#and for all her snarks and indifference

[empty-dream]

"Jinshi-sama." "What is it?"

[lovelivision]

BAD ROMANCE.ᐟ

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: gojo satoru/reader

𝐖𝐂: 9.4k

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: your love life is in a tragic state, all your dates go poorly and just when you think you found a nice guy you could like, that ends poorly too. good thing you have your best friend gojo to look out for you !

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 18+ only, smut, f!reader, she/her pronouns used, cheating (not done by reader or gojo), dirty talk, cunnilingus, fingering, spitting, praise, p in v sex, creampie, multiple orgasms, big dick!gojo, tease/mean!gojo (he likes embarrassing reader), jealous!gojo, gojo is down BAD, use of pet names, that's all !! (i think :3)

Checking the time again, you sigh, it’s bordering on an hour since you first sat down to wait for your date. The thought that you had been stood up entered your mind maybe half an hour ago but now it’s practically been cemented.

Maybe you should just cut your losses and leave but this is a nice place, it’d be a shame to waste the reservation. Hope that your date is going to miraculously show up has left you though. Opening your texts, you think of who to message, the idea to message Gojo briefly crossing your mind before you decide he is the worst possible person to tell about this.

Instead, you message Shoko, asking if she’s free and telling her of your failed date. It takes her a few minutes to reply and when she does, instead of a straightforward response, you receive a cryptic and ambiguous saluting emoji. Deciding to take that as confirmation of her presence, you begin waiting… again.

You think you’ve reached your waiting quota of the year, no more waiting on people. Why do people never seem to value your time? While lamenting to yourself silently, you don’t notice the arrival of someone incredibly familiar, someone incredibly exasperating.

“I’m hurt you know.”

The words startle you and as you look up to find the source of them, you’re confronted with Gojo standing beside you. Pouting like he’s feeling extremely slighted by you for some indiscernible reason.

You almost sputter at him, his presence completely unexpected, “What are you doing here?”

He ignores your question, continuing with his faux pain, “My best friend gets stood up and instead of messaging me… she messages Shoko? That stings.”

Sighing off his dramatics, you ask again, “What are you doing here, Gojo?”

“What else would I be here for?” He smiles big at you, moving to sit in the chair opposite you, flopping down and making himself comfortable, “I’m here to be your date!”

Propping your head up on your hand, you grumble at him, “How did you even know I was stood up?”

“I was with Shoko when you messaged her,” he shrugs easily.

You squint at him, “Why are you here and not her?”

“Because it is my duty as your best friend to be there for you.”

So stubborn about the weirdest things, you’ve known each other forever and sure, maybe he is your best friend, but this is something that has bruised your ego a bit. It’s silly, but for some reason… you don’t really want for Gojo to see you like this.

Sulking, you huff, “It’s not a big deal, I just didn’t wanna waste the reservation.”

“Don’t lie, you dressed up all cute and the dude couldn’t even be bothered to show up?” He frowns like he’ll get angry if he thinks about it for too long, “It’s a big deal.”

“You’re more upset about it then I am,” you play at indifference and while you don’t really care about your failed date, you are thinking really hard about how he said you dressed cute.

“That’s just ‘cause you’re always settling for less than what you deserve,” he grows a little more irritated, like his observation annoys him more than it annoys you.

Defending yourself with a grumble, “That’s not true.”

“Whatever you say, sweetheart,” he smiles in a manner that exudes disbelief. Because it does, Gojo has witnessed you settle for less nearly every single day of your lives and every time he has to grit his teeth and cope.

Crossing your arms, you snark at him, “Don’t patronise me, Gojo.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he still has that smile plastered on his face.

You glare at him from across the table but sit in silence, not really having anything else to say to him right now. Annoyed at yourself for losing the back and forth between the two of you for not the first time and definitely not the last.

Gojo, however, is not capable of sitting in silence for too long and so, he whines at you, “Anyways, I thought I was always your first call when things went wrong.”

Looking away from him, you scratch at the back of your neck awkwardly, “You are… for other things.”

Catching onto your meaning, he asks, “So, you never call me when things go wrong on dates?”

“…Correct.”

“Why not?”

“It’s not really something I thought would matter to you this much.” The truth is, you’ve been on much worse dates, dates where they actually show up but prove themselves to be some of the worst people. You always call Shoko though… that or you just brush it off.

Telling Gojo about your dating life feels weird, it’s not like he tells you about his.

His mouth downturns at your remark, “Anything that involves you matters to me.”

“It’s not like you tell me about your dating life,” you counter, starting to feel somewhat badly.

“I would, if I had one,” he leans back into his chair more, “I’m not currently dating though.”

Sheepishly, you say, “Oh…well…I am.”

“I know that now,” his eyes focus on you, “Just how many dates have you gone on recently?”

“Recently?” he nods at you, “Uhm… a few every couple of weeks, not heaps but… frequently enough that getting stood up isn’t the worst thing to happen to me lately.” You laugh slightly at a memory, “You know, on one of them, the guy actually got back with his ex during our date, like he–”

You cut yourself off when you realise Gojo isn’t experiencing the same amount of enjoyment at the recounting of your date a few weeks ago. “Why is this bugging you?”

“It’s not,” his tone is certain but the expression he’s wearing is anything but. Clearly annoyed by something.

Challenging his logic, you ask, “Do you want me to tell you about my dating life?”

He thinks on it for a second, “No.”

Tilting your head at him, “See? That’s what I thought–”

“–But I want you to call me when things go badly,” his gaze even on you, unwavering.

“You’re annoying,” you huff out a breath.

His face brightens up again, “And yet I’m still your best friend.”

You can only roll your eyes at him because he’s right, he’s completely annoying and also completely your best friend.

★

After that failed date that turned into you having dinner with Gojo, you decided you would listen to him and call him whenever a date goes south. He seemed actually bothered by the fact you weren’t relying on him more, so you decided that if something does go wrong, you’d tell him about it.

However, your dating life has been going pretty swimmingly the past couple weeks. You’ve actually found someone you wouldn’t mind being with, having gone on a few dates with him now. You’ve pretty much been exclusively seeing him, he’s taken you out for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Previous dates barely made it through one meal, but this guy managed to appeal to you enough to take you out multiple times.

It’s your fault that you got your hopes up, thinking that maybe he was different but as you sit on the couch in his apartment, his assumed girlfriend yelling at him, you can see he’s just like everyone else in the dating scene these days. It’s that or you just have really bad luck when it comes to your romantic life.

For the third time, you try to leave but he holds you back, “Wait no, please don’t go, this is just a misunderstanding!”

You shrug him off you, his touch making you feel disgusting.

Going to say something in reply, but his girlfriend speaks first, “So now you’re cheating on me and trying to keep her here?”

He sputters, like he forgot she was here for a moment, “No! Babe, I’m not cheating on you!”

Awkwardly, you scratch at the back of your neck, “Listen, I’m going to be so honest, I think you’re a bad person and any interest I had in you is gone. I’d just really like to leave now.”

He’s wearing an annoyed look on his face, “How do you even expect to get home? I drove you here.”

She scoffs at him from by the door, foot tapping impatiently, “Now you’re offering her a ride home? Are you fucking serious right now?”

Walking to the front door, you shuffle around his girlfriend, “I’m just gonna… slide right past you.” Pausing after opening the door and turning back to address her, “Uhm… Just in case he tries lying to you… we went on multiple dates over the past couple weeks.” Standing awkwardly for an extra moment as her face twists in realisation, “Bye!” You rush out the door, speed walking to the elevator.

The screaming and yelling gets louder from their apartment, able to hear them until you finally get in the elevator and start heading down to the ground floor. In the lobby, you pull out your phone and sigh dejectedly, scrolling for Gojo’s contact, you need a ride home.

He picks up pretty quickly, “Hello?”

You get straight to the point, not feeling particularly great right about now, “…I need a ride home.”

“Well, good evening to you too,” he replies, voice full of mirth, “You know. people normally exchange pleasantries over the phone before immediately asking for things, I’ve been told – by you actually – that just asking for things straight up can be read as rude, so–”

“–Satoru.”

The use of his name has him going quiet, stopping his tangent instead to ask, “Where are you?”

You’re tired, your mood travelling through the phone as you answer, “Some apartment, I’ll text you the address…”

“You okay?” He checks.

You can’t help the pause before your reply, “…Yeah.”

His concern for you growing at your seeming uncertainty, “You gonna tell me what happened?”

It’s a little embarrassing, you think, but yeah, you’ll tell him about it, “Later… I just wanna go home now.”

“Alright, I’ll be there soon.” He hangs up before you get to thank him.

You text him the address and then head out the front of the building, waiting for him to get you. While you’re waiting, you find yourself wondering if that girl will stay with him, you hope she doesn’t, she deserves better than him.

When Gojo pulls up, you silently slip into the passenger seat, you’re expecting him to immediately drive away but he turns and looks at you. His eyes examining you carefully, scrutinising you.

Turning your head to the side, “What?”

“Just making sure you’re okay.” His hands reach out and for a second you think he’s going to touch you, but he pulls on the seatbelt and clicks it into place for you.

You mumble out at him, dismissive, “I’m fine.”

He hums at you, in that way that tells you he doesn’t believe you even a little bit but he’s letting it go for now. Instead focusing on getting you home.

Back at your apartment, Gojo follows you all the way inside, you thought maybe he would just drop you home and leave you alone, but he’s followed you into your living room. You don’t know if you have the energy for him right now, feeling so drained. Probably feeling this way because you’re incapable of finding a decent guy to date.

Couch looking so inviting, you flop down onto it face first, mumbling out, “Gojo, will you just be my boyfriend?”

He seems taken aback by your sudden ask, choking on his own spit, coughing out a confused, “What?”

Sighing, you cryptically answer, “I don’t think I’m built for the dating scene.”

When he finishes hacking up a lung, he taps your legs, to which you hold them up so he can sit down. His hand tugging them back down once he’s sat, “What happened, sweetheart?”

Your voice is still muffled by the couch cushions, “Been seeing a guy for a couple weeks now–”

“–The same one?” Gojo cuts you off.

Humming out a, “Yes and–”

Again, he cuts you off, “–That’s pretty serious…”

I know but­–”

“–Why didn’t you tell me about him?” His tone growing slightly alarmed by the apparent seriousness of your dating life.

Becoming somewhat annoyed, you push yourself out of the cushions and sit up to face him, your legs still resting in his lap, “You said you didn’t wanna hear about my dating life.” You point an accusatory finger at him.

“Yeah, but casually dating and actively seeing someone is different–” He’s not really sure if he’s making a fair point or not but sticking to it like he is.

“–Does it matter?” You’re looking at him incredulously, not sure if there is a difference.

He’s steadfast in his opinion, “Of course it matters.”

“I don’t think it should, especially since–”

“–If you’re seeing the same guy multiple times that means you were actually interested in him­–” He’s annoyed at himself for not realising you were seeing the same guy, for not asking questions, not realising how serious you were getting about one guy. So caught up in this one fact that he’s lost sight of his original purpose of being here.

“–Can you stop cutting me off!” You raise your voice at him, getting sick of how much he’s been interrupting you, “I’ve been trying to tell you that he had a girlfriend the whole time,” you purse your lips and look away from him, feeling embarrassed, “That’s why I asked you to come get me.”

“Oh…” He feels bad now.

“…Yeah, she showed up while I was there, and it was really uncomfortable, and I didn’t exactly feel safe.” You sigh, slumping, “And now I just feel really bad about dating.”

Completely serious when he suggests, “Maybe you should stop.”

“Stop dating?”

Consistent in his confirmation, “Yes.”

Meeting his gaze again, “How else am I going to meet someone?”

He rolls his eyes at your question, irritated for reasons unknown to you, “Why do you need to date someone now anyways?”

You don’t really see his point, what does he mean ‘why?’… why else do people date? “Maybe I’m lonely, maybe I seek companionship, maybe I’m like every other normal person?”

“You have me though,” you’d think he was joking if he weren’t so straight faced.

Unsure how to go about answering when it seems pretty straight forward to you, “Gojo… that’s not the same thing, we’re friends, we don’t look at each other that way.”

“Says you.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I’d date you in a heartbeat,” he folds his arms over his chest, “In fact, you’re the only person I want to date.”

You can’t tell if he’s teasing or not, “Get real, that’s not what I meant.”

His head tilts at you, “What did you mean then?”

“I’m talking about romantic and sexual attraction,” you’re avoiding his gaze again.

So casual in how he bluntly asks, “You think I’m not sexually attracted to you?”

His question catches you off guard slightly, “It’s not just about sexual attraction, Gojo,” you shake your head, “if that were the case, I’d just be having one night stands all the time, I want a relationship with someone…”

He nods his head like he suddenly understands, “Ah, so you think I’m not romantically interested in you?”

“You shouldn’t be.”

“Why not?”

Disbelieving when you look at him, “Are you serious right now? We’re friends.”

“Yeah, we are friends, but I also happen to be romantically and sexually attracted to you.”

How do you even respond to a confession like that? He’s not even flustered, completely nonchalant in how he’s just told you that he’s interested in you. “I don’t think–”

“–Are you going to tell me you’re not interested in me? Even a little bit?”

“We’re friends.”

“Is that the only thing stopping you?” He doesn’t wait for your answer, “Because if it is, then it’s a little arbitrary, no?”

The beginning of a frown settles on your features, “What are you trying to get me to say? That I’d date you if we weren’t friends, that I’d fuck you?”

He smiles at you, “Sure, but if you would if we weren’t friends, I’m saying you should even though we are.”

Frown deepening, “You’re being serious?”

“I’m being so serious,” he leans in slightly, hand moving to your face, thumb smoothing over the crease between your brows.

Looking at his lips before catching yourself and turning your head to the side, away from his touch, away from his enticing lips.

He sighs at your reaction, “You know, I’ve been interested in you from the beginning, and maybe I’m an idiot for not saying anything but watching you seriously try dating someone else might just kill me.”

You had no idea he liked you, you’ve liked him at different points in your life too, but he always seemed so out of reach from you, and you never wanted to ruin the friendship, so you forced yourself to move on. It feels a little unfair that you’re finding out now he’s liked you the whole time, “What are you asking of me?”

“I’m asking you to give me a chance,” his hand gently guides your face to look at him again, “I’m asking you to seriously try dating me.”

You’re trying to make a decision, trying to figure out how to answer him, if you should even give him a chance but the way he’s looking at you, how his gaze flicks between your eyes and your lips is distracting you.

Brows pulling up, voice quieter than before, “Gojo, you need to stop looking at me like that if you want an answer.”

“Like what?” He plays dumb.

“Like you really wanna kiss me,” you murmur back.

“Can’t help it…” he leans in a little bit more, “Maybe if you let me kiss you, I’ll stop.”

“Satoru,” you warn.

“Hmm?” His eyes meet yours for a moment, trying to see what you want.

He’s making you dizzy, “I can’t make a choice when you’re this close.”

Humming at you, “Why not?”

“Can’t think,” you blurt it out before really thinking about how it will come across.

He’s smiling smugly, “Then don’t.”

You don’t know who leans in first, all you know is his lips are on yours and they’re soft. Kissing you gently, trying to learn how you like to be kissed. Growing more insistent the longer you let him kiss you, the years of his need bleeding into it.

One of his hands traveling down your body, resting on your hip, the other cradling your face. He’s leaning into you more, pushing your body down into the couch, him following behind it, never parting from your lips very long.

Hand now holding himself above you, kiss growing urgent, tongue licking into your mouth, meeting yours in a way that makes your body tingle. If you thought his proximity was making you dizzy before than his kiss might have you actually passing out. Skin growing hot at how his hand on your face angles you, how he deepens the kiss effortlessly.

If Gojo were more aware of himself, of the precarious position he’s put himself in, he might be a little bit more careful with how feverish his kisses are and how needy he’s getting but when he’s finally getting to kiss you after years of not being able to, he can’t really control himself. The little control he does have, slipping when you moan into his mouth, his own moan shared in the kiss.

It's you who parts the kiss, it had to be because he certainly wasn’t going to be able to do it. If he had his way, he’d have his mouth on you until he died. In the back of his mind, he knew that kissing you would be good, but he didn’t think he’d get so lost in it. Somewhat embarrassed at himself for how aroused he’s gotten over your lips on his.

Your huffed breaths are intermingled with how close you both are to each other, Gojo hovering over you, speaking into your mouth, “Have you made a decision yet?”

You’re having trouble thinking still, especially with how his lips brush ever so slightly against yours, “I…uhmm…”

When he realises how dazed you are, two things happen. One; his ego grows about ten times bigger and two; he pulls back from you, still close enough that if you tugged on him, you could kiss him again but enough to hopefully give you room to think.

“Come on, don’t keep a guy waiting,” he’s taunting you lightly, taking joy in how hazy your eyes are as you look up at him.

“Okay,” you nod.

“Hmm? Okay what?”

Taking another moment to clear your brain fog, you answer again, “Okay, I will seriously try dating you.”

“Can’t date anyone else while you do,” he conditions.

“Okay,” agreeing easily.

He adds, “Have to seriously think about me being your boyfriend.”

Again, agreeing, “Okay.”

“Have to keep kissing me right now,” smile growing on his features.

“Ok–” frowning at him when you realise, “–Hey.”

“You don’t want to?” His hand tilts your head up by your chin, looking down into your eyes, “Because you look like you want to.”

Pouting at him, “Don’t be cruel.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, sweetheart,” his smile evil as he continues to look down at you.

Leveling him with an even stare, you state, “I don’t sleep with guys on the first date.”

“Got a dirty mind, huh? All I asked for was a kiss.”

