough to count as an attempted provocation. “I think people like you shouldn’t be considered alive. Legally speaking. And if we’re being figurative, you’re obviously already dead.”

You frown at him, since he’s kind of right. The fact that Michael Kaiser has the capability to discern truths you don’t want to hear rubs you the wrong way.

“Speaking of birds,” you start, deciding to change the topic, “you remind me of a peacock.”

“Wrong.” He’s pouty now. You find the expression cute, but when you catch the thought you throw up in your mouth a bit, so you ignore it. “I’m clearly a swan.”

“The fact that you have a preference when it comes to what animal you’re considered is sad.”

“And you’re entertaining. Let’s hang out again soon even if those sorry fucks don’t suggest it.”

You find it bewildering how he calls his PR manager’s input a ‘suggestion’ and seems to think he can do whatever he wants. Which, maybe he does, seeing the way he conducts himself. You’re also tempted to tell him to make up his mind on whether he enjoys your company or not, but there are more important matters right now. “We’re not supposed to do that, I don’t think.”

“C’mon, don’t be like that.”

“Why this desire all of a sudden?”

“It’s what I want.” What impeccable reasoning. “I think I can make you enjoy yourself,” he says. “Don’t get me wrong. Not for your merit or anything stupid.” Kaiser offers what you’d describe as a flamboyant hand wave in the air, demeanor laced with complacency. “I think it’d make me feel really charitable and generous if I can manage to add something to your depressing life. Give me a chance to try.”

“Word of advice,” you scoot away from him to the point the edge of the bench is digging into your ass and it honestly hurts, “you’re not gonna get anywhere with that attitude. How you phrased it disgusted me again.”

Kaiser finds your favored terms interesting. Everything is sickening and disgusting and vile and scummy from your perspective. Deep down for reasons he doesn’t want to ponder, he can relate.

“Great. You’ll come around soon,” he promises, with the confidence of someone who thinks this is a game he has a high chance of winning.

___

Kaiser makes it a point to inflict his presence onto you as much as he can afford to with your schedules, even though there’s no need for it. Not that you refuse him either. He’s kind of interesting to keep around, in his own Kaiser-ish way.

Earlier today he invited himself over to your house. He’d decided you need to come up with a story about your ‘relationship,’ but didn’t wanna discuss it through text messages. Apparently he has an interview coming up and wants to be prepared in case they ask him about you.

“How did we meet?” you ask, sitting on the other side of the couch and leaning against the armrest, away from him.

The answer is immediate: “I saved you from a burning church.”

You question what other fantasies this man could probably have because that’s the most absurd thing you’ve ever heard. Your voice somehow remains flat despite the bewilderment when you ask, “Why?”

“Because it’s flashy and dramatic.”

“But if anyone searches it up, they’ll see there haven’t been any… burned churches?”

“You’re such a killjoy.” Kaiser sighs. “It makes it sound mystical.”

“No it doesn’t,” you say, rather flippant about the entire thing. “It makes you sound like a pathological liar.”

“I like your sense of humor.”

“Thanks, but I’m not kidding about this.”

“Then what do you think it should be?” Kaiser asks. Obviously the purpose of this inquiry is to criticize your choice of scenario — even you can anticipate such a predictable move.

You roll your eyes and then look away from him in contemplation. You hadn’t really thought about it, since you don’t do interviews, and therefore you don’t need to concern yourself with hypotheticals on the matter. “Some kind of party, maybe. Post-match celebration?”

“Makes sense,” says Kaiser. “Doesn’t compel me, though. Boring.”

With a hum, you try to imagine what would both appeal to Kaiser and sound realistic. Though he doesn’t seem like the kind of person who’s swayed by practicality. “I went with someone else, but you swept me off my feet so hard, you stole me away from them.”

“I guess it sounds plausible enough while still having an element of fantasy.”

“Is the idea of me liking you the ‘element of fantasy’?”

“Yeah… That’s why I want it.”

You didn’t expect such a response. It has you looking at him weird. You do so often anyway, but now you do it for longer as if trying to glean something. In response Kaiser tells you to take a picture since it’ll last longer. The reply seems extraneous and distracting, and that only makes you feel more suspicious of him, which is weird since you’re not sure what you’re even inferring.

___

Officially it’s your fifth date with Kaiser, unofficially it’s the tenth. This time you’re holding up a frog in your open hands.

He doesn’t know what the point of all the nature-themed outings is — maybe to make him seem down to Earth in the public eye since he’s become notorious for how insufferable he is? Either way he doesn’t care, and he’s not the type to wander at landscapes, but your affinity for ugly animals is kind of cute.

The frog isn’t some special one either. No crazy colors or anything, just a regular green tree frog (according to your expertise). You let it jump onto your palms, since apparently touching their skin is bad for them or something. Kaiser scrutinizes it in distaste, staring down into its big eyes while it croaks. “So you can handle a disgusting amphibian, but you can’t hold hands with me.”

“I see you’re still thinking about that.”

“Well, it was insulting. And besides, it’s never happened to me before.”

“You’re not so bad. I don’t think I’d vomit if we brushed against each other anymore.”

Kaiser seems curious but nonetheless pleased with this development. “Why the change of heart?”

“Because you listen to what I say,” you tell him.

He somehow resists the urge to piss himself laughing at the sound of that. “Your standards are so low. It’s so sad that it’s funny,” he says. Maybe he would’ve dedicated some more time to teasing you over it, but he comes to a realization which immediately lifts his mood. This must mean he’s in your good graces somewhat, and not many people seem to fit there, so that makes Kaiser special to a degree. Right?

“Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up.”

“Who would’ve thought someone who looks the way you do would come out like this?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I think you were one of those kids who, like, shoved sticks and leaves in mud and called it a potion.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean now?”

Kaiser lets out an annoyed sound, tired of elaborating. “It means I think you’re strange.”

“Hmm, I bet you do,” you say. “There’s a quote I like: ‘It is no measure of health to be well-adjusted to a profoundly sick society.’”

“Yeah, and I bet that’s the kind of message you love. What’s it from?”

“Interesting story,” you say. “This is Jiddu Krishnamurti’s most famous quote, but it doesn’t appear in any of his books. Allegedly he said it to some other guy.”

Kaiser blinks and nods, maybe trying to keep a pretense of having the slightest concept of what you’re on about. “Whatever, got it. I can’t remember the last time I read a book of that sort. Maybe I’ll check him out.”

“You don’t seem like you’d be interested in that type of thing,” you say, staring at him as if you’re trying to figure him out.

“Actually, I am. Can you stop taking every chance to insult me?”

“I’m not. At least not on purpose… So, what are your hobbies, anyway? You never told me.”

“I practice. What do you take me for? Well, I read, too, but psychology non-fiction only.”

You furrow your eyebrows at him. “That’s it?”

Kaiser opens his mouth to justify himself even though there’s no need to be defensive — maybe it’s that he feels like he’s lacking in some department after you bring your attention to it with your little response and generally Kaiser hates to be insufficient. But before he can argue and try and talk himself out of whatever perception you have of him now, an interruption happens.

The frog, which had been lazy and content with merely existing in your grasp, springs without any warning. It leaps out of your fingers and lands on top of Kaiser’s head.

Today you learn Michael Kaiser screams at an ear-shattering frequency when he’s startled. Soap opera level of shock and overreaction.

___

It is when you’re eating at a trashy place for lunch that Kaiser’s looking at his phone, which you find rude since you’re supposed to be spending time together and whatnot. He eats like a pig, too, not graceful at all — you wonder what his fans would think if they saw him with crumbs over his mouth and sauce on his chin. Good material for a public embarrassment campaign, you think.

But it’s in that moment that he finally wipes himself with a tissue and reaches out to all but shove his phone in your face. “Look, we’re so hot!”

You grace the picture with a dismissive glance before looking back down at your meal, disinterested. You already know enough about Kaiser to assume he’d get a kick out of power couple fantasies. And other power fantasies. Really, you find it pathetic.

It was something out of the photoshoot he was showing you, his favorite you presume. Even someone like Kaiser, who has conventional features, isn’t perfect when it comes to these unreasonable standards. He’d been way too stiff next to you while he posed and though his face is symmetrical, his expressions tend to stray to one side, and obviously it’d been corrected.

There’s a mismatch between you on the covers and your image in the mirror. Maybe your brain is exaggerating the disconnect, but every time you see them, it’s like staring into an airbrushed, distorted amalgamation. In other words, you prefer avoiding both the edited products and your reflection whenever you can.

“We don’t look like that,” you say, offhand about his enthusiasm as you are with most things.

Kaiser scoffs and then very blatantly tries to compare between whatever version of you he has on his phone and the you in front of him. There’s not a single good thing you can say about his decision — it’s making your skin crawl just knowing it’s what he’s doing.

“Close enough,” he deems after careful examination.

“I don’t think it’s me.”

“It’s quite literally you.”

“I don’t think anything is me. Like I’m just what I see. My perspective, my point of view. You get what I’m saying?”

“No?” Kaiser says, laughing at you and your apparently strange affliction.

“Well if not that, you have to admit things captured on camera aren’t real.”

“What are you talking about,” Kaiser asks in a flat tone, which leaves it as something less than a question. A few more snickers escape him and he’s grinning at you like a bastard — if at first he regarded you as a slightly more fascinating bug than the rest, by now you must be his favorite, the rarest… A tree lobster. “You make no sense.”

“It totally makes sense. Imagine we’re having sex-”

“What kind of stupid come-on is that?”

“It’s not a come-on, I’m explaining. So, imagine we’re having sex-”

“In what position?”

“Whatever you want as long as it works for the scenario. Anyway, imagine we’re having sex-”

Kaiser laughs harder and then attempts some seductive sort of expression which doesn’t land with you. “I’m imagining it,” he informs.

“Shut up and let me get to the point. Imagine we’re having sex and I’m recording it-”

“Wow, I didn’t take you for such a pervert? Not that I hate it.”

“-so I’m looking at you through the camera lens. The phone’s between us. I’m not, like, in the moment with you. My mind’s absent, it’s all digital. So if you think about it we’re not even really having sex.”

“... You’re losing me even more,” Kaiser says after some contemplation, finding the fantasy unpleasant all of a sudden with this new spin to it. A moment passes during which he takes another big, possibly exaggerated bite, but he at least has enough decency to chew and swallow before adding, “I think you just have a problem.”

You roll your eyes, wondering if he even entertained the thought, but shrug since it doesn’t matter in the end. “Why are we always talking about how I’m weird? If anything, you're eccentric, not me.”

Kaiser wrinkles his nose in offense at the notion and makes an incomprehensible hand gesture in the air. “No. I’ve turned out totally normal. Don’t put me at your level.”

