#also it really kills me to drop down to two posts a day but in time three posts a day will no longer be sustainable

[nejackdaw]

Now That You've Lost Tomorrow (is yesterday still a friend?)

4.2k words of the Celann backstory in my head

Under the cut for length; not NSFW. Also leave my Jimminy Cricket ass alone, I was thinking about Disney narrators when I started this lmao. It wasn't supposed to be an actual piece send help

Ahem. (Tw animal death) (tw gore) [Minor edits made 8/28/24 and 12/27/24 (spelling)]

Born in the Northmoor of Breton High Rock, Celann aged to be a fine man. With a lively, happy home, he was a handsome, good natured jokester with a penchant for bringing smiles wherever he went. Be it through mischief at home, exaggerated peacocking (resulting in clumsy accidents) in front of his beloved fiancee, charitable work through the town, or the song on his lips, he was an easygoing presence that had endeared himself to the people around him. Life was good and grand: he had an easy, do nothing guard job in a happy little town to bring in coin, plans to settle down and start a family, and wanted for nothing between it all. But things started to change when his elder sister prepared to set off on her apprenticeship–dark winds blew in that he, that none of them, would ever recover from.

It was an adjustment for everyone with Jehanne recently absent; she'd been gone only a week, but the absence of fabric scraps and 'come look at this for me's, the messily kept tomes and quills that dripped ink, the prospect of not hearing another "you're being ridiculous, it's been weeks! Come join us for dinner!" and her high pitched, victorious cackles as she raced away, knowing she'd magically cleared up everyone's schedules by asking–she'd only been gone a week, but it felt an awfully lot longer than that. Celann kept up with his guard work in her absence and Charlotte, ever interested in his sister's seamstress and design work, had taken up the hobby when she wasn't keeping the ledger at Garnier's, insisting someone had to be leaving fabric in a house somewhere in Jehanne's absence–to balance things out, obviously, as all good magic is supposed to be.

Time passed this way for another week or so as everyone tried to reassure themselves that everything was fine; it was a large change, but they'd known for months, and they'll settle into this new normal soon and everything would be fine. But suddenly news came whispering through the streets of strange shadows passing by windows at night, shadows with no one to cast them, and soon enough the guards were being asked to look out for missing pets, small cats and birds that must have gotten loose.

Small cats and birds that were found far from their homes and butchered, torn apart but not eaten.

An uneasiness settled over the town as more and more of the creatures turned up, and "killer" was on everyone's lips. After a few weeks of disappearances and gory resurfaces, they began tapering off until they stopped entirely. Like any predator: from small prey to large–the guards instructed woodsmen and hunters, trappers and fur traders to keep an eye out in the woods for anything that didn't look like an animal had gotten to it first. It took only two days after the order was given for a horrified hunter to return with news of a torn, gaunt elk carcass, black with rot around the edges of the worst wounds. Next it was a boar, then a doe–then nothing once again.

Celann was tasked with joining patrols, increased in the wake of the animal attacks until investigators, who so far had found no leads towards what everyone assumed to be a fledgling serial killer, could find some hint as to what had been happening. Everyone waited anxiously for the inevitable first victim.

It came only a month after the shadow appeared.

Following loud, panicked shouts, Celann stumbled into an alleyway to find something hardly recognizable as human. It was pale, even for a corpse, and gaunt like the beasts had been–ripped apart and stained black at the edges, wounds rotting prematurely. He covered his mouth and looked away as he desperately fought against the thick, burning bile at the back of his throat, side stepping into a puddle of dried blood to let a more senior guard pass by.

When everything had been documented, after the corpse had been covered and the area sealed off–more for the townspeople's sake than the scene's–and they were given permission to leave, Celann headed immediately to the blacksmith, grateful for the harsh, painful way the smell and smoke of the forge cleaned the blood and rot from his lungs. He left with three sturdy daggers, weapons he grimly pressed into his family's hands as he made them swear to carry it with them. The protests died on all their lips when they saw the fear in his eyes, each taking it with the same gravity Celann presented it with and solemnly promising they would.

After only three days, there was another disappearance; another corpse, butchered and rotting unnaturally. He'd never possessed the same gift for magic most of his people did, but Celann knew enough–knew to fear the third and what it would bring, because there was no way this terror was only a man and threes were either a blessing or a curse. In the end, it was both.

When he stumbled on the third victim, it hardly occured to him that the man had anything at all to do with the last horrifying, supernatural month. He wasn't torn open like everything before, the ground wasn't coated in blood and viscera. He looked almost like someone who'd been lucky and gone in his sleep somehow–but when Celann knelt down to check if he was alive, he startled to see familiar jewelry and recognized the gaunt corpse of the book seller from around the block. His wedding band sat at an angle around a finger too small for the old, tarnished metal, and when Celann reached for his wrist to get a better look he touched something slimy and cold.

He distantly registered someone from the patrol calling out his name as he stared down at the red on his fingers, a steadily growing urge filling him with every beat of his heart to smear it off on the rough stones beneath him until his own blood ran hot and quick and erased the feeling forever. He clenched his fist instead–looked over at the boots beside him and pretended he hadn't just terrified himself as a second guard knelt with him to inspect the body.

It was Simon who found the most important thing the body had to tell them; Celann was busy wiping the blood off on his trousers and trying to get his mind working right again. A frantic tap on his shoulder got his attention and he looked up into Simon's wide, terrified eyes before slowly turning his head to see what he'd found. The gloved hand gripping the corpse's jaw slowly retreated, shaking, and Celann looked down to see two frighteningly neat holes at the side of the neck.

They shared a long, quiet look before Celann reached out again for the merchant's hand, praying desperately he didn't dig his fingers into disgustingly smooth, exposed flesh again as he avoided gripping the wrist to turn it around. Torn and bloodied, but the black edges were smaller this time. Cleaner, neater, less noticable.

They raced away burdened with news of a vampire preying on the town, searching desperately for the commander and whatever investigators they could find.

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The city was placed under curfew immediately after the news arrived, and patrols were focused for the dark and evening hours. Everyone was required inside and with at least one companion; a vampire could easily overpower a pair, but the hope was that, with no lone targets, it would resent the effort it would take to target anyone else. Guards were similarly paired and ordered not to stray from one another–the only souls out in the night needed to be vigilant. Celann thought about the daggers he'd bought his family, thought about Charlotte taking Jehanne's room at home without him there in the night to share their bed. He wondered what good those knives would be, what good his sword would do him, if the beast got insistent.

Heavy tension hung over the town for weeks after the news arrived. Curtains were drawn and lights were left burning outside as people hoped the creature would pass them by. Every sound was investigated.

After a week, after two, after a month… there was nothing. No pets, no woodland beasts, no disappearances.

The dread started to lighten as time passed, and after four weeks of no new attacks, the townsfolk had, to a degree, returned to life as normal. They were still sure to make it home before night properly fell, still kept a light on, but as the days went by there seemed to be a collective feeling that it had all been a nightmare, some trick of Vaermina.

Celann noted three absences with every pass through the town.

Nightmares didn't claim lives, and he worried at how quickly everyone let themselves believe any danger had passed. The bookshop was closed for a week, what with the owner being dead; he and Lotte liked to buy each other occasional gifts from there, and the darkness in the windows–always warmly lit and welcoming before–never failed to stir a sense of dread in him.

But then a second month was passing without any sort of attack, patrols returned to normal, and even Celann let himself relax. With how often the beast had attacked before, there was no way it would sit and wait for months. The town had been on alert and anything it would have hunted locked inside, but even the forests nearby had been spared. It had surely moved on at this point to easier prey, or either fled in order to avoid detection, he reasoned.

That reasoning was why he accepted the promotion offered to him: an easy, quiet job out at the watchtower, not too far from town and coming with a pay increase; he'd be replacing someone who quit, understandably, in light of the vampire attacks while they had been happening. The new station was a bit of a trek from the gates, at the edge of the forest, but the road was usually quiet enough and the pay was enticing so he agreed. Fresh air, new faces–it sounded like a nice change of scenery, anyway.

It took a few mornings–early, dark, quiet–to adjust to all the rustling, and Perrette teased him for it, but they got on well and she explained their duties simply and easily. They arrive at midnight and they're relieved around breakfast, and spend their downtime chatting or pretending they weren't falling back asleep. Celann never bothered her when she did, and she returned the favor when he was half asleep, half awake, never quite able to properly sleep in the tower.

It was early, a week or so after he'd started, and he was tired; he'd been resting with his head pillowed on his arms at his desk, lost in that dark, semi conscious haze. There wasn't anyone out at this hour, with the moon still so high, and he paid no mind when he hadn't heard Perrette for what should have been a suspiciously long time. She was probably playing cards and he was just resting, after all, not falling asleep like his coworker did. If anything popped up they could handle it.

Just resting is why one eye opened blearily at a sound outside, a sound Celann had only half heard and had already forgotten by the time he was looking at candlelit paperwork. He kept it open a bit longer, listening for any other sounds, then let his eyes close again, shifting in his seat to get comfortable. Nothing, just the dark and the quiet–but as the seconds passed something settled heavy in his chest, had suspicion creeping into his head, and he sat up to look around.

Nothing. Just the dark and the quiet. He slowly stood from his chair and breathed deep, waking himself up as he glanced around the inside of the watchtower. Perrette wasn't at the window, there was no humming or the sound of cards, like he'd expected. The deck was, however, still out on the windowsill, game partially through, and when he moved closer he spotted a few that had blown outside. A familiar dread settled over him as he looked down at them, caught in flower stems and other growth that kept them from blowing farther away.

The moon was still high. Perrette was not here. She was not with the cards she carried in a little box as a gift from her lover, hand drawn with curling letters on the back. It was quiet. It was… unnaturally still, Celann realized. He stared out through the window at the road as his hand moved to the hilt of his sword. He listened. Something moved in the undergrowth behind the station and he quietly crept his way to the–open–back door.

A black hare greeted him at the threshold, a bloody, mangled carcass with its white ribs exposed to the moonlight. The smell of rot hit him and his face twisted; his sword scraped against the sheath as he drew it.

Vampire.

Celann didn't know where Perrette was, what had happened to her, but he doubted the beast would leave a display if it wasn't waiting. It hadn't left. He stared out into the woods and swallowed, listening and hearing nothing. Nothing. His heart beat a terrified rhythm behind his ribs as he stepped outside, stepping carefully over the carcass and into the night, heading hesitantly for the woodline.

He'd hardly stepped through, heel snapping dead leaves and trampling plants–sound, something BURSTING forward, a scream–

He managed to put an arm between them, elbow digging into their chest, pain, hot, claws and yellow eyes. His heel slid back in the dirt as the creature strained against him, screaming and snarling and gnashing bloody teeth inches from his face. The hot smell of blood and decay hit him in the face and suddenly there was a fist in his hair, pulling painfully and jerking his head to the side–it vanished as soon as it appeared and Celann watched the vampire stumble back, face twisted in betrayal.

His own twisted to mirror it as he stared at the disfigured visage of his sister.

Jehanne.

She was clutching one of her hands as if injured, and he noticed a small, circular brand pressed into the heel of her palm. The shape of his earring, a small piece of silver resting by his jaw.

Those two moments stretched into forever then minutes suddenly blurred–claws, pain, BEGGING, being thrown, his shoulders slamming into a tree.

Celann blinked blood from his eyes and raised himself onto a shaking arm, catching his breath as he reached for his sword. He noticed she'd torn through his sleeves; the cloth was dark and sticky with blood, and he could feel the edge of his mouth throbbing, the skin around his lips torn open with a nasty downward swing of her claws. Jehanne was pacing agitatedly, glaring down at him and spitting to herself as he pushed himself to sit in the undergrowth. His head was throbbing dizzyingly, shoulders on fire from the impact, and he could feel something hot and wet snaking its way through the short hairs at the back of his neck.

Celann staggered to his feet, leaning against the tree for support, and let out a shuddering breath as he held his sword in front of him. Trying to evaluate.

She wasn't uninjured herself, not that it did him any good; he'd mangled one of her wrists and she'd still thrown him like a doll. He'd cut and sliced and stabbed and she was standing all the same, and they shared a mutual look of despair. Some mix of emotions flashed across her face, faintly illuminated by what moonlight breached the canopy, bright eyes wide as her lips were parting and she was clawing at her face, fangs glistening, then– "But we're family!" she wailed

The world went quiet.

Realization hit him, then. Cold blood. The world became the woman in front of him. He couldn't let her leave. Horror. Couldn't let her live. Agony. She'd kill them all. Kill her first.

He wondered how many times his sister must have crept past their windows, how many nights she must have watched him from the forest. Family. She'd kill him if it meant turning him, kill them all if he couldn't stop her.

Jehanne took a step forward and spread her arms invitingly, one wrist hanging at a sickening angle. Another step when he didn't immediately move, a sweet smile on her face, then lunged–steel and blood and pain and screams. He couldn't hesitate, couldn't go easy anymore. Blood flew from his blade as he drove it into her heart–vampires need to be stabbed in the heart–once, twice, a third time. He staggered back and tensed, waiting for her to somehow still be moving, dizzy with blood loss and buzzing with adrenaline.

He distantly watched her head slump against the ground, face half pressed into the dirt; glowing yellow eyes went dim and returned to a familiar brown. He watched, paradoxically, as she regained some color, despite being dead. Dead. He looked at glassy eyes and felt far away. Trees and green growth and blood splatters came back into view, but it was someone else's view, someone else's eyes. They laughed, whoever it was, desperate and manic, and dropped his sword as he stared at his sister's corpse. Something was screaming about it, somewhere inside him, but it was far away and muffled, a mile away.

Celann stumbled on suddenly weak legs towards the nearest tree and let himself collapse to the ground against it, staring at her face until it blurred. Everything blended together, and all he knew was that he was cold. He distantly remembered he was bleeding, but the thought vanished almost instantly into the gentle fog that was clouding his mind. He shivered, he thinks, and then thinks nothing else as he sits on the forest floor beneath the moon for hours.

He doesn't register Perrette stumbling out of the watchtower, only partially realizing she was yelling at him at all, even as she knelt beside him. He came back to himself when someone was snapping incessantly in his face, when irritation managed to stir him into some faint awareness. Simon was kneeling in front of him, eyes wide with fear as he gestured at the people around him. They descended upon him, quiet and gentle as they hauled him to his feet, and as he was half dragged, half helped back to town, all Celann really noticed was that it was morning. The sky was a pale, misty yellow–sunrise. Morning. The night was over. The night was over but he would live with what happened in the dark forever.

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He had nightmares every time he managed to fall asleep, shepherded into the temple to be healed and watched over. Breathing was difficult and he assumed he was dying; he was only a little concerned at how okay with that he was. A stranger visited him on the third day after the Incident and the priestesses allowed her to feed him something from a vial, some liquid miracle that ended the worst of the night terrors and let him breathe easy.

There had been a newly made vampire den nearby, she explained when he woke again, and Jehanne had likely been taken the day she stepped out onto the road. Her voice was factual as she informed the temple they'd all been taken care of, but there was sympathy on her face as she looked down at the shadows under his half vacant eyes. She hunted vampires–and other daedra–she'd said as she left; there was something he didn't like in her tone, something knowing, as she closed the door behind her and told him she'd be staying in town for a month or two.

He was sent back home later that afternoon, back to he and Charlotte's house, but everything felt… strange. He felt like he was intruding on his own space, in his own house, in his own bed. Lotte was being patient, but the pain in her eyes when she looked at him sent a spike through his heart. Blood. Breaking bones. He supposed he deserved it after what he'd done, though even he could tell she very genuinely didn't think less of him for it. But she handled him gently and he missed her smiles, missed making her laugh. That solemn look didn't belong in her eyes.

His parents visited twice, to make sure he was healing alright, but there was a distance between them that had never been there. They'd raised Jehanne for 26 years, their daughter, you killed our daughter, what kind of man kills his own sister? It was never said, of course, but he could see it in the tension on their faces and the stiff way they held themselves near him.

They declined both times to stay for dinner.

Celann couldn't move on. His family thought he was a murderer, his fiancee was no longer living with the man she'd gotten engaged to. Something in bim broke when he thought about it, that they were supposed to be married in a few months. He'd been over the moon about it, wouldn't stop talking about it to anyone who listened, even if they weren't really, but the hush that had fallen over the house as Charlotte gave him the space he'd started needing felt like an ill omen.

Two months passed of feeling like an outsider in his own life and he was saying goodbye to her. She refused to break off their engagement, said he felt guilty and was being stupid, and as he tried to promise not to darken her door again she told him for better or for worse came before the wedding vows and if he didn't at least write to her on his trip with this mystery woman she'd find him and drag him back home like a runaway boy.

It… hadn't been what he'd planned on. He hadn't planned on returning or writing at all, had planned on removing himself entirely, no longer the man she'd intended to marry and pained at how she was caring for him. He hadn't told her about meeting the woman from the temple, either–but people talked and Lotte was good at listening, and he wasn't as surprised as he could have been. He had mixed feelings about the indefinite engagement, but if it was what she wanted he'd let her have it, like she was letting him leave because he needed to. They looked after each other like that.

Perrette, on her part, when he found her at breakfast, immediately told him through a mouthful of jam and toast where the woman from the temple was before standing and pulling him into a hug. She pressed a small wooden box and a dagger into his hands before wishing him well and telling him to hurry, because the stranger had been packing her things last she saw and getting ready to leave.

It turns out she had left, hours ago, but Celann found her waiting expectantly outside the gate just off the road. She was sitting with her own breakfast with a second placement set up for him, and he once again didn't like the knowing look in her eyes as he sat down. She explained, eventually, that she was with the Vigil of Stendarr, and had been sent with two others to investigate rumors of vampires in the area. Jehanne had been an opportune victim, out alone on the road so early in the morning; the vampire had been trying to start a clan and needed bodies to fill the seats.

He'd almost been one of them. It was a matter of hours, apparently.

Again, she assured him they were all dead and asked if he intended to join her and her companions on the road–if he had seen what chaos and danger creatures like vampires pose and wanted to take up arms against them. He didn't answer, and she didn't demand he give one; they ate together in silence again and she didn't comment on the way he'd glance back at the gate every now and then. The guard on duty would give a little wave each time, a sad look on his face, and so Celann looked less and less until he didn't look again at all. He was leaving, after all; something deep in him was different, had shaken him out of the life he'd had, and he was moving on. There wasn't room for whatever he was in the space he'd made for himself anymore.

A few nights later he would untie the ribbon around that little box Perrette had given him, far away from town, and open it to find a clumsily hand drawn set of cards with little messages penned in her handwriting on the back. He turned the fool around to see a scribbled portrait of himself amongst the scrawled decoration; the back of every queen was a rough sketch of Charlotte. He put them gently back in the box, retied the ribbon, and ignored the look Freyja gave him as he slipped it back into his bag.

He closed his eyes and tried to sleep, again, without a body next to him.

"For those who cherish memories of loved ones, their compassion often conceals the beast. Our compassion compels us to destroy it."

[wordsofwhimsy]

𝑪𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝑴𝒆 𝑵𝒆𝒙𝒕 𝑻𝒊𝒎𝒆 ☞ ♥•♥•♥•

Pairing: Main!Mark Grayson x f!Reader | Viltrumite!Mark x f!Reader | Sinister!Mark x f!Reader | No Goggles/Lensless!Mark x f!Reader | Omni!Mark x f!Reader | Shiesty!Mark x f!Reader | Mohawk!Mark x f!Reader

Warnings: Umm there’s a mention of Lensless making his dick jump LMAO but that’s it

Tags: Fluff, comedy, romance, just cute silliness – you get the vibe

Word Count: uhhh the whole thing’s 3,236 but each part for all the variants is between 350-650

Synopsis: It’s so nice to have a superhuman boyfriend who relishes in the idea of you being so weak and helpless, he does EVERYTHING for you. Except, also, sometimes it’s kind of annoying and you just want to do things on your own. So when he’s gone on a mission that’s supposed to last a few days? You plan to take FULL advantage. Only, he comes back sooner than expected…

a/n: man, sorry i’ve been dropping the ball on posting lately. i wasn’t lying when i said losing all my old shit really killed my motivation. BUT i’ve been going dumb reading this comic and bruhhh i’m SHOOK by some of the differences – i digress. i feel myself slowly getting back to my usual grind so pls hang in there with me lovies!!!!

also, Shiesty is DEFINITELY my fav from this series lmaoo

The Set Up...

The thing about being home alone was that it gave you the rare chance to get things done.

No overprotective Viltrumite boyfriend hovering the moment you touched anything over ten pounds. No “babe, let me do it” every time you reached for the step stool. Just peace, music, and the triumphant satisfaction of moving the bookshelf to the wall it should’ve been on this entire time.

You’d nearly gotten it there, too—angled just right, towel under the bottom, scooting it across the floor one slow, squeaky inch at a time.

Main!Mark

You were mid-push, maneuvering the big bookshelf across the floor with a towel under it for glide, when you heard the familiar whoosh of a landing behind you.

“Hey, I’m—whoa.”

You turned around, sheepish but proud. “Hi!”

Mark stood there, mask off, still in his suit, eyes flicking between you and the halfway-moved bookshelf. “Were you… moving that by yourself?”

“Technically yes. But, like, strategically. No lifting. Full physics. Minimum chaos.”

He blinked. “That’s… kind of impressive.”

You beamed. “Thanks!”

He nodded slowly, scratching the back of his neck. “I mean, yeah, no—super cool. Really cool. Totally capable. Independent. You got this.”

You tilted your head. “You okay?”

“Me? Yeah. I’m good.” He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Mark.”

He scuffed his foot across the floor, eyes cast down. “It’s just… you didn’t wait for me.”

“I didn’t think you’d want to help me push furniture around after flying halfway around the world.”

“Still,” he muttered, glancing at the bookshelf. “It’s kind of my thing, y’know? Being helpful. Picking up stuff. Making your life easier. Super strength is kind of… my niche.”

Your chest ached a little. He wasn’t mad—just quietly, adorably bummed. Like a golden retriever watching someone else throw the ball.

So, naturally, you took two steps back, turned just slightly, and just happened to stub your toe on the side of the coffee table.

Loudly.

“OW—oh my god, ow, okay nope, I’m dying,” you yelped, grabbing your foot and hopping in place.

Mark was instantly at your side, arms out. “Wait, what happened?! Are you okay?!”

“Stubbed my toe,” you whimpered. “On the corner. I think it—ohhh nooo it’s broken.”

He crouched in front of you like a concerned EMT. “Which foot?! Can you walk? Want me to carry you to the couch??”

You blinked at him with wide, innocent eyes. “Would you?”

He was already scooping you up, like a knight cradling a wounded princess. “Of course. I’ve got you.”

You let your head fall dramatically against his shoulder, hiding your grin. “My hero.”

He smiled. A real one this time. “You can move bookshelves, sure. But I’m still the toe-stubbing emergency response team.”

You kissed his cheek. “See? Still irreplaceable.”

A pause.

“…You faked that, didn’t you.”

“No comment.”

Viltrumite!Mark

“…Sweetheart?”

You froze.

“Are you… are you moving that? Alone?”

You turned to see Mark standing in the doorway, uniform still on, brow furrowed in a mix of horror and disbelief, like he’d just caught a toddler wielding a chainsaw.

You opened your mouth to explain—but something in his expression gave you pause.

So instead, you took a slow, shaky breath… and rested the back of your hand against your forehead.

“Ohh…” you sighed. “You’re right. That was… so reckless of me.”

He was at your side in a blink.

“[Y/N],” he murmured, already cradling your face in his hands, inspecting you like you might crumble. “You should’ve waited for me. What if you got hurt? That shelf is solid wood.”

“I just… I didn’t want to bother you,” you said softly, leaning into the moment. “But I feel so faint now…”

He gently brushed your hair from your face, voice dropping to a near-whisper. “You shouldn’t be lifting a finger. Not when I’m here. Let me take care of you.”

You almost felt bad.

…Almost.

Mark pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Go sit down. I’ll finish this.”

You gave him your best helpless nod, then flopped dramatically onto the couch as he lifted the bookshelf with one hand and carried it across the room like it was empty.

“Okay,” he said. “Where do you want it?”

You sat up, pointing. “Against that wall, just—yeah, right there. No, wait—actually a little to the left.”

He adjusted.

“Hmm. No, sorry, more to the right.”

Another adjustment.

“Okay, now turn it a bit. Clockwise. No, my clockwise. Yeah, okay—wait, back a bit.”

He tilted his head. “Back? Or back back?”

You squinted. “Like… scooch it. A half scooch.”

He sighed (very soft, very loving), and scooched.

You stared.

“…Okay, I think it’s—wait. Nope. Now it’s too far.”

Mark blinked. “Sweetheart...”

You gave a long-suffering sigh and dropped your head into your hands. “This is why I just wanted to do it myself.”

He chuckled—low and warm—then gently tapped your knee. “And miss out on being treated like royalty? Why deprive yourself of such a treat?”

You smiled softly "Very good point..." Then you paused, glanced at the shelf and looked up at him again. “If I’m royalty, does that mean I can tell you to move it back to where it was?”

His face went stony for a moment, but then was already turning. “Only for you...”

You smiled. “I love you so much.”

Mark was ready to move planets that point.

Sinister!Mark

You were halfway through dragging the bookshelf across the floor when your body stilled.

The hair on the back of your neck rose. The air shifted. Then you heard his voice. Smooth. Amused.

“…Interesting choice of project.”

Your blood froze. No. There's no way he's already back, is he?

You turned your head slowly, painfully, like a horror movie character about to meet their doom.

There he was. Standing in the doorway, arms crossed, eyes glowing faintly red, with the kind of cold smirk that said “so this is how you betray me.”

Without even thinking – no hesitation, zero shame – you let out a gasp, dramatically tripping over the edge of the towel you’d been using to slide the shelf on and falling down in what felt like slow motion.

The entire bookshelf tipped sideways with you, crashing to the floor with a thunderous BOOM.

Books everywhere. You sprawled in the wreckage like a tragic Victorian heroine struck down by an airborne piano.

“OHHH NOOOO!” you wailed, arm flung across your face. “Why did I think I could do this alone?! I was so foolish! I was so fragile!”

Mark was in front of you before the dust even settled, crouched low, eyes narrowed as he looked over the scene. Not at the bookshelf. Not at the mess.

At you.

You peeked between your fingers. “Is it bad? Am I concussed? Paralyzed?”

He tilted his head. “You’re not hurt.”

“I’m emotionally hurt.”

“You don’t have a scratch on you.”

You whimpered. “But what if I had? I—I thought I was strong enough, but I’m just a weak little thing, aren’t I?”

He leaned in close, his tone syrupy and sharp. “That’s exactly what I’ve been saying.”

You gave a broken little sigh. “You were right. You were so right. It was arrogant of me to think I could do things on my own.”

Mark finally smirked something deep and you felt a wave of relief rush through you. “Well. At least you’ve learned something today.”

He gently lifted you into his arms, stepping over fallen books like they were debris after an explosion. “You won’t be lifting so much as a fork without my help from now on.”

You clung to him like a damsel in distress. “Oh nooo, what a shame.”

He paused at the doorway and looked down at you.

“You’re not lying to me, are you?” he asked, voice suddenly low and flat. “Because you know I’ll find out.”

You blinked up at him with wide, innocent eyes. “Mark. My bookshelf fell on me. I’m lucky to be alive.”

His eyes searched your face for a long, unnerving moment… then he smirked again. Kissed your forehead.

“Good girl.”

You sighed dramatically, burying your face in his chest as he floated you off to the couch.