You glare at him and then try to avoid his gaze, voice smaller than before, “You don’t kiss like that’s all you want.”

His smile is crooked as he asks, “And how do I kiss?”

Feeling your skin flare at his taunting question, at how he leans in again, his mouth right over yours, “Dizzyingly.”

He breathes out an amused laugh before he’s slotting his mouth back over yours, how you described his kiss is accurate. He kisses you in such a way that you can’t think straight even if you really want to, which is why it’s probably a bad idea to keep letting him kiss you if you don’t want to sleep with him before you even get a first date.

Abruptly parting your mouth from his, gasping out, “Wait,” taking a second to catch your breath. Gojo groans softly at the loss of your lips, his forehead resting on yours waiting for you to speak.

“What’s wrong?” He asks when you don’t continue.

“You need to stop kissing me.”

“Oh?” He hums at you in thought, his lips now trailing down the side of your face, only to rest right by your ear, “And why’s that?”

His voice has goose bumps raising on your skin, “If you keep kissing me like that…” your volume gets quieter as you mumble out, “…I’ll wanna have sex with you.”

He has the fucking audacity to laugh at you, “That worked up by a few kisses, huh?” Taunting you like he isn’t the hardest he’s ever been, cock twitching at your confession.

“Shuddup.”

His words are dripping with delight, “At least we know you’re sexually attracted to me.”

He licks lightly at your ear, and you feel like you almost jump out of your skin, gasping at it. Hands reaching out to push back on his chest, “You’re a mean man, Gojo.”

“At this point…” He looks you over, unmoved by your hands, “…I think it would be meaner to deprive yourself.”

“We are not sleeping together for the first time on my couch before we even go on a date,” you’re trying to stay steadfast but he’s making it hard when he keeps looking at you like that.

“So… you’re saying I should take you to the bedroom?” When you look at him in exasperation, he smiles softly, “I’m just kidding, we won’t do anything you don’t want to, but I will point out – for the last time – that you look an awful lot like you want to.”

“I didn’t say I didn’t want to… I just feel like if you’re gonna make me seriously consider you then I should date you properly too,” you avoid his gaze, feeling unusually sincere.

Abruptly, he states, “It wouldn’t be our first date though.”

“What?”

He’s a little distant when he answers, having trouble concentrating on the conversation when you’re pouting your lips at him like you are, “I count a couple weeks ago as our first date.”

“When I was stood up?” You scoff, “That does not count.”

“Why not?”

“Because it wasn’t even planned.”

“No but we ate dinner together and you were dressed awful cute, I count it as a date,” smirk present on his face as he continues to hover over you.

Ignoring his compliment, you continue to try and reason, “We were still just friends then though.”

“So, we aren’t ‘just friends’ now?” He’s being a smart ass, he knows what you mean but he’s not going to let up on this, taking it as a small victory in making you think of him as more than just a friend.

You return earnestly, “I don’t wanna count it.”

“Why not?”

“Because it wasn’t meant to be you on that date…” before he can get hurt over those words, you clarify, “…don’t get me wrong, I had fun and I’m glad you showed up, but it wasn’t planned to be you… when we go on our first date… I want it to be meant for you.” You’re unsure if you verbalised yourself in a way that makes sense, feeling much more nervous all of a sudden.

He’s looking at you so intently and you’re worried you’ve upset him somehow, “I know you said I need to stop kissing you, but that’s what I want more than anything right now.” He leans in closer, pausing just shy of your lips.

His words make your heart stutter, throwing caution to the wind as you close the distance between the two of you again, kissing him fully. Letting his mouth consume your ability to think critically, all too happy to fall into him.

Your control of the situation is slipping more and more away from you and so is the ability to care, not minding at all how you’re becoming more and more okay with how hot your body is starting to feel.

Hands reaching up and fisting the material of his shirt, pulling him down into you, his hips colliding with yours. Almost entirely instinctually – and somewhat purposefully – your legs wrap around his lower half. One of his hands reaches for your thigh, gripping the fattest part of it harshly.

You both moan into the kiss and he parts his mouth from yours, voice straining when he speaks, “Sweetheart, if you really don’t want to do anything more than this then you need to tell me to get off you right now.”

Looking at him through your lashes, you play coy, “But I like having you on top of me.”

A shiver runs down his spine, “You’re evil,” he grunts, fighting the urge to grind down into you.

He’s been pining after you for years and it feels like torture to be this close to you, pelvis pressed up against yours, having you so pliant and needy under him. He can feel his sanity slipping from him the longer you stay like this, and your words make it harder for him to pull away.

“Satoru–” when you say his name his hips jut into yours, making you gasp against him.

He hisses an apology through his teeth, “Sorry – fuck – sorry, what’s up?”

Deciding to be forward, “Take me to my room?”

Trying to hide the excitement from his face, he checks with you, “You’re sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” you give a small nod, feeling shy.

You really do want to though, more than anything. Only initially so hesitant because this doesn’t feel like the right way to do things but then again, your whole relationship with Gojo is a little less than conventional at times.

When he determines that you’re sure of yourself, he’s off you in the blink of an eye. Quick in his movements as he pulls you up along with him. Before you can even really register that you’re off the couch, you’re thrown over his shoulder as he walks hurriedly to your room.

“Someone’s eager,” you laugh at how ridiculous he’s being.

The chuckle he returns is humourless, “You have no fucking idea.”

You’re dropped down onto your bed unceremoniously, bouncing slightly at the force of it. Your arms reach out behind you to support yourself, palms splayed against your bedspread. Gojo is already tugging his shirt off and over his head, thrown and lost to some corner of your room.

“Gojo, breathe.”

“Don’t need to breathe,” he smiles large at you, “Do need your pants off though.”

Listening to him, you shimmy your pants down your legs, mumbling to him about how bossy he is.

“You know… I’m hearing a lot of complaining but I am also seeing a whole lot of direction following,” he teases.

You grumble at him, “If you’re going to be like this the whole time then I’m changing my mind.

“Don’t lie to yourself, sweetheart. You’re not fooling anyone, especially not with how you’re rubbing your thighs together.” His large hands grip your thighs, “Feeling horny?”

You don’t really want to answer him honestly but denying it feels like a trap, like he’d do something to prove you wrong and the last thing you want is for him to torture you. You’re already so pitifully slick from kissing him.

Fighting with your embarrassment, you give him your best pleading face, “Mhm, really horny.”

The smugness drops from his face, hands suddenly tugging you down the bed as he drops to his knees. Mouth leaving kisses from your knees to your inner thighs, your breath catching in your lungs. Not expecting him to be so forward, though you don’t know what you were expecting if not that.

“Gojo, you don’t have to–”

“I want to,” his eyes flick to yours, “Plus, if you wanna take me, you’re gonna need the prep,” smile growing at how your eyes grow wider.

Disbelief clear in your expression, accusing, “You’re full of it.”

He’s not worried about your scepticism, “You’ll find out for yourself in a bit.” He shrugs easily, “Now, can I put my tongue on your pretty pussy, or do you have more to say?”

He asks but his attention is already completely on your covered cunt, a single finger moving under the elastic of the waist band just to snap it back against you. A small noise of shock leaving you, “Ah! Do what you want…”

Oh, he looks so excited by your words, “You mean it?”

You’ll be honest and admit you weren’t really paying attention to what you were saying, brain hazy with how close he is to your core, skin pricking at how you can feel his hot breath against you. Feeling so unusually exposed and sensitive and you can’t tell if you’re that worked up or if he just has that effect on you.

“Mhm,” you’re nodding your head at him, giving him a green light, for what, you’re not entirely sure, all you know is that you want him to do something – anything.

“These are some really cute panties…kinda bothers me,” he’s still playing with the edges of them, annoyed when remembering you were with another guy tonight. Were you going to sleep with him tonight?

Pulling yourself up onto your elbows, you question, “What?”

Eyes flicking towards yours, “I’m a bit of a jealous guy.”

“I know this,” he always has been quick to get worked up over things regarding you, though it makes a little more sense after learning he’s liked you for so long.

He smiles at you, but his eyes are humourless, “Of course you do,” he fists at the material of your panties, “But the idea of another guy getting so close to seeing you in these… has me feeling really annoyed.”

The sound of fabric tearing fills your ears, he’s just ripped your panties off you completely. There is no salvaging them, completely useless as he throws them over his shoulder.

“Hey! those were my good pair!” They were one of the nicer pairs you own.

“Who cares about that?” His tone is dismissive, hands spreading your legs obscenely, eyes greedily looking at your uncovered pussy, “Your cunt is much cuter.”

God, you feel like you might pass out, face suddenly extremely hot, “Don’t be crude.”

“Hmm? …but I think you like it though…” his thumb swipes through your folds and you gasp at him, “Got so much wetter when I said it.”

He’s quick to begin rubbing circles into your clit, thumb giving even pressure. The stimulation has your arms shaking, threatening to give out from under you. Biting your lip to stop yourself from moaning, feeling embarrassed at how intently he’s shamelessly staring at your cunt.

Continuing to speculate, he says, “That or you like being praised…” he smirks evilly, “You like being praised, sweetheart? Being told how good you’re being for me?”

Your heart leaps in your chest, brows upturning, trying to hide your outward reaction to his words, “Hah– No…”

“Such a bad liar,” eyeing your face, “Wearing a really great expression right now though.”

Fighting the urge to grind down, you deny, “Not lying.”

He ignores you, “Could be both though,” he’s continuing to ponder on what you react most to, “Which is it, sweetheart? You like how crude I am, or do you like the praise?”

You don’t plan on answering him, eyes closing harshly against his intense gaze, feeling way too exposed. His touch leaves you and you open your eyes in alarm, trying to see what he’s doing. You see his smile before he’s leaning in and licking up the length of your pussy, eyes locked on yours the whole time.

Surprised moans slip from you, arms almost giving out completely, head rolling back. His arms wrap around your legs to hold you steady, face pushing closer into you, tongue flicking at your clit before pressing into your pussy hole.

He’s relishing in your sounds, in how wet you are, how you taste and smell, almost forgetting why he did this in the first place. Pulling away from you with a lewd smack of his lips, smiling big at the whine you let out from the loss of him.

Huffing slightly as he says, “Asked a question, not licking your pussy again until you answer it.”

“I don’t know,” your head lolls forward, eyes wet.

Head moving to the side to nip lightly at your thigh, “Shall we find out then?”

You jolt at the sensation, face twisting in confusion at him.

“You don’t gotta do anything, sweetie, just stay like this,��� his hands push back on your thighs though, opening you up to him even more. “Been doing so good for me, sound so pretty,” he coos at you.

Brows furrowing at his words, heart skipping beats at his sudden praise, feeling fuzzy all over.

He hums in thought, “So fucking wet for me, dripping everywhere, creamy fucking pussy.”

You twitch at the switch, wanting to crawl away from him.

“I think I’ve just realised something,” he glances up at you, “Got such nice reactions to both things I said, do you know how much wetter you got, cunt twitching and drooling for me.”

You try pulling from him, but his hold is firm, “Gojo!” You warn.

He might be enjoying this too much but learning about what gets you going is way too enticing, especially when he doesn’t have to do much to have you looking so pathetic. “Trying to run away from me,” he tsks, “But you’re fucking dripping, so reactive, so sweet.” His eyes are glazing over, working himself up.

“‘Toru!” You call for him again, you feel like you’re on fire, beyond embarrassed.

He groans at the nickname, not hearing it from you in so long, you used to always call him that. He liked it a little too much, cock leaking for you. He feels as wrecked as he looks when he looks up at you, “I think you like both,” is his conclusion.

Reaching up, he grabs at your hand and pulls it down to your cunt, his fingers guiding your own through your slick. You gasp at it, not expecting for yourself to be so soaked. Biting at your lower lip when he moves your fingers over your clit, teasing you.

Dazed when he asks, “Ever been this wet, pretty?”

You shake your head, “No… I didn’t know I…”

Fingers moving yours to your entrance, “Poor thing, didn’t know how slutty her pussy was.” Feeling the way your cunt clenches at his words, his face bright with it, “Fucking great though, in love with it,” and again, your brows raising in realisation, “Yeah… you know now, don’t you?”

“You’re making me feel embarrassed,” you pout, head dizzy.

“No, I’m making you feel so fucking horny, not my fault that you like being embarrassed and praised at the same time,” he pulls your fingers away from your core, moving them to his mouth, sucking them clean.

You remove your fingers from him, coming to rest back in the bed, feeling breathless as you look down at him. “What do you want from me?”

“Want you to admit it, want you tell me how much you like when I talk to you,” his hand tickles up the skin of your inner thigh.

“…Like it,” you mumble out.

Humming in thought, “Hmm, not good enough, don’t think I believe you.”

Repeating, louder, “I like it.”

Tilting his head at you, “You like what?”

“I like when you talk to me,” you say with more force, brows furrowed.

He pretends to be unsure of your answer, “Are you sure?”

“Yes!” You try again, but as his expression remains unchanging, you add, “I like when you talk to me, I like how hot and fuzzy your words make me feel, I like just the sound of your voice, makes me want to squirm. Love it even! Is that what you wanted to hear?” You huff.

“Holy fuck, yes,” if he weren’t already on his knees, he would’ve fallen to them again.

You let out a squeal at the way his mouth is already back on you, tongue pushing into your hole insistently. Fervent in his actions, clearly worked up by your words. If he were on the bed, he’d be shamelessly grinding his hips down into it, cock so fucking hard it’s aching. Pulsing so pitifully for you and if he weren’t so completely distracted by how you taste he’d throw caution to the wind and fuck into you right now.

“Gojo! Oh–” His name comes out all broken, ruined and shaky from how he laps at your cunt, drinking down all your slick.

Your elbows officially give out and you’re flopping back onto the mattress, fingers digging into the bed. Struggling to hold in all the little noises he’s pulling from you, hips trying to desperately rut into his pretty face with no luck, locked in place by his strong hold.

Gasping out at him, “M–more. Gojo – hah – more, please.”

Grunting against you, vibrations running up your spine, wanting desperately to kick your legs against the stimulation but unable to. He’s worked you up so much, so fucking desperate for release that his touch is making you crazy.

A finger presses at your hole, slipping inside easily, both his finger and tongue fucking into you. Another finger added, opening you up, scissoring them, tongue sneaking deeper inside your cunt.

He feels drunk, head heavy and brain foggy, tongue fucking you deeply. Delighting in the sounds of your sloppy pussy trying to suck him in deeper, he’s losing his mind. Tongue leaving you only for him to spit onto your cunt, thumb rubbing it into your clit, third finger added to the first two. Determined to have you ready for his cock.

“Need you to cum,” he sounds wrecked even to himself, “Before I do in my own pants – ffffuck –” Can’t help the way he curses at how you tighten around him at his words, “Must’ve been telling the truth about liking my voice, huh?” He teases, laughing breathlessly at how you react to him again.

Pressing out a simple, “S–so mean,” in response.

“You fucking like it,” eyes watching how your back arches off the mattress, “Love it even,” he reminds.

A series of moans leave you unabashedly at how he crooks his fingers just right, consistently hitting the one spot, thighs twitching at it. Stomach pulling tight and toes curling, head moving from side to side, so fucking close now.

“That’s it, sweetie,” he encourages, “Doing so good, just let go for me.”

You’re cumming suddenly, the abruptness of it shocking, like your body skipped the rest of the build up at Gojo’s words. If it didn’t feel good how he was fucking you through it, how his thumb kept rubbing at your clit, you’d feel beyond embarrassed at how you came just because he asked you to.

It’s not lost on him how quick you were to finish after he spoke, his ego big before and now fucking massive. Absolutely thrilled by how you continue to prove your responsiveness to him, if he were ever worried about you not being attracted to him, he can’t possibly remember why. Not when you’re squirming under him, tears threatening to slip from your waterline.

“Such a good direction follower,” he mocks, repeating his earlier sentiments.

His fingers keep stroking at you until your body goes limp, only jerking every now and again with your come down. Pulling them from you and parting them, looking at the way your cum connects his fingers together with white strings.

“Look at that,” his voice dripping with glee, “I was right… got such a creamy pussy,” he hums, shoving his fingers into his mouth.

He wipes his spit covered fingers on your thighs before standing, tugging off his pants and boxers before crawling up the mattress, leaning over you. Fingers skimming at your sides, pulling your shirt along with it, “Can I take this off, pretty?”

Eyes bleary when they meet his, giving a small nod, “Mhm.”

“You okay to keep going?” He checks, leaning in closer to you.

His concern makes you unreasonably happy, feeling genuinely cared for, “Yeah.”

“You sure–”

Cutting him off, “–Yes.”

Shock present on his face before smiling endearingly at you, completely smitten with you and has been for a long time now. It all feels a little surreal to him, being able to hold you, be intimate with you. Leaning in more, pressing soft kisses all over your face.

Showering you in affection as his hands continue to pull your shirt up. Only parting to pull it from you fully, thrown to some corner of your room, joining the rest of your clothes. Shuffling back so he can look at all of you, hands delicately tracing over you, like he’s memorising how you feel under his palms.

“You’re so soft,” he mumbles, hands smoothing over you. He drops onto you, face pressing between your tits, breathing in your scent.

Confused as your voice calls for him gently, “‘Toru?”

“Fuck,” he nips at your skin first and then moves to get back on his knees, “Alright, spread those pretty legs for me, sweetheart.”

Feeling placid from the intensity of your orgasm, you immediately listen to him and open your legs, moving them to the outside of his. Gojo feels like his heart grows in size at how quick you are to listen to him, so docile you don’t even talk back to him.

Your head cocks to the side at him, confused by his stare, “What?”

“Nothing,” he shakes his head at you, “You’re just really cute.”