A lot of curiosities spin around your head concerning Kaiser’s behavior whenever you meet and you’re yet to find an answer. What does he want? Clearly he’s comfortable with and used to wanting, but what is it? Attention? Money? Fame? Status? All, none? Will it ever be enough? Is it even the kind of hunger which can be satiated?

Who is he when he’s not playing this ridiculous character?

“I can’t get a read on you,” you tell him.

“Well, you’re socially inept. I doubt you can get a read on anyone.”

“So are you.”

Kaiser feigns hurt over this. He does that a lot. Maybe he finds it hilarious, maybe the performance is all for shits and giggles — who knows.

“I want to dissect your head,” you say after a while of silence.

“Really? That’s what you wanna do with me?”

“Mhm. With a scalpel. I’d make an incision around your temple maybe.”

“My beautiful and demented angel, is that your way of saying you wanna get closer to me?” The sentence comes out mocking with a paper thin smile, but there’s a sense of admiration in it. What for? You raise an eyebrow in visible confusion at the… nickname, but Kaiser doesn’t elaborate. To take away from the tension(?), he announces, “You’ve got something stuck between your teeth,” pointing at your mouth all amused.

___

Kaiser had an ulterior motive in accepting that deal. Though wording it this way makes it sound like some calculated, opportunistic, sinister scheme, when in reality it’s nothing beyond immature and a little humiliating.

Of course, in true Kaiser fashion, when looking to meet someone, he goes straight for the most convoluted option. So when the stupid idea came up, he agreed, even if he put on a bit of a show at first and acted irritating. Confessing to wanting friends is so embarrassing. He’d rather shoot himself at point blank or perhaps commit an act of auto-defenestration than admit the real reason for participating, much less in front of you.

Despite the jabs, you’re also not bad at all. Calm and uninvolved in anything that upsets him and without any expectations towards him.

At first he found your indifference derogatory, but as the months have passed by, there’s a sort of comfort in knowing that he could’ve been some random guy off the street and you would’ve probably treated him the same. In front of you he is neither on a pedestal nor someone to be knocked down on his knees. More Michael than he is Kaiser.

Things have been teetering on a dangerous edge lately. His mind is wandering off towards you again, more and more often each day. Like maybe he’s excited for the next time he sees you or something else repulsive in a similar vein, a giddy feeling bubbling in his stomach. Is this what it would’ve been like to be a little boy with a crush?

Generally he prefers not to socialize with background characters. So he doesn’t know why it’s while he’s having some benign daydream about you that some newbie he hadn’t bothered remembering the name of decides to interrupt him. Besides, it’s inconvenient, he was supposed to be leaving and this guy is blocking the changing room door.

“I heard you’re banging a model,” he says, as if they’re good pals or some shit. Kaiser is also mostly immune to annoying locker room talk since all the other psychotic men he knows are too busy being as fanatical as him to waste time on something as useless as objectifying someone to pass the time, yet here this lowlife is.

Kaiser regards him with a judgmental side eye — for a second too long, almost television-style — and tries to move and sidestep him. “Why do you care? Pathetic cuck.”

“Woah, don’t be like that. I just thought it was funny. I’ve heard about that person before, would’ve thought it would be more of a hit it and quit it type thing. Yet here you are, still together.”

The emotion that zaps him is almost disorienting. Kaiser bruises easily, but it’s all about him. There’s never been much room for anyone else in his mentality of suffocating self-absorption, a depressing way to try and compensate for anyone who’s ever wronged him. Right now, though, he’s feeling anger on someone else’s behalf. A borderline exotic situation.

“So I was curious if that thing about loonies being the best at fucking was true? I’m assuming it is ‘cause I don’t know why else you’d stay with a schizoid.”

In the heat of the moment, when he’s pissed off, Kaiser is not the most poetic wordsmith. Thankfully politeness and civility are sensibilities which elude him. Without a second thought or any regret, he makes use of his water bottle still in his hand and dumps the entire contents of it over his head before elbowing him out of the way while he’s still confused.

___

You really don’t want to be having this conversation.

For fuck’s sake, you’re on break. And isn’t that supposed to mean relaxation? Yet the other model for the shoot today has been bugging you with unpleasant questions, putting you on the spot.

“Isn’t he a narcissist, though?” she asks, refusing to let go of the topic no matter how unresponsive you’ve been.

“I guess? Maybe. In a way…”

“You’re sooo… I don’t know. Like, you don’t even sound sure about what you’re telling me.” She narrows her eyes at you, leaning in a bit closer. “Aren’t you scared of him? Or is it ‘cause you’re so sheltered, you don’t know not to mess around with guys like Kaiser?”

Scared of him? It sounds ludicrous. At worst he’s whiny.

“He’s harmless,” you say. “Just a little rude and preoccupied with himself, that’s all. Actually, he’s an interesting and attentive person.”

She covers her mouth and lets out a sound of amusement, apparently now finding you more convincing and therefore dropping her worries. “He was saying you guys are suuuuuuuper in love with an interview.”

Not too engaged with the topic — since it’s about whatever lies Kaiser told the interviewer to entertain himself — you ask, “Is that what he was saying?”

“Yep. Didn’t you watch?”

“No.”

“Fine. Maybe he’s ‘interesting and attentive.’ I mean, I don’t believe it, but whatever. What about you, though? Do you like him, let alone love him? Can you even like anyone? I mean, shit, you know how you are. So, like, can you? Are you suuuuuuuper in love?”

You avert your eyes. “Yes,” you say. It’s true. You do like Kaiser well enough, probably more than you should. “And stop making assumptions about him and me.”

“What if I don’t stop? What are you gonna do?”

That’s… A very good question because there’s nothing you can do at the moment. Seems like a good opportunity to weaponize your reputation of being a deranged serial killer. “I’ll lick your eyebrows.”

You don’t know if your delivery is persuasive or not, but the idea you’d do such a thing must come off as believable enough because she makes a strange face before backing off.

___

You despise being in situations. And making decisions.

There’s a stupid PR meeting again. Your manager, who you think should move onto writing trashy novellas instead of administering poison to your career just because his imagination is overactive, proposed a new stunt. With the fake relationship running its course, you were discussing ways to publicize the ‘break up’ and he suggested a cheating scandal. Not to mention his great idea had you as the cheater — you swear he’s praying on your downfall at this point.

Maybe because you’ve been treated as some kind of fucked up creature incapable of thought and trustworthy decisions, something insentient, you would’ve went along with it like always. Even though you know you’d look bad, the point is to make noise, and it would be a scandalous story if not anything else. Another indignity doesn’t matter much on an endless list.

Then Kaiser in true Kaiser fashion declared that he wants to keep the relationship going. To you, such an act of flippant defiance is unthinkable.

But obviously this forces you into a position where you need to pick between your options. They’re all staring at you, waiting. Kaiser is smiling at you from across his seat like you’re in on a joke with him. Anxious, you say, “I’ll think about it,” and stand up to leave.

You’re sweating because somewhere within you wanna announce ‘Yeah, I wanna keep seeing Michael Kaiser,’ but it’s so preposterous.

Kaiser doesn’t chase after you (though it’d be his style to do such a thing solely for the drama), but he catches up to you by the time you make it outside of the building, approaching the parking lot.

“Hey. Hey! Hey, stop ignoring me. Heeeeeeey.”

God he is such an annoying pest sometimes. You turn around to face him, snapping, “What?! What was that about anyway?”

“No, what’s with you? What is there to think about? You don’t want to look like a clown in front of the world, do you?”

You’re looking at Kaiser again like you’re trying to figure out a mystery. He always wants things, but what does he want from you? There has to be a reason for this. Otherwise, he should’ve been fine with the separation instead of trying to prolong it.

“Listen,” says Kaiser, a little apprehensive at your silence and expressionless gaze, “I can tell you barely tolerate your shitty job and that you probably don’t like the moronic idea your anthropomorphized cyst of a manager came up with, so why aren’t you protesting it?”

Those are objective enough observations. However, “Anthropomorphized cyst…?”

“You’re changing the subject,” Kaiser huffs, irked. “And by the way the fake meek act isn’t cute at all. They’re making money off of you. Tell them to fuck off and die and stop acting like a hostage.”

“This is very inspirational and all, Kaiser, but how about you tell me why you wanna keep the fake relationship going?”

“Doesn’t matter. If you don’t want that either, you can say we’ll settle for ending it instead of-”

You cross your arms. “Again, your attempts at a pep talk are adorable and appreciated, but you’re changing the subject now.”

“They’re not adorable. I’m right. Say I’m right.”

“Fine, fine, you’re right,” you relent with a roll of your eyes.

Kaiser smiles snidely and clasps his hands behind his back. “Thanks,” he says in a sarcastic tone. Then you expect him to entertain your question, but he doesn’t, leaving you in an uncomfortable staredown against him and his stupid ‘beautiful glowing blue orbs’ ass eyes.

“Answer me,” you demand.

“Your unpleasant personality and reclusive ways have bewitched me.”

…

…

“… What?”

“I won’t repeat myself,” Kaiser says with too much attitude considering the situation. Like, he just spoke out one of the most absurd sentences you’ve ever heard.

“Do you have a brain tumor?”

The outrageous suggestion makes him scoff. “Really? You think I need a brain tumor to like you?”

“Maybe,” you say. “Should’ve let me operate on you when I offered.”

“You’re mentally disturbed,” he replies like the fact turns him on or something.

“So were you asking me out or what?”

“Yes? No? Yes. Yeah, fine, I am.”

“Do you search up ‘personality’ on porn sites?”

“Come on, be serious. I mean what I’m saying and I want to give things between us a try. Do you?”

You cringe as if admitting your feelings or overall being in touch with them in the first place is a physically painful sensation, but in your defense you think you might throw up. “Yeah… Yeah, okay, I’ll tell him tomorrow. My manager, I mean.”

Kaiser swings an arm around your shoulders, visibly pleased with the way this is all going. He sings, “That’s the spirit.”

What had he wanted from you? Affection and care, apparently. You think back on when you’d called him ‘disgusting’ and a foreign guilt overcomes you since you don’t usually lament the remarks you make during your misanthropic hissy fits.

Is it fine for someone such as yourself to also indulge in wanting? Hesitant, with shaky arms, you embrace him around the middle, the gentlest of hugs. Kaiser freezes for a moment as if he’s unsure what to do when he’s not the one initiating things, but eventually returns the gesture. Melts into it, even. Two existences brushing against one another, at first glance contrary yet perhaps similar in many ways.

When you finally pull away from each other little by little, Kaiser says, “Let’s elope now.”

You sigh. “You sure have a way of making everything sound way more exciting than it is.”

(He drives you back to your place, but still sucks at driving. Chivalrously, he avoids crashing the car, though.)

___

Yall I was drinking light yellow tap water for a few daysdo you think somethings gonna happen to me ?