Another day, another tragedy avoided. Except for your bookshelf, you supposed...

No Goggles/Lensless!Mark

You were really just starting to make progress on the move when you heard it.

Click.

Thud.

“Hey,” Mark said casually, suddenly perched on top the bookshelf and looking down at you with a lazy grin. “Didn't realize you were this strong, babe. You ever think about joining the Viltrumite army?”

“Wha—Mark!” you gasped, heart racing just a bit. “W-What the hell are you doing?!”

“Just watching you work, babe! Gotta say—I’m impressed. Keep going. Show me whatcha got.”

You flushed a bit. “…But you’re sitting on it.”

Mark gave you a dramatic blink. “Yeah, and? I mean look at you! You’re so strooong, move it with me on it.”

“Mark...”

“C’mon!” He kicked his feet a little. “Let’s see that strength. I’ll just stay here and supervise.”

“…Can you get off please?”

“Nope. You’ve got this. I believe in you.”

You furrowed your brows, pouting for a bit. “Alright. Fine.” You braced yourself and tried to nudge the bookshelf forward, only for it to not move an inch under the added weight of your lovely, idiotic boyfriend.

He grinned even wider. “Aww, is the strong woman struggling?”

You scowled, leaning back off the piece of furniture. “I can’t do it with you on it. Get off.”

“Nah, I’m comfy.” He shrugged. “But if you really need help, I guess I could show you how it’s done.”

Before you could say anything, he jumped down and scooped you up in one smooth motion, plopping you onhis shoulder like you were a prize.

“Don’t worry, baby girl,” he says with a sigh. “I got this.” He reached over with one hand and picked the bookshelf up like it was a cardboard box.

“Wait, but—I didn’t even tell you where to put it!”

He grinned as he moved it toward the far corner of the room. “Right here’s perfect.”

“Noo, I wanted it on that wall.”

“Ehh, I’m feeling this spot more. Looks better, don’t you think?”

“Mark, I’m serious, that’s not—”

“You’ll love it,” he said with a laugh, already walking away from it and towards the sofa. “Trust me. I’ve got an eye for these things.”

You thought about arguing but stopped yourself short, realizing there was no point. He wasn’t even listening.

Mark kicked the couch aside with a careless boot and dropped down into the cushions like a king on his throne, moving you smoothly to straddle his waist. His grin was wide and feral, hair a little messy, pupils blown.

He looked very pleased with himself.

“Yup,” he said, hands sliding to your hips, smug as hell. “Pretty strong, babe. Got, like... crazy stats.”

You couldn’t help but look a bit amused. “….Stats?”

“Oh, you know,” he said casually, voice dropping as his eyes dragged slowly over your body. “Strength. Speed. Stamina. Core control.”

You bit back a smile.

“Wanna see what else I can do?” he grinned, and didn’t wait to hear your answer. You suddenly became very aware of the repeated tapping between your thighs.

He was making his dick jump.

You choked.

“Mark!”

Omni!Mark

You were halfway through dragging the bookshelf across the living room when his voice cut through the space like a blade.

“You shouldn’t be doing that.”

You froze, hands still on the edge of the shelf. “Jesus—Mark?”

He stepped into view from the hallway, calm and unreadable, but his gaze was locked on your hands. On the effort. On your shoulders straining beneath your t-shirt.

“I thought you weren’t getting back until tomorrow,” you said, breath catching just slightly.

He said nothing to that. Just looked down at the shelf. Then back at you.

“I’m fine,” you offered, trying to keep your tone light. “Promise this might come as a surprise, but humans move furniture all the time. There’s a whole job field for it, actually. Movers. Crazy, right?”

The corner of his mouth twitched downward. Clearly not amused.

“I know you’re capable,” he said, stepping closer. His voice dropped a little. “Of more than you’ll ever give yourself credit for.” You blinked. “But this?” His gaze flicked to the shelf again. “You shouldn’t have to do this. Not with your hands.”

“My hands are fine.”

He reached out and gently took your palm in his — and suddenly, the shelf didn’t exist anymore. The room didn’t exist. Just his fingers wrapping around yours, warm and impossibly careful.

“These hands,” he said, brushing his thumb along your knuckles, “shouldn’t be calloused from dragging wood and steel. They should stay soft.”

You opened your mouth — probably to argue, maybe to scoff — but no words came out. Just heat. Everywhere.

“I don’t protect you because I think you’re weak,” he murmured, voice low and steady. “I protect you because I can. Because you’re the only softness in a world that doesn’t deserve it.”

And just like that, you were putty. Your entire body went slack under his gaze, your throat thick, breath gone. Your fingers curled a little tighter into his without even meaning to.

“…You’re not playing fair,” you whispered.

His other hand lifted to your face, thumb brushing just under your cheekbone.

“I never said I was fair,” he said quietly. “Only that you’re mine.”

You nodded, helplessly. Of course. Obviously.

And when he leaned down to kiss you — slow, reverent, like you were something holy — you realized the bookshelf could stay exactly where it was.

Forever, even.

Didn’t matter anymore.

Shiesty!Mark

The bookshelf barely budged as you leaned your weight into it with a frustrated grunt. You were so close to getting it where you wanted it.

“You tryna remodel or build muscle, bae?”

You froze at the very familiar but very unexpected voice.

Mark stood in the doorway, one brow raised, smirking like he’d walked in on you cheating with another man — who just so happened to be made of plywood and frustration.

“You weren’t supposed to be home yet,” you said, trying not to sound as guilty as you felt.

“Clearly,” he said, strolling in like he owned the floor (and the ceiling, and probably you). “You out here grinding furniture across the floor like a damn forklift. Did I miss the call for backup?”

You sighed. “It’s not that heavy. I’ve almost got it.”

Mark leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching you like a man enjoying premium entertainment. “Oh no, go on. Don’t let me stop you. I love a strong woman. Grrr,” he teased, flexing his bicep in mock solidarity.

You rolled your eyes and turned back to the shelf. “It’s just gotta slide like three more inches—”

“Oh you tryna get precise with it,” he cut in. “Okay, okay, I see you. Interior design. Feng shui. Heavy lifting. Very sexy of you.”

“I swear to God, Mark—” Before you could finish, he was already behind you.

“I got it,” he said, voice suddenly softer, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Don’t hurt yourself, pretty.”

You stepped aside reluctantly as he crouched, rolled his shoulders back, and—because of course he did—lifted the bookshelf with one hand.

You blinked. “Did you... just curl it?”

He grinned, looking at you over his shoulder. “You like that? That was rep one. Want me to rack up a few sets? Maybe do a little shoulder press while you admire the view?”

“Mark.”

“Say it again like that and I’ll drop this bookshelf just to carry you to the bedroom instead.”

You would’ve choked if you’d been drinking something.

He moved the shelf exactly where you’d wanted it, then turned and leaned in close, mouth brushing yours. “See? I do listen. Sometimes.”

You melted. A little. Maybe a lot.

“So,” he said casually, already lifting you like a backpack, “wanna rearrange anything else while I’m warmed up? Your guts, maybe?”

“Mark!”

“Babe, I’m just tryna be helpful.”

Mohawk!Mark

You braced both feet against the floor, gave the bookshelf one last stubborn shove, and managed to move it a grand total of two inches.

You stepped back, breathing heavy, hands on your hips.

“Gotta ask,” came a gravel-rough voice behind you, “you movin’ that thing for fun or outta spite?”

You jumped. “Jesus—Mark! Warn a girl!”

He leaned against the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, suit already halfway unzipped and his hair looking a little messier than usual.

“You weren’t supposed to be back yet,” you muttered, brushing your hair out of your face.

“Clearly,” he said, pushing off the doorframe and strolling in with that easy, heavy gait. “Figured I’d come home and find you curled up on the couch. Not out here goin’ to war with a damn bookcase.”

“I wasn’t—I am perfectly capable, thank you.”

“Sure you are,” he said, like he was humoring a toddler insisting they could drive.

“I am!”

He stopped in front of you, looking down at your flushed face and dirt-smudged palms. His gaze dropped to your hands, then back up to your eyes.

“Babe,” he said, voice lower now, quieter. “You don’t gotta play tug-of-war with your furniture every time I’m not in the room. You miss me? Call me. I’ll fly in, carry you and the couch if you need.”

You opened your mouth as if intending to explain your reasoning, but he was already moving. Already crouching. Already sliding one hand beneath the bookshelf like it weighed nothing.

With a casual exhale, he lifted it off the ground and nodded toward the other wall.

“Point where you want it.”

You furled in your lower lip, trying to ignore how hot this was. “...There,” you mumbled.

He walked it over. No strain. No effort. Just raw, grounded strength like it was part of his muscle memory now.

He set it down exactly where you needed it before turning to you again, rubbing sorely at the back of his neck.

“You good now?” he asked. “You wrestled the inanimate object. I showed up to finish the job. Domestic bliss achieved?”

You smiled, trying not to laugh. “I’m good. Thanks.”

He gave you that familiar crooked smile. “Next time just call,” he muttered. “You think I won’t drop a whole planetary threat just to come move furniture? Priorities.”

You snorted. “Didn’t want to bother you.”

He stepped a little closer, lifting your chin with two fingers. “You’re never a bother,” he said, voice just slightly softer now. “Maybe a bad decision, sometimes. But never a bother.”

You were biting hard into your bottom lip at this point, really trying to hold back your smile.

“…Bet you want me to carry you around now, too?” he asked, already bending to hook an arm under your thighs.

All you could do was squeal and giggle as he hoisted you up bridal-style, with a dramatic grunt that was absolutely just for show.

“There we go,” he muttered, planting a kiss on your temple. “Soft hands, remember? You keep ‘em pretty. I’ll do the heavy lifting. And the thinking. And the rescuing. You? You just sit there and look smug.”

You melted into his chest with a sigh. “Well, I was doing just fine before you showed up.”

He snorted as he lowered onto the couch, pulling you into his lap. “Yeah, you moved it a whole two inches. Might as well call NASA.”

You leaned back slightly, lips twitching. “I did move it though.”

He gave you a slow, unimpressed blink.

Then muttered, “You want a trophy or a chiropractic bill?”

You laughed—loud and warm—and when he leaned in to kiss you again, you didn’t even mind the dirt smudge still on your hands.

[another-random-paradise]

Hello everything is fine? I just found your account and I'm already in love!!!

I loved your sleepy confession writing post, if it doesn't bother you and only if you want, could you do it for Kalim, Jamil and Ruggie? They are so cute!!! >w<

Oh, and sorry if the English is wrong, it's not my first language...

An even sleepier confession

Thank you for the request and the sweet words!! And don’t worry about your English, it’s great! Plus, it isn’t my first language either, so i get the struggle, haha! :)

——————————————————————————————————

Crush!Reader sleepily telling him, they want to marry him / part one

Characters: Kalim, Jamil, Ruggie

Format: Headcanons

Warnings: None that i can think off

Kalim 

-Chances are, you were at one of his party’s, stayed late, and are too tired to go back to ramshackle 

-so, Kalim being Kalim, annoys convinces Jamil to let you two have a sleepover. The absolute energy boost Kalim gets after getting permission already makes Jamil regret his decision..

-after a long night of story telling (with how many siblings Kalim has, he definitely always has tea to spill), pillow fights, and movie marathons, you finally decide to go to sleep, much to Jamils relief

-Just before you two fall asleep though, you unconsciously make one last comment “Life is always so fun with you, really makes me wanna marry you one day..”

-If you thought you’d get any sleep after a comment like that, you’re wrong! Because Kalim is now wide awake and practically yelling in excitement 

-He’d be asking you if you really meant it, before talking about how you’ll have to meet his family first, especially all his siblings! They’ll love you!! Why don’t you come with him over the next Holidays?! All while being all over you, kind of like an exited puppy are those ears and a tail??, meanwhile you’re just sitting there like ‘oh shit, I said that out loud?!’ 

-It’ll only get worse if you confirm that, yes, you do, in fact, want to be with him and maybe, hopefully, marry him one day 

-Jamil storms in, thinking you two were getting assassinated or something, only to see Kalim hugging you, practically shaking in excitement, talking about all the dates he’ll take you on (and about your wedding of course)

-you sheepishly look over at Jamil, who is staring daggers into you, the message clear ‘you couldn’t have waited until morning?’. If looks could kill, Jamil would have cut you into a three course meal just now :D 

-Jamil tells him to quiet down, so the rest of the dorm can rest

-Kalim continues to whisper-yell, till eventually you two fall asleep cuddling 

-the next day, half the school already knows about your now relationship, partially because the entirety of scarabia could hear him, and partially because Kalim can’t keep his mouth shut-

-He is so hung up on that marriage comment, that he might accidentally introduce you as his fiancée a few times!

Jamil

-you, being the kind soul that you are, probably decided to help him out with his chores around Scarabia 

-But unlike him, you aren’t used to so much work, No matter how much Crowley tries to overwork you so eventually you’re just straight up exhausted.

-Jamil brings you to one of the many couches, but he makes sure it’s one away from the business of the dorm, he wouldn’t want you to be disturbed while you sleep he cares to much about you for that

-He picks up the few dirty plates some other students left behind, as you get comfortable, which is a very easy task, considering all those silk blankets and soft pillows! You mumble something a mere second before falling asleep. “You’re so caring, Jamil… makes me want to marry you even more than i already to..”

-Jamil halts in his tracks, he almost drops the plates he was carrying! Partially because he’s flustered, but also because a part of him hoped you wouldn’t like him back and the crush would pass.. not that it ever would have

-He is lost in thought as he makes his way to the kitchen, he almost even runs into another student

-Jamil likes you, he really does, there’s no doubt there, but he’s worried more than anything. He doesn’t have time for love!

-not only would you distract him from keeping Kalim from accidentally getting himself killed, but his work would mean that he’d have little to no time to spend with you.. not to mention if you get married, you and your future children would be forced to work for the Asim family too- Unless..

-If he takes you’re last name, instead of him yours, neither of you would be a part of the Viper name any longer. Instead of him enslaving you into service, you could free him from his life of servitude.

-And you always find ways to hang out, despite how busy he is

-He continues to work, now with a smile on his face. 

-Maybe this could work out after all :)

Ruggie

-Another one who you were probably helping with work

-Usually he’d refuse help, he doesn’t want to be indebted to anyone, but hey, it’s an excuse to spend more time with you, so he’ll make an exception 

-Afterwards, your beat.. even after book 3 and knowing him for a while, you never could have guessed how much work just one certain Lion could make.

-He lays down next to you, either making a sarcastic or teasing comment as he does.

-As always, you laugh in response, but this time you follow it up with “You’re a great guy, you know that? I hope i get to marry you one day..”

-His usual smug smirk, is gone. Just like that. It’s replaced by absolute shock

-He turns to you, to question you about it, only to see you’re already in the land of dreams 

-Ruggie doesn’t know how to feel, He is shocked, flustered, and most of all, confused. Yes, he is happy that you like him back, it just confuses him.

-You’re in a school filled with rich guys and literal Royalty. So, by the seven, why would you like a guy like him? Especially since your first meeting was literally him stealing a sandwich from your son friend! 

-But it makes him smile, in a school filled with rich people, someone as amazing as you, still chooses him, so he must be really great, right?

-Now he’s even more determined to get a good job, so that he can give you and your possible children a good life!

-He just hopes his Grandma and the kids will like you.. nah, he’s sure they will, you’re you! 

-He won’t immediately make his move to ask you out, but he’s definitely working on it! He would be a bit more hesitant about asking you out (Even after you basically asked to marry him) if you’re a girl, as in nature male hyenas are naturally more submissive towards the female they’re trying to court 

This was so much fun to write, thank you so much for the request!!

Feedback is welcomed, just please be nice!! Hope you all have a nice day <3

[bloodibambiidoll]

What would happen if weird!girl was there during the scene with Hollis instead of Sophia?

(This is based off two asks I got. One about weird!girl finally clapping back & one about her being there during this scene. Also thank you for being so patient with me ik it’s been a while since I posted about them !!) Jealously/possessiveness, choking, hair pulling, unprotected sex, mentions of weird!girl & another man in the past, breeding kink 18+

You know it’s absolutely irrational to be as pissed off as you are right now. But watching Hollis bat her spider leg eyelashes and pucker her years full of filler smudged red lips at your fiancé while she leans over the table with her tits pushed out is making you want to rip her head off. At the beginning of you and Rafe’s relationship you probably would’ve ran in the bathroom and cried because you didn’t feel like you were right for him. You’re not that girl anymore. Rafe has given you so much confidence and security that now you’re walking toward them with a smug smile painted on your face. Everyone on the island knows you and Rafe are engaged and if she thinks you’re going to let her walk all over you like some scared little girl she can think the fuck again.

Your platform boots click against the stone floor as you march across the outdoor seating area with a purpose. Rafe’s scotch is clutched tightly in your ringed hand and the cold condensation on the glass is a welcome cool in comparison to the fire in your veins. Your tiny black dress whooshes as you walk, the slight breeze kicking it up just enough to almost show your ass that’s covered in Gucci fishnets. You’re sick and tired of everyone walking all over you. Men scoff at you and look down on Rafe for being with you. Women constantly flirt with him in front of you like you’re not even there and you’re at your limit. You slide your way under your fiancé’s arm and tuck yourself into his side before holding his drink to him.

“Here’s your drink, baby.” You look up at him with a devilish little smirk and he sends you one of those signature Rafe Cameron smirks right back. His eyes flash from your own to your lips to your tits before he grabs the glass from your hand and places a kiss on your temple.

“Aww, who’s this?” Hollis breaks you and Rafe out of your bubble, making you snap your head toward her with a look that could kill.

“You’re joking, right?” You scoff, and push past Rafe so you can get right up in her face. You paint a condescendingly sweet smile on your lips as your eyes roam over her form. It’s obvious her days as resident cougar are numbered, the build up of Botox is starting to make her face look puffy and that lipstick looks awful with her skin tone. She even has a little bit smeared on her teeth and you can tell she’s slightly tipsy.

“Not only have I lived on this island my entire fucking life, I used to fucking take care of your dogs when you and your husband - oops I mean, ex husband used to go on your little vacations.” You cup your hand onto the side of your cheek and lean in even closer to her so you can whisper-yell in her ear. “You know, before you cheated on him so much he couldn’t take it anymore. Such a waste really, he’s such a sweet, handsome man…”

“Excuse me?” Hollis quickly leans back and scoffs, her hand flying to her chest as if you hit her. Her eyes show a flash of hurt before hardening. “You really ought to learn some respect, young lady. I don’t think you realize what kind of pull I have around here. I could ruin you.” Her lips wear a sinister smile that you assume she thinks is threatening but it just makes you laugh.

“No, I think you need to learn some respect, actually.” You return her smile, but yours is far more sinister than anything she could ever muster up because the minute that Stanley Kubrick esc grin stretches across your lips the one on her own drops and she takes a step back. But you just take a step forward, staying inches away from her face while you tilt your head to the side. “Everyone on this goddamn island already can’t stand me. And they all know Rafe Cameron is mine. But only you and I know that Mr. Robison sought comfort in a young, tight, pussy when you first started stepping out on him.”

“You really are and always have been such a vile little girl.” She sneers down at you and you know you hit the exact nerve you were aiming for. “Jealousy really isn’t a cute look, by the way, dear.”

“It’s not jealousy. It’s possession.” Hollis has gradually been taking steps back from you as the conversation has gone on but you close the distance between the two of you so you can lean up and whisper directly in your ear. “Now get the fuck away from my man before I choke you so hard your eyes pop out of your skull.”

“Ugh! You are a psychotic little bitch!” Hollis stomps her red bottom heeled foot onto the ground with a low growl before turning and stomping off.

“Whose acting like a little girl now!” You yell after her with a laugh and it earns you a glare over her shoulder that you return with laughter. You’re still practically cracking up when you turn to face Rafe who is staring down at you like a deer caught in the headlights. “You good baby? Thought you’d be proud of me.” You pout and your boyfriend's expression hardens as he grabs your wrist and pulls your body flush against his own.

“Oh, bats. I’m proud of you for standing on business, but…” Rafe's large hand grabs onto the back of your neck as leans down so he can practically growl into your ear. “You have some serious fuckin’ explaining to do. Mr. Robinson, huh? You fuck him?”

“And if I did? That was literally years ago before you ever thought twice about me, I think you’ll live.” Your voice holds a hint of defiance that you know for a fact is going to get your ass handed to you very shortly but if you’re being honest, that’s exactly what you want. It’s been a minute since you got Rafe riled up enough to fuck you until you can’t walk.

“You are so fucked. Car. Now. Start walking.”

-

“Tell me whose fuckin’ pussy this is.” Rafe has you bent over the arm of your expensive leather couch while his cock pounds deep into your dripping walls and his large palm shoves your face into the cushion below you. He ripped your dress over your head and tore your brand new gucci tights open at the crotch the minute he got you through the door. Your ass is beat red and decorated with welts the shape of his designer belt, your drool is dripping down your chin and your vision is blurry from your mascara running down your eyes. He fucking loves you like this.

“It’s yours! My whole body belongs to you, daddy!” The attitude you had earlier on in the night is starting to slip and you’re getting to the point that all you want is to come on Rafe’s cock as many times as he will allow you to. And so far? He’s been edging you for the last forty minutes.

“Yeah, that’s fuckin’ right. You’re my little whore.” Rafe’s fingers lace through your hair, his nails scratching your scalp as he gathers the strands between his digits and pulls them tight so he can yank your head back. He uses his grip for leverage as he continues to pound into you relentlessly. “Don’t wanna think about any other man touching you. Especially not some old fuck. As far as I’m fuckin’ concerned you were a virgin when we met.”

“Well, I wasn’t even close… Does that make you mad, daddy?” You let out a borderline evil chuckle as you let your tongue lull from your mouth while you look over your shoulder at him. His blue eyes are practically black from how dilated his pupils are, his nostrils are flared, and his lips are set into a snarl. You can’t help it that you love him like this. “Does it just drive you crazy that you’re not the only dick that’s been in this tight little pussy?”

“Shut your bratty little mouth, did I not beat that ass hard enough yet, huh? Do I need to pull out and make you watch me jerk off while I nut all over your dumb little face and leave you with nothing but a mess to clean up?” Rafe’s nails dig deeper into your scalp when his grip on your hair tightens. He pulls your back flush against his chest while his hips plow into yours, his thick cock stretching you out over and over with each thrust.

“What about you, huh?” You lace your arm around Rafe’s neck so you can drag your pointed nails down his skin. “Resident man slut? This all started because you were letting that dumb old bag fawn all over you with her tits in your face.”

Rafe pulls out of you and uses your hips to flip you onto your back. Your legs are dangling over the arm of the couch and your top half is bent flat against the cushion, propping your hips up so your pussy is on display to him. He lands a smack on your sopping wet cunt that verberates through the room and you barely have time to process before he’s dealing you with another one. His broad frame looms over you when he leans down to grip onto your throat and pin you to the plush leather.

“I was just appeasing her cause’ she was offering me a way I could make us more money.” He hits your pussy again before landing harsh smacks on your clit in succession. Rafe’s palm cups your cunt and he uses the heel of it to rub your clit roughly while he squeezes your throat so tight you see stars. He toys with your entrance with his thick fingers and then spreads your juices on his shaft. He pumps himself a few times before slamming back inside of you in one thrust. “You really think I’d ever trade this perfect fuckin’ cunt for anything in the world? You think you can go around talking about fucking men old enough to be your dad in front of me and not expect me to mark my territory? I’m gonna cover you in my fuckin’ cum.”

“Sounds like somebody is jealous.” You lick your lips and smile widely up at him while the hand on your throat makes your vision go fuzzy. The sound that leaves Rafe is near animalistic, he grips onto your thigh with his free hand and pins it to the arm of the couch. It spreads you wide and gives him the perfect view of his thick cock covered in your creamy juices as it slams inside you over and over again.

“It’s not jealousy, it’s possession.” Rafe mocks your words from earlier, his hand nearly cutting off your air supply before letting go and grabbing onto the back of your hair. He uses his grip to yank you up off the cushion and force your head down until you can see where you’re connected. His thrusts never falter as he manhandles you like a ragdoll.

“You see that shit? See your greedy little pussy swallowing my dick like it was made for her? Tell daddy again who owns that shit. Drop the attitude and tell me you’re my fuckin’ whore if you wanna come.”

“I’m your whore! Please let me come!” You whine as you writhe beneath him, your final resolve leaving you when he grabs onto both your wrists, suspending your back off the couch as he uses his grip on you to pull you back to meet his rapid thrusts.

“Yeah, that’s right, you’re my perfect little fuck doll. Mine to use, as I please, when I please.” You wrap your legs around his hips to pull him impossibly deeper and it has him growling and twitching inside you. “You gonna be a good girl and take my fuckin’ cum? Let me put a baby in you so all these bitches really know who you belong to?”

“Yes, fuck! Please give me your cum, wanna make you a daddy!” Rafe lets your body fall back down onto the couch so he can lean over you with his hands on either side of your head as he pumps his hips deep and hard into you. The angle has him hitting deeper than ever and each glide of his hips has his skin rubbing against your throbbing clit.

“Come on my cock, milk that shit, baby.” It’s like your body is programmed to listen to his words because that’s all it takes to have your walls pulsing around him as you gush around his thick shaft. You lean up and bite his chest before sucking hard on his skin, marking your territory. A few more rough thrusts of his hips and Rafe is coming right along with you. “Such a good girl, such a perfect, tight, pussy. Gonna give you a fuckin’ baby.” He babbles as his cock twitches inside of you and fills you with ropes of his cum. When he comes down from his high his body slumps against yours, his huge frame pining you awkwardly to the couch.

“Fuck.” You giggle as you wrap your arms around his neck and run your nails along his buzzed head. “That was so hot. But, you’re crushing me with your giant fucking body.”

“Yeah? I think you deserve it. I don’t think that was punishment enough for fucking Mr. Robinson before we ever got together.” Rafe groans dramatically as he lets more of his weight crush you.

“Well. I think you’ll be delighted to know that I never fucked him.” You say it in a sing-song tone that has Rafe’s head shooting up and his blue eyes locking with yours. “We just sexted. She found the pics on his phone and lost her shit.”

“Oh! You are such a little shit!” He pushes himself up off the couch and points down at you in mock accusation. “You let me think you fucked him so I would beat your lil’ ass, didn’t you?” Rafe chuckles and your hand flies to your chest while you look up at him with your mouth agape.

“What?!” You gasp. “I would never push your buttons for sexual gain. That would be insane.”

“You are such a fuckin’ brat, ya know that?” Rafe smiles as he pulls you off the couch and against his chest. “I ought to bend you over again, over my knee this time.”

“What was all that about giving me a baby?” You wiggle your eyebrows at him and he glares down at you. “Was that just horny talk or does somebody have baby fever?”

“You know what?” He grabs you and tosses you over his shoulder despite your protests. “I’m gonna spank you till you cry and then fuck you full of my cum until you’re begging me to put a baby in you.”