He grabs your face, sandwiching your cheeks between his fingers, his lips leaving behind a big and sloppy kiss on yours before focusing back on your cunt. Grasping his cock and groaning at the pressure, squeezing himself to alleviate some of the need crawling desperately up his spine.

You can’t help but stare, he wasn’t full of it, he really is that big. Long and thick and looking so painfully hard, dripping precum so messily down the length of himself, dribbling down onto the bed sheets.

“It’s rude to stare,” he hisses, hand now stroking himself, clearly not even a little bit put off by your shameless staring. If anything, completely aroused by it.

Looking up into his eyes as you apologise, “‘M sorry.”

“Hah,” he huffs in amusement, “So polite all of a sudden, orgasm that good, pretty?”

“Yeah,” you nod, staring at him straight on, aiming to work him up more.

It works, “Fuck– alright,” his hips stutter into his hand and he stops fisting his cock, “‘Bout to give you an even better one,” guiding his dick to your core.

Swiping the head of himself through your folds, letting it collect the slick leaking from you. Teasing you like this for a bit, moving himself up and down before dipping into your hole, only to pull away again.

You whine at him over it, “Please.”

Smile large as he coos, “Don’t worry, pretty. I’ll take care of you.”

Keeping his word, he slowly presses the tip of his dick into you, hissing at the stretch, worried he didn’t give you enough prep. You bite your lip as you begin to take him in, fisting the sheets below, looking up at Gojo. His brows are upturned, and his jaw clenched, focusing so hard on being slow and careful. He pauses when you clench and flinch around him.

“I can take it,” gaze determined as you try to assure him, “You can keep going.”

“Oh, sweetie,” his hand grips at your inner thigh, squishing it under his hold, “I appreciate that,” he smiles, “I do… but you’re gonna want to pace yourself.”

You pout up at him, sulking, wanting to be full and not appreciating his probably – definitely – sound advice.

“Hah, don’t pout,” his thumb moves to your clit, “You’ll take it, know you will,” rubbing circles into it, “Cause I’m gonna make sure of it, but you gotta pace yourself.”

Under his touch, you relax again, and he pushes his hips forward, starting the slow process of opening you up on his cock. His control astounding himself right now, wanting nothing more than to fuck into you completely, feeling your pussy swallow him whole.

He’s not quite half-way yet and already pressing up against the most delicious spots inside you, with that and his consistent pressure on your clit, you’re suddenly so fucking close to cumming like this.

Reaching out to him, your hand lightly slaps at him, trying to warn, “I’m gonna – hah –”

Gojo realises when you clench down on him what you’re trying to say, the small noises you make getting louder, he almost blows his load the second he realises. Ripping himself from you suddenly, you cry out at the loss, cumming around nothing, gasping into your hand.

“Why? Why?” you’re almost incoherent as you ask him.

“I’m so fucking sorry, sweetheart,” he keeps his thumb on your clit, trying to make up for the loss of his cock, “Would’ve cum if I hadn’t pulled out, wanna at least fuck you before I do.”

You glare at him, trying to convey how slighted you feel but he only seems to find it endearing, smiling at you over it. “I’ll make it up to you, don’t worry.”

Wasting no time, he fucks back into you, to where he was before he pulled out. Giving shallow thrusts as he keeps pressing forwards, breath stuttering at the small way he’s getting the friction he’s desperate for.

“Such a greedy cunt,” he murmurs, dick slipping deeper, “So quick to cum for me, sucking me in.”

“Gojo–” you whine at him, his words back to embarrassing you.

His voice cracks at how you refer to him, “–No, no, nono, what happened to ‘Toru?” Fucking deeper, so close to being balls deep.

“‘Toru, you’re–” cutting yourself off with a moan, he thrust the rest of the way in when you called to him, “–so deep.”

“Don’t I fucking know it,” he chuckles breathlessly, moving to press his body up against yours, craving the contact.

He’s pressed up against you completely, warm and strong, your legs loop around his waist and he slips in deeper. He groans at it, holding himself back, wanting you to adjust to all of him first. He nuzzles into your neck, leaving kisses and love bites against the sensitive skin there, relishing in the way your pussy jumps around him over such a small act.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you liked me or something,” he jokes, referencing how sensitive you are to him.

Without thinking, you admit, “I have – mmph – I’ve liked you mm–multiple times ah– at different points in – hah – our lives.”

His head snaps back as he twitches inside you, “Seriously?” When you nod, he grinds down into you, “Fuck– had me so stressed, liked you all this time and you’re telling me I could’ve had this pretty, little pussy so much sooner?”

You’re feeling a bit dazed, two orgasms deep and stretched so obscenely around him, cunt making wet noises just from the small way he’s grinding into you.

“When,” his words are hurried, when you look at him like he’s just said something in a different language, he asks again, “When have you liked me?”

“I don’t remember that, too many – hnn – different times,” you shake your head, you don’t even know if you could recount all the times you had feelings for him resurface even if you weren’t split open on his big dick.

He moans, starting to move his hips in shallow thrusts, “Enough that you – mmph – can’t remember specifics,” he groans, “Feels like a sick joke, been pining after you our – hah – whole lives.”

His mouth is on yours, kissing you deeply, sucking your tongue into his mouth, licking at you. The kiss so dizzying, you’re barely able to catch up to him before he’s talking again, “The most recent time– can you – hah – remember the most recent time you liked me?”

He’s desperate to know, wanting to know how small or big of a window he had missed. Failing to realise it doesn’t really matter all that much right now.

“Not – hah – not that long ago,” you’re almost panting now, wanting for him to move with more urgency but he’s still only thrusting into you shallowly.

“When, sweetie, tell me when, please,” his forehead pressed to yours, eyes imploring.

Struggling slightly as you press out, “B– before I started – hah – going on all those dates,” you’re trying really hard to think, “Beginning of the – hng – year?”

Smiling at you, big, happy, “Not that long ago, just gonna make you like me again.”

He’s a little annoyed that you went on so many dates right after having liked him, not completely lost on him that the two are probably connected and feeling frustrated that he hadn’t just told you about his feelings ages ago.

“Gonna charm the fuck outta you, take you to nice places, shower you in compliments, tell you how cute you are,” he’s rambling now, about your theoretical future dates, “Remind you every day how much I like you, how perfect you are, gonna make you like me again.”

“I’d like it if you moved, ‘Toru, please,” you beg, tears in the corners of your eyes from being teased.

“Since you asked so nicely,” he quips, kissing your cheek before complying.

Finally starting a pace that has you going crazy but in a different way, fast and deep, weighted thrusts that make you struggle to maintain focus. Pulling out almost completely before fucking back into you, hammering his hips into yours, lewd squelching filling the room at it.

Your whimpered moans have Gojo’s skin pricking, so turned on he feels insane, like you might kill him, “Got such a great pussy, fucking soaking wet, taking me so well, could die like this and not complain, fuck–”

Clawing at him now, at his forearms, his biceps, shoulders, back, anywhere you can reach, desperately scrabbling for purchase. “Gojo–”

“–No, I don’t know who that is,” he ignores your cry of his name.

Trying again, “‘Toru, want– I want–”

You’re not even entirely sure what you want or are asking for, but Gojo seems to know immediately. His hips moving faster, pelvis slapping into your clit every time he meets yours, cock hitting against your cervix in a way that hurts so fucking good.

Eyes rolling back in your skull with the pleasure, fat tears running down your face at it. Sex has never felt like this, is it meant to feel like this? Have you been doing it wrong? Or maybe he’s just insanely good at it, or maybe you just like him more than you were aware of.

“Feels– feels good, I–”

“Again? Fucking perfect, so perfect for me,” he sounds so excited, “Want it, want you to cum on me, cum all over my cock, fucking coat me in it.” It’s almost like he’s begging you for it.

Luckily for him, you really do like his voice, love how he talks to you and at his borderline begging, you’re cumming all over him. Cunt clenching down on him, sobbing out pitiful moans of his name as you cum. It’s coating him, just like how he asked for, creamy white ring at the base of his cock.

“Fuuck, that’s it, such a good girl,” your cunt jumps around his cock, and he laughs, “Oh? You liked that, should’ve called you a good girl sooner.”

Too dazed to fight him on his teasing, corners of your vision blurry and ears ringing, twitching pathetically under him. He doesn’t stop his thrusts, fucking into you harsher, more shallow, getting close to finishing himself.

Orgasm on the tip of his tongue, the thing that sends him over the edge is how you look up at him. Eyes fucked out and cheeks tear stained, whining out a small, “‘Toru, want it, please.”

“Whatever you say, sweetheart,” his words are choked out, almost whining himself, balls heavy with how badly he wants to cum.

Thrusts faltering as he fucks into you the last few times, suddenly slamming his pelvis to yours, releasing all his cum inside you, painting your walls a pretty shade of white. Hips grinding into you as he finishes.

Fucked out whimpers of your name leaving him as he presses his head into the side of your neck. Biting down onto you, shocking you slightly, the pain unexpected, he lathes over it with his tongue.

He slumps down onto you, his weight too much, your hands push at him, “Too heavy.”

He hums out at you noncommittally but gets up, carefully slipping himself from you, not shy in how he stares at your pussy. At the way his cum gushes from it, the urge to fuck it all back inside you strong. He withholds though, seeing you’re clearly beyond fucked out. Next time, he promises himself.

Gone from you but not for too long, only leaving long enough to clean himself up and bring stuff back to clean you up. Wiping softly at your legs, cleaning you of his spend, “You look cute dripping with my cum,” he singsongs.

“Lewd,” you accuse, too tired to think of something more to say.

“Yeah…” he gets into bed by you, “But I’m certain you like that.”

You snuggle into his side, letting him cuddle you, “Not sleeping with you again until at least the third date.”

“I bet…” he looks down at you, lips hovering over yours, “…You’ll sleep with me after each of them.”

You go to scoff at him and deny it, but he kisses you, deep and imploring. Effectively shutting you up and as you let him kiss you how he likes, you realise, he might be right.

𝐀/𝐍: this got away from me, like it so often does, it was only meant to be a couple k of only smut but i am not normal so it turned into this! i hope you enjoyed <3 thank you for reading!

[⚠︎] — 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆: do not reupload / repost / translate / plagiarise my works © all works are the intellectual property of lovelivision

[lexiputellas]

The Art of Losing

part 1, part 2

Paige took you to dinner that night, a cute, dimly lit restaurant that oozed charm. You dressed for the occasion—a skirt, thigh-high boots, the perfect mix of effort and danger.

What Paige was going to do? Well, she was going to suffer.

That was the goal, after all. Two could play this game.

The food was amazing, but Paige was better. She talked—really talked—about her fear of going pro, about changing cities, about everything that kept her up at night. And for the first time in a long time, you just listened.

No snark, no teasing—just her voice filling the space between us two.

It was… hot.

Not in a typical way, but in the way vulnerability sometimes is, when someone bares themselves in front of you and trusts you to hold the weight of it.

The only problem? You were trying really hard not to think about how insanely attractive she looked while doing it.

Your brain, the absolute traitor, kept drifting to the idea of her taking you apart right there at the table, which, given the circumstances, was wildly inappropriate. But in your defense, you never claimed to be a saint.

After dinner, you ended up in a bar that could only be described as sticky, the floors, the air, probably the bartender too.

Paige swore up and down she could destroy you in bar games.

She was wrong.

Turns out, years of college drinking and questionable relationships left you with one very specific skill set: you owned bar games. Pool, darts, beer pong, you name it.

You picked up the cue stick, lined up a shot—and missed.

Badly.

Paige tilted her head, smirking. “That was tragic.”

You sighed dramatically, pouting just enough to sell it. “I might need some help.”

Her smirk deepened. “Oh yeah?”

You nodded, feigning helplessness. “It just seems really hard.”

That was a trap. You knew it.

And Paige, the poor thing, walked right into it.

She stepped behind you, close enough that her body pressed against yours, hands sliding over yours on the cue stick. “Here,” she murmured, her voice low, warm. “Let me show you.”

Oh, this was worth throwing the game for.

Her hands guided yours, but all you could focus on was how close she was, her breath on your neck, the slow, deliberate way she moved. Her voice was low, almost teasing. “You have to grip it just right.”

Oh, she was doing this on purpose.

You swallowed hard. “Like this?”

She hummed, adjusting your grip with a slow drag of her fingers over yours. “Mmm, almost.”

Your pulse pounded in your ears. This was torture. Delicious, maddening torture.

“Now,” she murmured, voice dipping lower. “Keep your stance steady.”

Her hands slid down, adjusting your hips, and—yeah, okay. This was no longer about pool.

Your next shot, unsurprisingly, missed.

Paige grinned against your ear. “Maybe we should keep practicing.”

And that’s when you lined up your next shot. This time, you sank it effortlessly.

Paige blinked. “Wait. What?”

You grinned, tossing the cue stick onto the table. “Oh, I knew how to play the whole time.”

Paige stared at you for a solid three seconds before groaning. “You’re impossible.”

Before you could think of something to say, she grabbed your wrist, tugging you toward the back door of the bar. The alley was quiet, dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of rain on pavement. Before you could make a comment about how cliché this was, she had you pressed against the brick wall, her body crowding into yours.

“Oh,” you breathed, grinning up at her. “So this is where the night was heading?”

Paige smirked, one hand dragging up your thigh, fingers teasing at the hem of your skirt. “You wore this for me?”

You tilted your chin up, feigning indifference. “What if I did?”

Paige’s breath hitched, her lips ghosting over yours. “Then I might have to take full advantage of that.”

Your hands tangled in her shirt, pulling her impossibly closer. “About time.”

And then she kissed you. No warning, no hesitation—just heat and hunger, her hands firm as they pressed into your hips, her thigh slipping between yours in a way that had your head spinning. The kiss was all teeth and urgency, like she was making up for lost time. Like she had been waiting for this as long as you had.

You gasped as her lips moved to your neck, her breath hot against your skin. “Paige—”

You grinned, tilting your head to give her better access. She pulled back just enough to look at you, her fingers still tracing slow patterns against your thigh. “And you thought I’d let you leave like this? Not a chance."

The moment stretched, heavy and electric, before you tugged her closer, your voice dropping to a whisper. "Come home with me."

Paige’s breath hitched, her grip tightening. "Lead the way."

[justaz]

this got longer than i meant it to so im putting it under the cut

merlin and morgana watching arthur and gwen be The Couple in camelot. they are heartbroken, jealous, and tired- no, exhausted. they've arthur and gwen for years and fell madly and hopelessly in love with them (respectively). however, they care for the both of them and if they’re happy together then merlin and morgana will simply bite their tongue. besides, its not like their feelings are reciprocated so there’s no use in stirring up trouble.

but the pain eats away at them until they are shadows of their previous selves. merlin is quiet and demure while morgana’s lighthearted snark is growing harsher and harsher. it comes to a head when morgana makes a scathing remark to merlin about his feelings. before, her comments had been directed at others, arthur more often than not, but never toward merlin. they were in the same boat so why would morgana target him?

but she did and things get a little tense. then merlin finds a spell and shows morgana and the two of them, utterly exhausted and desperate for an end to their agony, agree to take part in the spell together. merlin concocts the potion and they both down it. the next day, merlin and morgana are as happy as can be. it was a startling 180° from the morose and downtrodden duo they had been not even twelve hours before to the happy, on cloud nine, nothing is wrong with the world people that hummed as they danced around the castle

merlin and morgana exclaim to one another how freeing it is to not feel such a heavy burden of unrequited love. they mention how easy it is to breath. how they haven’t been this happy and carefree in years. of course, like everything else, there comes a price

to be rid of feelings like love, the opposite feeling would take it’s place. a lot of people believe the opposite of love to be hate, but it is in fact indifference. it starts off slow where gwen makes inside jokes that morgana cant remember. then it moves to them having trouble remembering arthur and gwen’s names. then their memories begin to rewrite themselves to remove arthur and gwen from their minds. eventually, they roam the halls, arm in arm, without even a glance at either arthur or gwen bc they cant find it in themselves to care about these two random strangers. who would?

arthur and gwen go to gaius who has already noted their odd behaviors and has been looking into it. the rest of the knights join them in gaius’s chambers bc they had also noticed how weird they were acting. lancelot is quiet and brooding until arthur pushes him to confess what he knows.

lancelot tells them how he fell for gwen the first time he had come to camelot. she flushes and arthur seems upset but lancelot continues. he tells them all how despite, or maybe because of, his love for gwen, he let her go to be with arthur bc she was happy with him. he hesitates and gwen encourages him. lancelot mentally apologizes to his two magical friends and spills the beans. he explains how morgana has loved gwen for years and how merlin has loved arthur for years. the three of them had bonded after arthur and gwen were engaged about how much it hurt watching the person you love be happy with someone else.

slowly, he pulls out a vial filled with glittering, dark red liquid - dark like blood. he hands it to gaius and explains how they had come to him a few days ago with that and said how it would cure his pain. it would wash away his love for gwen so he wasn’t crushed under the weight of it. he says he never took it bc he didn’t think it was right but merlin and morgana had already taken it. he wasn’t sure what the side effects were going to be until he saw them that afternoon.

gaius finds what the potion is and explains how it did in fact wash away their feelings of love for arthur and gwen and with the absence of love, indifference took hold. he wasn’t sure if their missing memories could be attributed to the indifference or if the spell took to wiping the memories to prevent the love from regrowing.

arthur and gwen are quiet, guilty and upset that their closest friends were going thru such turmoil and they weren’t aware at all. leon clears his throat and asks how to cure them. gaius grimaces and read the book a bit more before responding that a counter potion would do the trick, it would neutralize the previous potion by bringing back their memories and feelings. arthur is quick to agree but gaius interrupts that once the counter potion has been administered, everything will come back at once. everything.

they question him and he explains that every memory, every word spoken, every touch, and every feeling from the past 7+ years will run through them at the same time. considering they’ve been dealing with unreciprocated love and watching the one they love be with someone else for the past couple of years, it wouldn’t be that farfetched to assume that they would look and sound like dying animals. suffice to say, it wouldn’t be pretty.

in spite of the guilt and fear in arthur, he insists that they have to bring merlin and morgana back. he doesn’t want to put them in pain but he cant just let them wipe themselves away and continue on with his life as if he didn’t just lose his best friend and sister. they spike merlin and morgana’s wine with the potion and, as gaius predicted, merlin and morgana both drop to the floor, screaming and crying in pain, pleading with anyone to make it stop and take the pain away.

gwen hides her tears in elyan’s shoulder, arthur uses his long taught skill of being an Emotionless Prick of a Prince his father taught him to not cry. the tears stay in his eyes and do not fall. a few minutes later, merlin and morgana are both catatonic on the ground, limp and staring at nothing. their breathing is slow, so slow they almost appeared dead.

lancelot and gwaine help merlin up and take him to his chambers while leon and percival do the same for morgana. no one mentions what happened and merlin and morgana stay locked in their rooms for two days before being able to get up out of bed. they aren’t back to their shadow selves from two weeks prior, nor are they the happy go lucky duo from the past few days. instead, they are slow and quiet and barely even there. they’re barely even people anymore. simply going through the motions.