Btw I hate this but it's finally finished after like around a month so whatever lol I' M FREE

[tinyshyteacup]

Can I please please please request the softest most cuddly chibs fluff of chibs taking care of sick reader 🥹🥹🥹😭😭 I need some fluffy medicine 😭😭🤣please and thank you😊😊♥️♥️♥️

A spoonful of fluff - hope you feel better.

• I’m fine Scotsman •

You’d tried to act like you weren’t sick. Really, you had.

But you sniffled through breakfast, tried to hide the occasional cough behind your hand, and your eyes were glassy and red-rimmed by the time Chibs came back from Teller-Morrow.

He caught sight of you curled on the couch in one of his oversized SAMCRO shirts, surrounded by tissues and clinging to a mug of lukewarm tea like it might save your soul.

You tried to give him a weak smile. "I’b fide, Scotsman" you mumbled through a blocked nose.

He crouched down in front of you, eyes narrowing as he gently tilted your chin up. “Aye, and I’m the fuckin’ Queen of England, love.”

There was no teasing edge in his voice—just warmth. Concern.

He pressed the back of his hand to your forehead and sighed. “Ach, You’re burnin’ up.”

You blinked at him. "I’b really okay—"

He leaned in and kissed the tip of your nose. "Shut up, Love. Today, you’re not liftin’ a finger."

Within ten minutes, he’d set up your shared bedroom like a private care unit.

Soft blankets? Check.

Fresh tea with honey and lemon? Check.

Two extra pillows and your favorite worn paperback? Check.

A new box of tissues, cool compress for your head, and Vicks rubbed on your chest with surprisingly delicate hands?

Triple check.

And Chibs, sitting on the bed with you half-curled into his side, was the gentlest version of himself. His rough hand cradled your head, thumb stroking behind your ear.

“Ye always get quiet when yer sick,” he said, voice low and thoughtful. “Not that yer ever loud, love, but now you’re like a wee kitten who’s lost her meow.”

You grumbled in response, sniffling into his shoulder.

He chuckled, kissed your temple. “I got ye, Just rest.”

At one point, you tried to get up to help him when he moved toward the door.

His voice stopped you.

“Back. Down.”

You blinked at the firmness in his tone. He softened instantly, walking back over and brushing your hair off your forehead.

“Ye don’t move unless it’s tae sneeze or sleep. Got it?” He placed a kiss on your warm cheek. “I’ll be right back.”

He returned minutes later with your favorite snack, a movie on the laptop that made you smile, and one of his flannels warmed up fresh from the dryer.

“This,” he declared as he bundled you into it, “is the only acceptable uniform for bein’ spoiled.”

You’d dozed off and woken to find him still in bed beside you.

Rain softly pelting the window outside.

You weren’t sure when he’d climbed in. One of his arms was wrapped securely around you, hand resting just above your waist, the slow rhythm of his breath keeping you grounded.

You sniffled again, and he stirred.

“M’sorry,” you whispered hoarsely.

“For what?” His voice was sleep-rough but warm. “For bein’ human?”

You shrugged.

He tilted your chin to face him, brushing his thumb under your eye. “Ye feel like shite, and you still try to apologize. Jesus, yer heart’s too fuckin’ big, mo ghràdh ”

He kissed your forehead and held you a little tighter.

[homestylehughes]

do you two know each other?

pairing(s): jamie drysdale x fem!york sister

summary: jamie hooks up with a girl he meets at a random bar, but what happens when the girl he hooked up with is he roommate and teammates sister?

warnings: fluff, sweet, and shy reader and jamie. pure filth smut 18+, oral fem!reciving, dirty talk. pet names, use of y/n.

wc: 4.4k

an: hi loveessssss!!! jamic fic...with smut;). also i actually dont know how this is 4.4k words dont ask me what happened... i got realllyyyyyy carried away. BUT I LOVE THIS. this was sent to me as request and boy did i eat it UP, so thank you sooo much for whoever requested. hopefully you read it and enjoy!!! i loved writing this sooo much. i hope you guys all enjoy, more things coming veryyyy soon. be sure to send in any blurbs or ideas you guys have for me i love talking and hearing from you guys. like and reblog if you enjoy. as always much love <3

happy reading <3

 Jamie doesnt even know how he got here, or why he's even in this club. Sitting at the table nursing a beer, that's now going lukewarm from having it for so long. He doesn't know why his mood is so down, the flyers have won their last 5 games, he's happy to be in philly

Sure he misses Trevor and the rest of his past teammates, but he's fitting in well here and he likes it. Maybe he's lonely? Who knows at this point, all he knows is he'd rather be anywhere but here.  “Jamieeee buddy!!! Cheer up!!!! Go get laid!!!” one of his drunk teammates yells out at him from across the bar. A small chuckle rips through his body, as he looks back at his teammate raising his beer with a smile. 

Finally killing off the beer, he makes his way to the bar to get a new one, leaning against the counter, waiting for the bartender. All of the sudden Jamie feels something or someone's body crash into his left side. 

“Oh my gosh, i'm so so sorry” the sweet voice of a woman echoed in his ears. “Are you okay?” The nameless woman speaks again, holding Jamie's arms to steady herself and to look at him. “Yeah, I'm fine. Are you?” He finally speaks, the woman in front of him as to be one of the most beautiful women he’s ever seen in his entire life. 

The way her hair falls, so perfectly in her face, the way her leather pants and corset fit her so well, hugging every part of her body perfectly. He swears she's an angel. 

“Yes, I'm okay. I'm so sorry, some guy ran into me and you happened to be here and you know.. I ran into you.'' The woman pauses, blowing air from her lips, the plump lips Jamie can't help but stare at while she's talking. “Basically what I'm saying is, I'm sorry. Can I buy you a drink?” 

Buy him a drink? A very attractive, seamly sweet woman bumps into him by accident and is now offering to buy him a drink? Maybe this night isn't as bad as it seems.

“Oh no you don't have too, i promise all is good '' he says back to her, “please i insist” she again counters. “Okay fine, but i'm buying the next round if you'd like.” he says with a small smile. “Sounds good to me.” she says, returning a smile. Even her smile is perfect, he thinks to himself. 

Waving down the bartender, “hi! Can I get two highmoons please!” she says smiling at the bartender, handing him a 20, telling him to keep the change, yelling a thank you. Before grabbing the two drinks in front of him, handing one to Jamie, before leaning in closer. “Do you wanna go somewhere quieter?” she whispers into his ear. 

Jamie nods in response, holding out his arm out, so she can grab his hand, grabbing it quickly, warmth flooding through the both of them, as Jamie leads them through the crowded bar, back towards the table James was once at. 

“Thank you, I'm sorry i couldnt hear you up there,” she quietly says, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. “You say sorry alot, nothing to apologize for” he replies looking at her, taking her in, in a different light. She still looks beautiful. “I'm sor- actually nevermind. Oh! Im y/n” she says holding out her hand for Jamie to shake, “jamie” he says as he shakes her hand. 

“So Jamie, what are you doing here?” she asks, while taking a sip of her bear. “Honestly I don't know, I didn't really want to come here tonight.”

“Me either, my friends made me come tonight, they said i needed to stop acting like a grandma, pulling me out of my comfy bed, put me in this” she says juestering to her outfit. “So now i'm here, talking to a guy..that i find cute” she finishes saying the last part quietly, hoping that Jamie did not register what she said, but he does.

“Well I'm glad you're here, you saved me from a night of boredom. Now i'm talking to this girl that i find..cute” he says leaning towards her from across the table with a smile. 

“Oh really?” she says with a glimmer in her eyes 

“Mhm, wouldn't say it if it wasn't true pretty girl.'' Jamie replies with a smirk on his face. “So Jamie, tell me what you do? Tell me your story” she says leaning even closer to him across the time, so close that she can make out the freckles that are scattered across his face so beautifully. “Well, where do I begin?” he laughs out before speaking again.

This is how it was the whole night, laughs, smiles, flirty remarks were being thrown around all night. Jamie telling her about his hockey career, being transferred from anaheim to philly. You couldn't imagine the excitement that spread through her when he said that, being a hockey fan herself growing up all around it thanks to her brother. 

They spent hours talking about anything and everything, from childhoods, to first kisses. Being so caught up in their conversation either of them realized their full drinks were now empty, not bothering to get another. 

The tension between y/n and Jamie grew over the few hours that they spent together. y/n checking her phone to see that it was now close to 2 a.m., knowing that it's probably time to head home, even though she didn't want to anyway and especially not alone.

“It's getting late” she says looking at Jamie, “oh yeah, shit it is” Jamie says glancing at his watch at the time. 

“How far do you live from here? I can walk you home if you'd like?” Jamie says, hoping she says yes, not wanting this night to end just yet. “I do actually, just around the block,  I'll be more than happy to have you walk me home.” y/n says smiling brightly at him.

“Well let's get you home.'' Jamie says, getting up from his seat. Once again he holds out his hand for y/n to grab, leading her through the still crowded bar towards the exit. The cool air nips at their skin as they walk outside. 

“Which way?” Jamie asks now looking at y/n, taking in her features in the natural light. Even though it's dark out the street light and lights from the bar luminate her skin beautifully. 

“Left” she replies, as she also takes in jamies appearance, he's even prettier outside she thinks to herself. 

They began to walk in the direction of her apartment, making simple small talk as they do, their hands still closed together. After the 10 or so minute walk to her apartment, they arrive now standing outside her door. 

Now standing in front of each other, Jamie realizes how much he wants to kiss her, stepping a little closer to y/n, “i'd really like to kiss you right now, if that's okay” he softly says tilting his head down closer to hers. “I'd really like you to kiss me right now” y/n whispers back to him. 

Not a beat later, Jamie's lips are y/n’s, the kiss is sweet, not rushed, their lips moving together. Jamie's hands moving from beside him to her face grabbing her cheeks, pulling her close as if she's going to disappear any second. y/n’s hands finding the back of his head, tucking her fingers in between his soft black locks. 

They finally pull apart after a few minutes, their chests rising and falling quickly, eyes locked together. Now she really doesnt want him to go home now, and neither is jamie. “I don't do one night stands' ' y/n quickly says, staring at Jamie, “me neither, so let's not make it a one time thing "Jamie says before finding his way back to her lips, pulling her into another kiss.

This kiss is more urgent and hotter than the last, his tongue sliding into her mouth, his hand moving down to her waist pulling her body into his. 

“Jamie” she says breathlessly, as he pulls away from her lips, trails kisses down her exposed neck. Small moans are leaving her lips as she feels her knees growing weaker and weaker for him.

“Jamie” she says louder now, pulling away from him slightly. His eyes finding hers, blown with lust, “inside.” is all she says before pulling him up the steps of her apartment. Fishing her keys out of her purse to unlock the door, she can feel Jamie's front against her back, leaning down to pepper her neck with more kisses, making it harder to open her door.