Tagging mooties & weird!girl lovers: @babygorewhore @cxrrodedcoffin @starkeysprincess @nemesyaaa @oceandriveab @munson-mjstan @cameronsprincess @rafeinterlude @sturnioloshacker @traceymbcm

Divider by @anitalenia

All things Rafe & his weird!girl here

[starsinthesky5]

you are in love: big reputations part 1 || joe burrow x reader

description: covering the events of you are in love V part 1

universe: you are in love masterlist

a/n: there is NO face claim! i just use whatever i find on pinterest and envision for this series ;) you can tap on the photos to get closer look! especially the stories

taglist: (ask to be added): @joeyfranchise @joeyb1989 @joeyburrrow @softburrow @burrowbarbie @yelenasbraid @lovelyburrow @majestic87 @grittysbiggestfan @definitelynotdomanique @burrowswomen @lilfreakjez @fourburrow @ladyluvduv

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📍los angeles, california

liked by: joeyb_9, lahjay10_, sabrinacarpenter, y/bsf_21, teehiggins and others

tagged: joeyb_9, y/bsf21

y/n_y/ln: been a minute LA 🌃

comments:

joeyb_9: i'm the best photographer, i know i know

——— y/n_y/ln: use the cocky tone again and i'll leave you stranded in erewhon mr. burrow

—————— y/bsf21: ooo ooo leave him by the $20 strawberries

————————— y/n_y/ln: you should've seen his face when i showed him them

fan39: more black/dark aesthetics 👀

fan300: his hand placements always have me spiraling like joey b?? sir? there's kids around 😵‍💫

y/bsf_21: those espresso martinis were much needed for girls night

teehiggins: get joe to buy the chrome hearts jacket he sent us and ill venmo $50

——— lahjay_10: make it $100. i got y'all. joe brr gotta dress like he in hollywood if he walking 'round them streets

————————— joeyb_9: i hate you both

———————————— y/n_y/ln: well i love them sooooo deal boys 🙂‍↕️

fan3030: SHE'S BACK NOBODY MOVE

fan1: if I see them out and about I will collapse

fan31: grammy weekend just got a whole lot more interesting

sabrinacarpenter: hey gorgeous come outside i'm taking u 2 dinner 😍

——— y/n_y/ln: give me 15 minutes ;)

—————— sabrinacarpenter: i see what you did there 💞

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y/n_y/ln via Instagram Stories

pre-grammys. post grammys.

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liked by: joeyb_9, lahjay10_, killatrav, y/bsf_21, taylorswift, and others

y/n_y/ln: and in the death of her reputation, she felt truly alive

i'm extremely excited to announce that my brand new album, reputation, is out july 4th! first two singles—ready for it… & i can see you—dropping at tonight at midnight EST

i can't wait to share more with you soon 🐍🖤

...ready for it?

cassandra

who's afraid of little old me?

i did something bad

look what you made me do

my boy only breaks his favorite toys

the smallest man who ever lived

the prophecy

i can see you

delicate

gorgeous

labyrinth

you are in love

dress

call it what you want

so high school

daylight

so it goes

don't blame me

but daddy i love him

i don't wanna live forever (ft. zayn)

midnight rain

this is what you came for

"slut!"

sweet nothing

new year's day

i can do it with a broken heart

this is why we can't have nice things

endgame

karma

comments:

joeyb_9: unbelievably proud of you. you leave me speechless with your talent every single day. truly the most hardworking and special women i’ve ever known. i love you more than words can describe

——— y/n_y/ln: ilyttmats 💞

————— fan62: I LOVE YOU TO THE MOON AND TO SATURN? AGAIN? KCHSKWBE

——————— fan6262: NOT THE LYRICS FROM SEVEN? OH SHE DOWN BAD

——— fan2737: STOP IT RIGHT NOW SHE IS SO FUCKING BACK

——— fan001: I. AM. SCREAMING. SCREECHING EVEN.

fan1617: TRACK 9 IS HIGHLIGHTED ORANGE?? HELLOOOO???

zayn: honored to be part of this one. let’s go. 🖤

——— fan6262: oh my god 🥹

fan828282: are you trying to kill us?

fan81: A DOUBLE SINGLE DROP? TONIGHT? WHAT THE FUCK? ALSO 30 SONGS??? Y/N??

taylorswift: finally!! can't wait for them to hear your masterpiece

fan292: MOTHER IS MOTHERING

fan2._: you really just dropped a tracklist with no warning and expected us to be okay????

y/ncollective: first two singles at midnight? see you all in the afterlife

evanmcpherson: midnight listening party in the locker room???

teehiggins: oh yeah, this one boutta go crazy 🔥

fan33: oh, joe’s about to be in his lover boy era after this one

bengals: reputation (bengals version) when??

sabrinacarpenter: WOOO 🥳

enews: oh we are SO ready for it! baby let the games begin 🔥

fan99: JOE BURROW WE LOVE YOU. thank you for making our girl feel this again 😙

fan45: 24? good god we’re in for a treat. she ain’t playing about this album

fan2662: the poem 🥺 she’s been through so much and is finally in a secure place in life and is sharing it with us...oh someone hold me while i cry

fan282: i am so happy she found joe stfu

fan433: these songs are gonna be my new obsession for the next year, i can already tell.

y/bsf: HELLLL YEAHHH BABY SOUND THE ALARMS THE BITCH IS BACK

——— y/n_y/ln: did I ever leave? (don't answer this)

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📍grammys

💿 now playing: around me (metro boomin ft. don toliver)

liked by: joeyb_9, enews, versace, tatemcrae, jenfinch_12, y/bsf_21, taylorswift, and others

tagged: versace, recordingacadamy

y/n_y/ln: goin' sheisty in all black

thank you for another amazing night @recordingacademy 🖤 this one's for the books

comments:

y/bsf_21: BABE? oh my GOD you look so gorgeous

joeyb_9: hey pretty lady, u need a ride home tonight?

——— y/n_y/ln: no sorry, i have a hot quarterback waiting for me outside

—————— joeyb_9: damn tough luck (it is me...right?)

————————— y/n_y/ln: yes it's you joe

joeyb_9: i need cpr because damn baby you took my breath away

——— y/n_y/ln: cue random breeze of wind, slo-mo running, and the top gun soundtrack in the background

tatemcrae: HOT 😍

voguemagazine: the best-dressed list starts and ends with this 🔥

fan1212: joe burrow is the luckiest man ALIVE

bengalsfan22: sheisty mention? i see you

rollingstone: an artist, an icon, and now, a moment

fan3838: i hope her ex is spiraling after that performance, call out, album announcement, and red carpet with joe moment

taylorswift: i taught you well, but you just took it to another level!!

tmz_tv: @joeyb_9, you good? she just broke the internet

gracieabrams: 💘

enews: this is how you make an entrance

fan20: 😍😍😍😍😍😍

y/nfan282: it should be illegal to look this good and be this talented

gridback_news: y’all hear that? that’s the sound of jaws dropping worldwide

fan01: this just screams 'i have a fine man at home and i win grammys for fun' energy

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joeyb_9 via Instagram Stories

pre grammys. post grammys.

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💿 now playing: bad reputation (joan jetts & the blackhearts)

liked by: joeyb_9, versace, jenfinch_12, y/bsf_21, taylorswift, killatrav, olivarodrigo, gracieabrams, addisonrae, zendaya, and others

tagged: recordingacadamy

y/n_y/ln: don't blame me for what you made me do

comments:

y/bsf_21: ended lives and smiled about it. queen shit

——— y/n_y/ln: doing what i do best ;)

joeyb_9: killing the game (and killing me)

——— y/n_y/ln: i know cpr babe it’s okay

taylorswift: and that’s how you do it. snaps fingers 💅 ✨

versace: a performance worthy of couture 🖤

oliviarodrigo: consider my entire existence SHAKEN.

fan002: the outfit? vocals? ATTITUDE? pop star and comeback of the century

fan55-1_: in all seriousness, i am so proud of her for this. it’s not easy, but she did the damn thing. bow down to THEEEE queen

fan2: she really said okay you wanna give me a bad rep? i’ll turn it into an album and aesthetic. now what?

fan0201: her ex is punching the air

fan9292: @joeyb_9 CAN YOU FIGHT

——— fan773: girl be serious hell yeah he can LMAO

fan1010: CULTURAL RESET

recordingacademy: didn’t miss a beat!

y/ncollective: the way she looked at her ex when saying “don’t blame me for what you made me do” MHM. WHAT HE MADE HER DO!!!!!!

gridback_news: killing it 🖤

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liked by: tmz, y/ncollective, rulethejungle, bengalsfan4949, enews, and 1.3 million others

tagged: y/n_y/ln

gridback_news: Y/N is making power moves in more ways than one. After a show-stopping night at the Grammys—where she took home four awards and the spotlight—she was spotted heading to the after-party in this midnight-black celestial mini, looking like a walking prophecy. 🌙✨ But that’s not all she left fans buzzing about. 👀✨

Earlier in the night, Y/N announced her long-awaited album reputation (out July 4th), with two singles—…ready for it? and i can see you—dropping TONIGHT at midnight EST. And if her cryptic teases are anything to go by, there’s a lot more where that came from. 🖤🐍

Meanwhile, sources close to the scene say her ex wasn’t too happy about the events of the evening 👀, but one person who definitely was? Joe Burrow, who was seen celebrating his girl all night long. "He’s just so proud of her," one insider shared. "He’s been calling this her victory lap and can't wait for everyone to hear the magic she created,".

A new era is here, and Y/N is owning every second of it. Are you ready for it? ⏳🔥 #YN #ReputationEra #Grammys #ReadyForIt

-- comments have been disabled by the user --

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📍los angeles, california

liked by: y/n_y/ln, lahjay_10, jjetas2, teehiggins, jenfinch_12 y/bsf_21, rulethejungle5, and others

tagged: y/n_y/ln

joeyb_9: california dreamin'

comments:

y/n_y/ln: another well crafted photo dump? im impressed jb

——— joeyb_9: seeeeee i'm not totally like a grandpa on social media

y/n_y/ln: hottie alert hottie alert hottie alert hottie alert 🥰

rulethejungle5: embarking on many side quests this year, aren't we joe?

lahjay_10: you built for the midwest bro don’t get lost out there.

——— y/n_y/ln: no need to worry sir, i'm his compass 🙂‍↕️

—————— joeyb_9: .....do we need to remind you of how you got lost on the way to paycor for the first time by yourself

————————— lahjay_10: i still don't get how she ended up in park hills

———————————— y/n_y/ln: listen. his porsche is confusing

—————————————————— teehiggins: oh, but i thought it was because you was too busy changing the playlist and missed the exit?

————————————————————— y/n_y/ln: where the hell did you come from

———————————————————————— joeyb_9: HA outnumbered 😁

fan226: this man is looking more like a hollywood heartthrob than a QB and I’m scared (in a good way)

fan9191: this is like a fan account for y/n now and i am not complaining :)

fan8877: SHE TOOK HIS ASS TO EREWHON LMFAOOOO I CAN'T

fan5874: we all know the only reason he’s posting LA pics is because y/n was there and these are the only times he'll come out of his shell to show us his life😪

——— fan2201: he's so real for that. only coming on here to show him and his girl. love to see it

fan2727: i know y'all see those big ass flowers. treating her like the queen she is that's right 💅 someone should be taking notes right now

teehiggins: 🔥

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📍sushi park, los angeles

liked by: tmz, y/ncollective, rulethejungle, bengalsfan4949, enews, and 2.1 million others

tagged: y/n_y/ln, joeyb_9

gridback_news: Fresh off the Grammys, Y/N, and Joe were spotted last night looking absolutely smitten after a cozy date at Sushi Park in LA. The couple, who have been glowing in recent weeks, were all smiles as they enjoyed a rare, relaxed night out before their busy schedules pick up again.

Sources close to the couple say they’ve been happier than ever, fully embracing this new chapter together. "They’ve found such a great balance," one insider shares. "They support each other’s careers 100%, but at the end of the day, their relationship comes first. They’re really protective of what they have,".

Despite their public appearances, those close to them say Y/N and Joe are savoring their private moments, continuing to build their relationship in ways that feel right for them. "They love sharing big milestones with fans, but there are parts of their love story they want to keep just for themselves," another source adds.

Meanwhile, the internet is losing it over Y/N’s surprise album announcement, with fans already obsessed with the two singles that dropped last night—"ready for it?" and "i can see you"—both of which have been heavily speculated to hold hidden meanings 👀. Insiders tease that the album rollout is just getting started, with plenty more surprises on the way.

Up next for the duo? A trip to New Orleans for the NFL Honors, where Joe is nominated for MVP. Between career highs, personal bliss, and a love story that keeps unfolding, these two seem to be in their golden era. ✨ #YNxJ #BurrowedIntoHerHeart #MVPAndThePopStar

-- comments have been disabled by the user --

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liked by: y/n_y/ln, lahjay_10, jjetas2, teehiggins, jenfinch_12 y/bsf_21, rulethejungle5, and others

tagged: y/n_y/ln

joeyb_9: i don’t do things like this, everyone knows that. but some moments are too big, too important, too damn special not to.

y/n, i don’t even know where to start. watching you these past few months, seeing you fight your way back to yourself, watching you pour every bit of your heart into this record, there aren’t enough words to say how proud i am. you took every doubt, every whisper, every scar, and turned it into something unstoppable. you did what you always do. made magic.

and you didn’t just win. you owned the night. album of the year. a new chapter. a new era. but if we’re being honest, you already won the second you walked out there. i mean, look at you. you were breathtaking. you are breathtaking. i was standing off to the side, watching you shine, wondering how the hell i got lucky enough to love you.

through it all, you’re still my girl. the same one who teaches me more about cooking every time we're in the kitchen and steals my hoodies like i won’t notice. but tonight? tonight, you were every bit the force the world needs to see.

i love you. i’m so damn proud of you. always.

comments:

fan38: y/n winning aoty and joe writing a literal love letter??? this is a rom-com.

fan22: “steals my hoodies like i won’t notice” SIR WE KNOW YOU LOVE IT.

ringseason: “you were breathtaking. you are breathtaking.” excuse me while i go lay on the floor and cry forever.

y/bsf_21: i’m never recovering from this. never

rulethejungle5: “my girl” yeah we lost him for real 😂

y/n_y/ln: you always know how to make me cry in the best way. i love you so much, joey. more than i can ever say. 🤍

——— joeyb_9: i love you

ynupdates: joe burrow just set an impossible standard. no one is touching this level of love and support

fan87: he's so private but he actually posted this? all for her :(

fan46: LOOK at all those flowers!!!!

fan777: treating her right. finally. she deserves this so bad

fan38: joe writes like a man who watches romance movies and takes notes

fan2929: MY HEART CANT TAKE MORE OF THIS

fan001: AHHHHHHH

y/ncollective: joe’s love for her is so loud, i’m actually sobbing.

enews: 🥹

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liked by: tmz, y/ncollective, rulethejungle, bengalsfan4949, enews, and 1 million others

tagged: y/n_y/ln, joeyb_9

gridback_news: Spotted! ✈️ Jet-setting to NOLA for NFL Honors after an unforgettable Grammy weekend: Joe & Y/N seen boarding their private jet following a flawless mix of work, play, and award-show sparkle in LA 🏆☀️ From red carpets to cozy moments behind the scenes, these two are the ultimate power couple and are continuing to show the world. Their time in the City of Angels was a perfect balance, and now they’re off to kick off the next chapter—NFL Honors and beyond. Sources say to expect some big album updates coming soon from our favorite Pop Star, so stay tuned! 🔥 #RelationshipGoals #NFLHonors #YNxJ #PostGrammys #OnToTheNext

-- comments have been disabled by the user --

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[queen-of-reptiles]

𝙲𝙷𝙰𝙼𝙿𝙸𝙾𝙽

𝙿𝙰𝚁𝚃 𝚃𝚆𝙾

description: during a relaxed competition, y/n pushes on, despite a worrying ache in her thigh, she learns to regret it after and alessia is happy to play nurse

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alessia russo x female reader

disclaimer: this is all fiction! Do not take any of this seriously.

warnings: cuteness, fluff, some sexual comments, less just being a doting gf, slight mention of injury

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alessiarusso99 just posted on her story

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leahwilliamsonn just posted on her story

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y/n winced slightly as she stretched out, there was a slight ache in her thigh but she hoped if she ignored the problem it would go away. She was only up for floor today anyway.

It was a competition yes, but y/n had been put in last minute really, because she was younger than most she was on call if one of the under 23's dropped out. Which they did.

Alessia and Leah who were with her at the time, happily followed her to the competition the next day, Katie, Caitlin, Viv and Beth joining soon enough, Ella, while late also slid into place.

y/n had started her routine fine, landing her back tuck twist easily, smiling as she span and danced along with the music and cheers echoing alike.

It was only as she went into to her Front tuck round-off back handspring did y/n feel it, the pop in her thigh, as she shouted as she came down, landing painfully on her hip as she smacked the mat, gesturing to the medical team who ran to her.

"Muscle strain, hurt bad." y/n tells them with a groan, Alessia racing down the stands and to the side with the rest following as y/n is lifted off the mats with a groan.

The medics check her over, talking quietly as y/n winces again, their gloved hands pressing painfully as they nod and agree to take her to the hospital for a scan.

"Is she okay? What is going on?" Alessia questions as the medics try and calm Alessia and Leah.

"It looks to be a muscle strain, they need to take her for a scan before we can really know." One of the medics say.

"How long?" Leah asks with baited breath.

"If it is what I think it is, three months." The medic tells her and Alessia sighs in relief that her lover still may be able to make the Olympics.

"Okay. Thank you." Alessia nods. Leah sighs and the two rush to the group - the lot of them piling into separate cars and driving to the hospital.

Alessia and Leah drove together, both ignoring the way their phones were vibrating with tweets of fans who were worried, or news stations using them to include in their 'breaking news'.

Alessia bit at her thumb as Leah pulled up at the hospital twenty minutes later, the girls behind them parking up quickly as well as Leah quickly found where her sister was.

"You two go see her. We'll wait." Katie told them as they found the room she was in.

Leah and Alessia walked into the room to see y/n looking at a scan with a doctor, the two talking as they nodded. y/n's leg was now braced and crutches rested against the bed.

"Lee, Less." y/n smiles, both blondes relieved that there was at least a smile from y/n.

"How's it looking kiddo?" Leah asks as she leans over to press a kiss to y/n's head.

"Out for three months, but I should be okay for the Olympics." y/n tells them and Alessia sighs.

"What happened baby?" She asks and y/n winces.

"Look, don't kill me." y/n begins and Leah pauses. "I felt an ache in my thigh, had done all day, but I thought it was just cramp." y/n explains.

"And now you've strained your hamstring." Leah says disapprovingly, y/n letting out a sheepish laugh.

"Sorry?" She asks her sister who huffs.

"Okay Leah, look she knows it was stupid and she's paying the price for it now." Alessia warns Leah who huffs.

Leah then sighs and presses a kiss to her sister's forehead, the three waiting until she was allowed to go, everyone greeting her with cheers as she posed with her crutches.

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y/n just posted on her story x2

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Once everyone made sure she was okay, y/n and Alessia found themselves back at home, the two cuddled up together on the sofa, y/n's head on Alessia's shoulder, the blonde's hand rubbing up and down her back.

"You sure you're okay?" Alessia asks y/n worriedly and y/n nods.

"I'm a little annoyed at myself for not listening to my body, but I am okay, yeah." y/n nods, Alessia kissing the crown of her head.

y/n sighs, sinking further into the side of her girlfriend enjoying the warmth the girl gave her. Alessia noticed this and pulled her onto her hip, wrapping her arms tighter around her, y/n's back now against her chest.

Alessia's head dipped, small kisses being placed along y/n's skin which caused small giggles to arise from the gymnast, Alessia smiled into the skin of her girlfriend, playfully biting down at the skin.

"Lessi!" y/n laughed, the blonde chuckling as she placed a long kiss to y/n's cheek.

"Gawd, you two are so gross, you know?" Ella asks from her place in the doorway, it being a weekend Man utd. didn't play, the two had expected the Mancunian to appear at some point.

"Hi Ella, come on in." y/n say sarcastically at the girl who through her keys - including a spare key to Alessia and y/n's home in the key bowl.

"Aw thanks, you angel." Ella grins pressing a long kiss to y/n's cheek, making Alessia let out a small 'oi'.

"She's mine." Alessia whined, pushing Ella away who gagged as Alessia tugged the gymnast onto her lap.

"Thirsty?" y/n asks Ella who nods, getting up and going to the fridge to grab a diet coke which made y/n chuckle, Ella was far too comfortable in their home. "You staying the night?" y/n calls out as Ella sets up the X-box.

"Yeah probably." Ella shrugs as she hands Alessia a controller as she puts on FIFA 24. y/n playfully sighs.

"I'll get my book." She hums but Alessia is already lifting her off of her lap.

"I'll get it baby." Alessia smiles, pressing a kiss to y/n's lips before running toward the bedroom, tripping slightly on a chair leg, but managing to stay up-right.

"I'll get it baby." Ella mocks leaning down and kissing y/n's cheek before falling and sprawling out on the floor mockingly as Alessia walks back in.

The blonde rolls her eyes at her best friend who grins at her and y/n chuckles as Alessia sits back down. Ella perks up, selecting her team quickly but Alessia pouts.

"No. This isn't right." Alessia denies, Ella looking over as the blonde reaches over and pulls y/n across her lap, moving a pillow so it was behind y/n's head.

"Better?" Ella asks as Alessia leans down and pecks y/n's lips. The girl yet to take her eyes away from her book.

"Much." Alessia hums before Ella rolls her eyes and presses play.

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Several hours later, y/n now asleep in Alessia's lap, the warmth of the blonde keeping her in a deep slumber despite the shouting from the anger Manchester player and the swearing from the Italian.

After a final game Ella huffed as she placed the controller down, Alessia sending her a victorious grin as Ella rolled her eyes.

"Shut up! You only won two!" Ella says loudly and Alessia glares.

"Shh, you'll wake her!" Alessia warns but Ella just snorts and looks at y/n's sleeping figure which was curled into Alessia's body.

"No I won't." Ella denies and Alessia chuckles, checking the time on her phone with a slight wince when she sees they'd been playing for a bit too long.

"I'll make some dinner." Alessia realises. "Come over here and replace me so she has someone to cuddle." She orders her best friend and the girl chuckles.

"She's your girlfriend Less, not mine." Ella jokes and Alessia rolls her eyes.

"We both know she's 'OUR' girlfriend, now come here and cuddle her." Alessia orders, the two slowly swapping seats so Alessia could finally stand and Ella was now a human teddy bear.

Alessia chuckles as she watches Ella relax into the weight and heat and sink back slightly, before the blonde goes into the kitchen to check what was in the fridge.

After a moment of debate the blonde decides on creamy chicken, spinach and mushroom pasta, knowing it was her girlfriend's favourite meal when feeling a little down.

As Alessia started to took, Ella's hand began running up and down y/n's back, enjoying the warmth the girl provided while being curled around her.

"This does feel nice." Ella hums as she flicks through Netflix.

"Honestly, she is like a heated blanket." Alessia agrees, turning to see her lover still asleep.

After ten minutes of Ella watching BoJack and Alessia cooking in silence, y/n's eyes blink open, a yawn coming from her as she sits up, eyes mostly shut as she tries to blink the sleep out.

At hearing the movement, Alessia grabs a glass of water and shuffles over, cooing as her girlfriend sits up with sleepy eyes and a big yawn.

"Hiya baby." Alessia coos, taking the seat next to y/n and bring the glass up to y/n's lips, letting the girl take a gulp before putting it down.

"Hi." y/n says softly, blinking herself into full vision, smiling at her girlfriend's beautiful face.

"Had a good few hours there baby." Ella coos mockingly, pressing a sweet kiss to y/n's cheek which makes Alessia scoff and roll her eyes.

"Mmmm. What you cooking?" y/n asks as she sniffs the air.

"Your favourite." Alessia smiles before pressing a kiss to y/n's cheek and moving back to the kitchen.

"You've domesticated her." Ella says in shock. "I don't know how." She adds and y/n shrugs leaning back into Ella.

"Pussy too bomb." y/n states and Ella snorts, sending the two into a small fit of giggles as they wait for dinner.

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y/n just posted

liked by leahwilliamsonn, alessia, and 409, 788 others

tagged alessia, and ellatoone

y/n these two <3

view 10, 288 comments...

username1: I love them so much 😍😍😍

username2: FREINDSHIP LIKE THIS NOW PLZ

username3: 🥹🥹🥹

username4: Get well soon y/n!!!! 💖

simonebiles: Love you! Rest up! x ❤️

^

y/n: Love you too! Thank you will do! x ❤️

leahwilliamsonn: Are they taking care of you????

^

y/n: To the best of their abilities 🙃

^

leahwilliamsonn: I'm coming over 😡

^

alessia: I am being a fantastic nurse thank you! 😠😠

^

y/n: She really is!

username5: I love them!!!!

ellatoone: I won the FIFA tournament btw

^

alessia: Sureeeee

^

y/n: not again, please... 😥😥

username6: Cute 🥰

username7: 😍😚

See more comments...

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y/n sighed as she settled into Alessia's shoulder, the two wrapped up in bed, Alessia's oversized shirt pushing her scent into y/n's nostrils as the gymnast snuggled more into the blonde's warm side.

"Thank you for looking after me, baby." y/n says softly, Alessia humming softly as she looks down at the woman pressed against her shoulder.

"Of course, baby." Alessia says softly, pulling y/n closer to her, wrapping her free arm around her so she could run her hand through the gymnast's hair.

"It is just I did this to myself, and you have every right to be mad, and you instead looked after me." y/n continues.

Alessia cannot help but chuckle, pressing a long kiss against y/n's head as she calms the girl down.

"You love your job, as I love mine, my love. We put ourselves on the line for what we do. I could never be mad at you for that." Alessia promises.

y/n lets out a small sigh of relief, snuggling closer to the blonde as she opened her mouth to try and fight the blonde who simply hummed to shush her.

"And even though you weren't feeling 100% you wanted to do your best, and I understand that." Alessia says. "I love you, of course I will look after you." The footballer finishes.

"I love you so much, you know that?" y/n asks, looking up at Alessia who smiles and leans down, pressing her lips against y/n's.

"I know baby." Alessia promises.

"Gross!" A voice says and the two turn to see Ella stood in their doorway with her water bottle and a wrinkled nose.

"Shut up Tooney." y/n snorts. "Also, please come into our bedroom." She adds sarcastically.

"Aw Angel." Tooney says, settling beside y/n, pushing her in the middle.

"Love Island?" Alessia asks as she switches the TV over.

"Duh." Ella says and y/n can't help but chuckle, she looked at the two as they quickly became engrossed in the show and she sighed.

Yeah, she'd be just fine.

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y/n just posted on her story

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END

[the-passenger-if]

Hey, gang. How is it going? It’s been a while since I last posted, and although at first it was because I was working on my new projects, as of late it had to do with a medical emergency regarding my partner. I don’t usually talk about him (I think I’ve mentioned him once or twice on my personal blog) but we’ve been together for a long time and last December I thought I was going to lose him.

It shook me hard, gang. And it’s only now that I feel more or less ready to open up about it, and take care of my socials while at it. The thing is, everything that went down has left us a bit uncertain about the future. So much so, I’ve been contemplating creating a Patreon.

It’s still too soon to tell, but I guess I wanted to let you all know in case someone is interested.

I’ve also written down a snapshot of December-January. Call it group therapy.

Hope everyone is doing fine, for my part I’m feeling better. Lots of hugs!

It’s 3 AM when I wake up. In the dark, something huge plummets from the sky like the blade of a guillotine falling in slow motion. A plane, I’m sure of it (I’m always sure of it) and it’s coming down to crash on my two-room home.

I stay motionless in bed, staring at the dark, my heart about to burst out of my chest, and I wait...

And I wait…

But the plane sails away, the baritone screaming of the blade following behind.

I don’t leave my bed until I can’t hear it anymore.