[atinyslittleworld]

A Flicker of Ink

tattoo artist!san x assistant!reader

Summary: Tattoo artist Choi San and his assistant Y/N find unexpected romance during a blackout

Genre: romance, fluff

Warnings: mention of darkness and rain

.

San was a renowned tattoo artist in the heart of the city. His intricate designs and meticulous attention to detail had earned him a loyal clientele. His shop, Inked Impressions, was a haven for those seeking to express their stories through art etched into their skin. The walls were adorned with framed sketches, vibrant tattoos, and pictures of satisfied customers, each one a testament to San's skill.

Y/N, his assistant, was a paradox wrapped in a tough exterior. She handled appointments, managed supplies, and kept the shop running smoothly. With her leather jacket, combat boots, and an air of indifference, she was often mistaken for someone who didn’t care much about anything. Yet, beneath her tough exterior, there was a deep-seated passion for the art of tattooing and a respect for San's talent, even if it was rarely expressed openly.

Their days were filled with constant bickering. Y/N would scoff at San's meticulous nature, calling him a perfectionist, while he would retort that she was too reckless and needed to take her responsibilities more seriously. Despite the friction, their dynamic worked, and the shop thrived.

One late evening, after a particularly heated argument about the organization of the ink bottles, the shop was eerily quiet. The last customer had left, and the two were closing up. The soft hum of the fluorescent lights was the only sound, a reminder of the long hours they had put in.

"Why can't you just admit that I was right for once?" San grumbled, locking the cash register.

"Because you're never right," Y/N shot back, stacking the remaining ink bottles on the shelf. "You're just lucky I'm here to keep you from making a mess of things."

San was about to retort when suddenly, the lights flickered and went out, plunging the shop into darkness. The hum of the lights ceased, leaving a void of silence that was almost deafening.

San, trying to lighten the mood, chuckled. "Guess we forgot to pay the electric bill, huh?"

Y/N didn’t respond with her usual snark. Instead, she stood frozen. "San?" Her voice, usually so confident, was now small and vulnerable.

San's joking demeanor evaporated instantly. "Y/N, are you okay?"

"I... I don't like the dark," she admitted, her voice trembling. "I'm scared of it."

San's heart ached at her admission. He reached out, finding her arm in the pitch black and pulling her close. "It's okay," he whispered, wrapping his arms around her. "I'm here. It's just a power outage. The storm outside must have knocked something out."

They stood there for a moment, their breaths mingling in the darkness. The proximity, combined with the silence, made the air thick with an unspoken tension. San could feel the warmth of Y/N's breath against his cheek, and he turned slightly, just enough to catch the outline of her face in the faint light from the streetlamp outside.

"Y/N," he whispered, his voice barely audible. She turned towards him, their noses almost touching. Her fear had drawn her to him, but now something else kept her there. The silence stretched, and San’s hand moved to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against her skin.

Y/N’s heart pounded in her chest, not from fear, but from the intensity of the moment. The arguments, the bickering, it all seemed to dissolve in the darkness. She could feel his breath, warm and steady, and it calmed her. Without thinking, she leaned in, her lips brushing against his.

The kiss was tentative, a question rather than an answer. San responded, his other arm wrapping around her waist, pulling her closer. The darkness that had seemed so menacing a moment ago now provided a cloak of intimacy, shielding them from the world outside.

San could feel Y/N’s hesitation melting away as she pressed closer. The tension that had always simmered between them now surged to the surface, manifesting in a soft, shared breath as their lips met again, more firmly this time. San’s hand moved from her cheek to the back of her head, his fingers tangling in her hair as he deepened the kiss.

San pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against hers. "Y/N," he murmured, his voice husky with emotion, "I've wanted to do that for a long time."

Y/N's breath hitched. "Me too," she admitted softly, her hands still gripping his shirt. "I just didn't know how to say it."

San smiled in the darkness, his thumb caressing her cheek. "We don't have to say anything," he whispered. "We just have to feel it."

As the storm raged outside, the small shop became their own world, a bubble of safety and intimacy. San could feel Y/N's body trembling slightly against his, and he held her tighter, reassuring her with his touch. The vulnerability she showed in that moment made him see her in a new light, one that was softer and more profound.

When they finally broke apart, the lights flickered back on, casting a harsh fluorescent glow over their faces. They stood there, breathless and wide-eyed, the reality of what had just happened settling in.

Y/N was the first to speak, her voice a mix of surprise and uncertainty. "Well, that was... unexpected."

San chuckled, the sound breaking the tension. "Yeah, you could say that.

They stood there for a moment longer, the familiar bickering a distant memory, replaced by something new and fragile. The shop, once a battleground for their arguments, now felt like a sanctuary for this newfound connection.

"Maybe," Y/N said slowly, "we should argue in the dark more often."

San laughed, the sound filling the shop with warmth. "Maybe we should."

As they turned to finish closing up, San glanced at Y/N, his gaze softer, more tender. She noticed the change, a subtle shift in how he looked at her, and it made her heart skip a beat. The arguments might continue, but beneath the surface, there was an unspoken understanding, a bond forged in the dark and brought to light.

[fanbasetwo]

Ꮺ . , I HATE PINK , S.MT !

PAIRING: best friend ! matthew × afab reader. SYNOPSIS: have been friends with matthew ever since childhood you hated the fact that he never saw you in a romantic way but you had made up your mind to make him notice you in another light this time. [THIS WAS REQUESTED] GENRE: fluff. WORD COUNT: 984 [LIBRARY]

“Hey! Why are you ignoring me?” you tap Matthew’s shoulder, frowning at the way he barely glances up from his phone. The thing you hate most about him is this—how completely nonchalant he is about everything, especially when you’re clearly annoyed. Doesn’t he realize how much it stings to feel ignored by your favorite person in the world?

He hums in acknowledgment but doesn’t look up. What hurts even more is the soft smile on his face—not for you, but likely for some girl in his DMs asking him why he’s so handsome or if he’s single.

“What?” he asks when you snatch his phone away. His raised eyebrow screams indifference, and it only fuels your frustration.

“What what?” you snap, glaring up at him. “Why are you so desperate for love? For a girlfriend? Am I boring now or something?”

You’re practically vibrating with indignation, standing on the edge of the bridge and glaring up at him like an ant squaring off against a giraffe. He sighs, tilting his head lazily.

“Easy for you to say,” he mutters, clearly unimpressed. “You’ve got a million friends, people hitting on you left and right. Me? I have none, Y/N. Not everyone’s as lucky as you.”

The snark in his voice makes you want to throttle him. “Such a loser,” you mumble, huffing. But then, in a moment of reckless honesty, the words spill out before you can stop them.

“I do like you, you idiot. Not that you’d even notice.”

You freeze as the weight of your confession settles between you both. Your cheeks flush, and suddenly, you’re stumbling backward, your foot slipping dangerously close to the edge of the bridge.

Before you can fully process what’s happening, Matthew’s arm wraps tightly around your waist, pulling you flush against him. Your heart races as your face collides with his shoulder, his cologne invading your senses and making your knees weak. His phone is still clutched awkwardly in your hand.

A loud cough interrupts the moment, and you both pull apart quickly. It’s your mutual friend trailing behind, looking all too smug as they pretend not to have witnessed the scene. You shove Matthew’s phone back at him, mumbling something incoherent, and the two of you start walking home in complete silence.

The tension is unbearable, thick and awkward in a way it’s never been before. You curse yourself silently for ruining the easy, comfortable dynamic you’ve always had. Matthew stays quiet too, his hands stuffed in his pockets, but every so often, you catch him glancing at you out of the corner of his eye.

It’s painfully awkward, yet somehow… it doesn’t feel bad.

You and Matthew could share anything embarrassing with each other, no matter how ridiculous it was. But this? This was different. It was weird in ways you couldn’t put into words. Sure, you’d once showered together as kids—innocent and carefree—but now, the air between you was heavy with unspoken feelings. And for days, neither of you brought up your accidental confession.

That is, until you see him. Talking to another girl.

Her hand rests casually on his shoulder, her eyes wide and blinking at him like he’s the most fascinating thing on the planet. Your chest tightens, a feeling somewhere between betrayal and frustration creeping in. You hadn’t expected Matthew to avoid the topic forever, but this? Letting someone else flirt with him? It stings.

The logical thing to do would’ve been to walk away, to leave him be. But logic has never been your strong suit. So instead, you storm over, glaring daggers at the girl until she backs off. Matthew stands there awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck.

“Hey, she—” he starts, but you cut him off.

“You piece of shit!” you yell, loud enough for anyone nearby to hear. “You decided to ditch me for that chick?!”

Matthew looks at you, stunned, his mouth half-open as you barrel forward.

“I FUCKING HATE YOU, SEOK MATTHEW! Could you not just reject me instead of rubbing it in my face by flirting with someone else? Do you not realize how much I LOVE YOU?! Do you not see how much it hurts when you add random girls on Insta? When you get so desperate for a girlfriend even though I’M RIGHT HERE?! AM I NOT GIRLFRIEND MATERIAL?! AM I JUST BEST FRIEND MATERIAL?! WHY, SEOK MATTHEW?!”

Your voice shakes with the effort, your chest heaving from yelling so hard. Matthew stands frozen, his eyes wide as the weight of your words settles over him.

“Umm… well… I like you too,” he finally stammers, rubbing the back of his neck. His voice is hesitant, almost shy. “Like… I thought you had better options…”

His words hit you like a bucket of cold water. You grab his shoulders, forcing him to look at you. Your eyes narrow, searching his face for any hint of doubt.

“When did I ever give you the impression I wanted anyone else?” you mutter, your voice low but firm. He blinks rapidly, his gaze darting anywhere but your face.

“I-I thought I had no choice,” he mumbles awkwardly, but before he can say more, you throw your arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug.

“Then it’s final,” you declare, your voice muffled against his chest. “You’re dating me. No choice left. I waited for so long, and I’m not waiting anymore.”

Matthew stiffens at first, but when you mention going to “someone else,” he immediately tenses, his arms tightening around you.

“I won’t, okay?” you reassure him with a soft laugh, pulling back just enough to look at his face. “But I hate you as much as you hate pink for not confessing first.”

He smiles sheepishly, his ears burning red as he mutters, “I don’t hate pink that much…”

“Exactly,” you tease, resting your head against his shoulder with a satisfied sigh.

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© fanbasetwo | tumblr

[total-drama-brainrot]

Thinking about the fake dating AU again. 🤯

What if, during his segment on the Aftermath, Noah plays off his 'cheating' as something so emotionally detached it makes him look almost psychopathic, in an attempt to make himself as unlikable as possible?

The 'cheating' was simply strategic, is all. It wasn't his fault the two of them had to go and catch real feelings; Noah was just playing the game. Nothing more.

What? You thought he had feelings for them? Don't be ridiculous, Noah felt nothing for either of them- they were just there to carry him through the competition.

(He doesn't anticipate the ache that twists through his chest after that statement. It isn't true in the slightest, yet even just pretending to not care about his partners is physically painful.)

At first, both Geoff and Blaineley commend him for enacting some long overdue karma/vengeance on the antagonistic duo, but the more Noah intentionally digs himself into a hole- the more hateable he makes himself- the more people actually begin to pity both Heather and Alejandro. Which was the plan from the beginning, so Noah fully commits to it, playing off every interaction as just another cog in his manipulation machine; he's the 'High IQ', after all, of course he planned it all.

And he hides the nausea writhing in his gut from the blatant lies he's sprouting under a carefully blank, uncaring mask of indifference. Every claim he makes is said in the most casual tone- as if he's commenting on the weather instead of admitting to masterminding the heartbreak of two strong competitors- and that's somehow worse than if he would at least seem smug about his achievement. Because at least then he'd (appear to) care.

So, when the Aftermath finally ends, Noah becomes persona non grata. No one wants to even look at him- who knew the little snark could be so ruthless? So uncaring?

And Noah, knowing that he can't confide in Owen (who can't keep a secret to save his life) or Izzy (who's too unpredictable to trust- and who also 'leaked' fake information about him to Sierra during her time on Celebrity Manhunt, so who knows what else she's leak?) turns to his friend Eva, who promptly decks him in the face.

"I'm not friends with cheaters."

And when he tries to explain himself, clutching at his quickly bruising face and hoping that she'll see reason or at the very least afford him some decency, she throws his actions back in his face (actions have always spoken louder than words with Eva). Claiming that, if he's willing to lead on two people romantically, who's to say he isn't also faking their friendship? How can she trust anything that comes out of his slimy mouth?

It hurts. Every accusation is like a wave of searing heat against his already blistered heart, and yet Eva's eyes are so cold as she looks at Noah like he's the scum beneath her shoes.

So he flees to his hotel room.

And, for the first time in years, he weeps.

.

Given the informative finale of World Tour, the Aftermath crew were given the go-ahead to host one last hurrah, to properly question their finalists about their scheme, and to clear Noah's name.

Their audience was practically frothing at the mouth for an update.

During their interview segment, Blaineley (in an attempt to stir up some drama- she's always endeavouring to stay on brand after all) plays clips of Noah's callous 'confessions' on his Aftermath segment post-elimination, hoping to cause some trouble in paradise for the lovely throuple by sewing the seeds of doubt in their minds.

To her surprise, both Heather and Alejandro start laughing at the clips as if they're the funniest thing they've ever seen, huddling closer to Noah as they poke and tease him. Noah, in turn, sinks in unto himself, red-faced and mortified.

"What? How can you be alright with him saying that?" Cries Blaineley, scandalised that her attempt at brewing tension somehow didn't work.

"Because he does not mean it." Alejandro explains. To his side, Heather nods in agreement.

"How can you be so sure?"

Heather points to the screen, where past Noah is lying his ass off for the world to see, stoic save for the barely noticable twitching of his fingers and the occasional jump of his leg.

"He's lying through his teeth! It's so obvious- you weren't even trying to hide your tells, and after all the practice we did!"

"I didn't need to. Neither of you were there to call me out on the bluff."

[tumblingxelian]

Chloe & Heroism

Chloe Bourgeois as a hero early on is a premise that often evokes either questions, like "How" and "Why". Or expectations that she is either already on a path to self improvement, or will be forced onto within a short timeframe.

These are not bad questions and the former definitely are necessary to consider for a story. However the expectations I tend to feel a bit murkier and while I have no issue with how some authors handle this topic.

I want to outline why I think you could do a good "Hero Chloe" story before she gets character development, but first, house cleaning!

1: I have not watched and largely ignore everything post season 3, so don't bother bringing up Derision. Remember, season 1 Kim was afraid of spiders.

2: In canon. Chloe only revealed her ID publicly because her abusive mother she is obsessed with pleasing (who killed her the day before) chose a girl other than her to take to New York & then tore her to shreds in front of everyone. 

With all that in mind let's examine where Chloe's values and understanding of the world comes from and how she perceives them! 

1 - Media/Social Media 

This would be a mixed bag, because on one hand they have Mighty Majesta comics that try to instill good values, but also shows built around lying to and humiliating people are evidently popular television and the internet seems similar in regards to pranking VS trying not to be terrible. So she's gonna get mixed signals at best. 

2 - Her family & Circle 

This is where 90% of the problems come from. Of the important adults in her life, her father, mother, Gabriel and Nathalie are all varying shades of corrupt, abusive, cruel and ruthless, while the lesser evils like Jean and Emilie are largely consigned to the role of enablers. 

Worse still, even if we ignore the emotional abuse, neglect and other elements that led to her both having trauma and her trauma response manifesting in aggression. We still have issues like Andre, during the brief periods he bothered to parent, explicitly teaching Chloe that, Stealing, extortion and threats are all appropriate ways to succeed in life.

IE, she isn't compromising her morality when she does these things, she is very much doing what she is taught was right at least consciously. This isn't helped by a 24/7 Audrey impression as Audrey deems being in her vicinity as reason enough to hurt people unless she deems them useful. 

Long story short, the values and people she was brought up around are all explicitly some shade of bad, or enabler, or outright teaching her to harm others. 