Once the floor finally opens their stumbling inside, y/n dropping her purse on the floor not caring where anything goes. Their lips move together once again, as she walks them backwards further into her place. 

“Jump '' Jamie mumbles against her lips, immediately following his orders, she quickly jumps wrapping her legs to his waist, Jamie walking her through her place. 

“First room on the left” y/n lets out before watching her lips back jamies. Pushing the door to her room open quickly, finding her bed, tossing her back on it. 

y/n’s chest rising and falling quickly as Jamie looks down at her, “you're so beautiful” he says before lowering himself between her legs and is open for his invitation. 

y/n’s hands finding his hair pulling him against her again, their lips fighting against each other. Moving one of her hands from his hair to under the shirt he's wearing tracing her hand along his bare sides, feeling his muscles contract under her touch. 

Wanting to feel all of him, she pulls at Jamie's shirt wanting him to take it off. Getting the message quickly Jamie lifts his lips from hers, leaning himself up and slipping his shirt off, tossing it somewhere in her bedroom before reconnecting their lips. Her hands now explore the plains of his bare back. 

“Not fair that my shirt is off but yours isn't” Jamie says from above her, “well take it off then”. Jamie doesnt need to be told twice, quickly flipping them over, settling his back against the headboard, pulling her into his lap. His hands quickly found the clasps on the back of her top, unhooking them one by one, while kissing her neck. The small moans y/n lets out from above him, make him harder by the second.

Pulling the now unclasped top from her body, watching the straps fall from her shoulder, as he takes in her bare chest. He can't help but reach out to hold her breast in his hands, the smooth warm kiss pulling him in. “fuck you’re so beautiful ” he rasps out, leaning forward, wrapping his lips around her left lip, his eyes remaining locked with y/n’s. “Fuck” she moans out, the feeling of jamie warm mouth wrapping around her nipple is sending her whole body into a blaze. 

She can feel the heat between her legs grow by the second, feeling his hardened cock resting in the inside of her left thigh. Taking matters into her own hands, deciding to grind their hips together. Jamie's lips instantly fell from their assault on her breast. A strangled moan falling from his lips, as he watches her grind herself against him.

“Fuck y/n” he groans out as her hips hit just the right spot on his hardened cock. “I need you Jamie please” y/n says breathlessly, looking down at him with lust in her eyes. 

Flipping them over again, Jamie starts making his way to her pants, kissing down her body, until he gets to her top button. Looking up at her making sure it's okay before he takes them off, “yes please” y/n says lifting her hips up to help him take them off. Her pants are off now, just leaving her in her white cotton underwear. 

Jamie leaning back on his heels, taking a good look at her. “There's so many things i want to do to you right now” Jamie says, while trailing his hands up her bare legs, spreading her thighs getting a better look at the wet patch that’s now formed on her underwear from how wet she is. 

“Please do something, Jamie please.” y/n sys getting more antster by the second. “Where do you want me, pretty girl?” Jamie says before pressing a kiss to her core, breathing her scent, his mouth watering instantly. “I want you to fuck me, please”. “Okay pretty girl, since you've been so good to me, '' he says. Working to undo his belt and pants, unbuttoning them before pulling them down his legs. “I wanna see all of you Jamie” y/n whines out too. “You will baby, you will, but first i wanna taste you” he says, now hooking his fingers under her underwear. “Is that okay, baby?” pressing kisses to the inside of her thighs, waiting for her response. 

y/n’s brain is mush she can hardly think, he's barely touched her and she's already out of it. “Yes' ' she says finally, looking down at him, Jamie remains in eye contact as he pulls her underwear down her legs. The soft fabric hitting her ankles before completely pulling them off her body. Her body now completely exposed to Jamie, usually she'd run to cover herself up, but the way he's looking down on her body, like he wants to eat her alive, is changing her mind. 

“I've thought about how you'd taste, all night” kissing his way back to her core. Pressing a soft kiss to it, before spreading her lips, finding her clit immediately. “Oh my god” y/n moans out her back lifting from the bed. Jamie hands pinning her hips down. His tongue begins exploring her cunt, sucking and licking every part of her as he could. The sounds coming out from above him are music to his ears, he never wants to stop hearing them. 

“Fuck jamie right there” y/n says a certian thrust of his tongue in her cunt, has her hands flying to his hair, pushing his face furthe into her cunt. Jamie doesn't let up, continuing to lap her up like a starving man. 

“Im almost there fuck. Please done stop” and jamie doesnt, sliping a finger into her tight hole, he begins fucking her with is fingers, his lips still wrapped around her clit. Don't stop and ragged moans fall from her lips as she begins to cum. “Im cumming fuck” y/n moans out, jamie increases his pace, fucking her with two fingers now, feeling her seize around them. 

Her head pushed as far into the pillow as it can go, her jaw open as she cums, her legs shaking as she tries to close them., but jamies strong hands hold them open, as he continues to fuck through her orgasm. 

y/n’s chest falling and rising quickly, trying to recover from her orgasim, lifting her head down to look at Jamie, who's looking back at her. “Fuck.” is all he says before climbing back up the bed to her, reconnecting their lips. Tasting herself in his mouth makes her mind go dizzy. “Need you fuck me jamie” y/n whines pulling back to look him in the eyes. “Want to ride you, please” trailing one of her hands to his hardened cock in his boxers, running her fingertips along the covered ridged length, her mouth watering, at the feeling.

“Yes, pretty girl” he moans, dropping his head into her neck, as he feels her hand run across his hard-on. Pulling himself off of her, slipping back into a sitting position in her bed, y/n helping him pull his boxers down. His hardened cock falling out, precome painted along the tip, his pretty cock staring at her, begging her to put her mouth on it. 

Moving her hands to the base of his cock, the weight of it in her hands, causes her to let out a low moan. Jamie's mouth hanging open, looking at her with half hooded eyes waiting for her next move. Settling her thighs on either side of his thighs rubbing her thumb over his precum covered tip, Jamie moans out from above her. “Baby please do something” he says urgently, grabbing her hips, helping her lift up, y/n lines up his cock with her entrance, slowly sinking down on it. 

“Oh my gosh” y/n says once she's fully sat on his length, jamies hands are hips hold her in place. Their eyes finding each other again, “you look so beautiful” he says, bringing his hands to her face, pulling her into a soft kiss, y/n smiling into the kiss as she begins lifting herself slowly from his cock. Jamie lets out a moan against her mouth as she skinks back down on him. 

The room begins to get hotter as each snap of y/n’s hips against jamies, moans and pants fill the room. “Fuck y/n” jamie groans out to her, watching her slide down on his cock, the way her hair is falling around her face, the soft glow of light in room, highlights the thin layer of sweat that covers her body as she rides him. 

The grip Jamie has on her hips begins to tighten as he feels her tighten around her, his own orgasim also approaching. “Im almost there fuck jamie” y/n says dropping her head into his neck. “I can feel you baby, doing so good for me” leaning forward as he kisses and sucks on her exposed neck. “Look so pretty riding my cock pretty girl,” Jamie says, moving his hips to meet her thrusts. “Jamie dont stop, fuck im almost there”. 

Each snap of their hips against each other is pure magic, the sounds of their skin smacking along with their moans will enter the room. Before y/n can realize she’s cumming, her lips finding jamies as she does, her hips still moving up and down his cock. “Im cumming baby” Jamie moans out, as he goes to pull y/n off of him, grabbing his hands she stops him, “cum inside me please, im clean, on the pill.” she says looking into his eyes she can tell he’s almost there. 

“Please jamie, i want to feel you cum inside of me”, thats all it takes before jamie begins to fall apart above her, smashing his lips to hers as he cums, y/n continuing to fuck him through it, the movement of her hips never stopping. 

Her hips slowly stop moving, now just resting sitting in Jamie's lap, the sound of their breathing is the only thing you can hear in the room. Jamie bringing his hand to her face lifting it up to look in her eyes ``that was..” he trails off, struggling trying to find the right words. “That was amazing” y/n says finishing his thought with her own words. “Yeah it was,” he chuckles before giving her a soft kiss. 

“We should go get cleaned up” she says after a few moments, Jamie nodding his head in agreement. y/n lifting off him slowly, already missing the feeling of him inside her. Getting up from her bed, leading them to her bathroom, turning on the shower climbing, Jamie followed in suit with a smile on his face. 

The shower was sweet and soft taking turns washing each other, stealing a few kisses from each other once and awhile. It almost all felt too domestic, something the both of them could get used too. Climbing out of the shower, y/n handing him a towel, as she begins to dry herself off she can feel Jamie staring at her. “Everything okay?” she asks, “more than okay, didnt think my might would turn out like this” he says, taking a few steps closer to y/n grabbing her by the hips pulling her closer. “But i'm not complaining” he says with a smile, “and neither am i” she counters before leaning in for a kiss, wrapping her arms around him.  

Jamie picks her up once again, carrying her to her bedroom, laying her back down before reconnecting their lips. This is how they spend the night, all wrapped up and each other, their connection they share blossoming by each touch. 

– 

Ever since their first night together Jamie and y/n have been texting nonstop. both their schedules are super busy so they haven't been able to see each other again. That all changes tonight.

“y/n pleaseeee” cam says on the other side of the call. “I'll never ask you for anything ever again, if you come tonight. All the guys wanna see you.” he pleads again. Rubbing my head at my desk, trying to come up with an excuse to not go to a charity event the flyers are throwing but i can't come up with anything. “Okay okay, please shut up and stop begging me i’ll come with you” i finally say. “You're actually the best sister ever, I'll pick you up at 7 and wear something fancy! Gotta go to practice! Bye love you!” Cam quickly says before ending the call. 

I stare at my phone in disbelief before getting back to work again, 7 o’clock can't come fast enough. 

Trying to find something to wear to this event is going to kill me. Every dress I put on I hate. It's either two flashy or too borning. Maybe i just shouldn't go, i say to myself, knowing cam would actually kill me if i didn't. Settling on a simple black dress, quickly finishing my hair and makeup. Checking my phone to see that cam texted me that he's outside. Slipping on my shoes checking on my makeup before heading out the door. 

My phone dinging from a text message, seeing that Jamie texted me “wish you were here with me tonight, at this work event” it reads. Smiling before sending a quickly before getting into cam’s car. 

“Who's got you smiling at your phone?” is the first thing he says to me. “None of your business, don't make me leave and go back inside '' I say while snapping my seatbelt into place. 

“Okay fine” he says before pulling off, making his way to the event. Small talk fills the car, as we catch up, I find myself wishing I saw my brother more. Even with us living in the same city, we barely have time to see each other, his hockey schedule and demanding work schedule keep us from seeing each other. 