Later on, I tell my parents and grandma about it at lunch. “I feel like something bad is going to happen.”

“Something like what?”

“Dumbest answer? A plane is going to crash down on my house. Less dumb answer, el Flako is going to have a car accident.” A blade made out of a car roof or door, slashing the air, slicing through the tender flesh of his neck. His head flying out of the cabin of his truck, or falling on the passenger seat.

I laugh because at 1 PM it sounds stupid and I can almost wipe out the awful image of his headless body from my mind. My aphantasia is nowhere to be found whenever I picture the most horrific deaths of the people I love.

My mom gives me a blister pack of my grandma’s anxiolytics. “Take a quarter whenever those thoughts appear.”

When el Flako comes from work I tell him I can’t wait for December to end. When he asks me why that is, I tell him it’s a shit month and that everything bad always happens in December.

I take a quarter of a pill whenever I feel like bad news are around the corner. I’m jumpy. Car honks make my skin itch all over, a kid scream makes my heart race. It’s worse at dawn. Planes keep playing chicken with me.

It’s December 24 and el Flako and I spend christmas eve camping in front of the Río Talabera. We drink pear cider and beers while stargazing. No planes follow me here. I didn’t take my anxiolytics with me.

We travel back home. My dad is sitting out when we arrive. A single look at his face tells me something is very wrong. He looks old.

“What happened?” I ask.

“The water tank fell through your roof.”

It fell on grandma, I’m sure of it. “Is everyone alright?”

“Yes.”

Then why do you look like it killed someone? I want to ask. Instead I push, “For real?”

“Yes.”

My muscles relax. Yeah, it sucks. It’s the third water tank that gets obliterated—the first one burned down before we could even install it, the second one flew off the roof in the storm of December 17, 2023. This one was full, and a faulty base couldn’t withstand one tonne of water. Death by fire, air, and water; this shit is really starting to look like the avatar of water tanks.

It’s fine I tell myself, nobody is hurt, it could’ve been so much worse. Sure, it broke a more or less small part of my very new roof, but I’m sure we can fix it.

Innerly, I let out a sigh of relief. This is it. This is why I’ve been fearing something falling down on me. Case closed.

December ends in a week from now.

My anxiety drops for exactly 5 days.

It’s 5 AM on December the 30th andI’ve just sat on the toilet when my phone starts ringing. It’s el Flako’s brother. “Don’t fret,” he begins, “[el Flako] passed out at work. Another trucker called an ambulance and is with him at the hospital. I’m about to go see him.”

“Could you pick me up first?” I ask. If he can’t, I’m taking an uber, but he can.

We spend the entire hour-long trip to the hospital assuring each other el Flako is fine; he never has breakfast before going to work, not even mate or mate cocido. It has to be that. We purposely avoid discussing what his coworker said about el Flako being unable to speak, or stand by himself. Or how he couldn’t follow the paramedic’s instructions while on the ambulance.

When we finally arrive, we zip through rows and rows of tired, scared looking people waiting for news of their own relatives in the Emergency wing.

“There he is,” says el Flako’s brother, and I spin my head around waiting to see my life partner. Instead I see a late thirties, early forties guy sitting on a metal chair. He is rubbing his eyes.

He is crying.

He is not crying.

He is crying because el Flako is dead.

He is a coworker, not even a close one.

He turns to see us approach, and my stomach drops. He looks like my dad before he told me the water tank had taken a piece of my roof with it.

He stands up.

I can’t feel my legs.

He is crying. His eyes are red.

I feel like I’m walking on stilts, or like all my joints have fused together.

“Hey,” he says. They give each other a dap, and when he tries the same with me, I go for a greeting kiss. I always accept daps, but there’s only one thing in my mind at the moment.

Is he dead? I want to ask. “Is he awake?” I ask instead.

“Yes,” he replies. I think I say something, I think I give thanks to something—the universe, god, the devil—I’m not sure. I’m not religious but I was born in a catholic country and that stuff is hard to shake off. “The doctor wants to talk to a relative.”

“I go,” I say, and el Flako’s brother gives me the go ahead. I’m not el Flako’s relative, I am his partner. Our anniversary is in 2 months: 17 years since I asked him to be my boyfriend. But we aren’t married. His brother doesn’t mind, though; he isn’t married to the mother of his children either and they’ve been together for almost 20 years.

The doctor tells me el Flako had a brain hemorrhage. He asks me if el Flako takes drugs. No, he doesn’t. Does he drink? We had some wine last night, I say. The doctor looks confused.

“How old is he?”

“34,” I reply, and, “What is the worst case scenario?” Because my anxiety is killing me, and I need to know there’s a roof to all of this, a limit, something. I’m drowning in the middle of the sea here.

“Worst case scenario, he slips into a coma,” the doctor tells me.

Not death, my mind takes a hold of that fact like it’s a rope ladder someone threw at me from a helicopter.

And maybe because the doctor realizes I haven’t understood the severity of the situation, he adds, “It’s a lot of blood pushing against his brain. It’s shifted his longitudinal fissure—the ‘crack’ of the brain between the two cerebral hemispheres.”

The doctor tell us “relatives” to go in and talk to him. El Flako is awake, and the moment I see him it feels like I can breath again after having my head underwater. He says he’s fine, but half of his body lacks strength, he’s speaking as if drunk, and so low I have to lean in really close to hear him. His brother tells him to stay calm and that everything is going to be OK before leaving.

“You were right,” my life partner mutters. “About your gut feeling. Something bad did happen.” We laugh. We kiss. Then he is crying.

El Flako is a sensitive guy, but I haven’t seen him cry since we were in our teens and would have dumb fights which culminated in both of us crying. He is doing it now in that silent, tears sliding-down-your-cheeks way. He is scared. I am too, but I hug him and kiss him over and over again. “You are here with me,” I tell him. “You are alive and being taken care off. They got you just in time, don’t fret.”

I have to go. I don’t want to go. I don’t feel like myself when we are apart. We were 17 when we met and started dating, the same span of time we’re about to celebrate in our next anniversary.

I sit in the waiting room feeling like a gutted fish, hollowed up inside, like a carcass, like half of my soul is locked away. It sounds so dramatic, and I’m never been particularly romantic, but I swear there isn’t another way to properly describe it. I’m half-empty.

That first night I return home at around midnight. My mom brings me food and checks on me. I haven’t cried the entire day. I don’t cry with her in the room, but I do cry in the shower, and I cry harder when I get into bed.

Why him? Why? He is one of the most good-natured people I know. He doesn’t deserve this.

But who does? Life doesn’t work that way.

I fall asleep, but I don’t dream.

On the next 3 days we learn El Flako has an arteriovenous malformation, and that it can be treated with a procedure called a brain embolization. It costs 20.000 dollars, and I’m already thinking about asking for donations on this blog, but I don’t need to; his obra social* takes care of it.

They transfer him to their sanatorium that same day. The ambulance trip is uneventful, and while they take him to the ICU, I stay down in the lobby to fill in forms.

He spends the next 10 days in that room before the medical supplies arrive, and he can’t be more done with the situation by this point: all of his roommates are comatose, two of them pass away of horrifying injuries while he’s placed in there, the urinary catheter hurts him, he can’t have his phone with him and obviously he can’t watch TV in there. They keep sedating him, so every day I visit someone that looks like my Flako but is maybe half of the person I know. He wants out. I want him out of there too.

His neurosurgeon asks to speak with a relative before the procedure and I’m half-way to the elevators when I look back at el Flako’s parents. “Go ahead,” his mom tells me. The surgeon is so young, and he says the procedure should go well, but there’s always the possibility of rupturing an artery and leaving el Flako in a worse state. He’s been getting better ever since; the strength in his muscles is coming back, and he doesn’t speak slurring his words anymore, although the slight stutter he’s always have has worsen. “Any more bleeding is bad news for him,” the neurosurgeon tells me, “But if we don’t do it, you can be sure his brain will bleed again.”

I sign the papers.

“You can talk to him before we bring him here.”

I do just that.

“It is what I want,” el Flako tells me. “I’m tired of being coop up here.”

“Aren’t you worried?”

“No.” He thinks about it. “Can it go wrong?”

I wonder if I should lie, but only for a second. “Always. It’s a medical procedure. But if you don’t do it, then it will definitely bleed, and we will be back where we started.”

“Yeah.” He grabs my hand and I give it a tight squeeze.

They take him away. I’m incomplete again. I take half a pill.

I fall asleep in the waiting room. I don’t dream. I haven’t since December the 30th. I think the part that handles my dreaming sticks to him.

Four hours later, at half past 10 PM they call us up. I am waiting outside the operating room alongside el Flako’s dad. The neurosurgeon, steps out and offers both of us his hand to shake. “It was a success,” he says and I feel like I need a wider face just so I can smile a bigger smile. Then to me, he adds, “Everything I say could go wrong, didn’t. He’s just waking up from being under.”

He opens the door and I catch a glimpse of el Flako and the people in charge of keeping him alive and well. A group of five women and men get at the feet of his bed. “One, two, three,” they say before pushing it out of the room. I lost count of how many Thank yous I shoot their way, and they beam at me as they accept them.

El Flako is still dazed, but he holds up a hand when his dad and I wave enthusiastically at him. He doesn’t put it down even as the orderlies roll him into an elevator.

He is discharged from the sanatorium 2 days later. We get married a day after our 17th anniversary.

I’m dreaming again and I only take anxiolytics whenever it starts to feel too much like the last five minutes of a Nightmare on Elm Street movie. I guess that stuff won’t get magically fixed, but we’re taking it one day at a time.

*I can’t find the English translation for “the agency in your job that takes care of your hospital bills”. In Argentina it’s Obra Social, and every month they take a part of your payment so they can pay for your medical bills (and your partner’s and children’s) should you need it down the road.

[debilsposts]

Dumb long-ass hc time because my writer's block blocks me from writing

Jaytim, but no one really knows what their relationship status is anymore BECAUSE they act differently around each other every time depending on whether they’re wearing masks or not. 

1. Red Robin & Red Hood: Professional Rivals (and a disaster duo)

When RR and RH are together, the volume automatically goes up. They argue in briefings, in the middle of fights, over comms. Those two show up all suited up and everyone knows that it will take one tiny shove from RH or a comment from RR to start it. Or none of that – when someone is dumb enough to ask if they can act civil around each other. 

RH calls RR a “detective” in the most mocking tone ever. RR says that RH is clearly better fed than taught. 

When they’re on a mission together, it’s a competition –  Who takes down more guys? Who gets the last word? Who can piss off Batman faster?

RH threatens to kill RR at least once a week. RR dares him to try. 

2. Tim Drake & Jason Todd in Public: Pretending to be Normal (they are not normal, in fact!)

In public, Jason will hold the door open for Tim, but close it right in his face, too. Tim will bring Jason tea exactly how he likes it but take a sip first and dramatically gag. They insult each other constantly, but sometimes something too genuine slips out, and they both pretend not to notice.

Tim complains that Jason never comes to see him when he works, so Jason starts dropping by WE unannounced and sitting silently in Tim’s office, making eye contact but refusing to speak. Tim hates it. Jason loves it.

Bruce’s galas are a nightmare, even Dick’s acrobatics can’t make it more embarrassing for the big Bat. They are too flirty and no one knows what it means.

At some point, a clueless socialite always asks Tim, “Do you know that Jason Todd man?”

Tim: “Oh, we’ve met.”

Jason, walking by: “Barely. But yeah, we know each other.”

Tim: “Intimately.”

Jason chokes on his drink.

Jason waits until Tim has his own drink in hand, then deliberately bumps his elbow, making Tim spill it.

Tim subtly badmouths Jason to the rich snobs, saying things like, “He doesn’t even own a yacht. Can you believe that? I plan to give him one for his birthday, poor thing.”

SugarDaddyTim vibes

They kick each other on the shins under the table, but at the same time, they grin and tell stupid jokes. Bruce invites them less and less. 

3. Red Robin & Jason Todd (Civilian): Red Robin has a Jason problem

Tim is a little feral about Jason when he’s in costume. It’s not professionalism. It’s personal. 

Jason will take one step in Crime Alley, and Red Robin will be there like a demon summoned by bad life choices. AT THE SAME TIME Red Robin refuses to acknowledge Jason Todd as a vigilante. He acts like Jason is just a guy off the street who keeps showing up in his crime scenes. Oftentimes Jason is his primary suspect, and even Bruce is tired of it. 

Jason will be walking home with groceries when Red Robin lands dramatically in front of him.

Jason: “Unless you’re offering to carry my bags, move.”

RR: “Where were you an hour ago?”

Jason: “Buying milk???”

RR: “That’s what they all say.”

Jason: “I literally have the receipt???”

RR: “That proves nothing.”

Jason tweets that Red Robin fights like a girl. Next day, Spoiler, Oracle, Black Bat and Batwoman are waiting for him to have a little talk. 

4. Red Hood & Tim Drake (Civilian): The World’s Most Deranged Thirst Posting (Tim is also the most frequently kidnapped man alive)

Tim has made it his life’s mission to objectify Red Hood online

“Red Hood could snap me in half like a glowstick, and I’d say thank you.”

“I would let Red Hood throw me off a building. No hesitation.”

“You guys don’t understand. He’s so big. His thighs are so thick I want them to crush me. He’s so–”

Tim will also randomly start talking shit on Red Hood from his burner account. He’d post something like “Red Hood’s helmet is actually pink, I tried it on his photos. If you take an eyedropper and read the colors, it’s actually closer to pinky-orange than it is to red.” RH naturally answers him by telling to stfu because he’s being picky, and Tim writes back that this is how eyedropper actually works.

Tim posts blurry, unflattering photos of Red Hood mid-fight.

“Caught in 4K looking stupid.”

Jason hates it. He keeps trying to smash Tim’s phone.

Tim also loves spreading misinformation on purpose.

“Red Hood listens to MCR. I have no proof, but I have no doubts.”

Red Hood will kidnap Tim in the middle of any event chosen by Tim. He just has to text Hood in advance. RH will keep him for a few hours and return him slightly bruised, hair messy, clothes disheveled. Poor Tim must have been tortured, since his eyes are glossy as if he was crying, his neck and shoulders are covered in bruises, and his face is awfully red. 

When someone asks, he says that Red Hood is lame, and he could take him anytime (in a fight, right???)

EXTRA:

5. Tim Drake & Jason Todd when they’re alone: The Part That Matters

In private, Jason clings to Tim like a drowning man holding onto something solid. He buries his face in Tim’s throat, breathing in like he’s afraid of forgetting what he smells like. Tim doesn’t say anything, just cards his fingers through Jason’s hair, steady and slow, letting Jason take what he needs. He reads him a Jason’s books of choice sometimes. 

Jason puts his head on Tim’s chest when they cuddle, sometimes even holds his wrist – fingers pressing against his pulse, reassuring himself: Here. Alive. Breathing.

There’s no bark. No fighting. No masks, no Red Hood, no Red Robin.

Just Jason and Tim. Just the things they don’t have to show to the world.

[catslvrr]

hiding in plain sight

kim minji x fem!reader | one shot

Synopsis: Being stuck in an elevator is bad. Being stuck in an elevator with Minji, however, is very good.

Contains: mentions of drinking, cursing

Song: Glue Song — Beabadoobee, Clairo

You should’ve known that your laziness would come back to bite you in the ass one day.

“Alright,” Hanni huffs, readjusting her tote bag strap. “This is where we part ways.”

You shift weight onto your right foot to bump shoulders with her. “Are you sure? The offer still stands.”

“Very sure,” she laughs as she glances at the daunting stairs on the right. “Need these bad boys muscled up.”

Hanni attempts a bodybuilder pose to flaunt her calf muscles, but barely anything shows. It’s a sad display. Maybe she really does need it.

“Shame,” you sigh dejectedly. “I’ll convince you one day.”

Every day for two months. That’s how long Hanni has devoted herself to taking the stairs rather than the elevator. You’ve tried almost everything to convince her, from horror stories to bribery to threats.

“Hanni, just get in the fucking elevator,” you hiss, violently slamming on the ‘open doors’ button. It’s ten in the evening, both of you just got back from a grueling study session in the library, and you’re about to drop dead.

It’s just your luck that she’s your roommate. You forgot your keys to the apartment, and there is no way in hell that you’re waiting fifteen minutes for her to climb however many flights of stairs it takes to get to the room.

“Nuh-uh,” she sing-songs, performing a pirouette for absolutely no reason other than to rub salt in the wound. “It’s fun seeing you mad.”

You grit your teeth. “I will tell everyone that you were the one who killed Lucy.”

A gasp. “You wouldn’t!”

(It was a tragedy. Lucy was a dearly loved succulent who sat on a window sill at the end of the hallway. Every resident would visit Lucy from time to time, and there was even a Facebook page to upload pictures of Lucy and its growth.

On the fateful day, you and Hanni had just returned from a rowdy night out, and of course, both of you were a tad bit too drunk. You dared her to do a cartwheel and Lucy was unfortunately caught in the crossfire.

Somebody had posted a picture of Lucy, sprawled out on the carpet, pieces of the broken pot surrounding it. Word spread throughout the apartment and there was a solemn funeral held for Lucy. Justice was demanded but the true culprit was never found… because you were her alibi.)

“But I would,” you say with a smirk. At this point, you’re surprised the button isn’t broken yet. You’re also sorry for anyone else who’s waiting for the elevator on other floors.

“It was your fault in the first place!”

“Doesn’t matter. I’ve got video evidence.”

Hanni sags her shoulders in defeat. After a few seconds of thinking, she seems to perk up again.

“Tell them,” she declares defiantly. “It’s been months anyway. People deserve closure.”

She then marches toward the stairs. You hear the echoes of her stomping.

You see your confounded face in the reflection as the elevator doors close.

“Aren’t you the basketball player?” Hanni muses. “You should be jumping at the chance to get some cardio in.”

“I already went to the gym today,” you flex your bicep smugly and attempt a smoulder. “And I got practice later.”

“You look like a jackass,” she scoffs. “Don’t talk to me.”

She curtly turns and speedwalks to the stairs, the telltale sounds of heavy steps following soon after.

You reach for your headphones around your neck and belatedly realize that they’re missing. “Fuck!”

The steps stop. Hanni’s voice is booming down the stairwell. “What?”

“I think I left my headphones in class.”

Hanni spares you no sympathy and cackles as she continues up the stairs. “Loser!”

You groan and decide you’ll go and find it before practice later. You tap your foot impatiently as you wait for the elevator to arrive. It’s taking a bit longer than usual today. You take a few minutes to scroll on your phone for a bit before you hear a familiar ding.

The elevator doors open and you walk in, but as you turn around to press the button to your floor, you see a face you weren’t expecting to see.

“Minji?” You tilt your head as she steps inside.

Minji offers a small smile and an awkward wave.

If you remember correctly, she’s friends with Haerin, who’s your team’s mascot. It’s such a shame she didn’t try out for the team because her height is ideal for the sport. You already have Hyein as a center, but she could probably pass as a power forward if she trained for it.

You notice that Minji is wearing the bottom half of the bear mascot. “Is Haerin okay?”

“Yeah,” she scratches her cheek. “She’s feeling a bit under the weather so I’m taking over for tomorrow’s game. Figured I’d get some practice before then.”

You’re about to ask about how the practice went, but the way she slumps in exhaustion against the railing tells you everything. You take note of the glistening sweat on her neck and the strands of hair sticking to her skin. Her cheeks are flushed from the heat, but it gives her a faint glow that gets you bothered.

“Aren’t you hot?” You raise an eyebrow. “I tried that on once and I almost passed out after doing a backflip.”

Minji looks down at the bear costume and shakes her head hurriedly. “I’m almost home.”

“You’re fifth floor, right?”

A nod. You take her nonverbal response as a sign of discomfort, and so you stop your attempts at conversation.

There’s a few minutes of tense silence before a metallic screech pierces your ears. You both stumble as the elevator comes to an unexpected halt.

“What the fuck,” you say, squinting at the buttons and displays. You poke around for a bit before realizing that the elevator isn’t moving.

You turn around to check on Minji, but it doesn’t seem like she’s faring well. Her face is pale white and she’s tightly gripping onto the rails.

“Hey,” you take a small step toward her. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” she snaps her eyes shut and takes a deep breath. “Fine. Just a bit claustrophobic.”

You hesitantly place a hand on her shoulder and squeeze gently. “Just take your time and breathe, okay? I’ll contact emergency services.”

Minji nods again and sits down in the corner. You watch her worriedly before checking your phone. Of course, there’s no service. 

“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath. You click on the bright red emergency services button, expecting static or a voice to sound out, but there’s nothing. You press again. And again. You push and hold it for five seconds.

“Don’t panic,” you flash Minji with an awkward grin. “But it’s not working.”

“Oh God,” she blanches, and understandably begins to panic. “We’re gonna die.”

She stands up, still in the mascot costume, and paces around the elevator. “We’re going to run out of oxygen. We’ll suffocate to death. We’ll run out of food and die of starvation. No, we’ll die of dehydration before that. What if I need to pee?”

The costume makes the passionate rant all the more comical. Her rambling continues as she wrings her hands together. “I think I need to pee. The anxiety’s getting to me.”

You grimace. “Please don’t talk about pissing. It’ll make me wanna piss too.”

Minji’s still aggressively muttering to herself in blind terror, so you stop her by grabbing her arm. “Hey, relax.”

That only seems to worsen her agitation as she yanks her body away from you, her face burning red as she almost elbows you in the face. She squeaks, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to–”

“It’s okay,” you wave it off with a laugh and squeeze her hand. It’s soft. “You’re lucky you didn’t damage this pretty face.”

In this brief flustered state, Minji temporarily forgets about the panic and slides down to the floor like Jello. You squat down to meet her eye level. 

“Seriously though, it’ll be fine. The elevator has air vents so we’ll get enough circulation in here. And we’ll only be in here half an hour max. And about the pissing…” you trail off and take a quick peek at your duffle bag. “I have a bottle?”

Minji doesn’t reply, head in her hands. You make yourself comfortable and sit cross-legged opposite her.

“Will anyone notice you’re missing?”

“No,” she mumbles dejectedly.

Well, shit. Hanni probably thinks you’ve gone to find your headphones. “We might be here for more than an hour then.”

You clear your throat to break the awkward silence that ensues after. “How come I’ve never seen you around? We’re in the same year, right?”

“Our courses are in different buildings,” Minji says weakly. “My psych classes are far from the engineering buildings.”

“You already know what course I do?” You grin cheekily. “You must be a big fan.”

Minji hastily lifts her face, showcasing a burning blush. “No! I just… heard it from Haerin, that’s all.”

Your grin only widens. Like Haerin would ever talk about the team. She’s only there for the free post-game feeds. You choose to feign ignorance for her sake.

“You should take that off,” you suggest, noticing how Minji is uncomfortably squirming in the costume. “I’ll help with the zipper.”

“Okay,” Minji stammers, scrambling to get up on her feet.

You brush away some of her hair that’s covering the zipper and move it over her shoulder. Your fingers briefly brush over her neck, and all you can feel is how she’s burning hot. Minji almost imperceptibly shivers and jolts forward, choking on air. You pull the zipper down and watch with mirth as she clumsily wrestles out of the costume.

Minji stuffs it in her backpack and flops back down, hugging her backpack in her lap. You follow suit and sit a few inches away from her.

“Much better?”

She nods, still avoiding your gaze. You bite your cheek as you stare at her, trying to figure out a way to make conversation. You decide to fish your phone out of your pocket and pull up a recording of your last game, flashing her your screen as you pat the empty space next to you. “You wanna watch?”

Minji hesitates for a few seconds before shuffling closer. Her voice is small as she admits, “I was watching this game on the sidelines.”

You’re filled with a sense of pride at the news. But you also make a mental note to ponder on why you haven’t noticed her around before. “Really?”

“It’s not because of you or anything,” she adamantly denies, rubbing her nape, though you feel like her red cheeks contradict that.

“Anyone catch your eye?”

Her denial is half-hearted.

You pout teasingly. “Shame. I’ll play better next game.”

You save Minji from further embarrassment and press play. “You know how basketball works, right?”

“Each team has five players on the court… and the ball goes in the hoop?” Minji frowns.

“And?”

“And… you can’t run with the ball.”

“Basically,” you chuckle. “But there’s more to it.”

You rewind the video back to the beginning. “I hope you don’t mind me commentating.”

She shakes her head, and so you continue. “So this is one of the simplest plays in basketball: a pick and roll…”

You eventually finish the video and end up versing each other on the table hockey app on your phone. She’s surprisingly competitive and it’s endearing. You then somehow end up talking about card games, and you introduce her to the world of Inscryption through a gameplay video.

Halfway through the video, you feel a sudden weight on your shoulder. You crane your neck slightly and see Minji’s sleeping face. You smile and continue watching until you slowly drift off to sleep as well.

You’re both awoken with a sudden thud. Minji practically springs off of you and profusely apologizes, much to your amusement. You look up to see a firefighter opening the emergency escape hatch.

“You ladies alright?”

“Yes sir,” you drawl, checking your phone. “It’s just been two hours, no biggie.”

A ladder is dropped from the hatch and you both climb up, stretching your limbs as you stand on top of the elevator.

“This is so sick,” you pose as you take selfies. “I feel like I’m in some action movie.”

You tilt your phone to include Minji in the photos, and you laugh because she looks like she’s being held hostage.

The two of you are harnessed on some rope and pulled up by firefighters to safety. You’re shocked to see Haerin and Hanni there waiting. Hanni practically storms toward you and latches herself onto you like a koala, crying dramatically about your disappearance. You thank the firefighters as they pack up their equipment and begin to disperse.

“Hey Haerin,” you greet her with a strained voice, trying to peel Hanni off you. “You feeling better?”

“No,” she replies nasally. There’s a tissue stuffed in her right nostril. “But I’ll be there next game.”

You gift her with a slap on the back which earns you one in return, and you curse under your breath because she definitely hit you harder than you hit her. You ignore the stinging pain and swivel to meet Minji’s gaze that is already on you.

“Keep an eye on me next game?” You ask nonchalantly, but you must admit there’s a small part of you that twinges with hope. “I’ll play super duper good for you.”

Minji’s eyes widen in surprise before timidly answering with a stutter, “I will.”

“I’ll see you then!” You leave her with a side hug (where she awkwardly pats your back) before approaching Hanni. She gives you an eyebrow wiggle that you roll your eyes to in response. She is a hundred percent going to interrogate you at home. Both of you start the long climb to the apartment.

“Karma’s a bitch,” Hanni says obnoxiously. “That’s what you get for not taking the stairs.”

“Shut up JoJo Siwa,” you glower at her, but a lame grin graces your face when you remember your time spent with Minji. “I’d say it was a good thing.”

“Ew,” she gags. “Wipe that dopey smile off your face.”

You abruptly stop and grab Hanni’s arm. She turns around in confusion and sees your aghast expression. “What?”

“I missed practice. Yujin is gonna kill me.”

Tomorrow comes quicker than you expected, and you’re buzzing with nerves as you warm up on the sidelines. It’s not an important game, but your hands tremble a bit more today. You scan the court for a certain someone.

Danielle throws you a Gatorade. “Who are you looking for?”

“No one,” you blurt out a bit too quickly. You take a swig from the bottle to wash away your anxiety as you seat yourself on a bench.

“You sure?” Danielle quips with a knowing smile. “You’re shaking.”

You slam the bottle on the bench to shut down her jest. 

“Shouldn’t you be with Hyein?” You scowl as you shoo her away. “Go be a supportive friend and give her some encouraging words or something.”