3 - Societies & Class 

However, we know from season 2 that Chloe is not entirely unaware that there are issues with this. Because while she spends much time boasting of how she's beloved and brilliant, when stripped of that and exposed to someone she trusts she is entirely willing to confess that she knows everyone hates her and that she feels she has no worth. She may not be able to articulate why or how this came about but she knows something is wrong. 

Despite this, school is not the best place to figure this out, especially for someone who obviously struggles with social cues and the like. The teachers run the gamut from indifferent and unpleasant, to extremely gentle and accommodating, to simply not wanting any form of drama and usually caving to whoever makes the most noise and none of them have the authority to do much outside of class hours. 

The class is not significantly better, because students like Kim and Alix can and do casually throw around snark or do pranks and at worst only get brief bursts of anger while Chloe's garner a more intense response. This is because her relationship with the class and motives are varying shades of different, but for someone with issues reading social cues, it's just going to seem like a confusing double standard. 

We can also see all this demonstrated in her relationship with Adrien, as Chloe clearly takes the lead in their relationship in Origins and outlines her logic behind the pranks, but is then surprised when Adrien seems to turn against her. What's more, it seems Chloe is aware that Adrien is more gentle/naive than her given she tried to educate him on these matters & turns to him for comfort and protection at times, while seeing no inherent contradiction between her expectations for their relationship and how she treats others.

Adrien does not help matters with seeming indifference to how she treats staff. 

Thus, while she knows 'something' is terribly wrong, actually being able to understand it and work through it is another matter. 

4 - Chloe's Conclusion 

So, what is the conclusion Chloe comes to in order to square all of these circles when she isn't just in full denial mode? The answer is quite simple and even demonstrated in the show itself, playing one's role. 

IE, Chloe the mayor and style queen's daughter is different to Chloe the hotel owner's daughter and we see this in her being able to stamp down on her usual instincts and slap on a customer service role when Jagged Stone enters the hotel and guide her father into doing the same. VS how she conducts herself during a class election, IE explicitly threatening and extorting people, to how she conducts herself day by day with her Audrey impersonation. 

A separate example and way she'd view this for others would be that Marinette the baker's daughter of course has to be nice and sweet and giving because that is how customer service roles work, while Marinette the aspiring fashion designer or would be class president is sneakier and will lay traps so people trying to steal from her are sabotaged. This isn't wrong, this is how she expects people to behave when in these circumstances and roles. 

Final Conclusion 

Which is why Chloe could easily play the role of a successful hero, because she would not be "Chloe Bourgeois, mayor's daughter, hotel heiress and Style Queen's daughter" as Queen Bee, she would just be Queen Bee, a superhero.

They have wonderfully defined roles that would be easy for her to pick up & follow through on: assure the public, save people from danger, protect allies, defeat monsters, all things Chloe was shown doing very well when chosen as a Miraculous Holder. 

I think that eventually the contrast in how she is received as Queen Bee VS Chloe Bourgeois would start grinding on each other and bleeding through both sides of the mask. 

But the infectious nature of empathy and a larger support network that don't have the worst impression of her would give Chloe the room she needs to explore and grow.

If she is too snippy as a hero, or shows a ruthless side, these won't be taken in the context of "Chloe that person I dislike" but "Queen Bee my ally" and can allow for more honest and even handed reactions that give her the necessary breathing room to grow and change. 

So yeah, I think season 1 Chloe could have, under the right circumstances, done a great job as a hero be it Queen Bee or another hero even before any outside circumstances or internal changes might have forced her to chart a new course in life.

Provided the role of Chloe and the role of hero do not intersect and become one almost immediately, because in that case it gets a lot harder for her. 

[incrediblethirst]

Hephexia and the other primarchs

Lion El'Johnson - not friends, but they won't kill each other. Lion finds Hephexia annoying as hell and too loud about unimportant things, but in that primal instinct way, he does recognize her as a predator in her own right. If Lion is.. well, a lion; then Hephexia is a honey badger.

Fulgrim - low key friends. They're not having girls night or anything, but when there's gossip in a specific area or around a specific person of interest to the other, the information will be passed on promptly and quietly... and likely with some snark about the gossip itself.

Perturabo - They've never spoken. Vulkan did introduce them, but they simply had a long, straight faced stare off for about a minute before they both decided they had zero interest in each other. Absolutely indifferent.

Jaghatai Khan - Polite. They don't have all that much in common, but if left in a room together, they'd be alright. One of Chogoris' "noble pursuits" is telling ancient tales, and Hephexia does love a good story.

Leman Russ - Leman thinks Hephexia is fun to watch. He's seen her climb a Salamander in order to get closer to a primarchs height on multiple occasions, and it cracks him up every time. She doesn't drink tho so that's a bit of a bummer. However he finds immense joy in riling her up and watching as she ends up off on a rant about one thing or another.

Rogal Dorn - It took a while for them to even know the other existed and even longer to find a reason to speak. They don't have much in common either, but Hephexias interest in the natural world(s) has given him valuable defense information before. They get on all right.

Konrad Curze - Its probably a very good thing that they don't get along. Hephexia loves the dark and horrifying parts of nature. Compound that with everything that Curze is, and it makes for a very dark pairing. Fortunately for everyone, the immutable fate thing, pisses Hephexia off to no end.

Sanguinius - friends! Who doesn't get along with Sanguinius? But also they rarely are left alone because they bring out the bastard energy in each other. They're truly out here sharing one brain cell and lacking any and all impulse control.

Ferrus - Begrudging friends. This is a divorced couple without the marriage. They will never admit that they're friends bc they're too busy BICKERING. It has been suggested that they should just get it overwith and fuck already. (I might be planning a fic about that.. )

Angron - Is as indifferent as he can be with the nails in his head. He may have thrown her through a wall at one point... it's a very good thing Hephexia is a perpetual.

Roboute Guilliman - not friends per se but friendly. Hephexia is surprisingly organized in certain aspects and can appreciate a good spreadsheet. However, her impulsive nature and general disregard for station and propriety gives him a headache.

Mortarion - They've never even met.

Magnus - friendly. Hephexia has a thirst for knowledge in some areas. Magnus is always ready to listen to her info dump, as long as she returns the favor.

Horus - He gives her the ick. She refuses to be alone with him ever and offers only the politeness required of her. Horus is... Horus. He's a damn flirt and will not stop trying to win her over. Not for any romantic or sexual reason, it just irks him that for whatever reason, his charisma doesn't work on her.

Lorgar - He also gives her the ick, but in a different way. Even before the imperium and her meeting Vulkan, Hephexia and her people held no real religious beliefs. Lorgar doesn't appreciate Hephexias humor, specifically when she says "it's true! I saw it in the codex myself". He knows she did NOT see it in the codex and is upset that she would dare use it as part of her joke.

Vulkan - That's pookie. Beloved. Her everything.

Corvus - I want them to be friends. Idk how that would work with the saddest Boi, but they're friends.

Alpharius/Omegon - doesn't remember they exist and that's the way they like it.

[day-drawn-blog]

Part VI : It's not my fault. I'm not to blame. These ain't my sins. I broke my chains. - "I want to live"

Back to some angst before the good stuff.

Pairing: Astarion x Reader -- This is set in Act I

Tags: angst, fluff, sadness, angst, fluff, then maybe eventually smut because I do love that

Part I. Crowned light moon of mine - I found you too soon

Part II : Lace your heart with mine Let your sleeping soul take flight

Part III : maybe tonight I'll rest in peace

Part IV : There is more to do and I still want to live

Part V : our futures bound, our bodies known

Part VII: You are not mine and am I truly yours?

Part VIII: Your blood like wine, I wanted in.

Part IX: I'll welcome my sentence and give you my penance

Part X : I can't go yet...don't let me die

-----------

Next morning. You wrapped some bandages around your neck. Your armor should cover any bite marks. You knew no one knew yet. And you didn't want to give his secret away till he was ready. 

You stepped out, pushing away any thoughts of last night. He was putting his armor on. Very focused. The party soon got going. Unlike other times, it was Astarion who was trailing behind the rest this time. 

Curious. You thought.

You glanced back at him a few times. He was never looking at you. You were traveling in the underdark. As you were passing by a group of statues, you were all ambushed by a spectator. You found yourself unable to deal as much damage as you normally did. You were definitely enfeebled after last night.

"Keep up, would you." Astarion chided as he swiped an enemy right next to you. "And whose fault is that" you snarked back at him. He said nothing, looked a bit displeased at your accusation, but continued to support you in combat. 

At least he is taking responsibility.

After the battle was won, he left without a word. Again. That night everyone camped near one of the pools by the several waterfalls. You decided to wash up, and found him there by himself. If his earlier behavior was any indication he would not be inclined to talk now, you reasoned. You turned to leave when he called you. 

"I'm done. Il be leaving". 

You turned around. He wrapped a long cloth around his waist. And walked away. You looked at his muscular upper body. There were some carvings on his back, illuminated by the moon. Strange. You thought. He kept walking away without as much as another glance at you. 

He wanted nothing to do with you. 

This was probably your fault. You thought as you stepped in. You should have not crossed the line. You were friends before. Now you are strangers. A momentary temptation had cost you what had taken so long to earn. Your only hope was that he would soon crave your blood. You prayed for it. You didn't want to lose him. You were ready to accept him for everything that he was. 

Including that he loved someone else.

Surely he loved her. Why else would he be so conflicted, angry, at last night. He felt he did her wrong. Surely. That's why he doesn't want to talk to you. Because he blames you. For tempting him. And you did. Despite promising yourself you won't take what belonged to her, you did try. You reached out and grabbed him. Greedily tried to have himself. 

You failed yourself. 

A few days passed. Nothing changed. Astarion was still cold and distant. Your heart was giving up hope, slowly. As he showed no signs of visiting you at night for your blood. He would ignore you during your short rests. And during the nights. He was indifferent during combat too. 

You let him be.

Perhaps you hurt him somehow. And you wanted to make amends. When you all met a trader, at the myconid colony, you decided to gift your friends some nice things. A nice armor and a morningstar for shadowheart. Enchanted helmet for Karlach. You found a pendant that would cast spells, necrotic damage and fear. 

You gave those to Astarion. 

"To help you in combat". You said. He looked up. Accepted them and proceeded to study them. "Thank you" he said in his deep voice. "Of course. I'm buying, for everyone". You reassured him. Then walked away, hoping he would feel happy. But you dared not look back. You didn't want to seem, desperate for his approval. 

"What are you buying your lover this time?"

Karlach teased. You thought she was teasing you. Shocked you looked at her only to find her talking to Shadowheart. Right. No one thinks of you and Astarion because no one knows. Because he didn't tell anyone. Because there is nothing to tell in the first place. Your heart was wrenching with every thought.

"I remember the spell amulet he bought you him last time. You lovers and your lovey dovey hearts, it's so cute!" continued Karlach.

"I supposed we used to be. But of late, I do not know if we can call each other that". Your sharply looked at her! What?! "What? Did he break your heart?! I always knew that smooth talker couldn't be trusted. Didn't I tell you! I'm going to talk to him tonight" Karlach huffed. 

"No need". Shadowheart stopped her. 

"I don't think there was "love" between us to begin with. I think we were both ... enjoying...each other. And now, we have had our fill". "Good" chimed laezel. "Nothing to distract you in battle anymore, or disturb your nights rest". "I suppose... " Agreed shadowheart. With a tinge of sadness laced in her voice. You felt sad for her. You wanted to comfort her. Maybe you will, later. And be comforted in return...which probably won't happen, because unlike her, your burden was yours alone. 

No one to share with. No one knew.

You were fighting duerger on pair of boats. You all thought the battle was easy until someone screamed. A duergar cast Crown of Madness on Shadowheart. She was right next to Astarion at that time. She hit him hard. Several times. He could only protect himself in defense.

But she kept going. 

Everyone else watched helplessly as Shadowheart's morning star struck him mercilessly. His mouth was bleeding. He arms took the brunt of him. He fell to his knees. Bloodied and beaten. You prayed she wouldn't use her burn spell. None of you could take her down. She was one of yours. Everyone looked on horrified. Helplessly. Terrified, as Astarion was steps away from falling in the water. 

You have to save him. You just do.

Frantically, ignoring the enemy beside you, you blasted the one that cast the spell on Shadowheart. She snapped out of it and fell unconscious. Astarion caught her. It was too strong a spell to bear. Astarion had lost a lot of blood. Karlach rage killed most of the people around you and the battle was wrapped up soon. You all needed to carry them to camp and tend to him. 

He was barely there. 

In his tent that night, you and Karlach and Halsin spent hours tending to his several wounds. Afterwards you stayed behind to clean and dress them all as Halsin had instructed. Halsin left to make more medicine. Karlach went to make food. You looked at his sorry state. Halsin had eased his pain at least. You hoped he would recover soon. Shadowheart was still unconscious in her tent.

One by one, you tended to all his wounds. His face. His neck and chest. His hands had suffered the most of them. Cleaning, applying salve, wrapping in linen. You took his arm, and placed it next to your face. You could feel warm tears welling up. His arm was so bruised. You kissed one of his fingers. Then hugged his arm as your tears fell silently. The silence was comforting. You loved this man. There was no denying now. He didn't. And you forgave him for that.

It felt wonderful to admit that. Honesty. Felt good. You felt at peace. You would not feel guilty anymore. You loved everyone of your allies. You didn't take to him at first. And he is mischievous, chaotic and unpredictable. But he has shown you love and care, in his own way. And you respected him for that.

"Where is he"? 

Your thoughts were interrupted by a frantic Shadowheart who ran inside. You stood up and got out of her way. She knelt next to him. Broke down and put her head on his chest and started crying. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry " she wailed. "This was me. I did this".. Karlach was right behind. "Told her he was not awake, she didn't listen". Karlach shrugged at you. "I gotta go back. Holler if you need me."

You looked at shadowheart.

You could understand her guilt. The crown of madness is a cruel spell indeed. You had once seen a githyanki soldier attack her commander to whom she had sworn an oath. It's difficult to bear. You wanted to console her. You moved closer to them.

"You are awake, my love?" 

What? You both looked at Astarion. He had opened his eyes. In obvious pain. Frowning. As if he didn't know where he  was. Slowly, wincing in pain, he turned around and saw you both. You standing.  Her kneeling in front. Crying. With one arm, he slowly placed it against her back. He managed a weak smile at her. At which she broke down even more. Her cries were hard to hear. You were unsure what to do. 

Awkward you stood there as her cries filled the tent. Astarion closed his eyes again. You decided to pack up all the medicine and bandages. You needed to change the water anyway. When you looked up at him again, you met his eyes. 

Piercing eyes, smouldering in ...anger? You tried to read. But you couldn't. He was looking at you, while his arm was around shadowheart who was crying on his chest. He seemed displeased... What did he want? Whatever it was, you felt, unwanted. Like ...the third wheel... You couldn't help but smirk a bit. Familiar. Yes. But I can be the bigger person. 

I will leave, because I love you.

And you left the tent. 

Part VII: You are not mine and am I truly yours?

[sunflowersandsapphires]

With your steady hand

Of Oak and Ivy, Chapter 3

Series Masterlist         Next Chapter

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader 

summary: Matt and Foggy go head to head in a prank war, much to your dismay.

warnings: Swearing, fluff, descriptions of homesickness

a/n: Did I mean to make everyone cry in this chapter? No. But here we are. (Honestly, from what I can remember, crying was a popular pastime my first semester of college.) We get a little Foggy vulnerability as a side dish for the Matt and Reader vulnerability. I had a great time with this chapter so I hope everyone enjoys!

w/c: 5.6k

Worrying your bottom lip between your teeth, you pushed the food around your plate indifferently. Your stomach balked at the idea of eating, but you were aware that you needed to. The only thing you’d eaten in the past 48 hours was dry cereal, and that had to be bad, right? 

“You ok?” The quiet, concerned voice of Matt from beside you made you jump. In your groggy haze, you’d completely forgotten he was next to you, and, honestly, that you were out in public at all. 

“Yup. Fine. Just not hungry.” Was the bland response you gave. It didn’t appease either of your friends, both of them frowning with worry. You’d been acting…off for over a week now. The cheerful, silly personality that Matt had unwittingly fallen for retreating into a worn out husk of a law student. Though he couldn’t see, Matt would bet dollars to donuts that the bags under your eyes were prominent given how sluggish you’d been recently. Not to mention that you hadn’t spoken up in any class the past few days, which was extremely out of character. 

Though Matt was too afraid to admit that he could tell, he knew your blood sugar was extremely low right now. Oddly enough, you weren’t lying when you said you weren’t hungry.

“Are you sure you’re feeling ok?” Foggy prompted, seemingly following the same train of thought that Matt was currently on. “You didn’t eat much. Did you catch that flu that’s been going around?” 

You shook your head, giving a thin smile. “Nah, just not hungry. I’m ok, guys, promise.” 

But neither guy was convinced by your lackluster argument. After studying quietly in their room, and neglecting a plate of takeout, you muttered something about having chores to do and headed home—much to the dismay of your friends. 

“Ok, what the hell is up with her?” Foggy scoffed, feigning annoyance despite the obvious worry in his tone. 

“I wish I knew.” Matt affirmed, falling backwards on his bed and throwing his arms over his face. 

“She said she wasn’t sick. Did something happen?” Foggy questioned. 

“She might be stressed, midterms will do crazy things to people.”

“Yah, but when she gets stressed about school she is usually all…ramble-y and stuff. Not like this. It’s like she’s not even here.” The air in the room swished as Foggy gestured wildly, his passionate concern aggravating his already violent hand movements. 

“I know, Fog.” 

“You should try talking to her. She’s more likely to tell you.” Foggy accused, rolling his eyes. 

Matt just snorted in disbelief. 