“Oh guess who will be there tonight?” Cam says, putting the car into park before handing his key to the valet , muttering a small thank you before heading over to my side, opening the door for me. “Who?” I ask , stepping out of the car. “My roommate, the one I told you about who transferred here a few months ago. He also plays defense. Really sweet I'm sure you guys will hit it off, "Cam says, winking at the last part. “Okay buddy, let's calm down.” I say laughing as Cam holds his arm for me to take. 

The event itself is amazing, the music, decor, everything about it, I barely have time to take it all in before cam pulls me over to a group of his teammates, throwing me into conversation with them. Sometime during our conversations Cam runs off saying he's going to find his roommate who I have not yet caught the name of, and to grab us drinks. 

Turning to talk to one of the wags that are there, I hear my name being called from behind, turning around to see Cam with drinks in his hand and Jamie standing right next to him. Jamie? What is Jamie doing here? And how does he know my brother? 

“y/n there you are!” Cam says, handing a drink to me, “y/n this is my roommate Jamie, the one who transferred from the ducks! And Jamie this is my sister y/n” my eyes are wide as I stare at Jamie, I'm sure all of the color has left my face, jamies staring back at me just as shocked as I am. 

“Hello guys?” Cam breaks the silence. “Do you two know each other?” he asks again, glancing back and forth between us. Still neither of us respond, just continuing to stare at each other. “Well since either of you are responding im going to take my drink, and your drink: he says plucking my drink out my hands. “And I'm going to go congregate, have fun! Introduce yourselves…unless you two have already done that already bye!” and just like that he’s gone faster than he came. 

“Hi?” I say speaking first. “You didn't tell me your brother played for the flyers' 'Jamie quickly says. “Im sorry, i didn't mean to hide it from you, it's not something i want people to know me for.'' I say, pausing before taking a deep breath, “I didn't know you were Cam's roommate. He talks about you all the time.'' I say laughing awkwardly, shifting on my feet, scared of where we stand now. 

“Well I both think we left out important details, didn't we?” Jamie says, flashing me a smile, reaching out to grab my waist pulling me closer to him. “You look gorgeous, I missed you” he says leaning into my neck. “I missed you too, you look really good.”, my eyes moving over the simple, yet sexy suite he’s wearing. 

“Imagine if we just happened to leave at the same time.” Jamie says into my ear husklely. “Imagine if I happen to say that's a great idea and follow you?” I say, biting my lip to conceal my smile. Grabbing my hand pulling me behind him, through the crowded event, leading her out the back door. 

Neither of them realized the cam’s eyes had not left them since he walked away, seeing their whole interaction, seeing them leave the venue together. A smile dancing across his face, happy for his sister and his teammate. Wondering how long they would try to keep it a secret from him. 

[koolkat9]

Sick and Tired

Rating: T

Relationship: Germania + German Bros

Word Count: 775

Read on AO3

Author's Note: This was supposed to be fore German Bros week, but it turned more into a Gil and Germania fic than a Gil and Lud fic. So it will be it's own separate thing. But still...I wanted to release it on the same day. Based on a teen dad prussia au I have.

It had been a long day and a long night. Poor Ludwig had come down with his first cold, and given it was the weekend, it was Gilbert’s turn to take care of him. Gilbert had finally gotten him to sleep and was sitting down to start on his studying when a raspy cry rattled down the hall.

“Shit,” Gilbert muttered under his breath.

He tried to focus on his textbook and the notebook in front of him. He read the sentence over and over, the meaning of the words getting drowned out by the cries.

“In 1741, Frederick the Great…” he read aloud, hoping that would get him to focus. “Fredrick the Great achieved…Agh.”

He pressed his hands against his ears, screwing his eyes shut.

When the crying continued, Gilbert finally shot up and strode down the hallway. He threw open the door, it slammed against the nearby wall. For a moment, Ludwig stopped crying. Until he started right up again after getting over his shock. Gilbert groaned.

He picked up the baby and began rocking him. Bouncing him back and forth, frustrated.

“Shhhhh,” Gilbert hushed, “You’re fine. It’s fine. You’ll feel better if you sleep, you know?”

Rock and plead, rock and plead. It went on for an hour. But with his tired brain and Ludwig’s constant screaming, time was lost on Gilbert.

“Just please be quiet,” Gilbert begged, vision blurring with tears. “Please… please… please.”

Gilbert swayed slightly. He couldn’t tell if he was dizzy from being overwhelmed or tired or maybe he hadn’t drunk enough water today. He pulled himself over to the rocking chair and began rocking Ludwig once more.

But no matter what, Ludwig wouldn’t stop crying, face beet red.

Gilbert sniffed, pulling Ludwig closer and just breaking down into sobs.

“What’s going on–” A voice started to ask, only to cut himself off. A shadow shuffled amongst the darkened room.

“Papa…” Gilbert blubbered, finding his father kneeling in front of him.

“Someone still not feeling too good?” Adalbert asked, rubbing Ludwig’s head.

Gilbert shook his head no, swallowing thickly. “I’m sorry.”

“Hush now.”

Adalbert’s hand came to rest on Ludwig’s forehead. “Fever.”

He nodded to himself, rising to his feet, and headed to Ludwig’s closet. He pulled out a thinner set of PJs.

“Give him to me,” Adalbert instructed.

Gilbert handed Ludwig over tiredly. He collapsed back into the rocking chair. He couldn’t watch as his father dressed Ludwig in the lighter closed. He buried his head in his hands, tears soaking his palms. Why couldn’t he stop?

He hadn’t even noticed that Adalbert had taken Ludwig out of the room. When Gilbert finally looked up, he scoured the room frantically.

Luckily Adalbert returned a few minutes into Gilbert’s search.

“Don’t worry, I just was giving him a little lukewarm bath,” Adalbert explained, “Did wonders for you when you were a baby.”

And it seemed Ludwig took after Gilbert in that way. He was already dozing off in Adalbert’s arms.

“I’m sorry,” Gilbert mumbled wetly.

“You have nothing to apologize for. You did your best. Especially considering you’re under stress about that test. Speaking of…” He placed Ludwig back in the crib. “You should have come to me. I could have taken care of him today.”

“But he’s my responsibility, I–”

“Gilbert.” Adalbert’s voice was stern and his eyes cool. Gilbert winced. “When we decided to go through with this, you promised your studies would come first and I’d support you and Ludwig to make that happen.”

“But we also said the weekend would be my time to take care of him.”

Adalbert sighed. “Yes. But the importance of your studies trumps that. So right now, I want you to go to bed and sleep. I’ll take care of Ludwig tomorrow until you finish studying.”

Gilbert wanted to argue, feeling like a failure and that his father was angry at him. But he knew it was fruitless. He joined Adalbert beside the crib, wanting to at least check Ludwig one more time.

He looked so peaceful now. Still a little sick, but at least he wasn’t sobbing. Tears burned behind Gilbert’s eyes.

“I think he likes you better,” Gilbert choked.

Adalbert put a hand on his shoulder. “I think he likes you just as much.”

Ludwig cooed at them, little hands reaching out, not to Adalbert but to Gilbert. Gilbert quirked a brow. Cautiously, Gilbert reached out, letting Ludwig grasp his finger. After a few minutes, Ludwig closed his eyes and was fast asleep.

When Gilbert turned back to his father, Adalbert had a small smile on his face. “What did I tell you?”

Gilbert returned the smile. 

[dysco-lymonade]

#6 for kissing prompt using any clexa you want 😊

You’re now entering an unknown Clexa AU set some time during college.

Maybe it’ll develop into something? Send me your thoughts and questions.

-

The bass is pounding so hard that Clarke can see the sound waves in her cup of lukewarm beer. Her mind wanders to Jurassic Park and she wonders if she wouldn’t enjoy being hunted by a T-Rex more than being at this party.

Beside her, Finn Collins is apologizing profusely.

Again.

She knows he is speaking, but she’s not listening. She honestly doesn’t really care that he missed the opening of the art show. It wasn’t like she’d sent him an invitation. It was a small college-wide display that would be going on for weeks.

She sees a hand come in to her line of sight. When her eyes focus, she sees fingers snapping in front of her face. “Yo, Earth to Clarke.” Finn has successfully grabbed her attention, and her murderous gaze.

“Did you seriously just snap at me?” She furrows her eyebrows.

He doesn’t even flinch at her tone.

“Yeah I was seeing if I couldn’t make it up to you.” He shoots her what she’s sure is supposed to be a cute crooked smile. It really just makes her want to rearrange his face.

She sighs, trying to make it clear that she’s not interested, without having to actually say it. “Finn, look. I’m not sure what—“

He cuts her off with a hand on her forearm. “I know you’re upset, princess. But it won’t happen again. I promise.”

“What won’t?” Clarke shrugs her arm away from his touch just as his eyes wander to something behind her.

“Oh hey, Lexa. Can you give us a minute?” Finn asks.

Clarke doesn’t hear a response. Instead, she feels herself being turned around with a gentle grasp to her shoulder. It’s like she’s moving in slow-motion.

Clarke’s eyes briefly land on the determined face of one Lexa Woods before she’s suddenly too close to focus on.

Two soft palms cup Clarke’s jaw as slender fingers grasp around the back of her neck.

Then Lexa’s lips are on hers.

It’s so unexpected that Clarke hadn’t had a moment to ready herself. Lexa comes in too quickly, damn near chipping Clarke’s tooth.

Clarke can’t find it in herself to mind. Instead, she sinks in to the feeling of Lexa’s hands cradling her face.

Clarke wraps her hands around Lexa’s waist to pull her in tighter, just as she starts to feel Lexa pulling away.

Clarke can hear Finn muttering curse words under his breath as he wanders off.

“Jesus, Lex. What was that?!” Clarke all but squeaks. Now looking Lexa directly in the eyes.

Panic is the only word that could possibly describe the look on Lexa’s face.

“Shit. I just saw him over here bothering you again and I thought— I don’t know what I thought. I didn’t think.” Lexa’s rambling and Clarke can’t help but find it endearing. Leave it to Lexa to step in and save Clarke from unwanted advances. She’s just never been quite so bold about it.

“Lex.” Clarke tries to get her attention to calm her down.

“That was bad, wasn’t it?” Lexa winces.

“Absolutely terrible.” Clarke teases back with a grin. “You should do it again.”

[tarithenurse]

Inhuman

Fandom: MCU Pairing: Bucky x fem!reader, eventually Loki x fem!reader, Stucky, more (some canon, some not). Word count: 2444. Contents: Reality checks, preparations, awkwardness. A/N: Any questions are welcome. Please comment and like and reblog. Let me know if you want a tag.

Chapter 32

... Reader’s PoV ...

Coulson’s took the lukewarm response from the mutants well when you returned. He was bummed to hear about Xavier but figured it made sense as the man must have been relatively old and in a dangerous business of heroing.

You’re back late and had actually not expected Coulson to still be busy but he, and everybody else, seem to be working around the clock to find a solution. Most people have decided to stay the night at HQ and so you do the same.