Any lingering embarrassment flies out the window when you spot a big bear entering the building. You wave her over and laugh as she trips over someone’s stranded bag.

“Hi,” you smile.

You can barely hear Minji’s muffled voice through the head. “Hi.”

Your smile twitches as Hyein and Danielle appear behind Minji and start pulling childish faces. Your glare and subtle middle finger sends them away. “Wish me luck?”

The referee whistles as a signal for players to get on the court. Minji gives an awkward thumbs up, so you accept the fact that you have to initiate contact. You lean forward and kiss the stupid bear head. It’s a bit weird, but it’s worth it because you hear Minji’s breath hitch. 

She runs away promptly after. The game starts and you’ve never felt so motivated in your life.

The other team is irritatingly good at three-pointers, but your team’s size provides you with a solid advantage; you’re able to fight back through rebounding and shots inside the paint.

Your teammates are a bit puzzled at first when you keep hogging the ball and taking contested shots, but they’re not mad because you’re making them. The bewilderment quickly turns to disbelief when they realize you keep looking at the mascot after every shot.

“You’re so annoying,” Yujin grumbles during the half-time break. “This is not High School Musical.”

“Stop complaining, grandma.” You can feel your muscles ache from the overexertion, but the goal of impressing Minji takes priority. “We’re up by 20.”

“I think it’s cute!” Hyein interjects with an encouraging pinch of your cheek. “I can’t see Minji’s face but I bet she’s in love.”

Everyone turns as they hear a loud smack that resonates throughout the building. Minji’s sprawled on the floor after a failed backflip.

“She’s so cute,” you giggle, disregarding your teammate’s exasperated groans and mock punches.

The rest of the game is a breeze, but there are a few frustrating turnovers here and there that shorten the lead to nine when the final whistle blows.

You slither away from the team huddle and plop yourself down next to Minji. She’s gulping down water at a scarily excessive pace. You wait for her as she squeezes every last drop from the bottle and lets out a big wheeze afterwards.

“Tired?”

Minji nods and gratefully accepts the towel. You admire her as she wipes sweat off her neck and face.

“So,” you chirp. “How was the game?”

“You did really well,” she admits meekly.

Your chest puffs up at the praise. “So you’ll be watching from the front row for all my games from now on? I wanna see you.”

Minji’s taken aback by your forwardness, but nods shyly.

You’re still bouncing with adrenaline. “Did you see that and-one layup I made? And the no-look pass? And the—”

You stop rambling as you realize Minji’s not responding and spacing out. More specifically, spacing out and staring at your lips.

“Kiss me,” you say.

Minji literally jumps on the spot and almost screams, “What?”

“Kiss me,” you say again simply. “You want to and I want to. What’s stopping you?”

She audibly gulps and averts her gaze to hide her dilated pupils. “No, I was just distracted by something else, really…”

You roll your eyes and tug on the collar of the mascot costume to pull her in for a kiss. You feel her whole body stiffen and she makes a strangled noise, but then she melts and kisses you back for a few seconds before you pull away.

“Your lips are soft,” you smile casually, but you can feel the hammering of your heart.

“Thanks,” Minji’s voice wavers. “You too.”

“I like you,” you continue. “We should go on a date.”

“Really?” She stumbles over her words, still slightly dazed. “Are you sure?”

You hum in affirmation.

“Okay,” she squeaks.

“Okay,” you repeat with a smile. You stand up and take her hand to pull her up as well. “Let’s go eat. The team is probably waiting for us outside.”

“Wait!” She yanks you back. “Let me get out of this costume first…”

“Do you need help with the zipper again?”

“…Yes please.”

Dedicated to user rosiehrs... hope this minji was 'loser' enough for you

[artdcnaldson]

aannnyyywwaayyyyy! patrick training your ass but totally not because he has this mental image of him fucking you from behind while art gets your pussy! blame the porno he stumbled upon!

and if we're on the topic! he may have also seen where a girl held two dicks together and tried her best to suck them at the same time. not that he WANTS to be that close to art's dick, totally not the case, but he's just saying he'd be down if YOU'RE down that's all.

Rating: E (18+)

Warnings: SMUT (assplay, anal sex, sex toys, general debauchery)

A/N: Your mind consistently amazes me 🩷🫡 I did NOT edit this I just blacked out while I wrote this then hit send <3

It started when you mentioned Art for the first time.

“I used to have the biggest crush on him,” you said with a grin. You’d been scrolling through Patrick’s Facebook— giving him shit for all the lame things he’d posted in the oughts (and, yeah, after). “Can’t believe that’s your friend.”

You stopped on a picture of the two of them from ‘06, posing with their doubles trophies.

“Well, if you want him that, I can set the two of you up. I’m sure he’d love to meet a groupie. Maybe you could show him just how big of a fan you really are,” he teased, nipping at the exposed skin of your throat.

You laughed and shook your head. “No! Not unless you were joining too.”

It flipped a fucking switch in him, to say the least.

Suddenly, his old-faithful porn vids, saved to his camera roll like a goddamn caveman, did nothing. He found himself scouring through any porn site he could find for threesomes, of which there were fucking plenty. And lots of ways he could imagine sharing you with Art.

You were on all fours while his cock pistoned in and out of you— back arched tantalizingly, ass rippling with each thrust. He tried to be casual about it. “Has anyone ever fucked your ass before?” Subtlety had never been a strong suit.

You’d gone all shy, hiding your face in your arms as you answered no, not yet. Yet being the operating word. He grinned, satisfied by your answer.

His thumb brushed over your rim, making your toes curl at the barest touch. You were so fucking sensitive and so fucking sweet that it would probably kill him, one day.

“You gonna let me do it someday?” He asked, lips twisted into a smirk. Your response was muffled where you hid your face. He grabbed a fistful of your hair, tugging you up slightly. “Couldn’t hear you, baby. Speak up for me.”

A whine escaped you as you nodded. “Yeah, want you to.” When he dropped his grip on your hair, your face fell back into the sheets.

He moved his thumb and spit onto your hole. You cried out as his cock bullied deep inside of your cunt— he could feel your walls clenching around him, could feel how close you were.

“Don’t be lazy, honey. Rub your clit for me, okay? I’m busy.”

You did as he said— pretty manicured nails between your thighs and rubbed at your clit as he fucked into you. His thumb circled your rim, slick with his spit as he pushed his fingertip within you and let his thumb sink into your your tight hole.

The moan that burst out of you as you came was the sexiest goddamn thing he’d ever heard. The feeling of your ass tightening around his finger as you came, feet kicking helplessly as he fucked you through it… he didn’t think he’d ever come harder than that moment.

And Patrick was a fucking degenerate— a dog with a bone— so the next time he got a chance he fucking took it.

He ate your pussy messily— making out with your cunt the same hungry way he kissed. A mess of tongue and spit that left you dizzy and begging more often than not.

Your thighs tightened, squeezing around his head the first time he let himself wander, tongue just barely teasing your ass.

“Fuck! Patrick—“ you cried out, burning hot with embarrassment and arousal from head to toe.

“Just lemme…” he trailed off, using his big hands to spread your legs for him. “Just take it, honey.”

His tongue pressed against your hole, lapping at you messily as your needy cunt spasmed around nothing, craving attention. His nose glistened with your arousal as he buried his face in you, relishing in the squeaks of pleasure you were emitting.

He sat up and grabbed blindly for the lube he kept in his bedside table— half empty and sticky. He coated his fingers in it, warming it up before his middle finger probed at your asshole.

“Relax for me, baby,” he cooed, his voice so sickeningly sweet you wanted to kick him. “Let me in.”

He watched you shakily exhale, letting your body adapt as his finger sunk into the tight heat of you. You moaned, low and breathy as he began working his finger in and out slowly.

“Fuck, there you go,” his words came out on a waver, his voice cracking slightly as he felt you tighten around his finger. “Feels good? You need more?”

You nodded quickly, meeting his gaze with a needy sort of hunger. “Mhmm, feels good,” you practically slurred. “Need more.”

The cutest fucking echo he’d ever heard.

He smiled and let his pointer finger press against your rim, stretching you as he slowly pushed in. You moaned softly, thighs falling open as you relaxed into it. He felt your body accepting the intrusion, sucking him in.

“How’s it feel?” He asked. He pressed a soft kiss to the inside of your knee.

“Full,” was all you could manage. You rocked your hips slightly, grinding against his fingers.

He grinned. “This is just two fingers, baby. How are you gonna take all of me, huh?” He grinned down at you, scissoring his fingers slightly just to watch the way your cunt clenched in response.

His thumb moved on your clit, and it took barely any attention to the nub for you to come for him, leaking slick arousal that he eagerly lapped from your neglected pussy as you squirmed beneath him.

Poor thing, you really needed both of your holes filled.

And you were so eager to let him try. A pretty little plaything whose eyes lit up at his filthiest whims.

“This is embarrassing,” you mumbled the next time it came up. You were on your hands and knees, pouting back at him as he lubed up one of your toys— a clear pink dildo that you’d used plenty before he rendered it obsolete.

He squeezed more lube onto his fingers and gingerly fucked your ass with them to get you all warmed up. It wasn’t lost on him how easy it had gotten since that first time, the way your body wanted him in any hole he could take.

“Don’t wanna hurt you, honey,” he said, watching as your cunt dripped a thin string of arousal onto the sheets as he gave a particularly deep thrust of his fingers. Jesus, you were fucking perfect. “Can’t jump straight to the real thing, you’re too delicate, baby.”

You whined, pouting even as you backed yourself against his fingers, toes curling as he added a third finger.

“Fuck, Patrick,” you gasped, fingers clawing into the sheets. He waited until you were gagging for it— pussy smeared with your own arousal, grinding back against his fingers with desperate need. He withdrew his fingers and smiled at the pathetic whimper you left out.

“‘S okay,” he cooed. He slicked up the dildo with lube once more before he pressed the tip of it against your ass. It was a stretch— beyond the three fingers Patrick had prepped you with— but you took it eagerly.

He thrust it inside slowly— inch by inch by inch until it was sheathed inside of you fully. You let out the prettiest moan, panting where your face was pressed against the sheets.

Patrick thought you’d never looked sexier— lips glossy with spit, practically drooling onto the bed. Arched up so perfectly to take whatever he could give you. He was so fucking hard he could barely think.

“How’s that?” He asked, voice breathy.

All you could manage was an eager nod— an encouragement, a plea for more. He began thrusting the toy inside of you, relishing in your pretty, fucked-out moans. Your eyes rolled back and your cunt ached with need for stimulation.

You were panting and whining with need, slick and wet down your thighs. “Need you,” you gasped, eyes shining with crocodile tears. “Wanna feel full.”

And, Jesus, he really couldn’t deny you. He thrust the toy fully inside of you, holding it there as he lined himself up with your dripping cunt.

It was nothing short of a miracle that he didn’t cum the second he bottomed out within you. You were so fucking tight that he could hardly move, wasn’t sure if he could even risk it without cumming in a pathetically short amount of time.

He brushed your hair from your eyes, found them glossy, lust-hazed. “Feels so good. So fucking tight around me. You’re so good.”

You rocked your hips back slightly, moaning at the smallest amount of friction.

“Fuck, gonna move for you, okay?” He thrust slowly, testing the waters. The moans both of you let out were pornographic. You were so wet that the sound of Patrick fucking into you made heat flood your cheeks. As you grew closer and closer, your legs gave out on you and Patrick had to hold you in place as he fucked you.

Each thrust made stars dance in your vision. You could hardly manage anything except moans of his name and cries for more. All you could do was just lie there and take it.

But he liked you like that— so needy and cockdrunk that you let yourself get used.

“Cumming—“ you cried out suddenly. Your cunt spasmed around him, squeezing like a vise. He only managed a few final thrusts before he was spilling deep inside of you.

You whimpered at the loss of him within you, then again as he eased the toy from your ass. Your body was sticky with cum, lube and sweat. Patrick laid on top of you, peppering kisses onto your back and shoulders.

“I want a bath,” you murmured lazily against the bedsheets.

“I want a million dollars,” he hummed, kissing the spot between your shoulder blades.

You laughed softly, rolling your eyes. “Fuck off.”

ME? Writing ANAL??? Less likely than you think!!! But anything for my pookie wookie 🫶🩷

[jimblejamblewritings]

On Wyll and Astarion

This is actually not going to be about fandom racism in regards to Wyll or a content comparison (although those are very valid posts that should always be looked at). I was thinking about why in canon of the game, no matter what some people insist, Astarion and Wyll hit it off right away and are very good companions. Like they should have a constant distaste of each other as monster vs monster hunter but they don't.

I think it's because Astarion sees his mortal self in Wyll and Wyll very quickly understands how Astarion became the person he is today because it's a path Wyll is starting to go down. Follow me...

I don't think Astarion was a corrupt magistrate. Personally, even if a particular scene involving Ansur didn't lend evidence to my thought, I would still think this. Corrupt magistrate becomes monster and learns better after being abused is so boring. Tired trope, yawn, next. I think it's compelling if Astarion did his job perfectly. Not that he was a good person -- he's perfectly normal in his mortal life, not too good and righteous but not bad either. And that's the problem.

Astarion as a magistrate refuses to let his personal anecdotes, life experience, or bias enter his courtroom. He's there to administer the law and that is all he will do to a fault. He cannot be swayed by anything even when he probably should. If it is against the law then it is against the law. He will dole out the proper punishment and that is that. If you want to appeal then you do it through the proper legal system and he will hear you out because that's his job. But he doesn't want to hear anything outside of that.

(more below the cut)

You stole bread to feed your family? Petty theft and not malicious, pay a fine or spend a few days in jail. You broke something in someone's store but can prove it was an accident? Buy the broken item and the store owner needs to get out of his court. You think someone stole your customers through defamation of your business? No proof, no witnesses, then he doesn't care if your ledgers show a significant drop right when the other business opened. A follower of the law so rigidly that it's a fault.

However, in most cases, people that come into his court simply complain and move on because he's never been corrupt. Until the Gur and Cazador. The Gur have been noticing their children going missing and have great reason to believe it's Cazador. (Astarion isn't Cazador's first spawn but one of his firsts so probably the 2nd or 3rd spawn created so all the children being taken are from the one or two spawn created before him).

Astarion agrees to listen to their case because missing children is a big deal. Both the Gur and Cazador are in court but Astarion doesn't give a shit about the tense courtroom, he will have decorum and they will get to the bottom of this. But there simply isn't enough proof that it is Cazador. There's not really any proof aside from the missing children. Astarion won't simply dismiss the case because there are still missing people but he won't call for the arrest of Cazador either. He tells the Gur to come back with stronger proof of either Cazador or the real criminal if not him and he will listen. He tells Cazador that he isn't off the hook just yet but not about the Gur... about potentially incorrectly filed ledgers.

Cazador knows between the Gur on his trail and Astarion's intense way of being a magistrate that he might get caught. But he knows how to kill multiple birds with one stone. He needs to be rid of the Gur on his trail in court, he needs to stop any looking into his ledgers, he needs Astarion gone, he also needs a new spawn now to continue his ascending plans and -- well -- Astarion happens to be a very pretty elf.

So, Cazador lets one Gur child go. Except they're enthralled. They tell the Gur all the lies Cazador wants them to believe, including that Astarion is being paid off to hide the crimes of who stole them. The Gur know where Astarion lives. It's not exactly a secret because he has no need to keep it a secret. So they attack him for what they (understandably) believe he has done. They leave him for dead in his home and get out before anyone can notice and send for city guards. They're sure he'll bleed out with how badly they mangled him.

That never happens. Cazador was simply a street away, waiting for them to leave. He needs Astarion to invite him in to turn him. But in the elf's state of delirium from the attack and the bloodlust, he doesn't even register how it's suspicious that Cazador doesn't just help him right away but has to ask can he come in and help him. Astarion unknowingly invites him in and invites the bite. This also colors why he's so rude about the Gur. Yeah, it's a bias and a prejudice because as far as he knows, they jumped him for nothing and are horrible people.

Fast forward through the years of abuse and lack of autonomy all the way up until the nautiloid. Astarion has learned that following the law exactly got him in this mess. Being a good person isn't real because good people (like Cazador who saved him) always want something and will turn bad in the end. Not a single god, good or evil, cared to help him so he should stop praying. And punishments don't always fit the crime -- down to the fact that some people get punished for a crime they never committed -- therefore all criminals should be punished to the highest degree to deter them and others.

When he meets Wyll, the only thing he can see is an idealistic version of his mortal self. Wyll is so determined to bring justice, serve the law to criminals. While Wyll is more into the good and heroic of it, they both had the same goals. Except Astarion already knows how that ended. Yet, Wyll is so sure of himself and optimistic that Astarion can't help but like him even if he no longer believes in any of those things.

Then we have Wyll who we already know has similar views to mortal Astarion. And in real time, we see Wyll learn the same lesson Astarion did all those years ago in regards to Karlach. Really, Wyll learned this lesson awhile ago when his dad cast him out but he was so young and didn't see it as such. But in reality: Mizora is his Cazador. His Dad is his Gur. And becoming a tiefling/devil in looks is his vampirism.

Wyll's entire world view is shattered when he spares Karlach. He understands Astarion now. But also, a beauty of it is that Wyll will never get as dark in his thoughts as Astarion because he has the vampire. He sees Astarion improve and start to somewhat believe in his old mortal view through this adventure with their companions who are trying their best. He sees Astarion accept that good does exist in the world every time Tav/Resist!Durge refuses to give up on him. And Wyll knows that it means he's right. Good and heroism does exist and because of that Wyll can start to accept the shit that happened to him because he already has confirmation that he'll be fine and make it out in the end.

And I really like that so many of the companions are mirrors to each other or puzzle pieces for each other. The way Wyll and Astarion work is one of my favorite companion mirroring.

[witherby]

Omg hi!!! I love your mer!reader series and I was wondering if you take request? If so could you do batfamily headcanons in squid game? (You don't have to of course.) I just finished season 2 and im really excited for season 3.

Love you and keep writing❤️

Hi there! I can sure try!!! I only ever saw season 1 and that was like two years ago but I'll do my best!

( This is operating off the assumption that they are not all in the game together, otherwise they'd all make it out very easily. )

BRUCE WAYNE:

He's killing it. Not literally — moral code and all — but he's crushing this competition. Bruce Wayne's picture is in the dictionary when you look up "Strategist." He got into the games voluntarily and he will get back out alive, no question. He's doing what he can to help other players survive, but he didn't go in as Batman so he doesn't have any of the gear to help as effectively as he could've. He's gotta play it creatively and in a way that doesn't get him or anybody else disqualified for cheating. It doesn't take long for him to find any loop holes in game rules that allow for multiple people to get out of it alive.

Bruce entered the games, not for money, but to find out who is behind them and bring them to justice, so that no other financially disparaged people have to consider putting their lives on the line in order to clear their debts and start fresh.

DICK GRAYSON:

I feel like he didn't end up here on purpose. I really think he either signed up for something and thought it was a silly lil competition, or that the organizers of the game kidnapped the wrong guy and Dick just went with it because he had nothing better to do. Either way, he's here, he's intrigued, and he's gonna save everybody he can while keeping your spirits up.

The jokes never stop. He never stops. Motormouth is what the other contestants end up calling him. Dick makes one of the masked guards snicker once before they get whisked away, and that does make him feel quite a bit bad. Dick's not immediately looking to destroy the system from the inside out (he'll come back and do that after the games are over). Instead, I think his goal would be to convince all the surviving players that they should vote to end the games and go back home. He'd try to be their voice of reason, to convince them that there are better ways to pick themselves up and rebuild their lives than risking death just to get some fast cash. And I think it works.

TIM DRAKE:

Tim is the opposite of Dick. He was not invited to play but he did deliberately steal another contestant's spot to get put into the game. Like Bruce, he's already out-logic'd most of the competitions to create the most amount of survivors, but he also came prepared. The deadliest competitions are suddenly sabotaged not to be as deadly, or not to work at all. Hidden weapons being offered to other players to start a riot and dwindle the numbers have all suddenly been replaced with soft foam bats and nerf guns.

He already knows who's behind the whole thing, he just needed an in so he could tear it all down quickly and cleanly. When Tim is done, he'll be missing for 48 hours at the absolute max, and leaving that place with justice done and a huge, smug smirk on his face. What, like it was hard?

DAMIAN WAYNE:

Damian is tough. I think he caught wind of the whole operation and went undercover as one of those masked game monitors/referees so he could also dismantle it from within, but with less computer hacking and sabotage, and more slashing. I think this method works best as early Damian, who has barely been introduced to his dad for like a week, before he just drops off the face of the planet for a couple days and comes back blood-soaked.

"Hello, father. That suspicious money scheme you had your eyes on? I solved the problem. What do you mean, what am I covered in? Would you believe me if I told you it was ketchup? By the way, your No Killing rule is stupid."

JASON TODD:

Post-resurrection, he's not doing anything with any subtlety. At least Damian took the time to work his way in with a disguise. Red Hood is finding out where the whole shindig is taking place, gathering a crew, kicking doors down, and setting it ablaze. He doesn't have time for games, and the longer he waits to act the more innocent people are dying. He shoots the giant money ball down and lets the players collect it freely, tells them how to leave, and peaces out without looking back. In and out, job done, on to the next one.

[alllgator-blood]

Okay I promise my next post will be the angst comic part 4 but FIRST. THE ONE AND ONLY THING I SHIP

LITERALLY THE SECOND PERSON WHO GUESSED THE PAIRING GOT IT CORRECT??? THAT WAS FAST. This is a situation where I have to go "okay hear me out" because it makes 0 sense to anyone but me. This is really long and very dependent on my au comic nobody but me has read, but the TL;DR is:

I feel like they'd be a good pairing because shamura loves to learn but doesn't care about material goods, and mystic seller is used to all gods talking to them only BECAUSE they offer material goods. So when somebody actually wanted to know about *them* personally and what it's like to be a weird angel thing, the two established a bond. Also they're both agender and most likely asexual AND don't seem to be socially aware despite being ancient wise beings that know seemingly everything, so they understood each other like instantly.

I have a lot of sketches of them hanging out but here's a shitpost sketch thing I made AAAAAGES ago

Okay so from an in-game standpoint, mystic seller pops up to tell you how the post-game works with purgatory and all that, and introduces the purged bosses. Really ratau could've done that as the established Tutorial Guy, or even narinder but there IS the chance that you killed both of them (lol) so mystic seller is the unkillable, all-knowing angel that shows up to say "you suck at killing people. The bishops are trapped in purgatory, you know. You should probably do something about that".

But from like a CHARACTER standpoint what do they stand to gain? They're not even from your dimension so why should they care, they're just here for your god tears? From the dialogue about the bishops we can see that they don't really give a shit about any of them, EXCEPT! SHAMURA? Mystic seller doesn't feel emotions like "our kind" does but one of the only times they do, it's to say it's a shame what happened to shamura. They also say they didn't barter with them much, because they "needed little".

SO THAT HAD ME THINKING. My au comic (which is hundreds of sketched panels and the full thing will never see the light of day unless I post it unfinished. Eugh) is about shamura going around chronicling everything they witnessed during the time they were alive, and they notice everyone is like...selfish. Trying to be the last god standing. Really obsessed with trinkets and charms, so some of the gods just go around harvesting relics from the other gods and using their powers to survive a little longer. Shamura has visions of the future of siblings they don't know they have yet, so they try to be friendly with the rest of the pantheon to form a family and it always bites them in the ass, so they have to kill them.

Eventually they end up with all these fuckin god tears and they're thinking "what do I even do with these? Nobody wants them and everyone has them", and BOOM. MYSTIC SELLER JUMPSCARE. They do the whole introduction where they say they have loot in exchange for god tears, shamura just drops off the tears and is like "I don't care about trinkets, bye" and the seller is like. What Thy Fuck. Because every other god is pretty adamant on getting something good in exchange for the tears. So they call them back and ask if there's ANYTHING at all they want. And shamura, being the self-proclaimed wisdom god, just asks the seller to talk about themself for a while, who's just like okkaaayyy?? Nobody else ever asked what it's like to be a bizarre circle headed angelic creature that collects magical bits and pieces, but shamura LOVES to learn, and the two bonded that way. Shamura would bring the mystic seller god tears, the seller would tell them a story, they'd write it down to put in their archives and the conversations eventually got more personal when the stories started to run out. They both realized they don't understand how other people work, but they knew how *each other* worked so they could kinda learn how to function as normal people with each other's observations.

When I say I ship them I mostly mean like a QPP situation because I think they'd be good partners in the most autistic asexual way possible, where they don't make out sloppy style or outright say "I love you", but they have an understanding of one another that doesn't apply to anyone else really. They don't have to rely on conventional relationship stuff to know the other one cares deeply for them in the most nonverbal, oddly specific way possible. I know shamura's the smart one but I really feel like that extends to everything except understanding how people work, hence all the stuff that happened with narinder and the rest of the family. So finding someone else outside the pantheon who is quite literally inhuman, otherworldly, genderless and uninterested in Carnal Desire would definitely make them feel the closest thing to romantic love that they can. Also, since mystic seller lets the gods name them, shamura named them "sunshine" after hearing one of their followers singing that "you are my sunshine" song to the person they loved the most. I always liked how shamura has their little moon crown and the mystic seller is depicted as the sun in some of the art? They go together well is what I'm saying and I'm kinda surprised nobody has done anything of them yet.

I WILL SAY I have angst planned for them once I do the introductory comics, it has to do with how narinder's imprisonment happened literally right in front of where mystic seller sets up shop, so canonically it's safe to assume they watched shamura get lobotomized in real time :')

But for now...I must go back to kallamar angst cause I've been putting off posting this part. It gets very mentally ill very quickly so I needed to balance it out with fluff......

[a-babe-without-a-name]

Sit Next To Me

Chapter 8: Happy Halloween, By The Way.

You had created two rules for yourself.

Rule One: You could do whatever you wanted. Get the degree you want, party when you want, cancel plans when you want, love who you want. Whatever you really wanted to do, you were going to do, anxiety and guilt free.

Rule Two: You could do whatever you wanted, except for have relationships with classmates. No sex, no dating. If they were on the same course roster as you, they were off limits.

Easy enough, right?

…Right?

Viktor x Female!Reader - 18+

A.N. Sorry for the long wait! Been busy, but I really really love this chapter. Slight content warnings on Ao3. Also! If you haven't heard, Nat made a discord server for all of us Viktor Freaks to chat, here is the link to the post. Join us! It's fun :) (18+ only)

Fic Playlist Here

Read on AO3

The days only got colder. Every morning Viktor could feel the pressure dropping. The ache in his joints forcing him to lie in bed just a little longer with each passing day. He knew he should be used to how the weather affected his body, yet still he was never really prepared for winter. In his defense, there really wasn’t much he could do aside from upping his meds and scheduling more frequent steroid injections. So, in the winter he suffered a little more than during the rest of the year, and vowed to move somewhere that would never drop below 7℃ as soon as he could. 

Viktor flexed his calf, testing his pain level before lifting it off of the pillow he kept under his knee while he slept. Luckily, not bad today. It was going to be a long one, and he was glad he had the foresight to take extra care yesterday. Using his sturdiest crutch, keeping himself hydrated on something other than coffee, and even making time to do the P.T. that he tends to let fall to the wayside. With a groan he sat up, pulling his legs into a butterfly position and leaning forward. The back of his hip gave a pop as he stretched and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. Across the room, Rio was slithering up the side of her tank, bumping her nose against the glass. Viktor laughed softly as he finally stepped out of bed, slipping his glasses on before stretching his arms up over his head one last time.