“You laugh, but we both know it’s true. You have a ‘special connection.’” The blond’s voice swayed on the last two words, as if he were a middle schooler pointing out Matt’s crush. 

“Bullshit.” Matt snarked. 

“You wound me, Murdock. You think the heart eyes you two are always making at each other can escape my powers of observation?” What?

“How on earth does a blind man make ‘heart eyes’ at someone?” Matt chuckled, trying to cover up the way his chest was pounding at the thought of his feelings for you being returned. 

“Uh, you tell me, dude! It’s goddamn unbearable. Not only are 90% of the women on this campus ogling you at all times, but you’re too infatuated with our mutual friend to even notice, and you refuse to date her. How am I even supposed to flap my wingman wings?!” 

“I told you, Foggy, she deserves better than I can treat her.” Matt groaned at his roommate’s insistence. 

“Yah, yah, lie to me all you want, Murdock, I’m taking notes for my best man speech at your wedding.” Foggy shook his finger at Matt who smirked. “Seriously, though. If anyone is going to get to the bottom of whatever’s going on with her, it’s you.”

“Hmm, I know she works tonight, I’ll see if she’ll talk to me about it during her shift.” Matt plotted aloud. 

“Keep me updated, man. I worry about that little jitterbug. She’s too sweet for this cruel world.” Foggy sighed, running a hand through his long hair. 

“Unfortunately, I think you’re right about that.” 

Breathing shakily, you ripped the elastic out of your hair and began massaging your temples, to no avail. The pounding ache that had settled over your skull remained, increasing the likelihood that you’d burst into tears from ‘pretty likely’ to ‘it’s a miracle the breakdown hasn’t started yet’. Feeling a lump build in your esophagus, you turned to Jen, who was working at the bookstore with you as you slowly fell apart. 

“You ok, babes?” Your roommate prompted, attentive gaze not missing your glassy eyes and choked inhales. 

Not trusting your voice, you shook your head, looking at her pleadingly as your lip quivered. 

“Aw, love!” Jen pulled you into a hug, siphoning tears from your eyes almost immediately. “What’s wrong? Still missing your mom?” 

“Mmm hmm.” You choked out around a sob. Squeezing you tightly, she hummed in understanding. 

“Why don’t you go sit in the back for a little bit? I’ll be fine holding down the fort.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Positive, babes. Go watch a movie or something. I’ll yell if I need ya.” 

Nodding dolefully, you rubbed at your damp eyes and padded to the closet-sized employee break room in the corner of the bookshop. 

Twisting his cane in his sweaty hands, Matt blew out a breath before entering the quiet store. His walk over from campus had been tumultuous despite the short distance. It had quickly occurred to him that cornering you at work might not be the best plan of action, unless alienating you whilst ruining the beautiful trust you currently held for him was the goal. 

Against his better judgment, he shoved open the door, trying not to wince as the bell chimed to signal his arrival. Hesitating for a moment, Matt realized it wasn't you at the counter, but your roommate. 

“Hi Matt!” Jen greeted him. “Nice to see you again.”

“You too, Jen,” Matt smiled, though the knot of nervousness in his stomach was expanding after hearing your soft cries coming from the break room. “Is, uh, is she working tonight?”

The older girl hummed knowingly, “Yah, she's in the back.” Matt thanked her but she called after him before he could find you. “Just, be gentle with her, ok? She's having a tough week.”

Nodding in understanding, Matt gave what he hoped was a comforting 'I promise not to spook our mutual friend' thumbs up, setting off to keep you company. 

Knocking on the open door lightly, Matt heard you sniffle and scrub at your face in an attempt to look put together before responding. “I'll be right out, Jen—”

“Not Jen.” He answered simply. “Just a friend who thought you might want some company.”

Your muffled footsteps wandered towards him, pulling the door ajar when you reached it. 

Matt's confidence stumbled, your salty tears and wavering breaths immediately setting him on edge. “Tell me to fuck off and I'll leave. I just thought—” His words were interrupted by a grunt of surprise as you fell solidly against him, arms winding around his waist. 

“Hey,” His hands slid up to anchor you, one sprawled over your shoulders while the other stroked your hair to offer succor when you began to tremble with renewed sobs. “Hey, you're alright, I gotcha. I gotcha.”

Wiping your face with one hand, you stood up, removing your arms from around him.  “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to cry all over your shirt. Shit, I'm so sorry, Matty.”

“Don't worry about that, sweetheart.” Matt's hand drifted to your clammy cheek, swiping a stray tear away when it fell. “That's why I'm here. You…” He paused, choosing his next words carefully. “You seemed like midterms were weighing on you, and I thought you could use some extra support. Let's go sit, yah?” Tenderly taking your hand, he let you guide him to the musty couch, closing the door behind you. 

As Matt collapsed into the ancient cushions, he could feel the plumes of dust rising from the impact. Scrunching his nose against the resulting tickle, he eagerly enveloped you in his arms, pressing a kiss to your head when you settled against his chest. “Did you want to talk about what's going on? You had Foggy and I quite worried when you ran out on us this afternoon.”

Exhaling shakily, you unconsciously arched into his touch, his hands rubbing slow circles into your lower back. “I don't know, Matty. I...it's a long story, I'm sure you don't want–” 

Feeling you tense up beneath him, Matt could practically hear your thoughts as you distanced him from the root of your vulnerability. “Don’t shut me out, sweetheart, please. Anything you want to share I will gladly listen to.” 

“It’s stupid. You’re going to think I’m a baby.” You murmured, tracing the buttons on his shirt. 

“I would never, bubs, you know that. You’re the strongest girl I know, that’s why I’m so worried about you.” 

“You don’t have to worry about me, Matty.” 

“Well, tell me what’s up with you and maybe I’ll stop.” He smirked at you and you groaned, though your lips twitched marginally.

You muttered something under your breath and, though he could hear you just fine, he scrunched his brow dramatically. “You’re going to need to speak up, dear, I didn’t catch that.” He cupped a hand around one ear, grinning when you rolled your eyes and shoved him. 

“I said…I really miss my mom.” You admitted feebly. 

“Aw, sweetheart, that’s not stupid at all!” Matt’s expressive face pinched in sympathy as he waited for you to continue. 

“I’ve been talking to her over the phone pretty frequently but it’s not the same. She’s all I had growing up, I’m not used to her not being…here. God, that’s so childish!” 

“No, it’s not. I may not be homesick for the orphanage, but I haven’t had the easiest time adjusting either.” 

“Really?” 

“Yah, bubs, really. There are things about this new freedom that I enjoy, of course, but I do miss the familiarity of my old routine. It’s not childish, I promise.” Running his hands over your arms, he smirked. “You know what is childish?”

“What?” 

Bending at the waist, Matt drew his cane from the floor and turned it to display the two plastic circles that had been haphazardly slapped on the black foam handle. Taking the cane from him, you traced a finger over the new decorations and giggled. 

“What the fuck?” Disbelief and humor slowly halting your tears, you looked eagerly to Matt for an explanation. Two standard googly eyes, placed at a lopsided angle, wiggled at you as you passed him back the item in question. 

“My thoughts exactly.” Matt chuckled. “Foggy bought a bag of googly eyes at the dollar store and has been sticking them to everything in our room. I had to pull a pair off of my glasses before coming over here.” 

“You should’ve left them on. Let everyone know what a serious law student you are.” You snickered, snuggling against Matt’s chest again. “Why, exactly, did he choose to do this?”

Matt chuckled, “I think it was his idea of a prank. Pretty minor offense, though. He’s told me horror stories about the things he and his brother used to do.” Shuddering, he bit his lip to keep from purring as you began rubbing his back. “It’s kind of…sweet though? I think it’s his way of showing me I’m like family.” 

His throat clenched as he spoke that realization. You smiled, squeezing him tightly. “That is sweet, Matty. I hope you realize how much we care for you.” 

“We?” The dark haired boy can barely contain his tease as he gave you the most innocent glance he can muster. 

“Shut up, trouble. You know I care about you. Even if I’m not putting googly eyes on all your stuff. To be fair, though, I don’t think I’ve ever pranked anyone.” 

“Really?” Chuckling incredulously, Matt was surprised that you’d never played a practical joke, given your adorable goofiness and slight pettiness. 

“Not that I can recall. Is that weird?” Your mind was quick to plummet back into anxiety, worrying that Matt would be alarmed by your lack of a normal childhood. 

“Of course not, bubs. It just seems like something you’d find funny, is all.” 

“Aren’t they…mean?” The hesitation in your voice didn’t surprise him, his heart suddenly swelling with an intense desire to shelter you from anything harmful. 

“Sometimes, but not the ones I’m planning.” He assured you. 

“What did you have planned?” 

“Well…” Matt eagerly divulged his schemes, egged on by your renewed giggles and steady heart. If pranking Foggy would make you happy, he’d gladly involve you in it. 

A few days later, you were practically glowing with excitement as you “studied” beside Matt. Echoing footsteps in the hallway outside the door sparked a gasp and you spun towards Matt eagerly. 

“Is that him? Is he here?” You nearly squealed. 

Chuckling at your darling, albeit very caffeinated, display of giddiness about a terrible prank, Matt shushed you. “That’s not him, sweetheart, but you have to keep your game face on.” 

Raising your arm in a mock salute, you jested. “Sir, yes sir.” 

Dutifully returning to the book on your lap, you took a few inadequate notes on the chapter before the door unlatched, Matt threw you a grin. “Act natural.” 

Foggy traipsed into the room, immediately picking up on the unusual vibes in the air. 

“Hey…” Looking between you and Matt skeptically, he dropped his book bag to the floor unceremoniously before crossing his arms over his chest. “Didn’t know we had a study group meeting today.”

“Oh we don’t, I was just bored so I called Matt to see if the two of you wanted to hang out.” You shrugged nonchalantly, turning a page in your Civil Procedure book. 

Matt was absolutely floored when the lie slipped between your sweet lips with sincerity. Given all the energy you’d exhibited before, he’d assumed you’d reveal the prank far too early. Trying not to look at you with the surprise that overtook his mind, he added, “I told her that I was studying for CivPro and invited her over. Is that a problem?” 

Foggy narrowed his eyes at the pair of you, clearly not convinced something fishy wasn’t afoot. But his disbelief didn’t save him. Vaulting himself onto his semi-lofted bed, an inglorious noise shattered the tense silence in the room. 

As you burst into a fit of uncontrollable giggles, Matt was forced to continue to prank on his own. “Oh my god, Foggy, we have company.” 

Turning beet red, the blond spluttered in response, “That wasn’t—I mean, I…SHUT UP!” Ripping back the covers, Foggy found the culprit instantly and hurled it towards Matt. 

With a smug grin, Matt tilted his head towards the scrap of thin rubber. “What is this, Fog?”

“You know damn well what it is, you ass!” Foggy scowled, hopping off his mattress to point at Matt accusingly. “A Whoopie Cushion?? What are we, five??”

Still in stitches, you were leaning against Matt who was holding you up with a single arm. Foggy was unamused. “You know, I expect this childishness from Murdock, but you?” The long-haired law student bit out your last name as if he were a teacher scolding you for distracting the other students. “I expected better of you. Fuck this, I’m leaving.” 

That broke you out of your state of humor. Launching yourself off of Matt’s bed, you stumbled towards your sulking friend with less grace than intended. Your over caffeination and extended time sitting had quickly drained the blood from your head. “Foggy, wait—Woah…” You swayed on your feet. Thankfully, Foggy caught you before you could hit the carpeted cement with your entire body weight. 

“Christ, jitterbug, you don’t have to pass out on me to keep me here.” He sighed, handing you gratefully back to Matt who pulled you into a seated position at his side once again. 

“Sorry,” You apologized sheepishly, “Got light headed. But please don’t leave! Matt was just teaching me how to prank someone.” 

“She’d never pranked anyone before.” Matt explained further. 

“Never?” Foggy whistled. “Fuck. Guess you’re forgiven then. Murdock, you’re still on my shit list.” 

“For a Whoopie cushion? I’m sorry, are you not the roommate who covered a blind man’s stuff in googly eyes?” 

“Et tu, brute!” Laying a hand across his chest in mock offense, Foggy’s eyes glimmered as he continued to play up his innocence. “I’ve already told you. That was our mischievous ghost roommate, Steve.” 

“Ah, right. Then I guess we can blame him for the Whoopie cushion too.” Matt raised an eyebrow, silently challenging his roommate. 

The blond mirrored him, accepting the challenge with an even tone. “I guess we can.” 

Looking between the two of them, you felt a lick of apprehension roll up your spine. This was far from the end, that much was clear. 

Dashing up the musty staircase, Matt fumbled with his keys. Slamming open the door, he ran his hands along the spines of books beside his bed, snatching the correct one. The book was tossed haphazardly onto the bed as Matt stripped out of his rain-drenched shirt. 

Last night had quickly gotten away from him. Originally planning to stay up late and study for his final midterm, he’d parked himself in the library with a thermos of coffee and his American History textbook. Given your tendency to unwittingly distract him, and his roommate’s constant foghorn-like snoring, alone in the library was the most appealing option if he wanted to pass this exam. However, his sex drive was not as devoted to his academic success. A bubbly girl from his history class had greeted him, offering to help him cram for the looming test. He’d gratefully accepted, but they’d only made it through a single chapter before she’d invited him back to her room. 

Exhausted from his strenuous activities and the resulting lack of sleep, he’d inevitably overslept. His internal clock was apparently not as effective as the blaring alarm that he normally used. Sprinting home through the deluge of rain, he had mere minutes to change and get to Legal Methods.

So here he was, relinquishing his soaked through button up to the floor as he plucked the first shirt from his dresser. Flinging on the shirt–which had short sleeves for some reason–and his raincoat, he flew out the door and towards his class. 

He was barely late, but you still looked at him smugly when he finally plopped down beside you, eliciting a few laughs from other students in the classroom. 

“About time you showed up, trouble. How was your night?” You murmured, trying not to draw any more attention to the two of you. 

He didn’t need sight to know you were dramatically wiggling your eyebrows at him. “You heard about that, huh?” He asked, blushing furiously. While he was depressingly still hung up on you, the raw animalistic desires that composed his Id could only be suppressed for so long. 

“Oh Foggy spared no detail when we got coffee this morning.” 

Trying his damndest not to feel miffed that you’d had coffee with only his roommate, he aimed for a nonchalant tone. “Coffee with Fog, huh?” 

“Well, it could have been both of you if you’d answered your phone.” You chuckled softly, shaking your head at the subtle pout on Matt’s face. “Don’t worry, trouble, you’re still my best guy.” 

For a moment, all Matt could feel was the stutter of his heart. “Oh–uh, that’s,” He stammered, face glowing with a crimson blush. You giggled at his response.

“So is the raincoat a permanent fixture or did you just forget to take it off?” 

Matt rolled his eyes, “Well, someone started talking to me and I got distracted.” Unzipping the vinyl jacket, he began to pry it off when a choking sound from you halted his movements.

“What?” He muttered, with feigned exasperation. 

“Is that a new shirt?” You bit your lip to keep from laughing, already speculating just who had purchased that garment. The button down looked nothing like the simple ones Matt usually donned, and he usually dressed more conservatively in longer sleeved garments–there was no way he had purchased this fabric of his own free will. 

Unlike the dark sweaters and monochrome shirts that made up the rest of his wardrobe, this shirt was…colorful, to say the least. The pattern was a horrendous combination of flames and hawaiian style flowers. A ring of scarlet cartoon hibiscus blossoms sat atop Matt’s waistline, composing a base for the flames, which looked like they’d been pulled off of a racist’s motorcycle. 

Matt ran a hand along the hem, tilting his head in confusion. “This isn’t my shirt, is it?”

Stifling another round of giggles, you shook your head. “I don’t believe so, no.”

“You’re laughing. Fuck, what does it look like?” 

“Um, it’s got flowers and…fire on it? Definitely not your style.” 

“Shit!” Matt hissed, zipping up his coat as quietly as he could. “Foggy must’ve put it in my dresser.” 

You bit back a smile, turning your attention to the professor who had begun looking for students to pick on. 

After a few hours of legal jargon flowing in one ear and out the other, Matt could barely sit still—his mind already planning the trip home to inspect the rest of his clothes, which he assumed had also been replaced. Though he’d been willing to beg for your assistance, he’d only needed to ask for you to come with once before you agreed sincerely, clearly pitying him and his ugly shirt. 

Sure enough, when they’d returned to his dorm and examined the contents of his dresser, it was filled with clothes that were most certainly not his. The textures were all wrong and you confirmed that they were all garishly patterned. 

With a low growl, Matt slammed the drawer of his dresser shut, making you jump. 

“Hey, it’s ok, we can just ask Foggy to put your stuff back!” You reasoned, placatingly. 

Shaking his head with a snarl, he clenched his fists. “Oh no. This means war.” 

You gulped, not finding an ounce of sarcasm in his words. If you were Foggy, you’d be begging for forgiveness about now. 

The next couple weeks passed in an agonizing blur of lengthy readings and lonely work shifts. Matt and Foggy had doubled down on their efforts to out-prank each other, and it was beginning to take its toll on their relationship.  

As the weather turned chilly and fallen leaves began to carpet the ground, you were finding it difficult to be in the same room with the two of them. After the wardrobe incident, Matt had sulked for two days, refusing to hang out with Foggy until he'd had his revenge. Armed with a box of hot pink hair dye and a few permanent markers, Matt was sure he'd be able to make Foggy look as ridiculous as those shirts made him feel.  If your shocked reaction was any measurement, he'd say the effort succeeded. 