… ...

Some people claim that stretching doesn’t make a difference others that it should be done both before and after any sort of physical activity. You have found just the right tension by leaning the foot on the baseboard and basically hugging the wall when you become aware of Bucky hurrying this way. He’s walking so fast that he sometimes skips because he is so close to running yet having to restrain himself until he’s well inside with the door closed behind him. The last few steps he takes in a run until he is right behind you, palms flat against the wall on the either side, caging you in.

“You told Steve!” The hissing words tickle in your ear and the warm breath gives you goosebumps as it curls around the neck and jawline. “Now he is demanding that I apologize –”

”You already did that, so problem solved. I didn’t go crying to him if that’s what you think.” You haven’t moved an inch as you feel his heat radiating against your back. “He asked how it went and I answered.”

“But…” Looking over the shoulder, you catch a glimpse of his eyes, worried and sad rather than annoyed. “…I feel…bad about it. Alright? I could have hurt you…”

He finally steps back, looking around in the otherwise deserted room for something to keep him grounded. The situation resembles some of the dilemmas that nurses have to deal with, but it’s still unique as most hospitals don’t deal with previously brainwashed super-soldiers. These are uncharted waters for you.

Carefully standing in front of him, you reach out, turning his face gently towards you so you can lock eyes.

“I can’t promise that it will never happen again. But I know that I don’t blame you because it was an accident and there’s nothing you can say to make me look at it differently. Now if you are afraid that it’ll happen again, then help me learn how to deal with it.”

The worry is only partially replaced by confusion. “What do you mean?”

Taking his hand, you start to formulate the thoughts as they appear. “Teach me about things that trigger you, tell me about your nightmares…or teach me how to stand my ground, so you can’t hurt me like that.”

“Yooouuu want me to train you?” Maybe I wasn’t clear enough. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“Well I do need to improve my skills and Nat and Steve aren’t always available. Besides…it’s better if I learn to handle more diverse opponents in a safe setting before it’s needed in real life.”

You try to look innocent, but inside you’re hoping to maybe get a chance to show that girls aren’t fragile flowers that need protection.

“I haven’t trained anyone in years…” There is still a smidgen of doubt and worry, but he has accepted the logic of the argument.

Slowly, you start to circle him. He stays still, watching out the corners of his eyes, while he ever so slowly widens his stance. So slow that only the added activity in the muscles, which you can see as the golden-brown glitters, is growing denser.

As you once more are face to face, you aim swiftly towards his right shoulder only switching directions in the last possible moment to go for his knee instead which means you duck the initial defensive swing. Pushing his leg outwards, it creates room for you to use the momentum and slide between his legs.

Well out on the other side, you’re about to flip back up on the feet and off the bruising knees, but before you’ve found balance, his hands land heavily on your shoulders, forcing you to buckle back down onto the floor. His hair is almost tickling your nose that’s how close he is as he is bending down over you with an oddly amused look in his eyes. It also means that you can swing the legs up and around his neck before straightening out once more.

Sure, he’s heavy as he lands flat, one hand on your ankle and the other slamming against the floor, but he is also out of balance and that right hand he’s using to hold on to you means that he’s not stabilizing himself on that side, so that’s where you roll towards.

Back on top of the situation, literally, you’re not sure what to do. You’ve never been in a sparring situation where this happened and the hesitation is your doom: before you realize what is happening, you’re the one in a headlock between his legs, your own pinned under a strong metal arm. Even with the arms free, there is nothing you can do.

“Well, little student. What did you do wrong?” He’s still holding on.

“I hesitated.”

“Why did you hesitate?” Finally he lets go, allowing you to get back on the feet.

“I wasn’t sure what to do.” Now of course the ideas start coming.

Tryingly, you start to suggest the options: choke-hold by using the legs or a kick to the chin or maybe even bringing the elbow down on his face by sitting up and leaning back.

One by one, you start going through the three scenarios starting from the part where he’s grabbed you by the shoulders, first in slow motion so you can get accustomed to the movements but eventually in proper speed.

Going through the motions one final time, you have just gotten onto a sitting position with the feet behind her tugged in closely to his sides, about to bring an elbow back and down, when he improvises and sits up, pinning your arms to the sides as he locks you in a restraining hug with his knees pulled up to your face. Instinctively, you push off hard, basically somersaulting around his wrist, dragging him along. It’s not a good tumble, but it causes Bucky to loosen his grip enough for you to slip out of it and scamper away…almost.

Before you’re back up, he’s grabbed your wrist and flipped you off balance once more. This time the former assassin follows suit, grabbing the other wrist as you fall. The moment the two of you have touched down, he’s got both of your hands pressed against the floor above your heads using just one hand, the other hand is on your throat, causing the rest of his body to weigh down on her abdomen and pelvis as he’s managed to land between her legs.

I should move. But I don’t want to.

Your field of vision is blocked by his face, steely eyes staring unblinkingly down at you. The hand on the throat, his warm right hand, isn’t obstructing the breathing, it’s just there to illustrate the maneuver. Moving it slowly up to the jaw, the thumb stretching to touch your lower lip before he slides the fingers around to hold and tilt your head slightly as his lips find their target.

Time is a funny thing. It feels both as if the kiss lasts forever, but also like it’s not long enough. When he does pull away his demeanour is that of a confident ladies’ man.

“The last move is not something you should expect in a real fight.” Grinning down at you, Bucky is teasing.

You have to shake yourself awake mentally before you can answer him. “I’m glad you say so…otherwise I’d have taken up the hobby of randomly attacking you any chance I got.”

His already opened his mouth to answer as something vibrates against her inner thigh. Puzzled, he pushes himself up on the knees and digs his cellphone out of the pocket.

Rubbing the wrists, you sit up too, bummed about the interruption.

“Oh.” Handing the phone over he stands, rubbing a slightly guilty expression off his face with a hand.

*Coulson’s office now, both of you. PS: cameras in the gym.* The text is from Steve.

Trotting along next to each other it’s silent at first. For the first time, you notice just how many cameras are hiding in corners and at doors. You’ve always assumed there was some sort of surveillance…it makes sense for anyone to be paranoid when an evil organization has managed to infiltrate and overthrow your own establishment previously.

“So…we can assume that the director knows now. And Steve.” He is staring fixedly on the marching feet that are carrying him onward.

“Well and Natasha. She’d know anything.” This feels daunting…yet relieving.

“Naturally. They were both busy setting us up anyway.”

“Indeed. And of course if Nat knows, then it’s probably a safe bet that Clint’s in on it too.”

“Oh. Yeah…” The dawning realization is spreading across his face.

“And knowing that what just happened is on the SHIELD-servers in digital form, then we should probably assume Stark has his hands on it too.”

“…which means Rhodes will know as soon as they get to talk.” His heart is pumping copious amount of blood to the expanded capillaries in his face.

“They are thick as thieves, so that’s probably a safe bet. Wanda will pick up on all of this in no time even without talking with anyone. And if she knows then Vision does too.”

“I’m sorry.” He really does look like a man regretting any sin he’s committed. “I shouldn’t have taken advantage of you like I did. It was wrong.”

“Oh, you should be sorry! It was terrible. Everyone will blame you because they saw me begging for mercy with tears running down my cheeks and terror in my eyes.” Keeping a straight face has gotten a lot easier after getting full cellular control of the body, but you can’t keep from grinning for much longer.

“Hold on! You kissed back!” Indignation has won over guilt.

“Then why apologize? We really need to talk about how freely you do that. You’ve used your quota for the rest of the year by now.” But what answer can I give people when they ask what we are?

They’re almost at the office and you know that it’s occupied by the available Avengers (minus Rhodes, Wilson, Parker and Lang), Coulson, May and Daisy.

“Heads up…”

He might not have gotten the meaning straight away, judging from his puzzled look. The moment he opens the door, though, they are met with silent faces grinning at them. Well…silent except Stark, who looks oddly grumpy. Thankfully, director Coulson comes to your rescue, albeit with a knowing smile while the new couple finds a safe corner to stand.

“Selvig just called. They are picking up readings of, and I quote, ‘immense magnitude’ from some quadrant in space. He was stressing the fact that it was happening right now a lot.”

“Well seeing as that should be impossible, then yeah.” Despite the clever heads in the room, no one seems to understand the implications. “Did you guys never listen in science when you had astronomy? Tony, you should get this at least. Any energy is like…like the light from the sun. It needs time to travel. So, if Selvig is picking up energy from outside our solar system –”

“Then it should potentially have travelled thousands of years or more. Which means it would basically be the past he’d be observing. It wouldn’t be happening ‘now’. It couldn’t be.” The scientist has gotten his grey cells working again. “So either it’s some alien phenomenon or he’s got it wrong. Any chance he’s got it wrong? Please?”

Coulson denies that possibility, probably causing all of the assembled people to worry what it could be.

You were sitting safe at home in your old life during the Battle of New York, watching the horrors and the aftermath unfold on TV. The people here were either in the middle of the battle or very close by and now they are trying to mentally prepare for another alien enemy.

They’re listening silently as Coulson explains that they’ve gotten the green light to take any action necessary to secure the planet. He is reporting directly to the UN, presidents, ministers, and regents, but he is the one accountable for anything SHIELD does as a representative of Earth.

As Avengers, the reassessed Sokovia Accords grant them the right to take action of their own free will if (and only if) it does not favour one or more nations over others. That was not originally a part of the deal, but it was one of the changes necessary to get for example Captain America back in the game again.

This time, they don’t have to worry about legal rights as the entire panel overlooking them has ordered the Avengers to assist SHIELD. The approval of all the politicians and the latest news from Erik Selvig is more than enough reason for activating Red Alert. They’ll have to be able to move out and engage within 15 minutes if need be.

Soon people are leaving to ready the jets or prep ammo, weapons and other gear. Coulson hasn’t given any of them orders, just asked that the teams help if possible and tell what they need as they find out. From the looks of it, the others are used to having that sort of authority, even Wanda is nodding with a determined look in her grey eyes. They are all dismissed…except Bucky.

You hadn’t realized the two of you had been holding hands, but he gives yours a squeeze before stepping towards Coulson, who’s leaning against the desk, before you have to follow the others out of the office and into the elevator.

“I need to swing by the tower and sort some things, but we are going to talk about this, young lady.” You have somehow ended up right in front of Tony who’s now looking at you over his sunglasses. “Don’t think for one moment that you’re off the hook.”

There are a ton of sassy comebacks. This time, however, you just return the gaze quietly which often is the best way to deal with him. It’s a relief when the ride is over and you can head off to your own on-base quarters.

[sickofthistoxicshit]

Lol.. first they promote the hell out of things only to cut it and then they go and delete critical comments on Insta... nicely done ABC.