“Dobré ráno, Rio,” He padded over to her tank, crouching down to look at her closer, “Nemáš hlad?”

After pulling on a pair of sweatpants and a -maybe clean- t shirt, Viktor made his way out to the kitchen. Cait and Vi were sitting at the kitchen bar, sharing a plate of eggs. Today's newspaper was opened in front of Cait, the comic page pulled and handed over to Vi. Jayce was leaning against the counter, arms crossed and eyes closed as he waited for coffee to finish brewing.

“Morning, V,” Jayce said, not opening his eyes.

“Morning,” Viktor snorted a laugh, “You good, man?”

“I have a paper due tonight, but I panicked and thought it was due this morning,” He dragged a hand down his face, “Didn’t finish until three this morning.” 

“That’s rough,” Viktor grimaced, “Are you going to be able to make it all night tonight?”

“Mel will kill me If I don’t,” She had easily convinced him to host a halloween party. It was most likely going to be the biggest party the Rune Street house had ever hosted, which was only slightly intimidating, “My afternoon class was canceled so the prof. could take his kids trick-or-treating. I’ll try to sleep a little bit before we start setting up.”

“Good plan,” Viktor agreed, opening up the fridge and pulling out the opaque container holding Rio’s defrosted breakfast.

“You’re still planning to be sober tonight, right?” Cait asked him, looking over the top of her newspaper. As the European roommates who had very little interest in Halloween, Cait and Viktor had offered to be the ones to stay sober during the party.

“Yeah,” Viktor nodded, opening up the container and double checking that the plastic bag holding the mouse was still sealed tightly. He turned on the tap, adjusting the temperature until it was suitable.

“Fucking gross,” Vi grimaced, catching sight of the rodent, “Do you have to do that in the kitchen?”

“Last time I checked, I pay rent and you do not,” Viktor raised an eyebrow at her, filling the container until the bagged mouse was submerged in warm water, “I’ll do whatever I’d like in my kitchen, thank you.”

Vi scowled at him, canting her voice up and mockingly repeated his words, “It’s still gross dude, it’s a dead animal.”

“Violet.” Viktor deadpanned, “What do you think a steak is? Hm? Is that not also a dead animal?”

“It’s different,” She insisted, raising her shoulders, “Cait, tell him it’s different.”

“I mean, technically it’s not…” Cait pursed her lips, giving an apologetic look to her girlfriend.

Viktor gave her a triumphant little ‘hmph’ before turning around to make himself a cup of coffee. He pulled a mug out of the cabinet, handing one over to Jayce as well. Jayce took his black and Viktor took his ‘girly’ as Jayce liked to say. He didn’t care very much, he’d rather have caffeine that tasted like cinnamon and honey instead of a stale cigarette. When he was done making up his coffee, he set it to the side to finish preparing Rio’s meal.

He poured the water out, satisfied with the temperature of the mouse, and headed back to his room. Not before flicking a few drops of water off his hands towards Vi, making her yelp as hurried back to his door before she could come after him. He set his coffee to the side and began gathering what he needed to feed Rio. 

He opened the bag, doing his best to avoid breathing through his nose, and used a pair of tongs to place the little carcass into Rio’s tank. 

“Jedna myš, jen pro vás,” He muttered, bending over and watching as she began to find the right angle to pull the mouse into her mouth, “Ona tu dnes bude. Se tě pokusí navléknout do kostýmu. Bude smutná, že nemůže.” 

With Rio taken care of, Viktor began to get ready for class. Gathering his clothes and finishing his coffee quickly before getting into the shower. 

-----

When Viktor walked into Heimerdinger’s classroom, early as usual, you were already there. He watched from the doorway for a moment, your head was resting against your folded arms on the table, hair spilling everywhere around you. He’d almost assume you had fallen asleep if it weren't for the way your fingers were tapping out a beat against the table. He sat down in his usual seat next to you and gently lifted a lock of your hair off of your eyes. You blinked up at him, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“Are you okay?” He asked gently, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“Yeah,” You nodded, not moving as his fingers lingered near the side of your face, “Just tired.”

“Hm, you and Jayce both,” Viktor laughed softly, giving in to the urge and placing his hand on the back of your neck, warm from the hoodie you were wearing, “Weren’t you planning to party tonight? How will you do that if you are tired?”

“I don’t want to be tired,” You whined, a pout on your lips. Viktor swallowed hard, playing with the hair at the nape of your neck in an effort to stop thinking about your mouth, “I went to bed super early, but It just made me wake up super early.”

“Ah, I see.” Viktor nodded, leaning down to speak closer to your face, he dropped his voice, “If you’d like to ditch class, I can cover for you?”

You laughed, sitting up as Viktor’s hand fell away, “You’re sweet, but I think I’ll make it.” 

“If you change your mind let me know,” He shrugged, pulling his laptop out and opening it up, “I really don’t think Heimerdinger would care if you left in the middle of a lecture, even”

“You’re probably right,” You agreed, then move your chair closer to him, leaning your chin on his shoulder as he pulled up the class hub on his laptop, “I finished the lab notes by the way.”

“Hm, you were up early,” He scrolled through the finished notes shared between the four of you. He looked at you sideways, pleased with how close you were to him, “Very impressive.”

“You know it babe,” You smirked at him, “Happy halloween by the way. You excited for the party tonight?”

“Hm, happy halloween,” He fought back a smile as he decided to toy with you, “I am, I hear in America girls wear very little clothing for this holiday. I’ll never complain about that.”

You scoffed, sitting up and swatting at his arm as he laughed and tried to dodge you, “You are such a slut,” 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” He put his hands up in defense, “I’m kidding I swear. I actually care very little for the day.”

“That’s worse!” You insisted, gaping at him, “Halloweens like the best ever.”

“Oh is it?” He raised an eyebrow at you, leaning in with a smirk and putting on an exaggerated American girl accent, “Is it like the best ever?”

“I do not sound like that,” You huffed, rolling your eyes and turning away from him, not far enough to hide the smile on your lips from him.

“No, of course you don’t,” He nodded with mock seriousness, leaning back in his chair and throwing his arm over the back of yours.

“Brat,” You muttered as you turned back to him, sitting sideways in your chair and running a finger over the seam on his sweater sleeve, “You’re gonna be there, though, right?”

Your hopeful tone made Viktor’s heart stutter, “Yes, of course. Someone has to make sure the house doesn’t burn down.”

“Booo, are you the sober one tonight?” You complained, pouting at him again.

“Me and Cait, yeah,” He told you, “We don’t really care about halloween, figured it made sense to let the people who do enjoy it more.”

“Two of you?” You raised an eyebrow, “Seems excessive.”

“Eh, Mel said there will probably be a lot more people than usual,” He shrugged, glancing up as a few other students shuffled into the room.

“Yeah, she’s probably right,” You agreed, thinking about past halloween parties you had been to, “Everyone shows up for halloween, even people who usually don’t go to parties. Have fun with that.”

“Ha, yeah, can’t wait,” Viktor rolled his eyes, grimacing slightly before nodding to your abandoned headphones on the table, “What were you listening to?”

“Oh, uh, nothing,” You laughed, red creeping up your cheeks as you tried to brush him off.

“Hm, well now you’ve made me much more curious,” He narrowed his eyes and leaned closer to you, “What were you listening to?”

“Really, you won’t like it,” You insisted, staring him down. In the end he won, making you groan as you gathered up your headphones, handing one over to him, “You won’t like it.”

He put one in his ear and waited, looking at you expectantly to play the music. You resisted for another moment before pressing play on your phone with a sigh. He bit back a surprised sound at the hyperpop music that began to play. Laughing at the first few dirty lyrics of the song.

“Hey, don’t be mean,” You frowned, pausing the music and holding out a hand for the headphone, “I’m tired and trying not to fall asleep.”

“Ah so slutty pop music is what gets you out of bed in the morning?” He teased, relinquishing the headphone back to you.

“Yes, matter of fact, it does,” You huffed, “I should have lied. Should have told you I was listening to Chopin or something.”

“Ah, Chopin doesn’t have quite the same beat,” He pointed out, then when you gave him another exaggerated frown, reached out and placed a cool hand on the back of your neck, squeezing reassuringly, “I’m only joking, milá. I enjoy your music taste, it’s fun,”

“I’m gonna force you to listen to the whole album,” You assured him, nodding seriously, “You’re gonna love Ayesha Erotica by the time I’m done with you.”

“Can’t wait,” He smirked casually, pretending like the idea of you forcing him to do something didn’t thrill him to his core.

-----

As much as he wanted to cling to your side for the rest of the day, he encouraged you to go back to your dorm to sleep. On the slow elevator ride down, you leaned against his chest, eyes closed and breath so even he almost thought you fell asleep standing up. He was afraid to move, worried you’d move away from him. 

“You awake, Mila?” He asked you, smoothing a hand over your hair and glancing up at the floor counter slowly going down.

“Mhm” You hummed, nodding against his chest.

“You better sleep when you get back,” He laughed softly, kneading gently at your shoulder, “instead of sending me fifty instagram reels.” 

You snorted a laugh against his chest, “Hey, you love them.” You pulled away from him as the elevator came to a stop, stepping back fully when the doors slid open. 

As he watched you trudge back towards your own room, Jinx sidled up next to him. She wrapped a lanky arm around his back, pinning his arms to his side. 

“So, tell me, Vicky,” Jinx drawled, holding on tight to his arm as they walked out of the building. Ekko stood slightly behind them, shaking his head. 

“Don’t call me that,” Viktor said instantly, wrinkling his nose at the nickname.

“Are you and her, like, secretly married or something?” She asked bluntly, raising an eyebrow at him

“What? No, you’re ridiculous Jinx, what are you even talking about?” He stumbled through his words, grip tightening on his cane as he tried to break away from her.

“No way, buddy,” Jinx tsked, tightening her grip on his arm, “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“I told her not to do this,” Ekko jumped in apologetically from behind it.

“Oh, puh-lease,” Jinx rolled her eyes at her boyfriend, “You want to know just as much as me.”

“There is nothing to know!” Viktor insisted, not meeting Jinx’s eyes, “We are friends. That is all.”

“Is there a different definition of ‘friends’ in Europe or something?” Jinx scoffed, “Because here in America we don’t stare at our friends like we want to fuck them stupid.”

“Ježiši!” Viktor choked out, glancing around nervously at the other students traveling between buildings, “I am not. You are the one with explicit thoughts, clearly.”

“Ok, sure sure,” Jinx nodded, side eyeing him and ignoring the people her shoulder bumps into as she walks, “I mean, I would assume it was just you, but she’s alway looking at you the same way. Those big doe eyes staring up at you, always so close, always touching you. Jeez, I mean, me and Ekko are the ones dating, we should be the gross ones and yet you two can’t keep your angsty puppy love to yourselves.”

“Jinx, we are just friends,” Viktor insisted once again, “Don’t you have class, get away from me.”

“I’m just saying,” Jinx shrugged, “If everyone treated their friends the way you two treat each other, the world would be a much stickier place.”

Ekko muttered a disapproving gross under his breath as she finally set Viktor free. Her giggle at the look on Viktor’s face was nearly maniacal.

-----

While Viktor didn’t relate to the excitement surrounding Halloween, he certainly wasn’t going to rain on anyone else’s parade. He had been shut up in his room doing homework when you arrived at the house with the rest of the girls. Regretfully missing his chance to give you a lingering hello, not realizing you had shown up until he heard your voice traveling through the vents from Cait’s room to his. He was unable to make out words but the tone of your voice as you chattered away with Mel was clear. He leaned his head on his hand, surely looking like a wistful idiot as he clung to the bare threads of your voice. He was almost grateful when someone turned on music upstairs, the pop songs instantly covering up your voice. He had actually hoped to get some of his homework done.

Eventually, as the sun finally dipped below the horizon, a gentle knock on his door pulled him away from the textbook.

“Come in,” He called absentmindedly, not turning his desk chair as he stretched his leg out in front of him, his knee giving a loud pop.

“Why’re you hiding?” You asked from the doorway.

He spun in his chair, finding you half in the doorway. His eyebrows raised at the sight of your makeup, face painted in a soft layer of white with colorful shapes drawn under and above your eyes, bright lipstick extending slightly past the corners of your mouth, and the tip of your nose a sharp red.

“I’m not hiding,” He shook his head, and then, “Are you a clown?”

You laughed, stepping fully into his room to show off the white button up with puffy sleeves  “I’m pretty funny, get it?”

“That is very cute,” Viktor laughed softly, standing up as you walked further into his room.

“Glad you think so,” You smiled, “Can I say hi to Rio?”

“Of course, she ate this morning, so she might be hiding,” Viktor told you as you walked up to her tank, peering in as you searched for her.

“Man, and I was gonna convince you to let me dress her up,” You said, only half joking, giving the snake a silent wave when you found her curled up in the corner.

“Next year,” He told you, resisting the urge to reach out.

“Definitely,” You nodded, then turned to him, tilting your head with a slight frown on your painted lips, “Why aren’t you dressed yet?”

“Eh, I’m not wearing a costume,” He shrugged.

“What! No, that's so lame.” You gasped, eyes wide, “You have to!”

“Why would I? I don’t celebrate Halloween,” Viktor laughed at your dramatic reaction.

“Neither does Cait, but she dressed up,” You pointed out, crossing your arms and pouting at him.

“She dressed up for Vi,” He added, avoiding looking at your mouth per usual.

“And you won’t dress up for me?” There was the killshot. 

“I would, but it’s too late,” He shrugged, trying to resist, “I don’t have anything to wear.”

You hummed, thinking for a moment before cast a hopeful smile at him, “Would you be pretty funny with me?”

“What?” He let out a nervous laugh.

“Let me do your makeup,” You got closer to him, looking up at him with big eyes framed by extra dark lashes as you practically beg, “Please,Vik, please.”

He swallowed hard, then nodded with a sigh, “Yes, mila, whatever you want.”

“Yay! Good!” You practically jumped, grabbing his wrist, and beaming up at him, “You find a white button up and some jeans. Oh, get that shirt you wore when we went to the orchestra, with the detailing on the front! I’ll be right back.” 

You darted out of his room, leaving him with instructions. He dropped his face into his hands and groaned. If he was an immovable object, you were the one unstoppable force that he’d always shatter for. He did as you asked, changing into a pair of jeans and the shirt you chose for him. He knew which one you were talking about. You had complimented it the first time he wore it, smoothed your fingers over the embroidery on the front in a way that sent sparks across his skin.

You returned with a plastic pencil case, shutting the door behind you as you approached him, “Take off the shirt, I don't want to get makeup all over it.”

“Oh, uh, okay,” Viktor nodded, hesitating for a moment before unbuttoning the shirt and slipping it off his shoulders. He hung it on the back of his chair before turning black to you.

You sat on the edge of his bed, patting the spot next to you expectantly. He sat awkwardly, unsure of how you wanted him and hyper aware of the fact that he wasn’t wearing a shirt. 

“Face me,” You told him, opening up your little case to reveal loose makeup products and tools, “Like this.”

You gently guided him to sit with one leg up on the bed, his other leg hanging off, and his torso squared to you. You settled onto your knees, pulling out a couple of plastic butterfly clips and using them to pin his hair away from his face. You leaned in close, face taking up his entire view as you smoothed your fingers over his skin. Viktor suddenly became very self conscious about every mark that may be on his skin. He felt heat rise to his cheeks, breathing slowly through his nose as you watched you study him.

“You have nice skin,” You told him like you could read his mind, point of your thumb swiping over the beauty mark under his eye. 

You leaned back, pulling out a tiny bottle and pumping a clear gooey substance onto the back of your hand. Viktor raised an eyebrow, flinching back slightly when you dabbed some up and went to put it on his face.

“Easy, it’s just primer,” You laughed, “It’s basically nothing, it’ll just keep the makeup from coming off too much. Can I put it on?”

“Yes,” He nodded, going back to watching your face as you rubbed the primer into his skin.

“Did you get any sleep this morning?” He asked you, trying to relax, “After class, I mean.”

“Yes, I’m so glad I took a nap,” You groaned, “I don’t think I’d make it tonight if I didn’t.”

“Good, I’m glad,” He closed his eyes as you brushed your fingers underneath.

“I’m gonna make your face like 3 shades lighter,” You told him, tossing the first bottle into the case and pulling out another, along with a little foam triangle, “Is that okay?”

“Yes, you don’t have to ask,” He scoffed a soft laugh, “Do whatever you’d like with me.”

“Oh, well,” You dropped your voice, leaning in closer to his ear, “Don’t tell me that. You never know what might happen.”

Viktor stiffened, red chasing up his neck and across his bare chest. You giggled at his reaction, leaning back and pouring the pale foundation onto the back of your hand. 

“You are in quite the mood today, aren’t you,” He laughed nervously, flinching when you placed the first dab of makeup, “Hm, cold.”

“Sorry,” You replied to both statements, focused on his face as you covered his blush, laughing softly, “I’m just excited, didn’t mean to take it out on you.”

“No, by all means,” His words muffled by your hand holding his jaw, “Take it out on me.”

“You’re not supposed to encourage me,” You joked, rolling your eyes, “Then I’ll never get this done.” He held his hands up in defense, a silent promise to stay quiet as you work.

You shifted awkwardly on your knees next to him. He could tell you were trying not to ask him to move very much, always cautious about his leg. Your hand on his jaw was soft, guiding his head instead of pulling him around. He wouldn’t have minded, he’d live to be yanked around by you. You adjusted again with a slight frown on your lips as you tried to get a good angle to draw the designs on his face. Nothing was working. Eventually you huffed and pulled away from him. Recapping the eyeliner pen in your hand and standing up off the bed. He looked up at you with a puzzled look.

“Sit back against the headboard for me,” You told him, he didn’t hesitate to move backwards on his bed, wiggling until he was sat where you wanted him.

“Here?” He asked, trying to keep his voice even as he realized what you were about to do.

“Perfect,” You nodded, reaching over and grabbing your makeup case. You set it on the bedside table, and then braced a knee on the bed before swinging your other leg over him. You held yourself up on your knees for a moment, hands on his shoulders. Instinctually his hands went to your hips, steadying you above him. He swallowed hard, staring up at you with a look he knew probably looked stupid, “Is this okay?”

“Ye-yeah, this is fine,” He nodded, clearing his throat, “You can, uh, you can sit down. If you want, it’s fine.”

You settled into his lap, “Tell me if your hip hurts, okay?”

He nodded slowly, hands still on your hips. He gave a reassuring squeeze. You pulled the eyeliner back out, uncapping it and leaning in closer to his face. You placed a hand on his chin, titling his face slightly to the side as you began to work again, clearly more satisfied with this angle.

He watched your face. It was incredible, how enamored he was with you even when you were wearing clown makeup. They way your pupils constricted as you focused on him, dark eyelashes framing perfectly when you’d narrow your eyes slightly. He’d notice when you’d catch the tip of your tongue between your teeth for a moment or you’d pull your hand away quickly if it began to shake. The perfume you were wearing was overwhelming him, fruity and warm and very much you. The same perfume you had left on his bed so many months ago. He was glad you were holding him by the face, it made the urge to shove his face into your neck and breath easier to resist.

When you were finished with the outlines, you sat back and studied him, giving a satisfied little hmph and a pretty smile. You leaned over to the table, lifting your hips off of him for a moment, as you picked out a palette of powdery colors and a brush. When you sat back down, the pressure sent a shock up his spine. 

“Hm, what color do you want?” You weren’t paying attention as you wiggled to adjust yourself, absentmindedly grinding down against him as you asked him questions about color.

His hands landed heavily on your bare thighs. He was holding you still as he closed his eyes and leaned his head back, breathing slowly as he fought against his body, “Please stop moving,” His voice came out breathy and strained.

“Oh,” You gasped, freezing, “Sorry, sorry.” 

“Thank you,” He breathed out, staring up at the ceiling as he tried to catch his breath. 

“Just to be clear,” You said, tilting your head and biting back a smirk. You pressed your hips down, giving the smallest roll that still made him gasp, “You mean moving like this…right?”

“Fuck,” He gasped, head falling back, he groaned your name, “Please don’t”

“Don’t what?” You asked, leaning forward, lips ghosting against his ear as you rocked your hips forward again. You placed a hand over his resting on your thigh, “Stop me if you want.”

A moan fell past his lips as you began to grind down against him, his hands on your thighs neither encouraging or stopping you. You moved one hand to the back of his neck, the other on his waist to steady yourself. Your fingers were cool against his overheated skin. He was half hard, eyes half shut as he looked up at you. The two layers of denim between your heat and his left you unsatisfied, but the dazed look he was sporting made it worth it. 

He groaned, cursing and gripping your hips. Stopping your motion as his forehead tipped against yours, he looked through his lashes at you, pleading, “Don’t make me cum like this, I’m begging you.”

“That’s a fair request,” You nodded, moving backwards just enough to relieve the pressure on his dick. You picked up the palate you had set to the side, popping open the lid and holding it out like you hadn’t just been dry humping him, “Which color? Not red.”

He gaped at you, never prepared for the way you’d switch up on him. He grabbed you by the back of the neck, jolting forward as he pulled you into a kiss. He took the surprised gasp that parted your lips as an opportunity to taste you, tongue slipping against yours with a satisfied hum. You kissed him back once…twice, before pulling away with a gasp. A hand on his chest forcing him away.

“Viktor,” You scolded, panting softly and frowning at him, “What was that?”

“What?” He scoffed, leaning back and smirking at you, “You can ride me through my jeans, but I can’t give you a friendly kiss, that’s not fair.”

“Not when it’s gonna ruin my makeup,” You pouted, a look he wanted to respond to with another kiss.

“Your makeup is fine, mila,” He grabbed his phone from the table and opened the camera, taking a photo of your perfectly unamused face, though you were clearly trying to bite back a smile, he held the photo out to you, “See you look perfect.”

“Hmpf, let me finish, will you?” You rolled your eyes, your blush only visible on the tips of your ears, “Pick a color?”

“Blue,” He told you, smiling as you thanked him dramatically and dipped the brush in the powder, “Brat.”

“Brat.” You both muttered at the same time. You gasped at him, laughing as you swatted him in the chest, “Be nice.”

“Okay, okay.” He succumbed, laughing and holding his hands up in defeat. He leaned back, settling his hands back onto your hips and letting you fill in the shapes on his face “I’ll behave.”

“You better,” You said, leaning in to finish his makeup. Your irritation as false as your eyelashes.

----

“Can I put mascara on you?” You asked, a hopeful edge to your voice, “I think I’m done, but mascara will really finish it off.”

“Don’t blind me,” He answered, giving a warning squeeze to your hips.

“I would never,” You gasped playfully, pulling the tube of mascara out from the bend of your knee, “I like your eyes too much.”

“Was that there the whole time?” Viktor laughed, watching as you unscrewed the cap.

“I put it there earlier,” You shrugged, pulling out the wand, scraping the excess makeup on the edge of the tube, “I wasn’t sure if you’d let me, but just in case. It’s easier to use when it’s warm.” You scoffed a laugh, “Normally I’d stick it in my bra, but that felt a bit forward.”

“Is that a girl thing or a you thing?” He asked you curiously.

“A girl thing for sure,” You assured him, then pressed your thumb above his eye, pulling up gently, “Look down, don’t flinch.”

“Women are so innovative,” He muttered, doing his best not to flinch, “Who taught you how to do that?”

“An older girl at school,” You told him, voice slow as you focused on swiping the makeup on his eyelashes, “Saw her pull her mascara out of her bra in the bathroom during passing period, I’ve done it every day since.”

“Hm, I’m sure there is a very interesting anthropological study that could be done there,” Viktor mused, “Do you walk around with mascara in your bra all the time?”

You laughed, “No, I don’t really touch up my makeup often when I’m not at home. In the morning I stick it in there to warm up while I do the rest of my makeup. That’s if I decide to wear makeup.”

“Do you not wear makeup everyday?” He asked as you released him and switched over to the other eye.

“No, of course not,” You shook your head, sitting back to push the wand into the tube again, “I used to until like halfway through sophomore year. I genuinely can not be bothered anymore.”

“Hm, I thought you wore makeup everyday,” He said, partially to himself.

You finished up with the mascara, pulling it away before giving him a pointed look, “Nah I’m just, like, incredibly gorgeous naturally,” You’re tone was joking as you said it, rolling your eyes as if the statement was ridiculous.

‘You are,’ He thought to himself, ‘God, you are, you are, you are.’

Before he could gush his adoration to you, you sat back, humming to yourself as you looked him over. You tapped the closed tube of mascara against your chin as you thought. He raised an eyebrow, but before he could ask, you gasped, eyes widening as you came to some realization.

“That’s what it is,” You muttered to yourself, dropping the tube into your makeup box and pulling out an eyeliner pencil, then to him, “Wanna see another girl trick?”

He nodded, watching as you pulled a tiny lighter out of the case. You sparked it on, holding the flame below the tip of the pencil until it began to turn shiny as it melted.You gripped his face again, tilting his head to the side and pressing the tip of the pencil to a spot just above his lip. You repeated the motion on the other side of his face, this time just under his eye. His moles, he realized, you were marking where they were beneath the layers of makeup.

You leaned back then nodded firmly, “Perfect,” You slid off his lap, leaving him feeling too light without your weight on him. You grabbed his hand. Urging him to stand up, “Come look at it.”

He took up his cane, following you to his bathroom. You flicked on the light, and pulled him inside with you, looping an arm around his waist, hand warm against his bare skin.

“Like it?” You asked him, looking at him expectantly in the mirror.

“Very much,” He nodded, leaning in to inspect the makeup, “It’s cool.”

“Yay!” You giggled, bumping your head against the side of his arm, “I like it, thanks for matching with me.”

“Thank you for asking me to,” He moved a hand to the back of your neck, squeezing gently.

You beamed up at him, then patted his hip, “Get dressed, everyone will be here soon.”

----

There was a point in the night when the amount of people leaving began to outnumber those arriving. This was when Viktor could finally breathe. He hadn’t really believed his housemates when they said just how crowded it would be. He was sorely proven wrong. It felt like every student at Piltover decided to walk through his front door (and then into the backyard where he was keeping watch). So far he had had to ask some girls to stop putting cigarettes out on the side of the house, at least two couples to go home if they wanted to fuck, and a group of guys to please not run at eachother full speed to see if it will hurt, their renters insurance wouldn’t cover it.

He stationed himself in a chair on the deck, chain smoking and twisting a rubik's cube in his hand as he kept an eye on everyone. It wasn’t until he realized that he had smoked half his pack of Marlboro Reds that he decided to stop. Opting instead to wander out to the shed in hopes of finding someone he actually knew to talk to. He was pleased to find Jayce sitting in one of the beat up arm chairs, a roach smoldering between his fingers. 

“Viktor!” He practically cooed, the slur of his voice making his accent more prominent. He had abandoned his pinstripe suit coat and opened some of the buttons on his vest, becoming a very messy looking Gomez Adams, “Where have you been?”

“Making sure the house doesn’t set ablaze,” He joked, awkwardly stepping around a circle of kids passing around a bong as he tried to get to the couch, “I’ve decided that I will be out of town for this party next year.”

“Hey, you volunteered,” Jayce raised his hands in a shrug, “Next year we’ll draw straws.”

“Maybe, there are still too many people here,” Viktor grimaced, “I don’t think I’d enjoy it even drunk.”