Of course, Foggy rewarded this behavior with a prank of his own. Finding and removing his formerly pristine school supplies from mounds of loose Jello had been a horrendous sensory experience that Matt NEVER wanted to repeat. That was approximately 4 days ago and Matt was STILL finding dried bits of lime jello in his pen caps. 

The two continued to trade practical jokes, currently locked in a battle of removing each other’s furniture. He was still working on his most recent prank at your next study group session. With the help of a floormate, Matt had been able to move Foggy's desk, chair, and mattress to the roof of the dorm. Sweating profusely while he heaved the plastic covered mattress up the last flight of stairs, he didn't hear you approaching. 

“Whatcha doin'?“ You asked cautiously, taking in the manic determination on full display. 

”Pranking...Foggy.” He managed. Fuck he needed to hit a gym. 

“Well, that was a given. Do we think that this is still within the realm of friendly teasing? Or...” 

“He can sleep on a bed...when my stuff...stops smelling like it's made of fucking fruit.”

“Hmmm. Ok. I'll be in your room then.” You replied, your words tinged with a disappointment that Matt wasn't anticipating. It irked him, pulling at his stressed consciousness uncomfortably. How come you hadn’t shown the same reaction when Foggy had moved his things across the hall a week ago? Shrugging off the guilt he felt, he mustered up the strength to shove the mattress up to its destination.

Huffing breaths as he shuffled down the stairs to you, he couldn't shake the lingering irritation that your tone had implanted in his psyche. You were sitting on folded legs in his bed, textbook open in your lap. 

“Ready to study?” You questioned, not glancing up from the text. 

“Depends, am I going to get a lecture?” 

“On intentional torts? I'm not an expert, but I can definitely try--” Your innocent tone did nothing to soothe his growing frustration. 

“That's not what I meant and we both know that.” He bit out, “If you have a problem with it, you can just say so, I'm not made of glass.”

“There's no problem, Matty.” Your heart stuttered and his anger sparked. 

“Bullshit.” He scoffed, pacing in front of you. 

“I don't know what's up with you and Fog, that's your business, this just seems...extreme, Matt.”

“He took my clothes, that wasn't 'extreme' to you?”

“I didn't say that! I'm just saying this isn't an effective way to communicate that you weren't comfortable with him touching your stuff.” 

Rolling his eyes, Matt yanked the door open. “On second thought, I think I'm good with this chapter of torts. I'll see you in class next week.”

“Matt,” He couldn't bear to focus on you, your rapidly crumpling body language, the lump of emotion in your throat. 

“Please. I don't want to lose another friend.” He pleaded.

Sighing in defeat, you closed the book and left without a word. 

Matt breathed shallowly, matching his inhales to the pattern of your retreating steps as he cursed himself for turning you away. Setting his jaw, he swiped away a drop of moisture from his cheek and set off for the stairs. 

It was hours before Foggy got home, out with a group of students from his Modern Dance class. Walking carefully into the dark room, he flipped on the lights and hunkered down on his bed, stripping off his dirty socks before opening his Property textbook. 

“Hey Matt, have you started on the Property essay yet?” He asked the stiff lump of a man who lay in his own bed facing the wall.

“No.” Came the gruff response of his surly roommate.

“Shit, I was hoping you'd have started with our jitterbug so I could mooch some tips off you two geniuses.” 

Matt didn't so much as snort in response to the bad joke. Instead, he abruptly rolled over and snatched his cane from its place beside the door. 

“I'm going for a walk.” Matt remarked, icily.

“Oh, uh, ok did you want—” 

“No.” Shutting the door firmly on his way out, Foggy blinked at his shadow as it disappeared. 

“Goodnight to you too, I guess” He scoffed, turning back to his assignment with a roll of his eyes. 

Setting your jaw, you blew out a breath and knocked on the door. When you received silence in return, you rolled your eyes and knocked with more vigor. “Matthew, Franklin, I know you’re in there!” 

A very apprehensive Foggy appeared as the door slid open. Shoving past him and into the room, you gave a furtive smile. “Hello, how are you, I'm also well, thanks for asking.” You rattled off, collapsing into Matt's creaky desk chair. 

Foggy was still hovering nervously by the door, avoiding your stern gaze, while Matt courageously pretended not to notice your presence--fingers running over lines of braille in a thick book. Folding your hands together, you plastered on a sardonic grin. “Now that we've got the pleasantries out of the way, I would like to kindly request that you two get your shit together.”

Your blunt words and brash tone ignited defensiveness in them both. Foggy spluttered and Matt turned to face you with a look of indignation. 

“What are you–” “We weren't–” 

“Cut the crap.” You interrupted the pair, leaning against the frame of the chair and crossing your arms. “You want to fight with each other? Let a stupid prank war drive our group apart? Fine. But the least you can fucking do is grow some balls and tell me that yourselves. I'm tired of the sulking. So, what'll it be? Are we done?” 

Both boys sat sheepishly in their own silence. Foggy kicked his feet as if he were a toddler on a swing, Matt looked like a kicked puppy—crimson blush glowing on his cheeks as he pushed up his glasses. 

After several moments of hesitant silence, Matt spoke up. “We aren’t done.” 

Nodding in relief, you jerked your chin at Foggy, “Fog, you agree?”

“Course I do! There’s no way I’ll graduate without the two of you. It’s in my best interests to keep you happy.” It was clearly meant to seem like a joke, but the way Foggy’s voice trailed off at the end made you tilt your head.

“Hey, you know that’s not true right? You’re plenty capable of doing this on your own!” Frowning, you watched as Foggy’s face crumpled before your legs were moving of their own accord, carrying you to his side as he turned his glossy eyes to his bedspread. “Hey, Fog, I’m serious!” 

Running a hand along his shoulder, your heart split in two as fat tears slipped down his face. 

“Fog, buddy, you’re so smart!” Matt chimed in, crossing the divide between the two beds and settling on the blond’s over side. Tugging Foggy to rest against your shoulder, Matt’s head stacked against yours atop Foggy’s blond hair–the three of you melding together into a stressed heap as the heightened emotions of the past week culminated. 

“It’s true, don’t deny it.” Foggy lamented from his place on your shoulder, strands of his thick hair sticking to the glistening trails that ran across his blotchy cheeks. “I have no idea what I’m doing, I shouldn’t be here! Maybe my parents are right and I should drop out to work in the family store instead.” 

“The hell you should! You’re just as capable of this shit as we are.” You assured him, rubbing a hand up and down his sweatshirt clad arm. “And you’re not the only one worried about passing. I freak out about that every day!”

“Yah, but you’re not the one who failed the Civil Procedure midterm.” The long haired boy sobbed. 

You froze, second-hand anxiety rippling through you like a stiff breeze. Matt’s head lifted from yours and cocked towards his roommate. “Oh Fog, why didn’t you tell us?” 

“You were mad at me and we weren’t hanging out anymore and–and–” The poor kid was bawling, fists clenching around the worn fabric of his pajama pants as feelings of terror and embarrassment welled up in his chest. 

“It’s ok, bud, just breathe.” You soothed shakily, trying to model steady breaths for him. Sensing your intentions, Matt smiled encouragingly. 

“That’s it, dude. You got it.” When the blond’s breathing evened, Matt nudged his shoulder gently. “I’m really sorry that I pushed you away. I was acting like a fucking middle schooler instead of being honest with you. Just know, you can always always come to me, even if we’re fighting.”

“Same here.” You added, studying Matt’s blank eyes for a moment, “That goes for both of you.”

“Can we go back to being best friends now?” Foggy sniffled, pulling back to look between you and Matt warily. 

“We never stopped being best friends, silly,” Pulling Foggy into a tight hug, you huffed a chuckle as he sighed in relief. 

“Well, ya could’ve fooled me.” The words were muffled as Foggy continued to press his face into your cardigan. 

The bed stirred underneath you as Matt shifted uncomfortably. Clearing his throat, you could see him building up the courage to confess, “I’ve never, uh, I’ve never really had…friends before.” Matt’s words were calculated, trying not to reveal too much anguish as he spoke. “I had a mentor for a bit, at the orphanage, but that was it. So, I’ll admit, I’m not the most…practiced at this.” 

“That’s ok, Matty. We can teach you. Right, Fog?” Taking the raven-haired boy’s hand, you waited for the other’s assent.

He nodded viciously, swiping a hand over his damp face. “Of course.”

Squeezing Matt’s hand, you giggled. “You’re stuck with us now, Matty.”

With a satisfied grin, Matt threw an arm over Foggy’s shoulders. “Thank god. Who else will put googly eyes on all my stuff?”

Foggy smiled as you giggled, but his face quickly fell as you brought up studying again. “As for that test Fog, we can go through it together. There’s plenty of time until the end of the semester and we have two other exams. You can do this.” 

“You think so?” Biting his lip, Foggy glanced between you and Matt. 

“We know so, bud.” Matt promised. “We’re in this together. Right, jitterbug?” 

“Ok, where is this ‘jitterbug’ nonsense coming from.” You scoffed, biting back a smile at Matt’s hearty laugh. 

“Don’t ask me, Foggy started it!” Matt chuckled.

“Sure, pass the blame to the crying kid!” Rolling his eyes, Foggy elbowed Matt in the chest.

“You’re not even crying anymore!”

“You’re both deflecting!” You butted in, earning new excuses from both boys. 

As the three of you argued, you remained a knot of limbs–shadows and pink rays of light dancing across your smiles as the sun set.

Bonus Content: the shirt referenced in Foggy's second prank!!

Taglist: @eugene-emt-roe @abbyhaslongshorts @mrs-bellingham @abucketofweird @yeonalie @jadeunstablexx @spider-murdock @0ctober-writes @danzer8705

[blazefirefox]

The Bellflower Witch

"If you see a shadow slip by you and the sounds of a feline, beware, for Eastridge's resident witch is on the hunt. She'll show no mercy and will leave nothing behind."

Here's my Veldigun OC, Jinx, or The Bellflower Witch!

She goes by she/they pronouns. Her former partner was Barbara, with her current one being Mortimer. They aren't very fond of Clyde, indifferent to Winfrey (at least at first...), is friends with Simon and The Flock, wants to put Klaus in a meat grinder, and wants to get closer to Jack. Hates Lankmann (The Doctor)

History

When they were still in their ooze form, they pretty much exclusively consumed stray cats, mice, and deer if they were lucky enough. This resulted in her primarily feline form. She was quite timid during this period, mostly because she was alone, and her small stature didn't exactly help things for her fighting-wise. That is until they met a young girl by the name of Jennifer Perkins in the county of Eastridge, who, despite their odd appearance, grew fond of the Veldigun. Jinx also valued her companionship, and would monitor Jen's entire life. Unfortunately, Jennifer would be found by Jinx bleeding out in the middle of the forest after a mugging gone wrong. In a last ditch attempt to save her, Jinx consumed Jen, so that she would "live forever" in them. Jennifer Perkins, at 17 years-old, would be the first victim of The Bellflower Witch.

After consuming Jen, Jinx's form would become slightly bigger, and more alike to a "true" Veldigun, although she was still very lonely. Until she met Barbara, another Veldigun finding refuge in the woods. She would immediately become Jinx's mother figure, and would remain partners and best friends. Since she now had the stability to form her own personality, some of her snark comes through, and she starts to act more like an angsty teen lol. Things were relatively well now. Both Jinx and Barbara were hesitant to feed on humans, with Barbara only consuming those that think they don't have anything else to live for and Jinx only feeding on them when desperate. Both of their worlds would turn upside down when the Lankmann Foundation reared its ugly head. The foundation's best hunter, Clarisse von Arnham, was tasked to capture Veldigun, in which she was happy to oblige. The forest around Eastridge was becoming more and more dangerous for the Veldigun pair to reside in, as Clarisse had made it her mission to purge the species through traps and frequent hunting expeditions. Barbara and Jinx would be able to evade her, but their luck ran out when Clarisse caught them off guard and managed to subdue Barbara. In a moment of pure adrenaline, Jinx consumed Clarisse, along with eating and brutalizing her remains. This would lead up to Jinx's current form.

For a few years after, Barbara and Jinx managed to stay low, with the traps Lankmann setting up becoming more dangerous to make up for the loss of the foundation's most prestigious hunter. In one of these traps, Jinx's right (her right) horn would be broken off, but it would regrow. Eventually, the Lankmann Foundation was able to capture the pair by cutting off their food source until they were on the brink of starvation and taking them in then. Lankmann himself made the executive decision of sending in Barbara to communicate with a captured Winfrey. When things were going nowhere, some of the Caretakers went into the cell to retrieve Barbara, which prompted Winfrey to freak out and become uncontrollable. Unfortunately, Barbara would be caught in the crossfire. Although technically she was consumed by Winfrey, to the physical world, Barbara was dead, and Jinx had to witness it all. For months afterward, Jinx would be kept in that infernal asylum, feeling the loneliness of their early days, and the same mourning of Barbara as they had for Jennifer. Caretakers would sometimes come into their cell and take notes on their behavior, but they'd never give them the satisfaction of doing anything interesting for them. Even rarer still, regular employees of the asylum would come to take a look at the creature, none of them staying for long. Except for one...

why did the artist keep bothering her? it doesn't matter, she missed the company

The Doctor himself even paid her a visit once, but he didn't stay for long, and thank god he left so soon. Jinx lived in this cycle until hell came crashing down. Clyde infiltrated the asylum.

Trivia

Her voice claims for her felidae form was just a cat ig, her juvenile form was Veronica Sawyer (Winona Ryder) from Heathers (1989), and her current voice is Ramona Flowers (Mary Elizabeth Winstead) from Scott Pilgrim vs. The World/Takes Off

she is very mitski-penelope scott-jack stauber coded

they hate Clyde so much because they encountered it when they were still just a cat and it literally threw her 💀

she also kinda blames it for her capture because it "should've just left the stupid county alone"

when they're in the area, Jinx just sometimes... chills at Simon's barn; they both relate to not feeding on humans (ofc Jinx still does, but only when desperate)

Jinx's biggest fear is becoming like Clarisse, as some of her """"""interesting""""""" personality traits slipped into Jinx's demeanors, and she's worried that she'll just become a danger that will be abandoned

yeah she has issues save her please

im hinging a lot of her backstory on the headcannon that veldigun can control if their touch is dangerous (y'know, the melding bone and skin stuff)

urghhhh its 1 am what am I doing with my life

after consuming Clarisse, Jinx would start physically eating their victims after claiming their minds, just so they wouldn't leave anything behind

sometimes she purposefully goes into the town to freak out some humans for gits and shiggles

her arms can stretch longer than their normal length

Jinx is cunning, but not as smart as Clyde, but what she can beat him out with is actually just brute strength (she never skips arm day)

teeeechnically her name is Jennifer since that was her first human consumption, but, no offense to Jen, Jinx thinks the name is kinda lame and kept Jinx

illl add more later ig idk

MORE INFO IN REBLOG

ANOTHER THING, I'd like to thank @havoc-bloom for being so kind and letting me info dump to them about her around a year ago, you've helped me so much by talking to me, even if we haven't done it in a while :)

here she is ive been working on this ref ever since volume 1 came out im so glad its finished! ofc now I have to do all my other ocs and my other thing for jinx but eh. im going to go sleep

ill try to edit this in the morning, but I hope you like her!

but more references as a treat

[ednaarel]

The Tragic Emptiness of Tiffany Ragnell

(This post is a repost of the itch devlog, which you can read on itch here)

Hi hi! Naarel here! It's been a while since I talked about Passerine Hills. I'm still working hard on delivering the full version of Passerine Hills: Just a Bite but my mental health isn't really making it into an easy task. Most things are written already, save for the final scene that I've been chipping away at for some time now; once that's done, it's all going to editing, then for testing, then finally, to you.

That being said, I promised to write more about characters ages ago and I never did. I thought that writing a little miniseries of rambles about characters, route-wise, might be good both for me and for you. I guess we'll have to begin with Tiffany first, just because she is our main character and maybe that's a good start – especially since I find her quite fascinating. I don't know if I'll end up spoiling things from works that are already released because I'm mostly rambling without a plan but I guess I'll try to keep that to a minimum. So, let's get started.

The thing about writing Tiffany is that I'm working, mostly, with what I call an "empty character". It's really a vibe-based category – some characters just have a certain feel to them. The "empty" characters usually don't have a strong sense of self. They don't really know who they are or what they really want in life, which essentially makes them semi-blank slates. This is a perfect setup for a story that's meant to revolve around relationships because you can have your character get more refined and shaped by who they're associating with... and it's a difficult thing to execute. With no apparent drive towards... anything, really, characters sometimes just... drift on the plot and you need to be really careful to not let them just float there without gently steering them where you want them to be, if you catch my drift.

Growing up in 2000s-2010s Poland meant that I heard a fair share of insults and one of them was calling girls and women empty (pusta). That, of course, was a reference to an empty head, and was usually reserved for girls who cared a little too much about their appearance and didn't seem to have any meaningful intellectual pursuits going on. That, naturally, merged with the "dumb blonde" stereotype and the mean girl archetype really quickly. And so, a particular image formed in my head against my will: an apathetic and popular bleached blonde that literally can't be bothered to be anything more than... pretty, I guess. That combined itself over time with the common disdain for celebrities – people who are "known for being known".

It's not just me. That's the image that many people will have in their heads, independent of gender or age or country or whatever. It's a whole archetype on its own at this point, one that really lends itself to being hated. There's a reason for that, I suppose: you see this vapid, shallow person in the spotlight, getting money for, I don't know, just looking good on camera, I suppose. And it's really easy to not regard them as human. They're just something on your screen, another pseudostarlet that will be gone in a couple of minutes, or maybe they're just a vehicle for drama and fuel for snark subreddits and gossip sites.