Guess someone had to do overtime to delete over 500 comments on the Oliver reel. First I checked it was over 700, then suddenly you couldn't click on the answers anymore and now there are about 240 comments left.

Only a few about the cut karaoke. A lot where about how they bait and keep the transphobe around. All those seem to be gone now.

I have a bad feeling about this.

LOL yeah, PR team made a big boo-boo 😂

Not the first time, mind you, Fox used to make the same mistakes I wonder if these are the same ppl.

Also they are not responsible for the cuts, they work with what they get from the director and producer along with showrunner's descision.

Considering Oliver was talking about his favorite parts being filmed at the bachelor party and how much fun they had and how much they drank just to get through that karaoke scene, I'm guessing all cuts were made last minute and the responsibility is less on the PR ppl and more on the decision makers who has been known to be pathological liars over the years.

Moderation in the comments of a tv show is good to a degree imo, I've seen many pages on IG of big soccer teams and tv shows where the comments aren't moderated and it all borders on harassment and negative vibes between the fans themselves and the actors see it more than the decision makers anyway and the ppl talk about why they take a step back from social media.

Do I want the Marisol actress on the show? absolutely not, and that was before I found out about her bad joke on ig. - If you're a public figure and want to get work (in the US at least, where I come from if they fired every idiot who opens their mouth out of turn everybody would be out of a job) you keep your mouth shut and keep your account clean, she only has herself to blame for the hate she gets, especially considering that she didn't even apologize.

But sadly, she is here, crossing my fingers she won't be for long, not only because she's is a bad person, but also because her character is so lukewarm and trivial it's bordering on the absurd.

I am sad for Ryan and Oliver because they seemed so excited about these scenes in the bachelor party and the put in a LOT of effort into it.

BUT if that means the episode of Madney wedding focuses on Madney and nothing else, I am more than okay with that.

That is why you make the bachelor party in a separate episode, or like in CF in Mouch's party, you see them in the elevator dreading what may come, the get to the door figuring out that they've been played and that it is going to be a kick-ass party - the door closes- and opens up again in the morning and they all step exhausted and hungover into the elevator where it's clear the party was epic!

In 10 episodes season, you need to plan out, in advance, your time and scenes carefully, clearly it doesn't happen on 911,

My biggest fear is that from the hour and 15 minutes that were cut into 43 minutes, that the episode would feel rushed and not have emotional impact a Madney wedding should induce and maybe it would have been better if they cut guest stars storylines and calls down to make more room for a proper ceremony.

A kidnapping at this point feels like an overkill, they could have gone for a rough and dangerous call before the wedding and after everyone walk away, they are seen later that day or the next. at the wedding with a beautiful ceremony, like in Cruz's wedding in CF.

I really hope this episode focuses on Madney, everything else is completely unnecessary, I would be pissed if this episode focused more on other ships and take the spotlight off of Madney.

And the PR team should be handed the RIGHT materials in order to make a valid promo and post the right promotional pictures because otherwise it looks like they're deceiving the fans on purpose and that could be the reason why ppl would stop watching the show, ppl don't like to be played for fools.

Now, knowing that everything we were told we'll see was cut, and that final cut was made last second and SO much was cut, I have a bad feeling too, I am hoping we are both wrong. Because they can't afford another 6x18 episode - the format should be better with the move to abc not stay just as bad.

[noa-de-cajou]

Lamia and Lycarn belong to @hel-phoenyx, Faloi, Braterstwo, Alderich and Redemane (last three only mentioned) to @corneille-but-not-the-author, Agathe to @thal-ent

A little response to something Louna wrote back in december uwu

____

“Faloi, with all due respect, what the actual fuck?!”

Ether raises her eyebrows at the woman standing in front of Faloi’s desk.

Wow. Rude.

She’s pretty, for sure. Abyss, she’s gorgeous even. But that doesn’t give her the right to do whatever this was. Faloi calmly gestures towards where Ether is standing in response, introducing her as his counselor. The woman seems to calm down from her initial shock, and extends her hand towards Ether with a much nicer expression.

"Apologies for the impoliteness. I am princess Lamia Frosilaen, heir to the throne of the divine Mandate, and charged of the diplomacy between my kingdom and the Republic.”

Lamia Frosilaen. Now Ether remembers. Faloi's cousin, whom he rarely talks about, but when he does it’s always with a form of fondness in his eyes. Ether only sees a princess who’s trying to get on her good side. Not someone Faloi should look at with that much trust.

Deep down, she knows that she's mostly being jealous. Petty. But given the way Lamia looked at her barely past the office's threshold, she thinks maybe she has a right to be juste a little bit annoyed.

She takes the hand offered to her and shakes it with lukewarm enthusiasm.

“It is… an honor.”

She doesn’t mean that at all and Lamia can probably tell, but she doesn't look particularly hurt or offended. Good. Ether may prefer to be honest but it's always pleasant to not fear the death penalty for disrespect to an important official. Well, even if she did, Faloi would probably save her ass. Like he always does. She glances at him as the thought crosses her mind, and immediately feels Lamia’s blue stare on her face. Abyss strike her, what is it with the Frosilæns and their ridiculously piercing eyes?

"Faloi, would it be possible to talk to you privately as soon as possible ? I have urgent matters to discuss with you, and Shifahrad will get worried if I don't come back in time.”

A shiver runs down Ether’s spine. She knows.

She knows and that's probably what said private talk will be about. Faloi doesn't seem fazed, but again, he never really does.

"Of course. Ether, if you please…”

Ether obeys and leaves, albeit reluctantly. She understands where Lamia’s wariness comes from, of course. After all, she’s genosian, just like Chifuniro was, and she’s close to Faloi, just like Chifuniro was.

But I'm not her.

That is both a regret and a relief.

She didn't choose where she was born. She did choose to leave home, but she didn't choose to be cast away from her country. She’s happy she was, now.

But no matter what, she isn't trusted.

Braterstwo is jealous of her, Alderich almost seems afraid, and Lamia is wary. The only person to trust her is Faloi.

But how can she blame them? She betrayed her country, her colleagues, to join the enemy. She doesn't have political ambitions or dreams like they all do. She only cares about the fate of this country because it’s dear to the person she loves. A person who doesn't even love her back.

And who would trust a genosian, anyway? Even she wouldn’t.

But she will always be one, no matter what she does. Her left arm is a constant reminder of this.

Their stares, too. Braterstwo’s, Alderich’s, Lamia’s, all of their eyes see her the same.

An elf, an opportunist, a leech, an intruder, but first and foremost, a genosian.

Lamia’s eyes looked at her and they said danger. Potential, but a danger nonetheless.

Faloi is the only one who looks at her without barriers.

But if everyone he loves tells him that she’s no good, will he listen? Will he abandon her?

She thinks about Lamia, the trust with which he looked at her.

Ether’s little selfish brain can’t help but dislike her.

She wishes she never came here.

____

Where were you, Lamia?

Where were you? Where were you when he needed you? Where were you when he died, Lamia?

I wasn't here.

I was in his room. Our room.

Reading.

Reading while the axe sliced through him.

Reading while he died alone.

Fucking. Reading.

You could have been there. You could have gone with him, Lamia. But you didn’t.

If I went with him, I would have died too.

Because I'm weak.

You could have protected him. Or at least you could have bought him time. Stopped them. You could have done something. Anything.

I couldn’t do anything.

I could only cry and I can't even do that anymore. There's no tears left.

No shoulder left to cry on, either. I can't burden Redemane with my own grief. He's already kind enough as it is.

You stopped several Coups before. You could have stopped this one. Right ? Right ?

He put all those efforts into making sure I wouldn’t be alone.

Yet I still feel alone.

There’s no one to talk about him with. Redemane didn't know him that well.

You did. I know you did.

But you’re not here.

Where are you, Lamia?

I wish you were here.

______

“Congratulations on your marriage, Ether.”

Lamia Frosilæn looks much older than what Ether remembers. It's been almost a century now. Of all the places they could have met again, she wasn't expecting it to be Ether’s wedding to the very Empress of the Shabbathai-Qianfu. And she wasn’t expecting her to be surrounded by a whole harem of women either, but who is she to talk.

“Why thank you, your Majesty. I trust you've been well?

“I have, thank you.”

Lamia looks about a lively sixty now, and she’s probably much older than that, but again, who is Ether to talk? The former queen's eyes are still as piercing as ever, but this time they’re not wary. They’re… almost nostalgic.

Ether shifts a bit awkwardly, not knowing what to say. She's not the little impulsive counselor she was back then, and all the anger she felt has disappeared with time. She doesn’t have much to say to her. They've both aged, both grown.

And the one person who could have helped them to bond is still dead.

“Did you have something you wanted to say to me?” Ether finally asks when the silence becomes too much to bear.

Lamia smiles faintly at her.

“I wanted to see what you'd have become, mainly. I won't be around much longer, and I want to go with as few regrets as possible. I'm glad to see that you found your happiness.”

Ether smiles back, a bit more cynical.

“Well I went to Abyss and back to get it, so I'm glad too. But if I may correct you, and I will, this isn’t the first time.”

She looks around the palace gardens, sees Ai talking to important guests she knows, Agathe and Lycarn trying to steal as much food as they can like they won’t be able to eat it for the rest of her lives in the palace. The lights, their smiles, this evening, it's not perfect but it's getting close.

“I was married once before. I found happiness then. I also fell in love with a lie and still found happiness.”

She turns back to Lamia. The former queen doesn't share any physical traits with her late cousin, but Ether thinks they look a lot alike, in a way.

“And Faloi was my happiness, too.”

Lamia's eyes fall on Ether’s necklace, the only thing with her earring that doesn’t quite seem to fit her wedding attire.

“I think you were his as well.”

Her smile finally reaches her eyes.

“If I do see him again, I'll tell him about you. I think he'll be relieved. And beyond proud.”

A little tear burns Ether's eye, she quickly wipes it. There’s no shame in crying at your own wedding, sure, but she doesn’t want to.

“Thank you. It means a lot to me. Please send him my love, if you meet again.”

The smile on Lamia's lips grows more teasing.

“You’ll tell him yourself when it’s your turn to go, Ether. Only I decide when to play messenger.”

Ether laughs. That’s right, she can tell him herself, when the time comes. And it won't come before a while. She looks at Lamia, holds her hand out to her. The one made of flesh. Lamia looks surprised for a second, but grabs it nonetheless, squeezes it lightly. There’s a mutual understanding, a shared sentiment in their eyes.

You're here.

The time for wishes is long past.

[queenofthedorks]

Further— Walz did not approve the pipeline across native land. His predecessor did. But he also did not agree to use executive action to stop the pipeline.

“In a public interview with MPR News’ Briana Bierschbach at the University of Minnesota, the DFL governor also said he would not try to unilaterally stop Enbridge’s Line 3 project because he believes it would violate principles of “checks and balances” between the executive, judicial and legislative branches of government.”