“Awe, c’mon, you’re not even having a little bit of a good time?” Jayce pouted, then raised a sly eyebrow at Viktor, “Have you seen Sky tonight? Dressed as Strawberry Shortcake or something, wearing a pretty small skirt and - respectfully - looks very good.”

“I’m telling Mel you said that,” Viktor scoffed, trying to deflect, “Where is she anyway?”

“You’re deflecting,” Even fucked up he could read Viktor like a book, “C’mon man, she likes you. She’s pretty and smart, and apparently not drinking tonight, so like, there wouldn’t be anything wrong if you wanted to fu-”

“Jayce! Ježiši, have some fucking decorum, will you?” Viktor cut him off, feeling himself redden beneath layers of makeup, “I don’t remember you being such a prick when you’re drunk. It’s that creepy ass pencil mustache. You need to shave that immediately.”

“I am not, and don’t blame the ‘stache, it’s temporary” Jayce shrugged, going to hit the joint again and pouting when he realized it was gone, “You’ve been tense lately, I’m just trying to encourage you to get some of that strawberry.”

“She’s Orange Blossom,” Viktor deadpanned, “Lest is Strawberry Shortcake, Sky is Orange Blossom.”

“Well, excuse me for mixing up my girlie 90’s cartoon characters,” Jayce scoffed, leaning forward in his chair and starting the process of rolling another joint.

“She’s literally in an orange dress - no, nevermind,” He cut himself off, shaking his head, “It doesn't matter. I’m not sleeping with Sky. She’s a friend, that’s it. I don’t like her like that.”

“Okay, so you’re not denying that you're sexually frustrated,” Jayce said, words half muffled as he licked the rolling paper.

“Yes, I am. No, I mean, I am not.” Viktor huffed, squinting his eyes closed and drawing a deep breath, “Yes I am denying that I am frustrated.”

“Nah man, I don’t believe you,” Jayce shook his head, bringing the joint up to his lips, “You told me you’d hook up with someone different every weekend in Prague. You haven’t spent a single night somewhere else and I’ve never seen you take anyone we don’t know into your room. Fuck, I mean, It’s been literally months since the last time you even had hickeys. Have you even kissed anyone since then? What, are you hung up on someone or something?”

“Jayce, my sex life is none of your business,” Viktor gaped, regretting his decision to come into the shed. He wished Mel was here. She did the talking when they drank, Jayce just stared at her like a puppy.

“I’m sorry man,” Jayce shrugged, clearly not sorry. Viktor instantly regretted his wish for Mel to be present, as she pushed open the door in the middle of Jayce’s sentence, “I just think everyone would be better off if you got your dick wet once in a while.”

“Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” Viktor seethed, eyes wide as he recognized your voice right behind Mel.

“Woah, what’s going on here?” Mel laughed, raising an eyebrow at Viktor’s awkward panic and Jayce’s unmatching nonchalance, you mimicked the look over her shoulder, “What’re you talking about?”

“V’s se-”

“Nothing!” Viktor shouted over Jayce, grabbing a raggedy throw pillow off the couch and whipping it at Jayce’s head.

“Oh, uh, okay,” Mel laughed awkwardly, exchanging a glance with you.

“Hey,” Viktor tried, voice cracking, he cleared his throat, “Hello, uh, where have you two been.”

“Hello Viktor,” Mel said slowly, raising an eyebrow at him as she walked over to Jayce, she handed him a water bottle, “I was just getting water, ran into little miss Pretty Funny over here on my way out.”

Mel settled into Jayce’s lap, adjusting her long black dress before taking the joint from him. She completed Jayce’s look, turning him from a creep in a pinstripe suit to a devoted husband. The perfect Mr. and Mrs. Addams. You sat in the space next to Viktor, sitting closer than you normally would in front of other people.

“Hey,” He said to you, hoping he didn’t look as panicked as he felt.

“Hi,” You laughed softly, with perfect makeup and glassy eyes, “Are you okay?”

“Eh, yeah,” He nodded too quickly, “all good. How are you?”

“So very drunk,” You giggled, sinking back into the couch. You leaned your head against the side of his arm, looking up at him through your lashes.

“How many have you had?” He asked, worry creeping into his head.

“I lost count,” You shrugged, “too many drinks and at least half a joint.”

“That’s not good,” He frowned, “Do you feel okay? Maybe you should stop?”

“I’m okay,” You blinked up at him, “Better now, it’s too loud inside. Can I stay out here?”

Viktor laughed softly, you were more drunk than he had realized, “Yes, of course, Mila, you can be wherever you want to be.”

“Good,” You nodded, then slid your hand down his arm, fingers tracing shapes on the inside of his wrist. 

‘Everyone is here,’ He told himself, ‘Hold it together.’

“How has your night been?” You asked him.

“Weird,” He admitted, “There’s so many people here.”

“Yeah, I feel like I’m getting too old for this,” You tone was half joking, “Was it making you anxious?”

“Mm, no,” He shook his head, “Why do you ask?”

“You’ve been chain smoking,” You sniffed at the sleeve of his shirt, “You normally don’t,”

“Sorry, yeah, I know,” He winced, trying to move away from you, “I probably smell like an ashtray, I can change.”

“No, it’s okay,” You shook your head, grip tightening to keep him next to you, “I don’t mind, can I have one?”

“Eh…no,” He shook his head, giving you an apologetic smile, “Maybe let’s come down from the other substances before adding a new one, yeah?”

“So practical,” You gave a dramatic and wistful sigh, but didn’t fight him on it.

“Here, want this?” He asked, picking up the rubik's cube from where he had set it next to him. You nodded, taking it from him. He watched you fondly as you twisted it around, trying to figure out the puzzle in your drunken haze. Chewing on your bottom lip as you focus.

“Viktor?” Mel called his attention, the overly curious tone of her voice making him wary.

“Yes, Mel?” Viktor responded carefully, raising a questioning eyebrow at her.

She shifted in Jayce’s lap, watching Viktor like prey as she placed her hands on her knees, “When was the last time you went on a date?”

Viktor sighed, giving an unamused look to Jayce, “Why do you ask?”

“Just wondering. Has it been so long that you don’t even remember?” Mel was good at asking leading questions with a straight face, she was going to make an incredibly terrifying politician one day.

“No, I remember,” Viktor assured her, though it was a faint memory, “It was boring and I didn’t see them again.”

“So you don’t like going on dates?” She asked.

“No, I actually quite enjoy taking people out,” Viktor admitted, “I just didn’t like this person very much.”

“Well, why haven't you been on a date this semester then?” She tilted her head. Jayce must tell her every single thing he knows, “Is no one of interest to you? I know plenty of amazing girls…or boys if that’s what you’d prefer right now? I could set you up with someone?”

“Mel, I would hate nothing more,” Viktor deadpanned, giving her a tight smile. He was praying to whatever god existed that you were too drunk to tune into this conversation. A glance down assured you were at the very least pretending not to overhear as you played with the rubik's cube.

“C’mon, V,” Jayce groaned, “You won’t even try it? You said you're not into Sky, so what’s the problem?”

Mel didn’t react to this, she knew already of course.

“Fuck, because I’m interested in someone else, okay?” Viktor snapped, glaring at them before pulling his cigarettes back out of his pocket, “So no Mel, I wouldn’t like you to set me up with anyone. I appreciate you wanting to help, but I am managing fine on my own.”

“Who?” Mel asked, tilting her head as he sparked up.

Viktor groaned around the cigarette in his mouth, leaning his head back and digging the heels of his hands into his eyes. 

He felt your hand hit him in the thigh, scolding gently, “Don’t, you’ll ruin your makeup.”

He peeked down at you, blinking as he pulled his hands away from his face. You were still looking down, the rubik's cube clinking in your hand. Of course you heard everything. 

“Hey, uh, Mel, maybe ease off a little bit?” Jayce said, catching the pleading look Viktor threw to him, “Your drunk,”

Mel frequently lost her ability to know when she had gone far enough whenever she drank. Grilling her friends wasn’t abnormal, but Viktor didn’t have the pleasant feeling of drugs or alcohol as a buffer. He felt every question with full force and hated it.

She huffed, shaking her head and relaxing back into Jayce and rubbing a hand against her forehead as Jayce made her realize what she was doing, “You're right, sorry. I’m sorry Viktor. You should really ask out whoever you're interested in, by the way, I’m sure they’d say yes.”

“You’d think,” He scoffed, feeling you tense up next to him before he knew what he was saying. Your hands still for a fraction of a second before continuing.

Before either of his friends could react to his own reaction, the door to the garage opened, a new group of people bustling in out of the cold. People Jayce knew were given by the way they greeted him, dropping themselves into the open spaces in the room. The only teammate of Jayce’s that Viktor was familiar with was Stebb. They took statistics together. He knew you knew him as well, both of you studying marine biology. 

“Hi Stebb!” You gave him a bubbly greeting, hooking your arm around his and leaning into his side when he sat next to you, “What’re you dressed as?”

“Hey,” He signed to you, then shook his head, “I’m not anything.”

“No way, dude. That’s so lame,” You pouted at him, then gestured to Viktor, “Even Vik dressed up.”

He signed to you, “What are you?”

“We’re Pretty Funny,” You giggled, enjoying your pun that much more while intoxicated, “Get it.”

Stebb raised an eyebrow at Viktor.

“Eh, she’s very convincing,” Viktor shrugged, Stebb just rolled his eyes.

“Did you finish the paper?” You asked him, leaning your head back against the couch and frowning.

‘No,” He signed, matching the look on your face, “You?”

“Nope, gonna work on it Sunday.” You told him.

“Cutting it close,” He scoffed, “How much do you have done?”

“I only have a couple pages left to write,” You shrugged, “I was gonna finish it in the library on Sunday if you want to come.”

He nodded and bumped your shoulder, “Can we get thai?”

“Only if you drive.” You insisted, raising an eyebrow at him. He rolled his eyes, but signed, “Fine,” anyways.

You leaned away from Viktor, getting closer to Stebb as he showed you something on his phone screen. You gasped, bumping your head against his shoulder as you giggled at something he was showing you. The side of Viktor’s arm was left cold as you retreated. 

His gaze lingered until the ash from his cigarette grew too heavy and dropped onto his jeans.

He cursed and brushed it away, glancing up to see if anyone had noticed. Luckily Mel and Jayce were in their own little world as usual, faces close together as they whispered to each other. The pair had very different opinions of PDA, and usually Mel’s distaste for it won out against Jayce’s desire to be touching her constantly. When substances were introduced into the equation, that all changed. It was like Mel couldn’t get close enough to him, all her public posturing falling away. It was sweet and gross. Viktor wasn’t an envious person, especially of his friends' relationships, but right now he wanted nothing more than for you to be sitting in his lap. To feel the weight of you against him, your arms around his neck, your hands in his hair, lips against his ear. Instead he was bitterly smoking a cigarette that had gotten too hot and you were shoulder to shoulder with another man. 

It made sense. Stebb was great. Handsome and kind and shared many of the same interests as you. You had told Viktor that you and him had become friends during summer research, anytime that you weren’t home with Jayce had been spent in the company of Stebb. At first the only solace for him was the fact that you also had a class with Stebb. Eventually he began to wonder if maybe you treated Stebb the same way you treated him. Lingering eyes, teasing words, gentle touches when no one was looking. Maybe you had promised Stebb the same thing, a date after the last day of classes. 

Viktor thought about you and Stebb. About your shared love of the ocean, about the scientific endeavors that the two of you would take on together. About all the opportunities that Stebb had to offer to you. Bitter acid filled his brain, slowly dissolving any confidence he had about your feelings for him until Jayce’s voice pulled him from the fog.

“Viktor?!” They way Jacye said his name made it clear it wasn’t the first time.

Viktor shook his head, blinking as he came to, “Sorry, what?” He leaned forward, stubbing out the cigarette and dropping it into an ashtray. 

“I was asking if Cait was doing okay in the house,” Jayce said, raising an eyebrow at him, “but, are you good, man? You look…distressed.”

“Sorry, I’m fine,” Viktor cleared his throat, laughing awkwardly, “Just, uh, getting a contact high, probably. Cait was good last time I saw her, she’ll text me if she needs to.”

Jayce pursed his lips at the lie but, to Viktor’s relief, didn’t push. Instead he asked Viktor about some concept that was far more interesting to his high brain than to Viktor’s sober one. He was grateful for the distraction, though, pleased for the opportunity to think about something else for a while. He lit another cigarette and indulged Jayce, talking to him about hypotheticals and theories that they had previously spoken of. Wild fantasies of science that Jayce tended to keep between him and Viktor spoken freely in the smoke filled shed. 

Viktor began to relax, eventually believing that he was in fact getting contact high. It was nice, just a tiny shimmer skimming across his body. Not enough to disrupt his job if he needed to handle something, just enough to make it easier for him to distract himself. That was until you were saying goodbye to Stebb.

“I’ll see you Sunday!” You beamed up at him as he stood, straightening his couch wrinkled clothes, “Be safe!”

You giggled as he rolled his eyes but gave you a thumbs up anyways. His shoulder still shook with laughter as he left the shed. Next to Viktor, you pulled your knees back up to your chest, looking back over at him for attention. He resisted, continuing his conversation with Jayce and pretending he couldn’t feel your eyes on him. He heard the little ‘hmph’ that left your throat when he didn’t acknowledge you. You didn’t vie, though. Instead you pulled out your own phone, scrolling through apps without really thinking about them. 

Viktor didn’t notice that another person had taken up a spot next to you until you began coughing. He turned to find you gasping and coughing into the top of your knees, handing a pen back to a guy sitting next to you. You face hidden as strawberry scented vapor spilled out of your nose and mouth,

“Hey, no, she’s cut off,” Viktor snapped, looping an arm around your back, instinctually warding off the boy he didn’t recognize dressed as Patrick Bateman. He glared at him until he rolled his eyes and stood up.

“Sorry man, thought she was single,” Patrick Bateman shrugged, taking himself and his pen out of the shed. 

“She’s not my- nevermind,” Viktor shook his head, dropping his defense before turning to you, “I thought you were done? What was that?”

“I don’t know, man,” You shrugged, pulling your face out of your knees and carefully wiping tears out of your waterline, “I’m drunk, I can’t help it.” 

“You’re the worst,” Viktor scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, but you stick around anyways,” You widened your eyes in a teasing look up at him. 

“Yeah, who else will?” Viktor joked back, his tone light as he playfully shoved you away, your offended gasp making him laugh.

“Whatever,” You scoffed, then stretched your legs out in front of you searching for a new way to be on the couch.

You landed on resting your head in Viktor’s lap, head against his thigh and ankles crossed over the armrest. He swallowed hard, staring down at you as you gave him a questioning look.

“Is this okay?” You asked, clearly ready to move if it wasn’t.

“No, you’re good,” He nodded, taking a deep breath and trying to relax back. Unsure of where to put his hand he settled with laying it across the back of the couch, unsure if you wanted him to touch you or not.

Your hair spilled over his thigh, shifting slightly as you settled in. Holding your phone above your face as you scrolled. You spoke without looking away from your screen, “Stebb’s cool, right? A shame he had to leave already.”

“Eh, yeah, a shame,” Viktor lied, trying not to tense up.

“Yeah,” You caught his eye over the edge of your phone, “His boyfriend is just so needy.”

Oh. Viktor let an embarrassed laugh slip past his lips. The pointed look you gave him made it clear you knew at least some of what he was thinking earlier, “I’m a dick.”

“Yup,” You agreed, pursing your lips and nodding, “Just a little.”

He let out a laugh that was more like a groan, going to rub his hand down his face before catching himself and opting to tug at his hair instead. When he looked down you were looking back at your phone, the tiniest satisfied smirk tugging at your lips. He turned back to Jayce, content with the feeling of your head in his lap. He focused better, felt better, when he was speaking to Jayce. Even going as far as to write down a few notes in his phone to think about later. Every so often you’d get his attention to show him something you thought he’d like. A few trains, some snakes, and some general engineering videos that had all ended up in your feed. At some point the hand opposite of where you were laying ended up in your hair. He gently combed through the strands, fingers brushing idly against your hairline as he chatted with the others. 

When someone opened the shed door, holding it long enough for a heavy gust of cold air to blow inside, you shivered. Turning from your back to your side, you pulled your bare knees in, complaining quietly at the temperature. Without a second thought Viktor leaned forward slightly, earning a confused look from you for a moment as he shrugged off his coat. Then he draped it over you, wordlessly covering your bare legs with his jacket. Hand coming to rest on the curve of your waist as he continued speaking to Jayce and Mel. 

“Oh, no fucking way,” Jayce muttered, narrowing his eyes at Viktor.

“What?” Viktor raised an eyebrow at him, not moving his hand from where it was on you.

“Are you serious?”Jayce glanced between Viktor and you in his lap.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Viktor shrugged, jumping back into the conversation they had been having, “Anyways…”

-----

When the party official began to die, Viktor quickly realized you were in no shape to go anywhere by yourself. Apparently Lest had headed out with Sky fairly early into the party, disappearing after you said you’d be okay to get home on your own. That was before you lost count of how much you were drinking. 

“I can get an Uber,” You insisted, following Viktor through the yard on wobbly legs. 

“Yeah, and who will get you from the Uber into your dorm?” Viktor scoffed, “Besides, I’m not leaving you alone like this with a stranger, no way.”

“Hey, I can take care of myself,” You defended, but the way you tripped up the steps of the porch said otherwise.

“Yes, of course you can,” Viktor caught you by the arm, bracing his cane against the deck to keep both of you from toppling over, “on any other night,”

“Vik-” You whined before he cut you off, hands cupping your cheeks and face close to yours.

“I will drive you home,” He said slowly with wide eyes, “Just let me help Cait clean up a little, okay? Can you wait twenty minutes?”

You nodded slowly, mirroring his wide eyed look.

“Good. Now come,” He ushered you into the house, kicking a discarded can out of the way. 

He walked with a hand hovering near your waist, ready to at least attempt to catch you were you to tip over. When he reached his door, he had to shoo away a couple of stragglers too drunk to realize it was time to go home. You leaned against the wall as he fished his key out of his pocket, eyes closed and breathing slowly through your nose. Inside his room he set you on the edge of his bed, flinching at the whimper you let out when he turned on the light.

“Sorry,” He hissed, moving to replace the overhead light with a softer lamp on his desk. He grabbed his water bottle from his nightstand, twisting it open and handing it to you, “Here, drink slow, okay?”

You nodded, eyes still closed as you sipped.

“How do you feel?” He asked, when you responded with a weak groan, he dragged his trash can from his desk to the foot of the bed, “Here, I believe in your ability to not throw up on my floor.” 

You gave a weak laugh and a thumbs up as you handed the water bottle back to him. He capped it and laid it on the bed next to you.

 “I’ll be back soon,” He said, retreating back to his door, “I’m going to lock the door so no one bothers you, okay?”

Viktor  laughed softly as you dropped back onto his bed and stuck your arm up to give another thumbs up. Making sure to lock the door behind him, he left you in his room. The music was still playing, far too loud in the mostly empty space. He spotted Cait approaching the lingering groups of drunk students. Asking them to leave with her nicest host voice dressed as Claire Danes’ beautiful Juilet, her Romeo was slumped uselessly drunk on the couch. 

He tapped Vi on the leg with his cane, she grumbled and swatted at him. He tapped her again, stepping out of the way as she kicked out. 

“Up Violet, get up,” He urged, “Do you hate Cait? Or are you going to help her clean up?”

“That is so unfair,” Vi scoffed, but pushed herself up off the couch anyway, fake armour clinking together.

He shrugged, setting off to help Cait himself. The bulk of the cleaning would be done in the morning, all that really needed to be done now was clearing the kitchen counters so they could make breakfast and coffee in the morning, god knows they’d need it. Vi cut the music, the sudden silence making Viktor’s ears ring. 

Behind him Mel helped Jayce stumble into the house, his pinstripe jacket over her shoulders instead. He was luckily lucid enough to stay upright on his own. Vi would be the only one that could carry him to his room, that was if she wasn’t completely wasted herself. Not to mention, Jayce being slung over her shoulder in a fireman's carry would certainly result in him throwing up down her back. 

“Do you guys need help with anything?” Mel asked. Jayce had his face pressed into her braids, murmuring things his drunk brain surely thought were romantic, “or can I get him to bed?”

“We’re okay,” Cait assured her as she swept discarded cans into the recycle bin, “You guys head to bed, we’re almost done here.”

Mel nodded and adjusted her grip on Jayce’s waist, holding him tighter as she made her way to the stairs.

“Goodnight,” Viktor said as they passed by him, “let us know if you need anything.”

Jayce stopped, his sudden halt nearly toppled Mel over as she tried to keep walking. She groaned, complaining his name as she tried to drag him upstairs. He turned to Viktor, pinning him with an unsettling sober look.

“Are you fucking her?” He asked, the uncharacteristic question came out completely steady, not an ounce of drunkenness in his voice.

Viktor stammered for a moment, trying to conjure up a response. No, technically he wasn’t fucking you. He wanted to. You acted like you wanted him to. He had in the past. Viktor’s thoughts spun, completely caught off guard. Luckily Mel came to his rescue, sober and tired enough now to have no desire to pry.

“Jayce, you’re drunk.” She deadpanned, leveling him with stern eyes, “That is none of your business, come to bed.”

Jayce turned away, completely dropping the subject, but leaving Viktor shaken just the same. It was the type of question Jayce only asked when he was so drunk there was no way he’d remember it in the morning. Mel shot him an apologetic look as she dragged Jayce towards the stairs. 

“I think we’re all good for tonight,” Cait called from the kitchen, knocking Viktor out of his daze, “How’s that side of the living room look?”

Viktor shook his head, clearing his thoughts as he looked around. Empty cans and cups on most surfaces, a few halloween costume props abandoned on the floor, and a tipped over camping chair that somehow made it into the house. All things that could be handled tomorrow.

“Good enough,” He called back, not really wanting to bother with cleaning anymore tonight.

“Perfect,” She sounded relieved, “Goodnight Viktor.”

“Yeah, goodnight,” Viktor told her, double checking that the back door was locked and retreating back to his room.

He found you laying there the same way he had left you, flat on your back with your legs hanging off the bed. You had one hand behind your head, the other resting against your stomach, rising and falling gently as you breathed. He placed a hand on the bed, leaning over you and brushing a strand of hair out of your face. You opened your eyes, blinking sleepily up at him, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“I can still bring you home,” He told you quietly, “but if you’d like to stay ‘till morning you are more than welcome to.”

You nodded slowly, “I’d like that,”

“Good,” He laughed softly, running the tip of his finger across the white edge of your makeup at your hairline, “Do you remember that you still have clown makeup on?”

“Do you?” You hummed and raised an eyebrow at him, reaching up and tracing the line on his jaw. With a groan you sat up, hand pausing halfway on its way to rubbing your face. You pouted, “I don’t have any makeup remover.”

“Don’t be mad at me,” Viktor told you, grabbing your hand as you stood and pulling you towards his bathroom, “But I believe you left some things in a drawer in the bathroom.”

“What?” You gasped, following as he opened up the bottom drawer of the counter in the bathroom. He pulled out a paper drug store bag, “Oh my god, I thought I hallucinated buying that stuff.”

“Eh, yeah, Sorry,” He said sheepishly, pulling out the contents, including makeup wipes, facewash and moisturizer, “I kept forgetting to ask you about it, out of sight out of mind.”

“This stuff is expensive, ya know?” You told him, half joking. 

“But you’re glad I have it here, right?” He offered, watching as began to open up the items, “Otherwise you’d be trapped in clown makeup all night.”

“Good point,” You laughed, shaking your head at him as you read the packaging, “Are you allergic to anything?”

“Not that I know of,” Viktor tilted his head, “Well, some dogs, but I don’t think that really applies here.”

“Yeah, I don’t see dog on the ingredient list,” You agreed, peeling open the packet of makeup remover wipes and handing him one, “You should live.”

“Here, you first,” Viktor offered, taking the makeup wipe from your hand and patting the counter, beckoning you to climb up.

You did as he asked, pushing yourself up to sit on the edge of the counter. You parted your knees, allowing him to stand between your legs as he cleared your face. You leaned closer to him, watching as he carefully swiped at the powder on your face. Removing makeup from anyone, let alone someone else, was something he wasn't familiar with. He was gentle, probably too much so as he barely managed to remove any of the white and colored powder from your face at first. 

“Stubborn stuff,” You told him, fetching a clean wipe for him, “Same makeup drag queens and dancer’s use. Doesn’t budge an inch.”

“Hm, clearly,” He increased the pressure on your cheek, watching for any signs of discomfort as he did so.

He liked the way you were looking at him, focused and reverent and warm. It felt different, the alcohol melting away the walls you put up. He wished you’d look at him like this all the time, in front of other people. Look at him like he meant something, like he could do anything. He’d take what he could get, though. Love from you was still love, even in small doses. 

“I’m not gonna break,” You told him, glancing down at his hand near your face, “You don’t have to treat me like I’m made of glass.”

“I treat you with care, Lasko,” He hummed, leaning back to inspect this work and then decided you were right.

“So sweet,” You laughed softly, glancing down at his hands, “Will you be offended If I do it myself?”

“Of course not,” He shook his head, handing the barely used makeup remover to you, “I’ll admit I am not good at this.” 

You twisted your back, turning to look at yourself in the mirror as you scrubbed the makeup off. He settled his hands on your thighs on either side of his hips, tracing gentle lines back and forth across your skin. You removed your makeup with practiced motions, clearing your face almost completely of the makeup in a few seconds. 

“Your turn,” You said to him, dropping the used up makeup remover into the trash. He hummed, letting you pull him a little closer. You started with his forehead, holding his hair back with one hand, the other methodically wiping streaks of white makeup away. 

“Did you have a good halloween?” Viktor asked you, doing his best not to move as you worked.

“Yes I did,” You nodded, narrowing your eyes as you scrubbed the white out of his hairline, “Did you have fun? How was your first American halloween?”

“Eh, it was what I expected,” He shrugged, turning his head to the side for you, “It was as fun as it could be without drinking. Does that make me sound like an alcoholic?

“A little, but you’re twenty-two so it’s fine, I think,” You shrugged, pursing your lips, “But you should have just drank with us, I mean, nothing happened right?

“Yeah, because I was sober to keep things from happening,” He snorted, “And how would you know, anyway? Little Miss Can’t-Keep-Count?”

“Hey! It’s not my fault.” You scoffed, pouting at him. You grabbed a clean wipe.

“Oh yeah?” Viktor asked, shutting his eyes for you, “Someone forced you to drink as much as you did?”

“Well, no,” His eyes were still shut, but he could practically hear the way you rolled your eyes, “but Lest left early, and it’s hard for me to keep track on my own. She drinks, I drink, I smoke, she smokes. When I know she’s done, I know I’m done.”

“Interesting system. Very co-dependent,” Viktor said, opening his eyes and raising an unamused eyebrow, “When did she leave?” He couldn't help the tinge of irritation at the idea of you being left to your own devices at such a large party.

“I don’t know, probably like eleven,” You guessed, “Sky wanted to leave, so Lest went with her.”

“Ah, okay,” He didn’t feel bad about rejecting Sky, if anything he felt bad for not feeling bad.

“Don’t feel bad about her, by the way,” You told him, like the mind reader you were.

“Why?” He furrowed his eyebrows. Just a couple of weeks ago you had been torn up about Sky, convinced that she didn’t actually forgive either of you for what happened.

“Because Sky and Lest are together,” You told him, widening your eyes, “Like, together together.”

“Huh…” He blinked at you. Viktor liked to think of himself as an observant person, this though…this he hadn’t caught on to, “I thought Lest was straight.”