This isn't to say that I like celebrities or influencers because I don't. If Tiffany was real, I definitely wouldn't think "wow, I wonder what she's thinking, maybe she's an interesting person once you get to know her". If Tiffany was real, I'd probably be wildly indifferent towards her, the same way I literally don't care about Kardashians or whoever the fuck is relevant now. If Tiffany was real, you probably wouldn't care about her at all because she'd be just another rich bleached blonde with That Accent (you know which one) that's known for being known. Maybe you'd hate her. Hell, maybe you'd be a fan. I don't know you, I can't tell.

I sometimes take some time to sit down and remind myself that all those people that I see on the screen might not be like me but they definitely have to go through some fundamentals just like I do. They wake up, eat, talk to others, go to the bathroom (how scandalous!), and of course, feel and think. And I wonder if they feel regret, if they wonder what their life would look like if they never became famous, if they feel like there's a disconnect between who they are on camera and who they are, well, outside of the spotlight.

Tiffany is an empty character because she's ruled by this disconnect. Everyone knows Tiffany the Persona and nobody really knows Tiffany the Person. Due to years of developing the Persona – that perfect little celebrity that you see on the screen – Tiffany as a person is a little... stunted. She knows that her life can't go on like this but she's not entirely sure how to fix that. She'd love to actually know people but she's not all that great at interacting with others as herself. She joined Passerine Hills specifically to finally get to know people without the fear of them trying to leverage her connections and what not – after all, she's probably on a similar level to people there, if not on a lower one. 

When I'm writing Tiffany, I feel that she's got a certain level of... detachment from reality which isn't voluntary. More than one person pointed out to me that she sounds like she's just telling a story to someone to "keep them up to date" or that she sounds like she's just doing a storytime video and yeah, that's what she sounds like to me as well. I think that on some subconscious level, she kinda thinks of what she's writing as another piece of content to produce because this is what she's used to doing. This might actually be the only way to express things that she knows at this point in time. 

I feel like there's quite a decent load of self-loathing and apathy in Tiffany. I feel like she recognizes the tragedy of having years of her life being cannibalized by the version of herself that only lives in the spotlight and on the screens, and I feel like this awareness is slowly killing her. She knows how empty she is. She knows what people think of her.

She might not see herself as a person at this point, really. 

All of that being said, she's not emotionless or uncaring. You can see that in her whole journey to find Holly and you can see that when she asks Izzy if she should get them help when they're bleeding. She's also not dumb... and she knows how to control the narrative. Yeah, she's not always a reliable narrator. In fact, she's been very careful about what she's saying – or not saying – in Just a Bite, I can tell you this much without spoiling stuff. There is depth to her that she doesn't realize, and neither do people who only know her from the screen...

...and that is a really great thing because those who underestimate her might be in for a big surprise later down the line.

Anyway. I don't think there's a whole lot that I can say about her as of now. If there's a character that you'd want to read the next miniessay about, let me know. For now, I'll go back to writing.

See you in Passerine Hills soon.

[tending-the-hearth]

Questions that endlessly haunt me: Do Rex and Cody know what happened to their Generals?

Does Cody know Obi-wan survived? Did he know he died on the Death Star? Did Cody see a report come in from the Death Star that Vader had killed Obi-wan? If he did, how would he feel about it? Would he grieve? Would he be indifferent? Would he be pleased? Would he pretend not to care but internally be a mess? Did he feel ashamed for failing to carry out Order 66? Relieved but conflicted? If he had found out Obi-wan was hiding out on Tattooine would he simply report it or track Obi-wan down himself? Would he seek to finish Order 66 or go to beg forgiveness?

Did Rex ever find out what Anakin became? Ahsoka knew but would she have told him? Or would she keep it secret?How would it affect their relationship either way? Would Rex recognize him if he saw Vader fighting? Would he feel betrayed? Angry? Heartbroken? How would Vader react if he saw him? Rex never betrayed Anakin or did anything that could be interpreted as such? Would Vader let him live? try and give him the mercy of a quick death? How would that go down? Did Rex ever met Luke? Or see him on a rebel base or ship? If he did, would he recognize who he was or his lightsaber first? How would Rex feel about Luke? Happy? Nostalgic? Amused? Sad? Uncomfortable?

(Bare in mind i have never seen Bad Batch or the last couple seasons of clone wars)

i'm curled up in my bed sobbing over all of this 😭😭😭😭

so, going off of what we know from Bad Batch, Cody eventually does defect, or he's at least listed as MIA. When we see him in the show, there's definitely a few moments where we see his regret and pain over what's happened, leading to his ultimate MIA classification. we don't knwo what happens to him after that, but i like to believe that Cody found out where Obi-Wan was, and got into contact with him, and the two were able to safely and happily reunite!

I do think Ahsoka would tell Rex that Anakin is Vader, either during their moments together in Rebels, or after Anakin's death. Anakin was so important to both of them that I think Ahsoka wouldn't be able to hide it from him.

When it comes to Luke, Rex is the one Anakin trusted the most with his relationship with Padme. In the last season of The Clone Wars, we see Rex covering for Anakin while he's on a call with Padme. I think Rex would be overjoyed to meet Luke, and just immediately see so much of his general and his favorite senator in him. Rex would also IMMEDIATELY clock that Leia is Luke's twin, she looks far too much like Padme, and her snark is so purely Anakin that if he closes his eyes, he hears his general.

After Anakin's death, I think Rex would sit with both the twins and share stories, not just of Anakin, but also of Padme, and the time that he spent with them. it's bittersweet, but also heartwarming, because Rex gets to pass on the stories of the people he cared about to more people he cares about

[herschelkrustofsky]

so i just finished season 2 of DS9 for the first time and i have so many thoughts about quark and his relationships with the crew; specifically ben, kira, jadzia, and odo. throughout the season, we see quark either trying to connect to these four — albeit in his own grating way — or proving his worth to them after a major fuck-up. (this is the case for jadzia specifically; he inadvertently put her on danger in invasive procedures [2x03] risked his own life trying to save her. we see them hanging out in playing god [2x17], so we know they’re cool and that jadzia forgave him. this should go without mentioning jadzia sticking up for the ferengi more than once throughout the season, specifically to kira, and insisting there’s more to them than their money grubbing ways.)

with ben, quark attempts to connection with him over a drink in second sight [2x09], only for ben to turn him down — presumably because he has too much on his mind and quark is quark, but the way the camera lingers on our favourite bartender, we can see how the rejection ate at him. the rejection sensitivity is dialled up even further in shadowplay [2x16] when quark attempts to get playful with kira, only to be told she utterly despises him for collaborating with the cardassians during the occupation — forcing him to realize that their snark isn’t a game and that she legitimately doesn’t like him, to the point where he says (verbatim) that he wishes he hadn’t brought it up. this comes up again in the jem’hadar [2x26] when he mentions to odo that kira specifically doesn’t like him, showing how much he internalized that conversation and ruminates over it even with the passage of time — and that’s still not all!

in the collaborator [2x24], there’s a specific exchange between odo, kira, and quark that’s very relevant to the theme of quark feeling rejected and isolated by the crew. transcribing it doesn’t quite do it justice, so i’ll just link the scene itself:

TL;DR: these two show up and quark immediately gets defensive and nervous. given his interactions with odo on a regular basis + kira’s recent (and completely understandable) anger, he figures them confronting him together probably spells out trouble for him. and unfortunately, in typical odo fashion, he doesn’t exactly make him feel any better:

quark: you want something from me, don’t you?

kira: how’d you guess?

odo: it’s simple. we’ve been here more than a minute, and we haven’t insulted him, threatened him, or arrested him.

quark: exactly. so what is it?

quark values odo’s opinion a lot. and while i’m sure odo was just playing around and being sarcastic, this is the last thing quark needed to hear in that moment and solidifies in his mind that he’s only of any value to the others when he’s useful, which ultimately culminates in this confrontation with ben after they’ve been captured by the jem’hadar:

i’ve seen this clip before, but it was only last night, after having seen season 2 to completion, that i finally had the full context for it — specifically, for quark’s emotions, and why he went on his little tirade. he isn’t angry at ben specifically; he’s angry at the entire DS9 crew for (in his mind) treating him like an annoyance that’s only worth speaking to when he gives them something in return. i believe he brings up his species as a whole rather than Just Himself for two reasons: 1, it gives him a roundabout way to express his outrage without getting too vulnerable, and 2, he is attempting to rationalize why he’s faced with the indifference and the animosity that he is. chalking it down to speciesism helps him rationalize why this is happening, but the alternative is also pretty devastating: that they just don’t like him as an individual.

but here’s the kicker: they DO like quark! ben lets him come along on the camping trip despite his wishes to spend time with jake and only jake. he engages in conversation with him, feeds him, and is pretty damn amiable towards him despite quark’s incessant complaining. he defends quark to eris when she expresses annoyance over him. meanwhile, odo specifically joins the rescue mission to make sure quark gets home safe (in his own words!!!) and even tells kira she’d miss quark if anything were to happen to him — they ALL would — and she agrees!

the tragedy is that all of these things are discussed when quark is out of earshot (no pun intended) or just not paying enough attention. but despite his growing disillusionment with them, quark is willing to resort to violence (something he’d really rather avoid) to protect his friends; first demonstrated in invasive procedures and then coming full circle when he lethally shoots a jem’hadar trying to hurt ben, who returns the favour by making sure quark isn’t left behind despite eris’ insistence. and this time, quark IS around to hear that someone cares about him; not just anyone, but the station’s commander, which certainly gives him the validation he’s been craving all season long.

while i can’t find the clip, i think quark’s little monologue to the gloomy morn at the beginning of the episode describes it best; he isn’t just their bartender, he’s their confidant and their friend — or desperately wants to be. unfortunately, his learned / cultural behaviours, impulsivity, and selfish tendencies (as demonstrated when he abandons morn to scurry after his boytoy, aka odo) drive a wedge between him and the people he’s come to want the approval of so badly… and despite his glaring flaws and their often flippant treatment of him, they manage to like him anyway. big ears just needs to listen better, it seems — or maybe his friends need to make their affections a little more obvious.

i just. man. it’s such a subtle arc, one you probably don’t notice unless you’ve been watching a bunch of episodes consecutively like i have (not to mention my, ahem, keen eye on a certain ferengi…), but it’s so satisfying. they didn’t have to do all that for him and they did. this show and its attention to character detail is incredible and i can’t wait to see what else it has in store for me. 🖤

[whatsaudreythinkingabout]

randomly assorted scott pilgrim headcanons!

(mostly involving roxy)

(some involving future scenarios)

envy & roxy have the same weak spot behind their knee. they are also girlfriends. this is the most important headcanon & i have a whole separate thing that goes more in-detail on this but this is all you need to know

kim is a huge tegan & sara fan (she’s from canada and definitely bi so it makes sense). she likes their earlier albums (since it takes place in the mid-2000s it would probably be around the time so jealous and/or the con were released), and when heartthrob and lytd came out she tried to pretend she hated the new pop sound but she secretly loves it.

lynette lost her arm while performing a show with tcad that brought the house down. literally. the frequency of the vibrations emitted from their performance was powerful enough to cause a minor earthquake, and while the band was trying to escape the venue, her arm was crushed by falling debris.

envy is bilingual, having grown up in montreal, and speaks both english and french.

roxy & matthew are best friends. however, when they first joined the league, they absolutely could not stand each other. each thought the other was totally obnoxious, and they would constantly bicker and fight with each other. they also definitely got into the pirates vs ninjas argument on more than one occasion. eventually, after a sparring match gone wrong, they bonded over the fact that ramona had used them in some form while they were dating her (matt for his powers, roxy for her sexuality), as well as their love of too much black eye makeup, and they’ve been inseperable ever since. they definitely have a partners-in-crime dynamic, and their friendship is 80% snark and 20% chaotic dumbass.

later on, lucas gets roped into their friendship as well, and they form an unstoppable friend trio. roxy sees him as a cool older brother type. matt has such a huge repressed crush on him you don’t even KNOW and roxy teases him about it literally all the time

after the events of the series, they form a 3-piece punk band called roxy & the hooligans (title derived from a book i read when i was a kid). roxy is the lead singer and bassist (she learned how to play out of pure spite just to flex on scott & todd), matt is lead guitarist & backup vocalist, and lucas is the drummer. matt is also their special effects/pyrotechnics guy.

they’re also housemates for a little while, then matt & lucas start dating and roxy moves in with envy when they start dating. of course, this does not affect their friendship, and they have double dates frequently.

after she starts dating envy, roxy also forms another best friend group with julie powers and lisa miller. at first envy is worried roxy and julie won’t get along bc she thinks julie will be jealous of roxy for “stealing” envy’s attention, but they end up bonding over their shared hatred of scott.

lisa and roxy are identical twins who were separated at birth. (this was bc they’re both portrayed by mae whitman but i might retcon this one, idk)

meanwhile, roxy & todd actually, genuinely HATE each other. todd was always kind of a bully to her when she was in the league & she hates how much he gets on her nerves. to make up for it she loves to rub in his face how much he fumbled the bag with envy

envy was genuinely hurt by lynette going behind her back with todd bc she thought they were friends. lynette is pretty indifferent about it.

after the events of the comic, ramona starts a support group for all the women affected by gideon.

envy is a natural redhead, but started dyeing it blonde once she had her big rockstar makeover, and often alternates between the two shades.

(tentative, still figuring out whether i wanna make this a full headcanon) roxy is a natural brunette, but dyed (and maybe also cut) her hair after ramona broke up with her, as the gays™ are known to do. she also used to wear her hair in space buns instead of pigtails (whaat nooo this totally wasn’t inspired by spinel what are you talking about)

roxy doesn’t really care about the spelling of her name; she spells it with a “y” and with an “ie.” (alternate idea: she spelled it with an ie before the breakup and with a y after the breakup?)

barbie movies exist in this canon, and envy recorded “hope has wings” for the magic of pegasus when she was a teen (back when she was still going by natalie) but she’s super embarrassed about it. she has literally done everything in her power to hide it, but as soon as her friends find out about it they refuse to let her live it down.

likewise, finally out of pe exists in this verse except now it’s just part of envy’s early discography, which she wrote before she formed TCAD.

technically the events of the story happened at the same time the early barbie movies & brie’s album came out but we can afford to move the timelines around a lil bit just for funsies

kim created the maid costume herself, & she’s a closet geek/cosplayer. later on she & envy end up bonding over their secret nerdy sides.

she’s also a closet theatre kid

roxy is the kind of person that tries to put on a tough front to avoid getting hurt & being seen as weak but if you give her even one (1) single tiny bit of affection she will instantly fall apart (especially if you happen to be a pretty girl)

when gideon was messing with everybody’s memories, he ended up causing a rift in the universe that caused the timeline to branch into two separate realities (the books and the movie, respectively). when he was defeated, they merged into one again, but the characters now have memories from both realities. it’s a little confusing

wallace ends up getting together with stephen later on (maybe? they seem like they’d have a fun dynamic), and they’re happy together, but once wallace finds out about matt & lucas dating he’s so fucking salty about it bc HE HAD A CHANCE WITH LUCAS LEE THIS WHOLE TIME

ramona eventually becomes the lead singer of shatterband. scott & kim decide the two-person lineup isn’t working out for them; they need a frontman, someone with charisma to tie them all together. then they hear a voice coming from the bedroom. they go to investigate and find ramona singing softly to herself. she’s a bit hesitant to join at first bc she’s not super confident about singing in front of others, but they manage to convince her by telling her how she could totally one-up envy.

matthew is a proud, unabashed theatre kid. roxy is the kind of person who acts like she absolutely despises theatre kids (even tho she’s really just as melodramatic as matt but won’t admit it) until karaoke night rolls around & she suddenly knows all the songs

roxy is a mixed media artist & is proficient in quite a few different techniques, but her specialty is graffiti. since being a ninja takes a lot of discipline & she often got criticized for letting her emotions get the better of her, it gives her an outlet to be more uninhibited.

the twins are pretty aloof & don’t really talk to anyone else besides themselves; they just kinda do their own thing while viewing everyone else with either mutual respect or smug superiority. gideon doesn’t really give a shit about the other league members, but the twins are his “favorites” (relatively speaking) just bc of how efficient & powerful they are

scott & ramona end up in sort of a semi-throuple with kim. no one really knows what their exact situation is; whether they’re an open relationship, friends with benefits, or just officially all dating each other, but wherever they are, kim is usually also there, & they don’t question it. (honestly the more i think about it the more i like the idea of polyamorous ramona just bc there’s so many characters i ship her with)

maybe wallace also gets involved. just for funsies

in the future, roxy ends up taking knives on as her ninja protégé. as a mentor, she’s pretty no-nonsense bc she wants her to be able to reach her full potential, but she also tries to keep her temper in check & not be overly harsh on her just bc of what she went through in her own training (at the ninja academy she was looked down upon for her half-ninja status & constantly belittled for being too soft, undisciplined, emotional, etc. which caused her to push herself to the brink of total physical and mental exhaustion to prove them wrong, & that led to her parents pulling her out bc they were worried she was gonna push herself so hard it would kill her, & that whole situation is the main source of most of her insecurities). at first she’s put off by how relentlessly upbeat knives is, but then she sees how eager she is to make her proud & roxy can’t help but see a bit of herself in her. over time she comes to see her as sort of a kid sister, especially when knives eventually comes out to her, though she refuses to admit how much of a soft spot she actually has for her. she knows knives can handle herself, but she’s also grown more than a little protective of her (and scott is terrified of her for this reason)

i have a LOT of other HCs regarding specific backstories/relationship dynamics/etc that i might post later if i get the motivation for it but these are just some of my shorter ones