Walz was concerned about the precedent that this kind is use of power would set. Decisions like this are never black and white.

Since the Dems got the majority in the legislature in 2022 they’ve pushed a very aggressive progressive agenda that is setting the state apart from most states in both the Midwest and the South.

He’s not perfect, but he’s trying and he’s also been willing to take ownership of his mistakes.

During the Floyd riots Walz publicly and personally apologized to a CNN reporter who was falsely arrested.

“Walz apologized for their arrest during a press conference later that day, saying that it should have never happened and that he takes "full responsibility" for the incident. But Wednesday was the first time he apologized directly to Jimenez.”

Here’s the thing—

I’m going to vote the Harris Walz ticket. I’m even cautious hopeful to vote the Harris Walz ticket. But I would have voted for Biden Harris. I would have voted for literally anyone that the Dems stood up. I’m first and foremost voting defensively and if that gets us another four year of the status quo where the left is lukewarm and wishy-washy it is still better that the leopard eating my face. We’re not really that far away from the edge of the cliff that we narrowly avoided in 2020 or we wouldn’t be having this conversation again.

As the previous poster said, you will not find a morally pure candidate. There is no perfect candidate because there is no perfect human. It’s okay to be critical of politicians, call them on mistakes, and expect them to be better. It’s great to want changes to the system and to ask for them. I’ve got my own list of things that I’d like to see. But in the year of our pandemic 2024 if you (and I mean the general you and not the previous poster) are in the position to hold your breath, stomp your feet, and not vote because a candidate doesn’t check all of the boxes on your leftist ideals checklist then you have a level of insulation and privilege that I aspire to.

Not to be a debbie downer but Tim Walz was in the military for 24 years, including during the Iraq war. He called the national guard on protestors following the George Floyd murder. He supports Israel. He's approved an oil pipeline across indigenous lands that break treaties.

It's weird to celebrate a man who goes against all leftist values

[shakespeareaddict]

Probably the most lukewarm take on the latest Somerton “apology”:

People have already pointed out that head trauma and ADHD and memory problems don’t really work like he said they worked. And people have pointed out that if he was writing papers in school, he would’ve figured out “hey you need to cite your sources, maybe you should take notes to avoid forgetting!”

BUT. If these things DID work the way he claims they did. If everything really *was* an accident, or an embarrassed lie, or a trauma response or whatever the excuse is again. Then if James Somerton actually intended a real and genuine apology, then he should’ve:

A) apologized, personally, to the people we already know he stole from (and not just one other YouTuber he had somewhat incidental beef with)

B) started going through his previous drafts to see if he could find other people he “””accidentally””” plagiarized from, and apologized to them too

C) started making reparations himself instead of claiming he “reached out to hbomberguy’s team” to sort of piggy-back on hbomberguy’s existing donation scheme. This might include donating to the people he plagiarized with but also *naming* them and beginning to promote their work—because other than money, the thing he stole was the admiration of people who were moved by words that James Somerton did not write, people who might’ve supported the other creators he stole from!

[aveegrex]

A SANDWICH?

Or why exactly winning a bet against Nanami feels like he still has an upper hand.

genre: smut prompt pairing: Nanami x gn!reader word count: 0,9k cw: filmed masturbation (m!), confessions, food play

author’s note: I am NOT responsible for this. I wrote it half-asleep and @diaphanoso okayed it so now y’all have it. Whatever :/

You and Nanami have been working together for so long that your relationship progressed past the boundary of an office one.

You not only share lunches, but also dinners sometimes - well, two foodies finding one another in lifeless walls of a lifeless financial firm, what a modern day romance.

So, there’s this little game you two have. A challenge. Every day each of you tries to outdo the other cooking-wise. Every day you and Nanami head to either your or his place and while one is working their magic, another has to wait patiently for said magic to bless their tastebuds.

One day, you surprise him though.

“Bet I can make you hell of a sandwich” you say, munching on his homemade vegan lasagna.

His brows fly up. “A sandwich?”

You swallow, a playful hum indicating your satisfaction with the meal of the day. “Yeah, a sandwich. But-“ you chug lukewarm tea and Nanami winces, still annoyed at your barbaric afterwork habits. “I bet I can make it just like your favorite one, from the bakery. You won’t tell the difference”

He scoffs at that, wiping his hands with a cotton napkin. “You do realise they put some chemicals there to postpone the due date, right? You won’t find it on a shelf in some sto-“

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. You’re up?”

He shrugs, tongue gliding over his teeth behind the tomato-stained lips. “I guess. What’s the catch?”

You grin, a chuckle rumbling through your chest. “You’ll owe me one wish. Any wish. However weird or crazy. And vice versa, sure”

“Okay” he grins back, certain of his victory.

Days pass, and a couple of dozens of shared dinners later, when he’s effectively forgotten about the bet, you present him with a package.

“Open up” you smile, devious glimmer blatant in your squinted eyes.

Nanami cocks his brow, turning from the keyboard to face you. He weighs the package in his hands, familiar pleasant heaviness and softness hinting at exactly what’s inside.

Wrapper gone, he ogles at the perfect piece of handiwork, indistinguishable from his guilty pleasure.

“Eat up already, come ooon” you whine, foot tapping at the hardwood in anticipation.

He nods, teeth digging into the crunchy bread nonchalantly, and stills. The taste is exact, just absolutely the same taste he’s had this morning. Identical.

Bemused, he raises his blown wide eyes to you, and you snicker at the silliest face of Nanami Kento the “please keep the noise down” coworker.

“How?” he’s wondering, impartial to the fact that he’s speaking with his mouth full.

“No, no, it’s only magic if you don’t know!”

“But-“ you lean closer to his ear, careful to never let the pre-pension age accountant in the corner hear you. “Now you owe me, Ken”

He nods, intent.

“Now, you owe me a set of nudes because I was dying to know what’s under the shirt of a man so hot I’d fuck his goddamn lunch”

He stills again, mouth slightly ajar to welcome another bite in. Putting the delicacy aside, he simply nods, not finding it in himself to word out anything to such a lewd confession.

After that encounter, you and Nanami stagnated. Too professional nods shared in the hallways, an order for one - for once, - in the nearby cafe, you pondered if you’ve ruined everything you two had going on, a sweet friendship that you threw away to honour your annoying horny.

The chat with him was unusually quiet all weekend, and you were head deep into your notes app, failing to formulate a makeshift apology for your inappropriate request. Words never stuck together right, and you were about to give up for the night, when a loud ping breeched the silence of your room.

Nanami Ken👨‍🦳: a video attachment.

Hands shaky, you open the dialogue too fast for your own good, finger tapping at the video the second it downloaded.

And you gasp. There, in a dim light of what you recognise to be Nanami’s kitchen, stands Nanami himself. Or so you guess, since his face is only there up to the nose.

Also, Nanami is naked.

Your silent room fills with small huffs and tiniest squelching sounds and your eyes blow wide. He’s stroking himself, perfect body flushed and glistening with sheen, his right hand moving characteristically for the deed. There are only glimpses of his dick, but what you manage to catch is impressive to say the least. Appetising.

He’s letting out the shallow moans, lips pressed tight, and you fail to hold your thighs from squeezing, barely restrained sounds of his pleasure exciting your own.

He’s close, and you anticipate to see his lips opening up to wash you over with what you believe will be the best moan of your life, but...

It’s so much fucking more.

Seconds away from climax, he yanks something from out of the frame and blood rushes to your core: a fucking sandwich sits atop of the table. Nanami shifts the camera with a shaky hand and you can see everything now: the full length, his contorted face, and how cum spurts lusciously out of his angry tip, covering up the bread and planting onto the lens in few drops.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

“Bon appetit, bun”

Cut.

MDNI, reblogs and comments are welcome, eat well

© 2022 AVEEGREX, all rights reserved. reposting and copying my works without my consent is forbidden.

[arxxq]

𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑?༄

╰┈➤ ❝ [Your taste in books are so lukewarm..] ❞

IN WHICH— Itoshi Rin happens to encounter a girl who seems all to familiar to him in a random bookstore. And that was just the beginning of their journey.

Part 1

Mentions of Afab reader

♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎

Heavy rain, although people love rain..it does give you disadvantages from time to time. And currently that is happening to Itoshi rin. He was just walking down the street until the the rain appeared, and him not wanting to get sick or get hypothermia had no choice but to enter a random bookstore that was nearby. Lucky for him.

The moment he entered he was welcomed in with a warm and welcoming atmosphere. The owner smiled at him but Rin just gave his usual stoic expression. Since it seems like the rain won't go away any time soon he decided why not read a book while waiting.

So he walked to the shelf's and checked out the novels that were there. There was a book that piqued his interest but just as he was about to get it, his hand brushed with another. He looked towards the owner of that hand on to his surprised it was a girl who looked familiar.

The female herself looked towards the hand she accidentally brushed to and to her surprise it was no one other than Itoshi Rin. Her eyes never left him and nor did his. Rin was to mesmerized by her eyes and her other features and the same goes for y/n herself. The mood between them was tense.

Due to realization, Y/n broke the eye contact and apologized. "I'm sorry..you can have the book if you like," she also offered the book to him. Usually rin would've just take the book right but for some reason he said something that stunned himself as well.

"We can read it together if you'd like..that is if you don't mind?" He said. Y/n blinked multiple times trying to process what rin had said. Rin himself was silently questioning himself to why he said that so suddenly. After thinking and processing, y/n agreed to his offer and they sat down on the sofa that was set up.

Due to reading it was nothing but a moment of silence between the two. Although both y/n and rin wanted to break the silence for a moment, they thought that maybe they should just enjoy it instead. As time pass by slowly, both y/n and rin didn't notice that the rain had long gone. Just as both rin and y/n was about to reach the next chapter, there was a notification sound from rin's phone.

He took the phone out of his pocket, to see a text message from his older brother. Now although rin and sae had finally set aside they're differences and moved on from the past, that does not mean they will be able to get along again. Rin groaned since he didn't want his encounter with the girl to end this quick.

"I have to go, it was nice meeting you stranger," y/n chuckled in response. "Well it won't be our last encounter striker..trust me on that," rin rose a brow in confusion. What did she mean and more importantly how did she know about his football career. It did intrigued him quite alot but he decided to save the questions for next time.

As he walks home he thought of something that actually managed to make him smile. "What an interesting person..I'll be looking forward to our next meeting, bookstore stranger...."

Oh god. I made two Itoshi siblings post in one day. I mean what can I say. I love them. I'm also supposed to be sleeping since tommorow's going to be a long day for me. I also haven't pack since uh I'm staying at my cousin's for like 2 days or just day. Well I should get to packing I guess. And sleeping lmao (ㆁωㆁ) mistakes will be edited once I reread this.