“Uh, yeah, So did I!” You scoffed, “Then I walked in on them going all Anne Lister on eachother.”

“Hm, interesting…” He snorted at your odd reference, then narrowed his eyes at you, “were you supposed to tell anyone that?”

“Well, not exactly,” You cringed, “but I can tell you anything. You’re my… you’re…Viktor.”

He flinched back. ‘I'm your what? Your what!?’ He felt like screaming, maybe even begging. He opened his mouth, willing his brain to let him say something. You cleared your throat and let an awkward laugh spill past your lips.

“Don’t tell anyone, by the way,” You huffed, blinking and pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. You reached back up, continuing the task at hand, “Lest might actually kill me this time.”

“Tell anyone what?” He asked, pulling a confused look beneath your hands as you worked.

“Atta boy,” You grinned, then dropped your hand leaning back to look at him, “All done,”

Viktor looked away from you and at himself in the mirror, almost surprised to see his own skin again after hours of being covered up. He hummed in appreciation and turned back to you.

“Would you like a shower?” He asked, it was late, but he figured he’d offer.

“Only if you get in with me,” You smirked, giving him an exaggerated wink. Viktor responded with a scoff, hoping it covered up the nerves you shot through him, “I’m kidding. I’m good. Thank you for offering, though.”

You pushed him away gently, sliding off the counter and looking up at him hopefully, “But, if I wouldn’t mind brushing my teeth if you happened to have a spare toothbrush?”

“Of course,” He opened up a drawer and pulled out a pack of toothbrushes. He decided to free the blue one from its packaging, a color he was sure you liked, “Here.”

“Thank you very much,” You said, wetting it in the sink as he handed over toothpaste, reaching for his own toothbrush.

As you scrubbed at your teeth, he watched you pick up a bottle of clear liquid that had been in the bag with the makeup wipes.

“What’s that?” He asked around a mouthful of foam.

“Witch hazel,” You told him, setting it back down, “It’s good for your skin. We’ll use it after we’re done brushing our teeth.”

He nodded an ok, spitting excess foam into the sink before continuing to brush. He hated how nice this felt. How comfortable and domestic and absolutely fleeting this night was. He stole glances at you in the mirror as you hummed to yourself, still drunk as you swayed your head side to side. He’d give anything to do this every night for the rest of his life. A month and a half and maybe, maybe, it would become somewhat more of a reality. A whole dream as opposed to this tiny vision of what could be.

-----

When you closed the bathroom door behind you, a stack of his clean clothes for you to change into in your arms, the reality that you were actually sleeping in his bed with him hit Viktor like a truck. He felt his heart rate spike, nerves creeping up the back of his neck. He wasn’t even going to sleep with you. It probably would have been easier if he would. Too busy with you to think about this new type of closeness. He decided to busy himself in an attempt to not think about it too much.

Viktor got his bed ready, pulling out an extra blanket in case you wanted it and peeling back the covers. He dug an extra charger out of his backpack, plugging it in and connecting your phone that you had already left on his bedside table. Spotting his glasses, he realized he was still wearing his contacts. Not bothering to wait for the bathroom mirror, he swiped them out in exchange for his glasses. He sat on the edge of his bed, then stood, paced a circle, checked on Rio, and sat down again. 

He felt like a teenager, anxious and restless over a girl. Nervous enough to stand and pace around again. A sudden worry that you might not want to share a bed with him crossed his mind. Would you feel weird waking up here in the morning? Would you regret spending the night?

He grabbed one of the extra pillows he kept and placed it in the middle of the bed, a makeshift wall between where you should sleep and where he should. That was good, it was something. He sat again, drumming his fingers against his thighs and remembering he was still in his clothes from earlier. He cursed, standing back up and changing as quickly as he could. Normally he’d strip to his boxers, but that felt wrong with you in his bed. Even with the pillow wall he had created. He pulled on sweatpants and an old tshirt, deciding it was more important that you were comfortable than he was. 

He had just returned to his bed, deciding to check his messages when the bathroom door clicked open. He looked up as you stepped out, dressed in a pair of his boxers and a t-shirt that was big on him, even bigger on you. You smiled at him, seemingly amused by what he was sure was a deer in headlights look. He took a few steps closer before stopping, you tilted your head looking at his bed. A small frown was on your lips when you turned back to him.

“So you hate me?” You asked, pouting at him.

“What?” He gasped, “No, of course I do not hate you Lasko.”

“Then what’s this?” You scoffed, offended as you walked closer and gestured to the pillow in the center of the bed.

“I didn’t want you to be uncomfortable!” He shrugged, looking up at you.

You gave him a deadpan look, stepping closer and putting your hands on his shoulders. You pressed your forehead against his, staring seriously in his eyes, “Viktor. You have been inside me. In more ways than one. We can share a bed, it’s fine.”

“Blunt. Always so blunt.” He returned back, shaking his head, forehead still touching yours until you pulled away. 

You reached past him, grabbed the pillow and tossed it to the foot of the bed. Unceremoniously you crawled over him to take your place in the open spot. Wiggling until you were looking up at him from under his blanket.

“See?” You said, gesturing to yourself, “Perfectly comfortable and the world didn’t end.”

“You are…” He shook his head.

“What?” You challenged, raising an eyebrow playfully, “I’m what?”

“You are you,” He groaned, falling back onto his own pillow and covering his eyes with his arm.

“Exactly, and you love me for it,” You laughed. You were joking, it was just a figure of speech, and still Viktor froze, just for a second, quick enough that you didn’t notice. 

He reached for the light, switching it off, “Goodnight.”

Your giggles died into silence in the dark. The light from the streetlamps only just reaching you. A couple beats of silence, Viktor tried to slow his heart back down, and then,

“Viktor?” You asked into the dark, hopeful edge to your voice.

“Yes?” He asked without moving, listening intently to the sound of your breathing.

“Can you come closer?” Your voice was quiet.

“Do you want me to?” He asked, chewing on his lip.

“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t want to,” You pointed out, voice light.

He didn’t answer, instead he moved to you. You didn’t waste a moment in pressing yourself against his side. You clung to him, fitting yourself into the space as if you’d done it a thousand times before. You laid your head on his shoulder, hand resting on his chest, and leg hooked over his thigh. He put his hand on your back, reminding himself to breathe as he felt your chest rise and fall.

“Viktor?” You asked again, he could feel your words against his skin.

“Yes?” He asked, voice strained slightly.

“Will you kiss me?” Voice breathy and barely there as you asked.

“Lasko, you’re drunk,” He reminded you. Reminded himself.

“I’m not that drunk anymore,” He knew that was a lie, “Please? Just once? I’ve wanted to kiss you all night.”

He felt like he had been shot into space, or dragged to the bottom of the ocean. Imploding and exploding all at once.

“Just once,” He tried to steady his voice, “Come here.”

He felt you shift slightly, moving upwards until you were close enough. You kissed him slowly. Pressing your closed mouth to his in the dark. Light and gentle and only once.

“Maybe twice?” Viktor breathed against your lips when you pulled away. 

He didn’t wait for an answer, he didn’t need one. You fell back into him, his hand tangling itself in your hair. Despite his grip on you, he let you lead. Not wanting to do anything that was too much. He felt your tongue against the edge of his lip and gladly accepted it, parting his lips for you. The heat of your tongue against his was dizzying. He felt like he was drowning in the taste of you. The gentle but desperate motions lit him on fire. You whined against his lips, grabbing on to his shirt as you tried to get closer. Viktor obliged you, turning on his side and grabbing the crook of your knee. Pulling you flush against him. He bit down gently on your lip, making you gasp and move your hand to grip his hair. 

He placed open mouth kisses along your jaw, teeth nipping gently as he moved towards your neck. 

“Vik, oh fuck,” You keened his name, head tilting back to give him more space to kiss and bite and suck on your skin. You gasped, rocking your hips once against where he was half hard. 

He grabbed you by the hip, holding you still and shaking his head, “Not tonight,” He panted, gathering every once of restraint he had for this moment.

“But Vik,” You whined, trying to press your hips to his again.

He moved to place both hands on the side of your face, forehead leaning against yours. Your breath mixed in the space between your mouths as you both panted, “No, not like this. Just let this be enough for tonight.”

He pressed a kiss to the corner of your open mouth, “Let it be enough.”

You nodded, stilling your body aside from your roaming hands and tilting your chin up to get him to kiss you again. When he was sure you were going to behave, he gave you what you wanted. Kissing you again, all tongues and teeth and staved-off desperation. Kissing you until you both drifted off, a tangle of warm limbs breathing the same air.

[imminent-danger-came]

Sun Wukong Knew About MK the Whole Time: A Theory

I am currently hyped up on leftovers and iced coffee, so let's do this!

I've talked about this before, here and here, but I think it's finally time I wrote an official post. You can go and read those posts if you want to (I definitely hit the nail on the head with some of this stuff), but I will be compiling a lot of what I said on those posts here!

So. Let's get the Mr. Elephant out of the room first: The David Breen Tweets. (thread here).

I see this tweet mentioned a lot whenever I bring up SWK knowing about MK, and honestly, this is a far cry from the "it's been confirmed that SWK didn't know" definite answer everyone's been implying.

So let's break it down!

#1: "Monkey King ain't the father"/"Monkey King isn't his dad." Well of course! Being born from a stone means you don't have any parents. I see it like this: Wukong isn't MK's dad, but he's also not NOT MK's dad, it's a secret third thing (creator and creation). Or, perhaps Wukong didn't help create MK at all, but he at the very least was involved in the circumstances that lead to MK being created/being born from the stone. (Aka eldritch abomination MK theory. My Beloved. Okay sorry.)

#2: "Monkey King was ripping his way through memories looking for MK, but kept coming back to the stone. He doesn't know why." So, while Wukong was ripping through memories, he didn't know why the scroll kept spitting him out by the stone. This is not a confirmation that Wukong didn't know about MK and his origins. It also begs the question: how did Wukong know MK was in the scroll to begin with? There's also some speculation to be had about why Wukong was so desperate to find MK to begin with:

MK: "Monkey King did this?" Macaque: "It looks like he's been tearing his way through his past—trying to find his way to.." MK: "Me."

(4x11 A Lifetime of Mistakes)

-

What was he so afraid of MK finding? Or, what was he afraid the scroll would force MK to experience? I think these are questions worth asking.

#3: "Wukong's trying real hard to leave the 'not being open with MK' days behind after s3. Problem is he's got lifetimes of info to catch them up on." Well, this one is a DOOZIE. One: we already know MK doesn't know everything about Wukong and his choices because he doesn't know Wukong killed Macaque (thank you 4x11). Two: "trying real hard" and "successfully doing" are very different things. And three: YOU DON'T JUST DROP INFO LIKE "Hey, did you know you're a Monkey Demon?" ON TOP OF SOMEONE RANDOMLY. Especially not MK. You have to prepare them for it.

Wukong is trying to do better and be better for everyone around him, but that still takes work. That still isn't easy. He's still going to make mistakes, which means he's not going to always go about being open with MK in the best way.

Sun Wukong: “Point is, mistakes happen, but so long as you leave the world in better shape than you found it, then it’s all good. Right?”

(4x01 Familiar Tales)

-

This scene—to me—feels like Wukong is trying prepare MK for his eventual "Hey did you know you're a Monkey Demon?" conversation he wants (and needs) to have down the line. Yes, SWK is trying to be more open with MK, but he's also just not going to be given that chance before the truth comes out.

MK: "Yeah right, if Monkey King really was my dad don't you think he would have said something by now?" Mei: "Yeah...because he's normally SOOOOO forth coming with information." MK: "Well uh, whatever—when we find Monkey King's stone, then we'll just ask him!"

(4x05 Court of the Yellow Robbed Demon)

-

Notice how they never asked Monkey King that question? From a writing standpoint, why bring this up at all if it wasn't to imply that (even if Monkey King isn't MK's dad) he wasn't involved with MK's creation in some way?

ANYWAYS.

NOW THAT THE BREEN TWEET THAT HAS RUINED MY LIFE IS OUT OF THE WAY, let's get into the evidence given to us throughout the entirety of the show. Starting with this:

This isn't a scene that takes place during the "A Hero is Born" special, as I'm sure plenty of people have noticed before now. Of course, this could have just been Monkey King "scouting out a successor", but with everything we know now doesn't that...feel kinda weird?

We were told at the beginning of the show that Monkey King gave MK his powers, but now we know that's not true. MK has had his own powers this whole time—and that's something Wukong, at the very least, knew:

Sun Wukong: "Listen kid: You fought demons, and you didn't die, and you made it here! Not just anyone can lift my staff, but you did." (1x00 A Hero is Born)

-

MK: "This whole time, I thought my powers came from the staff! Sun Wukong: "The staff's just a big 'ol stick bud! It takes someone special to lift it." (3x03 Smartie Kid)

-

There's also 1x09 Macaque, which I have mentioned before:

Macaque: "Ohohoh no, can't you hold the magic staff anymore? Well, you know what that means—there really isn't anything special about you. You're just a kid with a heavy stick."

This scene is then followed by MK lifting the staff, which only happens because Wukong encourages him.

MK: "Ugh, I can't! I'm not strong enough." Sun Wukong: "Kid! We're definitely going to have words later, but it's time for the Hero Stuff!"

(1x09 Macaque)

-

Ultimately, Wukong knows MK can lift the staff again even after Macaque supposedly stole all of MK's powers. He knows MK can beat DBK (more on that later). He does something similar to all this in 3x14, being the one to let MK face the Lady Bone Demon, powered by the Samadhi fire, alone (even after Pigsy tries to stop MK):

Wukong want's to protect MK. That's why he went to face the Lady Bone Demon alone in the first place—but here, he let's MK stop the end of the world all by himself. Why would he let his beloved student face not only LBD, but a reality ending flame alone?

Because he knows how much power MK has. Because he knows MK is capable of doing it.

This all brings me to my main point: If before now we were supposed to believe that Monkey King gave MK his powers, and he so clearly didn't, how would Wukong not know he didn't give MK powers. And because he clearly knew he didn't give MK any powers, why would he not question where this kid's insane level of power came from? He had to have "chosen" MK to be his successor for a reason right?

ESPECIALLY because Wukong never planned on being a mentor in the first place:

Sun Wukong: "I know I can never make it up to you. Honestly, I- I never thought I'd live as long as I have let alone be someone's mentor—turns out I'm not very good at it. I guess what I'm trying to say is...I'm sorry MK. For all of it."

(3x14 Destiny Fulfilled)

-

This was also alluded to in 3x05 Amnesia Rules:

Pigsy: "Of COURSE you don't remember the kid—one day you are going to grow up to be a terrible mentor!" Sun Wukong: "Ha! Zhu Bajie, can you imagine me teaching someone? HA!"

-

So, Wukong clearly didn't ever want to become a mentor, and this directly contradicts what Wukong says to MK in "A Hero is Born":

Sun Wukong: "You're perfect!" MK: "Perfect for what?" Sun Wukong: "To be...my successor!"

Honestly, think about it: has Wukong ever once actually needed a successor? When given the opportunity, he goes off and tries to handle things on his own anyways (Leaving in s2, wanting to go and reforge the Samadhi Fire on his own, going to stop LBD alone). It's the classic "we're being told one thing and shown another" trick.

Sun Wukong: "No no no- in case you forgot I'M retired, you're the one supposed to be taking care of the bad guys." (1x01 Bad Weather)

Even in 2x01 he's lying:

Sun Wukong: "Aw, come on bud! I promised myself that when I found a successor I'd go see some friends, take a tour of my old stomping grounds, just cut loose you know?" (2x01 Sleep bug)

It's proven in the next episode, and by the fact that all of his friends are dead/gone, that literally nothing he said here is true.

And, it's also note worthy to point out, that by this point Wukong had already disappeared for hundreds of years. Why step in again at all? Why put the effort into getting a successor you definitely were never prepared to have?

MK: "*sigh* You think Monkey King ever felt like this? Maybe that's why he stayed up on this mountain, just having a good time with you guys. You know cause- cause he knew he'd be out of the way where he couldn't hurt anyone he cared about." Macaque: "Or, he was doing his usual Wukong thing and being a lazy peach eating idiot. Ignoring all the worlds problems.

(4x09 Roast of the Monkie Kids)

-

So, I don't know about you, but I'm going to trust Macaque's insight on this. I'm not sure Wukong ever planned on coming back. Sealing DBK, he effectively cut off one of his last ties to the world (please go read wlw-wukong's thoughts, they are delightful), and he had already left the world alone for a long time. Why did he feel the need to train a successor now?

The simple answer is this: because he knew he needed to train MK and teach him to control his powers, and DBK's return was the perfect way to do it.

NOW. THE S4 MK VISIONS.

So, the visions MK see's all through out s4 (4x03, 4x04, 4x05, 4x06) are of Wukong ripping through the scroll and going to the stone—David Breen confirmed that himself in the above tweets.

Here's a list of what we see:

(4x03 The Great Tang Man)

-

(4x04 Pig Napped)

-

(4x05 Court of the Yellow Robbed Demon)

-

These are what I would say are the visions of Sun Wukong trying to find MK in the scroll. Yet, they are distinctly different from what Subodhi presses MK to remember ("Tell me of your childhood, your parents." "You do not remember?" "And what else?"):

(4x06 Show Me the Monster)

-

Look at that difference!

Every vision MK has includes the same scenes, except this one. That's why I think it's a memory; that and the way it's framed, with MK closing his eyes in focus. The other visions from 4x03, 4x04, and 4x05 all are unprompted, being forced upon MK. Why make this last "vision" so different from the others? Why show our mystery lady making the stone monkey? That would be because it's a memory—be it MK's, something from the scroll, or a mix of both.

There's also the matter of like, why Wukong going to the stone would trigger any sort of vision in MK to begin with. Overall, it just seems like there something more to those visions.

This would be how I imagine the general timeline playing out:

MK is created (through help of Sun Wukong), a beautiful baby boy pops out of the stone, and Sun Wukong "loses" that beautiful boy (if Wukong knew he was born to begin with) with MK finding his way to Pigsy's.

Then it's later Sun Wukong finds MK again, coming up with a plan to make MK his "successor" (still leaving MK with Pigsy, which I think was the right call lol). As Wukong says in 4x01, "You make ONE mistake, and no one ever let's you live it down! Looks like the ghosts of my past have finally caught up with me." That's what I think this parallel in particular is really trying to show off—in some way, MK is part of his past mistakes, just like Macaque is.

AND SO. I WILL CLOSE OFF THIS THEORY POST WITH EVERYTHING WE LEARNED IN THE SPECIAL.

Sun Wukong: "Heh, nothing gets under his skin more than a monkey. Leave Azure to MK and me."

(4x12 The Plan Man)

-

Sun Wukong: "Kinda embarrassing for the Jade Emperor to have two little cheeky monkeys running circles around him the first day on the job." MK: "Well, one monkey and one unconfirmed, but *laughs* yeah! I'd be embarrassed for sure!"

(4x13 Rip and Tear)

-

Wukong sounds suspiciously confident that MK is a monkey.

Not even MK is sure what he is (which he's probably just in denial, but also "Until I know what I am, what my destiny is?" from 4x08 anyone?), but Sun Wukong is extremely certain about what MK is.

Sun Wukong: "We got this bud. Would have liked to give you some new training with your monkey form, but-" MK: "Oh yeah yeah yeah- uh um- about that— um. I- I was thinking, I've never really needed a scary new monkey form before, so, I just thought maybe I'd use it next time." Sun Wukong: "Next time? Kid, there might not be a next time! This is the time."

MK: "It's be fine! Mei and I have got this awesome new armor and everything! You know, when we look this good? Ain't nothing gonna beat us." Sun Wukong: "Kid. New armor isn't going to cut it! We have to hit Azure with everything we've got! You can't just ignore this whole part of your power because it scares you!"

(4x12 The Plan Man)

-

If the writers were trying to highlight the fact that Wukong didn't know, this scene would have gone very differently. Instead of "You can't just ignore this whole part of your power because it scares you!" I think it would have been more along the lines of "I know this is new for all of us, but you've got to accept this part of your power!".

Even this exchange at the end of the special raises some alarm bells for me:

Pigsy: "Heh, don't bother. I've been telling him that for years but he LITERALLY never listens." Sun Wukong: "Yep! That's how we roll."

(4x14 Better Than We Found It)

-

That's how "we" roll? As in him and MK, as two monkeys? Again, Wukong is surprisingly chill and okay with this new form for someone whose first interaction with it was supposedly this:

MK, writhing on the ground in pain, completely destroying the world around him, and unable to control his powers.

Sun Wukong: "Yeah! Go MK, go! Just try not to totally wreck up my stuff would ya-"

(4x13 Rip and Tear)

-

Overall, it gives me the impression that Wukong already knew what MK was before 4x07. This new form didn't scare him because he always knew that's what MK was. MK, to Wukong, is MK! And MK has always been a Monkey Demon. He has unshakeable faith in his protege, and even while MK is absolutely tearing up the world around flower fruit mountain he can't help but cheer for him.

After all, Wukong knows MK is the only one who could defeat Azure:

MK: "Ne Zha's right—while Azure has the Jade Emperor's power and the scroll, there's NO way we could beat him head on!" Sun Wukong: "I mean, some of us could beat him! *ahem* One of us, specifically-" MK: "Nope! None of us at all."

(4x12 The Plan Man)

-

"But Imp!" I hear you say, "Wukong was talking about himself here!". To which I would reply, that's not true! This scene is right after Wukong has already said he only almost beat the Jade Emperor:

Sun Wukong: "But don't worry—I almost beat the Jade Emperor single handed once! Between both of us, Azure doesn't stand a chance." (4x12 The Plan Man)

-

Between this and Wukong's pre-fight convo with MK ("We have to hit Azure with everything we've got!"), he's clearly banking on MK using the full extent of his powers to win this fight. Wukong isn't banking on his own—if he were, he would never have left MK to go and collect the scroll pieces during their fight with Azure.

Conclusion

Sun Wukong knew MK was a monkey the whole time, lol—and fate has plans for MK. Great plans, or foul? Time will tell.

And Wukong has done his best to ensure that those plans are great.

[ashwhowrites]

can you pleaseeeee write something like this but for robin? instead, it's just steve who keeps interrupting them. 💀 "damn it dingus you really need a girlfriend."

also, thank you so much for taking time out of your day to always post such amazing works for us to read 🫶

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻

Interuptions

Robin giggled as she dragged her girlfriend into the video store closet.

"You're on the clock, Buckley" Y/N teased, but doing nothing to stop her girlfriend's wandering hands.

"Just a few minutes, Steve will survive" Robin said, her lips kissing the sweet spot on Y/N's neck. Y/N gave in, shivering as Robin's lips moved around her neck. She stretched out her neck, giving Robin more access.

Within minutes the two were in a heated make out session. Robin had Y/N pushed against the wall, her hand under Y/N's bra. Y/N tried to quiet her moans as Robin played with her nipples.

The two jumped apart when the door swung open. Steve on the other side.

"I thought you locked it!" Y/N whispered harshly

Robin rolled her eyes and walked out of the closet, shoving Steve aside.

~~

Robin moaned as Y/N's tongue swirled around her clit. Her back arched off the bed and her hands were tangled in Y/N's hair.

Robin had no shame as she rode Y/N's tongue, whimpering and whining loudly. Robin loved when her girlfriend ate her out, she was skilled and knew how to make Robin melt into the mattress.

"Close" Robin choked out

"BUCKLEY!"

Robin panicked and threw the blanket over her girlfriend. Y/N under the blanket as she covered her mouth with her hand. She clenched her eyes shut, knowing if she kept them open she'd get lost in the sight of Robin's wet cunt. Robin pushed down her shirt and tried to look presentable.

Robin panted as Steve walked through her open bedroom door.

"Are you ready?" Steve asked, completely oblivious to Y/N hiding in between Robin's thighs.

"For?"

"I have a date and need you to be there In case I need to escape!" Steve explained. "Now hurry, gotta leave like yesterday."

Robin groaned as Steve walked out of her room. Y/N slipped out from the blanket, wiping her mouth.

"Maybe next time?" Y/N offered with a smile

~~

Steve was passed out drunk on Robin's couch, a long night of partying left him unconscious.

Robin waited until Steve began to snore before she got up. Walking as quietly as she could to her bedroom. She creeped in, Y/N was rubbing lotion on her legs. Her hair was still wet from the shower and she only wore a towel.

Robin closed the door behind her, a smirk on her face as she crawled on the bed. She pushed Y/N's wet hair to the side and pressed kisses to her naked skin.

"Smell amazing" Robin hummed, her hands easily moving down to Y/N's thighs. Y/N felt herself getting turned on as her girlfriend rubbed her thighs. Robin inched closer to Y/N's cunt. Using one finger to slide up and down her cunt, Y/N shivered and whined for more.

Robin took mercy on her and sunk two fingers inside her girlfriend. Y/N let out a low moan as Robin's fingers moved inside of her, Y/N clenched around her.

"Yeah? That feels good?" Robin cooed in Y/N's ear.

"Fuck, Rob" Y/N moaned

Robin smirked and slipped in another finger.

"Rub your clit for me, baby" Robin demanded. She picked up her pace, fucking Y/N harder as Y/N played with her clit. Y/N threw her head back as she circled her clit, her brain fuzzy as Robin's fingers hit every spot inside of her.

"I need to cum" Y/N whined, rubbing her clit as fast as she could as Robin fucked her.

"Right there!" Y/N gasped, "there fuck"

"ROBIN I NEED TO PUKE!" Steve's loud voice cut through the room. Both girls groaned with frustration as Robin removed her fingers.

Robin dropped her forehead against Y/N's shoulder.

"I'm going to kill him" Robin growled as she got up, slamming the bedroom door behind her.

~~

Y/N and Robin were tangled together in Y/N's sheets. One place they figured they could escape from Steve. Their clothes were scattered on her bedroom floor.

Robin panted as she moved her hips against Y/N's thigh. Robin's bare cunt easily move against Y/N's skin, the pressure was perfect against Robin's clit. Y/N held Robin's hips in a bruising grip.

"That's it, Roby. Ride my thigh like a good girl" Y/N teased, her lips in a smirk as Robin shuttered at the nickname. Robin smashed her hands on the headboard, right above Y/N's head.

Robin rode her thigh desperately, chasing the burning orgasm she needed for weeks. Her skin was drenched in sweat and her thighs began to shake.

Y/N's phone by her bed began to ring, but both girls ignored it. Y/N kept her focus on sucking marks on Robin's skin, and Robin could only hear her breathing pick up as she got closer to her orgasm.

The phone rang again, Y/N picked it up and slammed it down right away, ending the noise.

"Gonna" Robin choked out

"That's it, cu-"

"RINGGGG"

Robin huffed and kept her hips moving as she reached for Y/N's phone. She chucked the whole thing to the floor, yanking the cord out of the wall.

Both girls sighed with relief as no more sound distracted them. Robin thrashed on Y/N's thigh, her cum soaking Y/N's skin as Robin cried out. Robin rode out her orgasm, her hips jolting as the pleasure became painful.

Robin shivered at the sensitivity on her clit when Y/N gently pushed her off. She pushed Robin on her back and moved between her legs, Robin shuddered as Y/N's tongue flattened in between her folds, licking up all the cum that ran down Robin's cunt.

Y/N jumped as a loud bang landed on her front door, over and over. She quickly threw on a robe and walked to her window.

"It's Harrigton" Y/N laughed

"He seriously needs to get a girlfriend," Robin said as she rolled her eyes.